The Night Jasmine by Stanski
“You know I don’t like LAO KHAO…
go on then…just a small one…
By the way…where are the rods?”
Floodwater concealed the banks;
turned river into ocean.
As the current slowed, I dared
to loosen my vice-like grip…
could have been thanks to LAO KHAO.
When we came across a weir,
we secured the boat; got out
On the downstream side, were nets,
attached to lengths of bamboo.
Some contained fish; some empty.
Bemused by the sight, at first,
I watched more; began nodding.
Every few minutes, a fish,
attempting to jump the weir,
would land in the makeshift nets,
thrashing about, to escape,
before giving up the fight.
We watched from a safe distance,
shaded by Tamarind trees;
picking the unripened fruit,
dabbing them in a mixture
of sugar and chilli flakes.
Face-contorting, bitter-sweet.
Enough to turn you to drink.
“Pass me the LAO KHAO, quickly;
gotta wash this taste away.”
That was a stupid mistake.
Felt like my mouth was on fire.
“You should chase it with water.”
“You should have said earlier.”
To cut a long story short,
we headed back with our catch,
feeling rather giddy, from
rocking boat, LAO KHAO, combined.
His wife spent the afternoon
gutting , beheading the fish,
removing tails, fins and scales,
and adding handfuls of salt.
The fish were placed in stone pots,
capped with mosquito netting
Two weeks later; inspection.
Sickly, sweaty, fishy smell.
Scrape off, discard top layer,
scooping out any maggots
infesting the rotting flesh,
add more salt to witches brew,
leave to fester for a year,
before the ‘sauce’ is declared
fit for human consumption.
Pass me that LAO KHAO bottle!
14. Tropical Winter
At year’s end in Village Isan
Be prepared for climate change
Arriving in casual dress
Under cool cover of darkness
A hint of winter in disguise
Moves in for the chill by morning
Twice a week throughout December
Finished by February
Neighbours unite to fuel the fires
Gloves, scarves, coats, hats, help combat cold
Gather in gangs to feel the thaw
Central heating – Isan style
Breakfast is a sombre affair
Enter the sun, and spirits rise
On shafts of steam, issued by breaths
Mimicking mists in the valley
Dare to stare at insipid sun
Take the full five second challenge
Blink away green and yellow dots
Reminders of futility
Face to the east as embers fade
Lounging like so many lizards
Rays penetrate, revitalise
Hearts and minds numbed by nature
Sun earns its keep, loungers shed skins
Returning to T-shirts and shorts
Mid-morning quest for cool beneath
The shade of a Tamarind tree
And Winter, a recurring dream
Unwelcome guest, who can’t stay long
Has business to conduct elsewhere
Much tougher terrain to torment
15. All According To Plan
Along the road to Nonsang
Coach connection from Khon Kaen
Life-blood lining lakeside route
Sugar cane, rice, banana
Fire-house, Hospital Police
Sugar cane, rice, banana
Shopping, commerce, Industry
Sugar cane, rice, banana
Getting used to it by now
Sugar cane, rice, banana
Cattle cluster in clearings
Gazing, grazing – Amazing!
Nonsang in ninety minutes
Road-side read-out register
Determines driving distance
Sixty six Clickety-clicks
Packs of hounds at Ubol Rat
Dominate the dam – Damn dogs?
Meanwhile, minutes march on by
Afternoon activity
Dampened by daytime downpour
We pull up to watch rain dry
‘Try not to blink – You’ll miss it!’
Ankle-deep becomes bone-dry
In the twinkling of an eye
Navigating neighbourhoods
Teased by tricky traffic lights
Fast bus flies past slowcoaches
Swerving, speeding – Soon be home
Destination – No distance
Nonsang in next to no time
Chauffeur’s shell-suit, shocking pink
Some say he’s a lady-boy
Long hair, lipstick, jewellery
Mok says ‘Just a fashion phase’
Nonsang ‘city’ limits near
All aboard are in good cheer
Gang of guys gesture greeting
Pointing-out ‘Farang’ – White Man
Shouting, waving, laughing loud
One eating ‘Farang’ - Guava
One drinks ‘Lao Khao’, smokes ‘Ya Soob’
Rice Liquor and Cigarettes
Chews ‘Mark Farang’ – Chewing Gum
While another fills his face
Munching ‘Man Farang Tort’ - Chips
Only one has been abroad
Once went to France – ‘Farang Set’
First time out of his ‘Moo Ban’
Never been anywhere since
That’s village Isan for you
Rice-farming communities
‘Don’t have time for nothing else’
Nose to tail - literally
Mad dogs hog the road – Road dogs?
Making for the market place
To scavenge scraps discarded
Makeshift market stalls offer
Tea-time treats to tempt all tastes
Fast-food fancies, Isan-style
‘Somtam’ – Papaya ‘Pok-pok’
Over there, the daily catch
Falls from flash-flood fishing nets
Over here, a group of girls
Scratching an honest living
These are the real-life ‘Spice Girls’
They specialise in chillies
‘Phrik Kaeng’ provides ‘Girl Power’
(Hard Chillies – Know what I mean?)
Also ‘Phrik’ – ‘Chee Far’; ‘Yoo-Ak’
And best of all ‘Phrik Khee Noo’
(Reach Up To The Sky Chillies;
Sweet Peppers – That pack a punch!
Rat-Shit Chillies; aptly named
I believe some like it hot!)
‘Long’ arrives, and loads us up
Drives us home, the final leg
Six more clicks to Ban Huakua
Through the gates and garden green
All that grows is edible
Tamarind and Mangosteen
Coconuts and Papaya
Pomegranate and Mango
Orange, Lemon, Durian
Chillies, Ginger, Lemon Grass
Banana and Pineapple
All around us; fields of Rice
Now bathed in scorching sunshine
Thirty seven, in the shade
The hot season is April!
Family reunion
Been gone from March to July
Changnoi, Diamond, Mok and I
16.Fulfilment
Existing below
the poverty line,
a proud woman
gives thanks to Buddha,
observed by the monks
of Wat Sutapradid
Short of a few Baht,
Yai Phrae , as she’s known,
‘Old Mother Silk’,
scratches a living
helping to raise pigs
for a few hours a week.
Her payment, not cash;
Ears, trotters, noses
and intestines
she takes to market
in nearby Non Sang
on Wednesday afternoons.
Traded, not for cash,
but rice, or silkworms
in their cocoons.
Yai Phrae is content
with the arrangement.
She walks with head held high.
The Dak Dae – silkworms,
she eats with Khao Nieow -
glutinous rice.
She’s a survivor.
Nothing is wasted;
and nothing discarded.
Cocoons become thread,.
spun on an old wheel.
The thread is tie-died
below her shack,
and a makeshift loom
transforms thread into cloth.
Cloth becomes dresses,
jackets and trousers,
accessories.
Practical magic;
sow’s ear, now silk purse.
Poorest girl now best dressed.
Twenty years later,
her shack is transformed
into a home.
No cash is involved.
There’s still work to do,
but her life is complete.
17. Judgement Day
Breakfast long before first light
Full steam and full beam ahead
Follow Nongbua North Star
Steering straight on till morning
Upwards to Udon/Nongkhai?
Or take the left turn to Loei?
Crossroads crisis averted
Westwards to winter we choose
Up-country cool-down forecast
Chiang Kan chillout climate change
And misty Mekong morning
Defy Global Warming signs
Customs House caution signs warn
Of counterfeit cigarettes
Filtering through Loei from Laos
Now smoke-screened by frigid fog
Zero visibility
Zero traffic tolerance
Not quite a hero’s welcome
To the north-west border zone
Positive prospect pending?
Lunch date with lawmen in Loei
Capital verdict confirmed
Decision declared this day
Arbiter’s armed attendant
Offers official outcome
Not stay of execution
Rather extension of stay
18. Dec 25, 2009
Just another Friday night
In rural Village Isan
Same as any other night
Perhaps a little cooler
Family gathered with friends
Around a simple table
A simple meal of Somtam
Simply served with Sticky Rice
Offered by those with nothing
To those who have even less
Exchanging gifts of friendship
Is the Isan way of life
For an after dinner drink
The Milk of Human Kindness
It tastes just like happiness
Only much more delicious
19. Wet And Dry Rain
Worlds are being told like beads.
Global stories, with two sides
One bead tumbles towards me
Screaming for my attention
“Two kinds of rain in Thailand
Wet or dry, the choice is yours”
Dry rain a contradiction?
Not on the streets of Bangkok
Occurring during twilight
Outside the Rainy Season
Earthbound, very fine drizzle
Which in a cooler climate
Would leave you soaked to the skin
Here, in Thailand, however
The heat of early evening
Makes droplets evaporate
Although you see it falling
Nothing ever becomes wet
Wet rain, on the other hand
A different kettle of fish
Preceded by gusts of wind
It can fall relentlessly
Within the space of minutes
Roads become knee-deep canals
With it, ear-splitting thunder
Lasting for an hour or two
I’ve been treated many times
While watching after nightfall
The most amazing light-shows
Performed in the Bangkok sky
Several flashes a second
Illuminate the heavens
Forking, streaking and dancing
Like faulty fluorescent tubes
Colours you can’t imagine
Ranging from yellow, orange
Sometimes green, often blue
Not forgetting purple, pink
You have to see to believe
Don’t just take my word for it
In Bangkok, as this bead knows
Both Wet and Dry rain exist
Acknowledgement: First line - Worlds are being told like beads.
Originally penned by Norman Dubie.
20. Papaya Pok-Pok – พาพาย้าป๊อกๆ
Take one unripe papaya
Shave skin to expose green flesh
Swift knife-blade chopping motions
Slice strands into a mortar
Flavour with home-made fish sauce
The juice of a home-grown lime
A dozen “Rat Shit” chillies
And a tablespoon of salt
Add some cherry tomatoes
Throw in a freshwater crab
Bruise the mix with a pestle
And gather round the table
Isan ‘Somtam’, delicious
‘Somtam’ – “Papaya Pok-Pok”
Tasty papaya salad
Best served with glutinous rice.
Papaya Pok Pok
Ao marlakor mar nung look
Pork perk ok ao tee nua nai
Laew ko sab
Fan sai jan
Sai plar lar tee tam eng
Sai manao jark thon
Phrik khee noo sib song met phor dee
Sai phong shulot nung shon to
Sai makeurtet look lek
Sai pudong jark mae nam
Laew ko tam pok-pok
Laew tuk khon ko mar nang kin
Somtam Isan seb lai der
‘Somtam’ – “Papaya Pok-Pok”
Yam marlakor aroi
Kin kab khao nieow dee khwar
พาพาย่าป๊อกๆ
เอามะละกอมาหนึ่งลูก
ปอกเปลือก ออกที่เนื้อใน
แล้วก็สับ
ฟันใส่จาน
ใส่ปลาร้าที่ทำเอง
ใส่มะนาวจากต้น
พริกขี้หนูสิบสองเม็ดพอดี
ใส่ผงชูรสหนึ่งช้อนโต๊ะ
ใส่มะเขือเทศลูกเล็ก
ใส่ปูดองจากแม่น้ำ
แล้วก็ตำป๊อกๆ
แล้วทุกคนก็มานั่งกิน
ส้มตำอีสานแซบหลายเด้อ
ส้มตำ พาพา?
ยำมะละกออร่อย
กินกับข้าวเหนียว
All photographs in this section © Kanpirom Srisongnang
21. Ching-Ching จริงๆ True
moonless night campfire embers
enamel jug brewing tea
bread and jam feast to wash down
hand-held torch insipid beam
spotlight falls on our leader
he wants to tell a story
tent flap tattoo briskly beats
guitars strum introduction
no more new-age songs tonight
another limp urban myth
involving a wattle tree
and a pail of rotting fish
sharp knife and blunt instrument
to bruise heads and spill out guts
some salt to rub in then stow
under the shade of the tree
not a job for winter time
an ending to startle us
it was absolutely true
take the worst thing you’ve tasted
multiply that a few times
you never tasted nothing
if you never tasted this
he’d spent some years in Thailand
and watched how they made plar lar
a kind of home-made fish sauce
an isan delicacy
here’s how his story ended…
‘the fish were placed in stone pots
capped with mosquito netting
two weeks later inspection
sickly sweaty fishy smell
scrape off discard top layer
scooping out any maggots
infesting the rotting flesh
add more salt to witches brew
leave to fester for a year
before the sauce is declared
fit for human consumption’
22. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
Isan heartland scene
Jangwat Nongbualamphu
Edible landscape
Alone, a man walks
Highway to Amphor Nonsang
Rice field surroundings
Food basket in hand
Local produce; offerings
For saffron-clad monks
Holy residents
Defenders of Buddhist Faith
Wat Sutapradit
Simple country fare
Accepted with gratitude
Blessings in return