I was talking to my precious house helper the other day outside in our driveway. Her name is Da, and seriously she works harder {while being 5 months pregnant} than perhaps anyone I’ve ever met. She helps me with my Asian by speaking slowly and not laughing at me too often {Though, this week I did accidentally ask her if she “ate a bird” when I meant to ask if she “ate a rambutan fruit.” Not surprisingly, it brought a chuckle.}, she bargains the air-conditioner guy down for me, and she has seriously inhibited my own ability to do laundry.
And Da’s presence is a constant source of education for me as she tells us about her home country here in Asia. She talks about the time her husband had guns pointed at him for preaching, and how if the government finds a Bible in your house, you find yourself sitting in a prison cell. She taught me how to cut a green mango {with a peeler first} and how to make the spice to dip it in {3/4 sugar, 1/4 salt, and a healthy bit of red pepper flakes}, and she attacked my dirty fridge with the determination of Mr. Clean.
And this past week, I was giving her some fruit that grows on trees in our yard. It’s the quava fruit, which, in Asian is translated as “farang.” Oddly enough, the Asian word for white people, Westerners, is also “farang.” And so we laughed as I made a lame joke about how “farang {white people} love eating farang {white people}.”
And then she reminded me of something I’d heard before, but forgotten. She told me that in her country about ten years ago, it was very common for parents to scare their children into obedience with the idea that if they were naughty, the “farang would eat them.” It was a bit of a boogey-man threat to keep village children in line {and maybe rightly so- the Westerner has done plenty of damage in this part of the world}. Da even said that many parents would tell their children that those big backpacks Western travelers would carry as they travel across Asia were actually stuffed with little pieces of naughty Asian kids that had disobeyed their parents. Supposedly, the farang had cut them up and crammed them in those big bulging Northface packs, along with their Keens and gps-navigators.
True story.
And here I was thinking the locals might like me right-off-the-bat.
**********
In other news, thanks so much for all those who participated in the launching of Nvader’s new facebook page. I appreciate all who jumped in! The winners for the book, God in a Brothel, are EMILY B. L. {D.C.} and SUMMER O. S. {Oregon}. Please email me {lauraleighparker{at}gmail {dot} com}within two weeks and let me know your mailing address I can get you a free copy of the book. For those who didn’t win, no worries, you can still buy one! It’s only $10 bucks at Amazon, and I promise it’s a riveting read about one man’s journey into counter-trafficking.
LauraParkerBlog.com.
