Thai

Twenty to seven at a Bangkok radio station, Jack's first morning on the river slot: good morning, listeners, seven o'clock; Jack, nervous; a little, what do I call the listeners; our listeners, on air say we; we take the boat, we're late; every sentence ends with the little word; and if I say a wrong word; we laugh, one minute and the red light: the words of the air, the formal word for the listeners, the host's we and the softener before the particle.

Jack's first minute on air, Fah introducing him to the listeners: we have a guest from America; my name is Jack, I'm from Seattle; now a Bangkok man; I build long-tail boats in Thonburi; your Thai is so clear; snakes and fishes, still learning; Grandma taught me, and the whole pier; more Thai than me: introducing yourself on air, and the compliment with its modest answer.

On air, Fah asks why a long-tail boat has a long tail, and Jack explains it to a city that rides one every day: why is the tail long, in plain words; imagine a pickup truck; at the back of the boat, I've seen it at every pier; that is, the tail turns; meaning it turns in a narrow canal; exactly, in shallow water you lift it; and the noise; in short, long tail, shallow water, loud: explaining a thing simply, with imagine, that is, meaning and in short.

The traffic-and-river bulletin read formally, then the chat: at this time traffic is congested; and in street Thai; right now it's jammed, as always; the water level is high, passenger vessels are behind time; the river's up, the express boat's late; the weather is hot, heavy rain this afternoon; hot, take an umbrella; the news wears a tie, we don't: the formal words of a bulletin and their street twins.

The phone-in, and the first caller is Grandma: a call, who's on the line; is Jack there, child; Grandma, you're on the air; have you eaten yet, in Isan speech; not yet, Grandma, talking boats; boats can wait, eat first; there's sticky rice and grilled chicken at the house; I'll come at noon, Grandma, promise: have you eaten yet as hello, and its answers.

A caller from Nonthaburi whose long-tail engine coughs, talking at full speed: my engine, right, it starts then dies; slowly please, dies how; coughs like an old man, you know; how old is the engine; ages, it was Dad's, see; it's not the engine, the fuel hose is old; so change it or not, the wife says so; change it, the wife is always right: hearing a fast Bangkok speaker, the clipped forms heard and answered in full.

Master Wichai, Jack's old master from the yard on Khlong Bang Luang, phones the show to correct a word live: another call, who is it; Wichai, from the yard on Khlong Bang Luang; Master Wichai, what an honour; a small correction, Jack; go ahead, Master; nails are for a fence, boats are pegged; you're right, my mistake; none taken, thank you for the pointer: correcting someone politely and taking a correction, with the yard's words.

Off air, the first month done: Fah's verdict and Tee's, who listened at the pier: Pi Fah, how was it; it'll do; it'll do as in good, or as in not bad; my it'll do means very good; the whole river heard it, brilliant, man; don't praise him too much, good is enough; good, great, top, smashing, then silence; my silence is the highest praise: the ladder of good from plain to slang, and the silence that is praise.

The soi at eleven, Nui at the mouth of it and Aunt Oy at her stall, the whole street having heard the show: here comes the star; Pi Nui, no teasing, please; the whole soi heard, an autograph please; the fish lady says you sound like her son; don't tease, I'm shy; famous, and still carrying Grandma's sticky rice; don't forget us, star; never, Pi Nui will be the first guest: friendly teasing and its answers.

Tee's invitation at the workshop at closing time, Ton sweeping up: come on, the night market's open; can't, I'm on air at seven; come on, Uncle Boon closes at midnight; and Mali; Nam phoned, she said go; my treat, don't be shy about it; then one bowl; one bowl, nobody eats one bowl: the come-ons of an invitation, and the excuse and the insisting.

Uncle Boon's boat-noodle stall at the night market at the mouth of the soi, a November evening: Tee's American, what'll it be; boat noodles, please; thin or wide, dark broth or clear; thin, dark, pork; beef for me, no bean sprouts, extra meat; here the bowls are small, just say how many; two bowls first, then; two?

Uncle Boon's stall at the night market, the regulars round the table: I'm Golf, I blow the whistle on the express boat; I'm Jack, I build boats; Jack won't do, you build boats, so: Captain; don't fight it, I used to be the dessert girl; do I call you elder brother; younger brother, and Uncle Boon is uncle, never sir; as for me, elder brother Nui, always; Captain, then, I've never steered a boat: how a street names people, and the particle dropped at the stall.

Uncle Boon's stall, Golf with the river's news at full speed: look, basically, the next pier, right, is concrete now, you see; get to the point; the point is, a new noodle stall, with a TV too; so what; so what?

Uncle Boon's stall at midnight, the bowls stacked and the checkers put away: fourteen bowls, four iced teas, who's paying; the one who lost at checkers, the Captain; how much; two hundred and ten, fifteen a bowl; I've only got a thousand note; a thousand?

Thai checkers on Uncle Boon's table, Golf winning and Nui judging: I've beaten you a hundred times tonight; three times, not a hundred; in this soi three is a hundred; he's said that for an age; you play like a pro, a pro at losing; I'm dying of laughter; the whole world knows Golf doesn't lose; I'm as slow as a snail: exaggeration, and the comic comparison with like.

Ploy's dessert stall beside Uncle Boon's, a tray of coconut desserts on the floor and nothing broken: aaah, the tray fell; whoa, the whole tray; wow, not one cup broke; can I say it like Ploy; that cry is for women, men say whoa, with friends; and the one for dead already; that's for when it really breaks, here it's just oh; oh, like that, now help me pick up the coconut: the clean exclamations of the soi, and who says which.

Uncle Boon's stall near midnight, three answers from the man who counts the bowls: Uncle, can we stay on; we'll see; will there be clear broth tomorrow; another day; we'll see means no, another day means never; then I'll pay next week; all right, Captain, no problem; that's a yes, but it hurt, say thank you, quick; thank you very much, Uncle Boon: the yes that means no, and the tone that tells.

Uncle Boon's stall, Golf telling the oldest joke on the river: one day a foreigner comes to a boat-noodle stall; and then; when he sees the bowl he asks, why is the bowl so small; and the uncle answers; patience, the uncle looks at the bowl, and then says; not the end yet; well, the boat was small; the punchline always comes last, tell it again, Captain: how a joke is told, with the point last.

Ploy's stall, mango sticky rice on the table and a slang lesson with it: say the mango sticky rice is good; very good; very good is the radio, here it's boom; this sticky rice is boom; and when the broth runs out; fed up, right; let down, fed up is when Nui talks football; confused means don't understand, everyone's confused the first month: the slang word and its plain twin, the plain one first.

Uncle Boon's stall at one in the morning at the end of November, the first night of the cool season: it's late, closing, go home; it's so cold; cold to death, say, or terribly; terribly cold, a bit windy; a bit?

Father's Day at the family's house behind the pier in December, Jack's first as a father: whoa, this curry is boom; boom, in front of Mali; sorry, the curry is delicious; at the stall, fine, at home, no; boom is very good, whoa is the polite word; and whoa is not my name; happy Father's Day, Uncle Chai; a canna flower from Mali, now eat: the plain twin of every slang word, and when to switch.

A windy cool-season morning in Thonburi in January, Mali in the carrier without a hat: son, where's the little one's hat; good morning, auntie, it's warm today; the wind is strong, she'll catch cold; you're right, it's in the bag; in the bag?

Ploy and Golf at the stall on a January night: Golf is very salty; salty?

The first boat-noodle night of the year at Uncle Boon's stall: this year I'll get up at five and run; sure, three days, like every year; and I'll stop eating noodles after ten; and what's that in your hand; the last bowl of last year; dream on, I don't believe it; I believe him, I'll run too; the Captain's being polite, that's sure with a smile: the ironic reply to a plan, and the little future word for a resolution.

Chinese New Year in Yaowarat in February, lanterns and a crowd, Tee and Golf: one more stall, come on; it's midnight, you know, the boat goes at six; six is ages away, come on now; what's at the next stall, then; grilled bread, you can't not eat it; I can skip it, you know; one piece, then; fine, one, mind: the sentence-end particles that carry the wink, coaxing and resisting.

The flat in Thonburi in February, Mali seven months old on the mat and Ploy visiting: what did she just say; nothing yet, but the food word is eat; peekaboo is hiding your face; pat-a-cake is clapping; and waving her arms like that; that's pick me up, and she asks Dad only; splash-splash is the bath, and sleep is sleep; Dad is me, and she hasn't said it yet: the baby words and games everyone knows, each with its grown-up word.

Sunday lunch at Grandma's table in April, the plate empty: she said it, she said food to me; I guessed Dad, wrong guess; she said it to Grandma, Grandma fed her; to us, or to the plate; to the plate, first finish the plate, then speak; I asked, more; clever girl, who taught you; told you she wouldn't say Mum first: guessing and being right, and the phrases said over a child.

Jack's first joke in Thai, at Uncle Boon's stall: a foreigner orders som tam not spicy; go on; one bite, and he cries; and what does she say; this is Thai not-spicy; flat, flatter than the river in the hot season; an old joke, I heard it from my father; but the straight face was good, I laughed, you pass: judging a joke, and the comparison made from those words.

On air on the last Tuesday of April: Fah reads a message formally, the library club in Thonburi invites the Captain to read stories aloud; me?

The pier in May, Tee's new camera on the old boat under the shed: rolling, Jack, say something; something; cut, take two, tell about the boat, just a little; this one was Uncle Chai's father's; a bit slower, Jack, and smile a bit; one second, a smile, like this; cut, a documentary, not a passport photo; Mali's clapping, she thinks it's for her: the small words that soften a request, with the film words, and the end of this level.