Thai

Aunt Oy's stall at closing time, the visa's renewal letter in Nam's hand: this year we can apply to stay for good; for good?

The house behind the pier in the daytime, Grandma refusing a party: is the workshop closed, child; about the party on the twelfth; I don't want one, at ninety you need your nap; forty cousins are coming; no need, and who pounds the som tam; you asked me to speak yourself; you can speak, child, and the som tam I pound myself; then it's a deal, Grandma: an elder's own particles, and Grandma and child for I and you.

The stall at six in the morning, the party counted out: about forty, forty-odd with the cousins; five tables, and allow for five more seats; shall I borrow tables in the soi; Nui brings them, the cousins come in two pickups; three pots of broth, two of curry; how many plates of som tam; a hundred, allow for people eating twice; Jack, you do the speech, one thing is enough: the counting words of a party, with about, odd, more and allow for.

The flat in Khlong San, Nam's card for the cousins on the screen: read it, a card has to be formal; we respectfully invite you to join the celebration; on the occasion of the ninetieth year; respectfully invite is just come, isn't it; on the card, yes, Mum says come and eat; at the pier, at five in the evening; the little word, you don't say it, and Mali; Mali too, she just doesn't know yet: the formal Thai of an invitation beside the plain words it means.

The house behind the pier, Tee at his laptop with the old photographs and Bee sorting the prints: first the old photos, then the film; the wedding photo first, then the pier; after the pier, Mum's stall; and last, Grandma singing at the mortar; you filmed her secretly?

The flat in Khlong San at night, three pages on the table: three pages?

The stall in the afternoon, Mali on the counter: Mali, say it, happy birthday, Grandma; may Grandma stay a long, long time; not that, may Grandma be strong in health; and the long-life wish; live long, and stay with us a long, long time; wai Grandma, hands high, head low, slowly; Mali wais better than me; more practice, she wais the dog every day: the wishes to an elder, and the wai said in words.

The house behind the pier at six on the morning of the twelfth, Grandma at the mortar, the cousins at the mouth of the soi: I came to help, Grandma; help by sitting still, that's enough; the cousins' pickups are at the mouth of the soi; come in, sit down first, there's nothing much; nothing much?

The pier at dusk on the twelfth of November, the long tables full: first, the grandchildren wai Grandma; at ninety a wai is heavy to receive, be quick; and now, a word from our American; respected Grandma, and all the family; in the name of my family, thank you; and last, may Grandma be strong; well said, come here, give me your wrist: a speech from the table, from the address to the closing wish.

The pier after the cake, Tee's slideshow on the screen and the ninety-year-old on her feet: and now, a film, quiet, please; who's singing?

The flat in Khlong San, the visa's renewal letter on the table: the visa runs out again; then I renew the permit again; or apply to stay permanently; permanently, for good; the residence certificate, no end date on it; what does it take; thick papers, an interview, a long wait; I've decided to stay on: deciding, and for good.

The information window of the immigration office at Chaeng Watthana: what do you wish to apply for; permanent residence; submit the application with evidence; what is evidence; a paper that can prove it; wishes means wants; on the form you wish, at home you want; I wish to proceed: office Thai beside its everyday twin.

The district office of Khlong San, the marriage registration and Mali's birth certificate at the counter: the originals, please; and certify the copies, please; name and surname, date of birth; nationality American, occupation boatbuilder; status, and current address; married, Khlong San, fourth floor; don't leave a box blank; sign here, certified true copy: the boxes of a Thai form.

The workshop on the canal, the tax papers in boxes, Ton sorting and Nui at the door with the post: three years back; last year's is under the engine; the paying of tax means the receipts; yes, the receipts of every year; and the ability to speak Thai; the interview proves it, able is can; post, what's all this; three years of working: the nouns an office makes.

The window at Chaeng Watthana, the file handed in: the file is complete, fingerprints too, please; and the fee; seven thousand six hundred baht; and when is the interview; within sixty days counting from today; working days or all days; all days, no later than sixty; I'll keep the receipt: time limits in office Thai, and the plain words they mean.

A video call from Seattle at the family table on the pier, Jack in the middle: Mom asks whether we're coming back; say you go back every hot season; Dad asks whether it's for good; answer that yes, for good; Mom says Aunt Oy must come over; say I'm afraid of planes, but I'll go; ask when he's coming; I'll tell him: relaying a question and an answer.

A room at Chaeng Watthana, the officer across the table: please introduce yourself, take your time; my name is Jack Reed; originally from Seattle; my occupation is boatbuilder; I have lived in Thailand six years; married, with one child; where did you learn Thai; at a noodle stall at a pier: introducing yourself formally, in five sentences.

The mouth of the soi, Nui on his motorbike and Jack with the last papers: papers again, Jack; the last set, the permanent one; what for, you've got a wife; so I don't queue every year; well, that's how it is, we'll see; and if they say no; don't think too much, we'll know soon enough; let it be, then: closing a subject lightly, the Bangkok way.

The window at Chaeng Watthana in September, the card ready: Mr Reed, the application has been approved; approved; the certificate is issued today; may I say a word; no need, don't lose it; that's all; you passed, next, please; thank you very much: the passive of a decision, and the register of a counter.

The family table on the pier, the card on the tablecloth: six years ago he could say one word; you've become one of the house; three sentences, please; this house took me in; it taught me to say everything; this is our home, our family; four sentences, good, and the boat; in the water at Loy Krathong, for sure: three sentences, and the word for our.

The shed at the end of the pier, Master Wichai's last look at Mae Nuan's hull: may I have your opinion; a takhian keel, who caulked the stern; myself, the bow Ton caulked; the bow is better, the boy is patient; she's my father's boat, is she sound; sound, at Loy Krathong she goes in for sure; the engine mount, what does the master say; two fingers lower, like six years ago: the words of a hull, and a craftsman's opinion asked politely.

The shed, Nam painting Mae Nuan's name on the bow again under Grandma's eye: the same letters, the same red; Grandpa's boat, named after his mother; so Grandpa's mother is on the bow; three generations have painted that name, this is the fourth; same as before, Grandma; just like the old days, but prettier; and the garland, Grandma; I'll hang it myself, the day she goes in: naming and remembering.

The workshop on the canal a week before the launch, the engine starting and dying: brother, I'm not steering any more; what's the matter, Ton; it started and died, twice; the fuel line has air, bleed it first; in front of the whole soi, in front of my father; try it, don't give up yet; and if it dies again; even if it dies, it's fine, keep fighting: encouragement.

The pier, Uncle Chai and Tee planning the launch day and Jack to write the words: the programme, six o'clock, the garland; what programme, it's a plan; on paper a programme, aloud a plan; and the opening ceremony; Dad says the boat's going in; distinguished guests, that is everyone; write one way, say another; one minute is enough, the rest is the engine's: the words of a programme beside the words you say.

The noodle stall at night with the shutters down, Aunt Oy and Grandma listening to Jack's speech: I've written it, please listen; read it, Jack; I thank you all for coming; simpler than that, child, thank you for coming; this boat belongs to the whole soi; better, and three things, say them as three; the wood, the hands, and the river; then stop, people need time to hear: the rhythm of a speech.

The flat in Khlong San, Jack between his mother and Grandma at lunch: tell your mother she's got thinner, not good; I translated it as Mum looks well; translate it word for word, she knows anyway; Mum says Grandma is the same as ever; tell her I'm ninety now; my father asks what's in the jar; fermented fish, don't eat it on an empty stomach; hard to translate, a gift then: translating aloud.

The pier at six on launch day, the garland on the bow, the whole soi, and an engine that will not start: brother, it won't start, the whole soi is watching; forty people are waiting, what now; I'll handle it myself, give me ten minutes; she's my father's boat; I take responsibility, Uncle; I'll tell the soi it's part of the plan; air in the line, bleed it here; you do it, trust yourself: taking responsibility aloud.

Mae Nuan's first run up the river, Uncle Chai at the tiller, Ton at the engine, Master Wichai and Jack amidships: she sits right, Ton, steer and listen at the same time; the stern is dry; past the flower market, the big bridge ahead; the engine runs, listen to the engine, it stops, listen to the wood; and if both run; then you look at the river, like Chai; six years ago I understood one word in ten; now you talk and steer at once, a boatman now: two things at once, on the river.

Dusk at the pier, the soi and the river people in front of the screen, Mae Nuan back in the water: the boat's in, over to Jack; good evening, distinguished guests; thank you for giving your time to come; tonight Mae Nuan comes home; please watch the film, and with that I'll end; that's all, so short; Grandma said stop at home; the film first, then the floats: opening and closing a speech from a pier.

Suvarnabhumi, an evening in the cool season, a young traveller with a backpack asking Jack the way in three words of Thai: excuse me, where is the train; hello, straight on, left, down to the bottom floor; thank you, Bang Rak, is it far; don't worry, to the end of the line, then the Skytrain; what's your name; my name is Jack, nice to meet you; nice to meet you; let's go: giving the way simply, as the course began, and the end of the whole Thai course.