The children are so very proud. They tell all their friends: “I’ve got a new home” and my mum says that she didn’t have to borrow a lot of money so she doesn’t have to find a second job to pay off the money because our family didn’t have to borrow very much to pay for the construction.
And dad, even though he’s never done much carpenter work, helped a lot in the construction and that cut down labor expenses. And his boss at the factory is an understanding guy, and let dad work with the neighbors on the house construction, for two weeks, and didn’t even cut his wages
The houses are simple steel frames, so much stronger than the old ones, and will be even more beautiful as soon as the flowers grow.
This was always a gentile slum – a nice low-low economic community, but still always gentle, and now with the new homes, it is more gentle than ever. You walk through the area, and you feel good, and no fear of danger or violence – just nice people. True, they grew up next to the pig holding pens, and the butchering - maybe seeing violence all their lives, has made them nonviolent, after seeing so much brutality.
I speak for everyone in the community – especially the children, thank you to all of you who have helped so very much in giving our 41 children and 24 grand-mothers granddads, plus mums and dads plus some kitty cats’ new homes.
Again, thank you.
Fr. Joe and all of the children.
By Father Joe Maier, C.Ss.R.
That wasn't like Master Gaw. He was the toughie of the second kindergarten class, as rough and tumble as any four-year-old boy in our Klong Toey slums. Not afraid of ghosts that might lurk in a dark corner or under the bed. The kid feared nothing.
But something changed. This was different; this was scary. So they ran, the toughie and his mum. Had to. Mum's man -- her "live-in" -- could have killed them both. He was "drug drunk mixed with booze". They say druggies and boozers don't mix potions. That's just not true. And when they do mix, the potion is potent and can be lethal to anyone around.
That's what sent mum and Master Gaw running barefoot in the middle of the night. Mum cut her foot but kept going, running like mad, a petite and bleeding woman, stumbling and falling but never dropping her kindergarten son -- a large kid for his age.
She made it to her old school, the only safe place she could imagine. It's roughly 100 metres down the slum alleyway. All was quiet. Nobody really guards the school. There's nothing much to steal and nobody vandalises the place. It's been a second home for slum kids -- even before when mum was a little girl in kindergarten there.
Master Gaw and his mum were hunkered down there the next morning when the teacher opened the classroom at first light. It's the same school where, as a child, mum had hidden from an abusive uncle. But that's a story for another day.
On this day, mum and son were sleeping, huddled on the floor with a stray cat curled up with them. The teacher, revered as the school's "grandmum teacher", is old and wrinkled with rheumatism burning through her joints. She hobbled in closer to see mum and child on the floor at the back of the classroom.
The teacher immediately recognised her former student, even though she was now a mess with a torn dress, tangled hair, broken fingernails. Beside her, Master Gaw looked beaten, bruised and ready to cry. Back in the day, mum had been a Klong Toey beauty, probably the poorest, prettiest and brightest kid in the class. She had been the old teacher's favourite girl student -- just like mum's son was now her favourite boy student.
Looking up to see her former teacher, mum began to cry. She could relax and be a little girl again, if only for a few moments. Why was she a victim of abuse again? She asked over and over. "Why? Why? Why?" The old teacher soothed her, best she could, wiped away her tears, and combed her tangled hair with her arthritic fingers.
Mum held tightly onto grandmum teacher, desperate for all the bad stuff to go away -- just like when she was a little girl without enough to eat and would run to school for help. The old teacher began to cry with mum and Master Gaw, and then, as parents brought their own children to class, they joined with grandmum teacher -- helping, holding, consoling mother and child.
The teacher ordered some boiled rice from the cart lady before finding mum some clean clothes and a school uniform for Master Gaw. Afterwards, she borrowed a mobile phone to call her son, a motorcycle policeman. As luck would have it, he was on duty near the neighbourhood. Within minutes he was there in uniform.
A few years earlier, when he was a police cadet, the policeman had been sweet on mum. After all, she was one of Klong Toey's prettiest and brightest. Recollecting the daydreams, he later said, smiling sheepishly, that if circumstances had been different Master Gaw might have been his son.
Despite all he sees as a policeman, he was shocked at mum's weathered, beaten appearance. She told him what had happened, confiding in him as if he were an older brother. Her full story spilled out in sobs. Turns out this was not the first time her live-in had beaten her, only the most brutal. Even worse, as a joke, he had given drugs to her young son. That had been the last straw.
As kids, the shacks of the policeman and mum were close to one another; they had grown up slum neighbours. At some point they were considered two special kids in the neighbourhood who had made good. But then mum chose the wrong man. No one understands why; like many of us, even she has a difficult time understanding or explaining her choices.
The policeman, along with a police partner, left his motorbike at the school and walked three minutes to the shack where mum's live-in was still drunk asleep. The policeman grabbed the live-in roughly -- maybe too roughly, some would say. But how rough is too rough when you're putting handcuffs on a woman beater who also beats up kids and gives drugs to them?
The ensuing conversation quickly revealed the contraband. By that time, mum had shown up with a crowd of other kindergarten mums. The policeman lectured mum, told her to never again do drugs. She swore she'd never started, never even experimented. She was clean. As her childhood neighbour, the policeman suspected this was all true.
Mum admitted, however, that the lure of extra money had tempted her to look the other way while the live-in used and pushed drugs. She'd never before had money for a nice pair of shoes or fancy cosmetics or spa treatments.
When the policeman moved to put cuffs on the live-in, there was a scuffle. Live-in scuffed up his shin. Painful but nothing serious unless you count the newly wrecked tattoo on his leg.
Master Gaw had recovered quickly, as Klong Toey boys do, and he didn't want to miss the excitement. He had followed his mum back to the shack, where there was now a crowd, slum style.
Toughie yelled: "You hurt my mum." Then he ran over and kicked the handcuffed live-in. His foot sank into the same injured shin. Live-in howled in pain and limped towards the boy, eager to swat him. Of course, the policemen intervened.
With his leg all scrapped up, live-in fretted over the "special tattoo" that now hung on loose skin. He bragged how he got it in maximum security from a tattoo master, and now he feared it would lose its good luck and power to protect.
The police booked him and drove him directly to the emergency room of the police hospital. The doctor apparently didn't share live-in's reverence for the special tattoo. Bottom line, if he didn't immediately tend to the wound and cut away its loose skin, no tattoo could safeguard the leg from infection and, possibly, gangrene. Better to destroy the tattoo then lose the leg. No one could argue that logic.
So, to wrap this up. The old stray school cat has adopted mum and Master Gaw. Follows Gaw every where.
Today mum works as an assistant to her old teacher. Mum and grandmum teacher are side by side. Mum's live-in is, thankfully, no longer her live-in. He's living again in maximum security, where he will likely remain for a long time. Turns out he had previous convictions, plus he was a bit nasty, lippy, talking back to the judge who sentenced him.
In prison word spread among the inmates that live-in had forced drugs on kids and beaten up women. A reputation like that marks a man for a decidedly different kind of tattooing. This one is bruising and takes place in the cover of night.
Even his tattoo master cursed him. Tattoos are to help you do good, not to beat women and give drugs to children.
Meanwhile, Master Gaw is attending school and takes care of his mum, does it about as well as any four-year-old going on five. It's the effort that counts. And grandmum teacher is managing well with her new assistant and rheumatism, just as long as she doesn't forget to take her medicines.
That policeman has still never married. But time will tell. Word is he can be found dropping in on the kindergarten where a certain beauty assists the old teacher. Turns out that mum can turn a policeman's head without all the fancy cosmetics and spa treatments.
Just some ‘goings on’ – Our team was here at 5 a.m. this morning to ready itself to take 40 of our senior citizens to ‘Make Merit’ (indulgences) at three well known Buddhist Temples in the outskirts of Bangkok. The bus is leaving at 7:30 a.m. and should return about 6 p.m. (depending on the traffic) You know… on pilgrimage
Recently, Bangkok city was said to have the most terrible traffic of any city in the world. Maybe that’s true – at least it feels like that some time.
And yesterday the International Rugby team from New Zealand came to visit our kids. What a glorious day and the kids were ecstatic and could not get over how big and strong the players were. The team manager gave us a donation from each member of the team, plus a signed ‘football’ and ‘jersey’ - personally signed by each member of the team… and these of course are true treasures. And the beginning of what we hope in the future one of our kids will get a scholarship to the Bangkok Rugby academy here in Bangkok.
And I didn’t tell you that a whole troop of international bikers came to visit, on their impressive Harley Davidsons with noise and smoke and all – and gave a donation, and ice cream to the kids and gave everyone a ride up and down the street on their’ choppers’ - and also some of the staff. An Amazing day for the kids – truly great guys.
And in the Mogan South, we have a nine year old girl who was born with a growth under her tongue and of course difficulty in eating and tasting and swallowing but most of all can’t speak clearly – so the other kids in school make fun of her, plus she already has a “Mogan” accent and afraid to go to school. Yesterday, after we struggled to get all kinds of special permission to leave the province where she lives on the Island, and go to a large Government Provincial hospital for an operation to remove the growth (from birth) about 150 kilometers away - and we had permission for her mum to go along also who doesn’t speak much Thai, so one of our team traveled with them.
Right now her mouth is a bit sore and even though the doctors could not operate in fear of her loosing ability to taste, she got some strong injections and medicine to kill the bacteria and hopefully it will shrink the growth.
By Father Joe Maier
It's not one of Klong Toey's finest hours. In fact, it's an ugly moment -- a monster moment. Stray dogs attacked and almost killed a two-year-old child. This all began at midnight in a particularly dark alley of Klong Toey in Bangkok. Auntie Dang, a 62-year-old grandmum, got the call to go to work. "Come quickly," the voice on the mobile phone demanded. "The game is about to start. We need a dhon tang."
"Dhon tang" in slum slang is a "lookout lady". Dhon tangs are paid by gaCSmblers to watch for police or, worse, for gangsters who trash gambling pits and steal the money.
Auntie Dang is the head of a dysfunctional Klong Toey shack with no table, no chairs -- only a refrigerator, one fan and a single lightbulb over a squat toilet. This is where she lives and sleeps on the floor with her three grandchildren. The middle grandchild is Master Jai, the dog-mauled two-year-old. Also in the shack is Auntie's younger alcoholic sister. She has two of her own small children. Lastly, Auntie's own adult daughter crowds into the place every now and again. She does nightly service at a local karaoke joint that serves every need of its customers. A grog shop, they call it.
On the night in question, Aunty Dang hurried down the dark alleyway outside her shack next to the Slaughter House Flats. She told a neighbour that she'd gone out at midnight to buy a bowl of noodles. That's her story.
A nasty pack of dogs were there, gathered near the Slaughter House Flats. Auntie always carries a walking stick and she whacked the nearest dog -- just for good measure. Sent the dog howling.
Two-year-old Jai had watched her leave the shack. She swore later that she hadn't noticed him. Or maybe she didn't want to notice. No matter.
He was supposed to be asleep and stay asleep while she was gone. If he woke up, the blaring telly would keep him occupied. Or would it? He wet the bed and woke up soaking wet, smelly, hungry and, like every two-year-old everywhere, afraid of the dark. He chased after Auntie.
He cried out to her in the alleyway. She didn't notice, or maybe didn't want to notice. No matter. The gamblers phoned again, told her to hurry, hurry. They needed a lookout.
Jai couldn't catch up. She disappeared around a corner. He lost track of her, fell and began crying louder. Maybe he startled the dogs. No one knows. All we know is that a pack of seven or eight dogs savagely mauled a terrified boy. He was too young to holler "Help me, help me", so he screamed only "Ma, Ma, Ma".
Ma wasn't within earshot. She was already on patrol for the gamblers.
After midnight in the slums, residents turn an ear towards commotion. It jerks you awake, pulls you from your bed. There were screams as though from a baby -- "Ma! Ma! Ma!" -- and dogs barking, snarling, fighting. People emerged from their shacks and ran towards the commotion. They swung sticks, legs, anything to chase the dogs away. There was silence. Later, doctors would count more than 100 punctures on Jai from toothmarks and scratches too many to count. Jai's skin had ripped off him like peelings from an orange. Intestines were exposed.
The locals knew the boy and they began to shout for his auntie: "Dang! Dang! Dang!"
Through the din of gamblers she heard them. She arrived at the scene to find a crowd gathered around her tiny grandson. Her neighbours screamed at her, cursed her; some women even hit and kicked her.
Jai remained unconscious in the alleyway. Auntie Dang gathered up his body and looked around for help. A motorcycle taxi driver said he would take her for free to a hospital seven minutes away. Arriving at the hospital, she said she didn't have any money. The hospital treated the boy for free.
Miraculously, Jai didn't die.
UNIVERSAL SLUM RULES
Today Auntie Dang must wear her shame. Everyone from around the alleyway and the adjoining Slaughter House Flats knows what happened that night. Auntie Dang broke the rules. The universal slum rules on proper ethics and etiquette. Gambling scams and drugs are bad, but criminal neglect of two-year-olds? That's lower than the lowest -- the rock bottom rule to break.
Jai survived, yes, but we still don't know how his body will recover from more than 100 infectious bites. Some of the bites barely missed puncturing his left eye. He will see again, doctors say, but the eye will forever be scarred. As will Jai. No telling what nightmares await or how the vicious attack will affect his psyche.
So, this story is one to be told and retold. Mistakes become lessons in that way.
As for Auntie Dang, she's not yet divulged her role in the story. Her version of events goes like this: She took the expected call on her mobile phone. There were a couple of new players at the table, strangers flashing money. At the same time, there were rumours that that night's game could maybe expect to be interrupted by cops or gangsters.
The voice on the other end of Auntie Dang's mobile promised to charge the strangers a fee to join the game and that fee would become the dhon tang stipend. She sees nothing wrong with taking the job. In her mind, the consequences that followed are not her fault.
"Stupid brat." That's how she later referred to her two-year-old grandson. She says the mauling he endured was "his own karma" -- bad luck inherited from his bargirl mum and long-gone slum father. A neighbour recorded her saying it.
In interviews with police she skipped that part and said only that most nights Jai would sleep through all the noise of the slum and the loud TV. This would allow her to leave in the middle of the night and scare up some income as a dhon tang.
The fact Jai was mauled by a pack of dogs, blame the mother, she said. Her daughter should have been home watching Jai instead of working in a slum pub until the wee hours of the morning.
As a general rule, slum grandmothers who have lived all their lives on the far side of the law do not tell the truth. It can complicate life; make a mess of things. Usually, when you are responsible for this, that or the other, recounting the story exactly the way it happened would bring only more problems -- such as questions about gambling dens. That's the Klong Toey mentality. So grandmothers lie to avoid responsibility.
The morning after Jai's mauling, the Bangkok municipality collected 51 (yes, 51) stray dogs from the immediate area. But that is only a beginning; there are many left. People are now afraid to go out at night without a big stick for protection.
In the slums everyone knows who's responsible and who's at fault for Jai's near death. But in finer quarters of Bangkok, people only know what they saw in the papers and online: news of a dog attack and horrid photos of a child's face posted on Facebook.
Today, if you could see Auntie Dang at the hospital, you might not recognise her as the slum's dhon tang guilty of child neglect. In her new role as Jai's doting grandmum, she looks all cleaned up with hair freshly combed. You'd think she'd won the lottery. And, in a way, I guess she did.
The other day a well-dressed lady in high heels came into the hospital and asked where this poor granny was who had cared for the dog-mauled two-year-old boy. The pretty lady had seen the news and grim photos of the boy on Facebook.
She found Auntie Dang and handed her an envelope -- a well-endowed envelope intended to help Jai. Then the lady pulled out her camera phone and took a "selfie" to show her friends that she had actually delivered the donation for the dog-mauled boy.
This was the third such envelope of the day delivered to Auntie Dang. She'd received two other well-endowed envelopes the previous evening, but that money was gone. Lost them playing Hi-Lo.
Usually, when old ladies gamble, they do not play Hi-Lo. It's too risky a game for elderly blood pressure. They prefer a more mundane, genteel form of gambling. But Auntie Dang was feeling heady and lucky with her newfound "wealth". For a day she was a "player" -- not a slum dhon tang.
No matter, the money had been donated with singular intent: to help Jai. Naturally, Auntie Dang says her intention was to win and turn the donation into even greater wealth. But it's anyone's guess whether or not the money would have ever benefited Jai.
So, what of tomorrow? Well, Master Jai shall fully recover. Hopefully. Meanwhile, we can make sure all of the children crowded into Auntie Dang's shack go to school. This will inject a bit of regularity and food into their lives.
As for Auntie Dang, the police asked enough questions of enough people that they were able to stop the gambling. For now.
They also gave Auntie Dang a stern lecture about childcare versus child neglect. Will she listen and learn? She swears she will -- even swore in front of her Sacred Statues to love Jai with all her heart.
Do we believe her? No matter. For now she remains Jai's primary caregiver despite the obvious gamble.
Dear everyone. Blessings for Chinese New Year and the whole year of the Rooster.
Xin Jia Yu Yi Xin Ni Huad Xai
The Soothsayers tell us, that these are very special days.
Beginning with today, Thursday. The day we are to have paid all our debts and give red/pink envelopes to all the children and younger members of our family. The money is to be fresh bills, and of an even number, 40 or 60 or 80 Baht, and yes, they can go and buy candy, but they are supposed to keep the money, so that they will have money to use all year long. That means, here at Mercy, me being the oldest, and being “Father Joe” to prepare envelopes for everyone.
Then tomorrow Friday, is the day to pay respect to our ancestors and to make merit at the temple, or in Church.
Then Saturday, is the day to relax. No work. To go and visit near-by relatives. To have a special meal, already prepared by the grandmothers and mothers for weeks already. The annual house cleaning should already have been done. In the kitchen, the rice cooker is to be sparkling clean, ready to cook new rice, and thus have rice to eat for the whole year.
And to wear red clothing – the color of joy, of happiness, or at least a red ribbon, but certainly not dark colors.
Here at Mercy during Holy Mass we tell the children that they cannot say any bad words these whole three days , otherwise the words will stick in our mouth all year, and come out in our conversations, even when we don’t want them to.
And lest I forget, we must have firecrackers. Absolutely necessary to make noise, and frighten the nasty spirits back into the old year where they are caught, and thus we can begin the New Year happy and joyful.
All of us here wish you a Joyful and Blessed New Year.
Prayers – Fr. Joe and our 150 Mercy children, and all of our 33 slum shack schools and camp site schools, and 3,500 kindergarten kids and the sea gypsy kids and everyone.
It is a New Year and Mercy Centre is thriving as always with children’s play and laughter at every corner. The weather this time of year is pleasant, not hot not cold, no flood and no harsh sun. However, in the South of Thailand it has not been like this. Over Christmas the Southern provinces have experienced an unusual bad monsoon and almost half of the country has been flooded resulting in over 30 deaths, broken train tracks, collapsed bridges and closed airports. People have lost their homes and farmers have lost their crops.
Our Mercy home in Ranong was also hit but thankfully nothing more severe than a flooded 1st floor and some broken furniture.
Others were not that lucky and on Wednesday during the annual staff meeting we all gave donations to be sent down to help those affected in the Southern provinces.
Children’s Day (Sports Day)
Saturday 14 January is the national Children’s Day in Thailand and all over Bangkok there will be fun events and activities for our Klong Toey kids to participate in. This day is all about enjoying life as the young and celebrating the new generation – and our Mercy children will be accompanied by the house parents and travel to as many fun events they can manage in a day :)
Today Friday 13 January the Thai schools arrange their yearly Sports Day and all of our Mercy schools engaged with amazing outfits, happy songs and great enthusiasm to show their athletic skills and most importantly strong team work. We even had an Olympic Flame!
For more great pictures and a video from this super fun day see our YouTube and Facebook
This year, 2017, it is 45 years since HDF Mercy Centre opened their first school doors and the first set of children’s feet were skipping of excitement and loads of energy to start learning writing and arithmetic’s; and grateful parents that finally had a place their children could be safe, fed and cared for while they worked.
50,000 Kindergarten graduates later HDF Mercy Centre will be hosting a series of events and activities throughout the year. To honor the ones who have supported us and made it possible to continue and expanding for the last 45 years; and also to invite new members of our extend family to join us and help us spread the word of the children and every partner we have in the shanty slums of Klong Toey and Bangkok. Please do join us to show the world who we are and most importantly how amazing our children are and that we will continue to work in partnership with the poorest of the poor for many more years to come – our job is far from done.
Stay tuned for more information of upcoming events!
Happy weekend to you all