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About the Author

Daniel M Dorothy was born in New Jersey, USA, and grew up in Harpswell Maine, a lobster fishing community in Casco Bay. He also lived in Hawaii for several years before eventually emigrating to Thailand in 1991.

He has worked with Pattaya Mail Publishing since its inception in 1993, and in 1996 became executive editor of Pattaya Mail Publishing Co. Ltd., a position he still holds today. In 2002, Dan became a founding partner in the Chiang Mai Mail newspaper in Northern Thailand and served as its president for three years. He still sits on the Chiang Mai Mail board of directors.

Mango Rains is his first book.

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Mango Rains

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Mango Rains

The true story of a Thai mother’s lifelong search for her abducted daughter.

Daniel M DoRothy

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Published by Maverick house Publishers.

Maverick house Publishers, office 19, dunboyne business Park, dunboyne, co. Meath, ireland.

info@maverickhouse.comhttp://www.maverickhouse.com

isbN: 978-1-905379-66-8

copyright for text © 2010 daniel M dorothycopyright for typesetting, editing, layout, design © Maverick house.

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The paper used in this book comes from wood pulp of managed forests. For every tree felled, at least one tree is planted, thereby renewing natural resources.

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

all rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for insertion in a newspaper, magazine or broadcast.

a ciP catalogue record for this book is available from the british library.

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Mango Rains is dedicated to my late mother, Eva Minot. May she rest in peace.

d e d i c at i o n

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Many people have given me ideas and encouragement throughout the writing of this book. It would be impossible to name them all but I would like to give special thanks to:

Jean Harrington at Maverick House for taking me under her wing and guiding me through the publishing process; Dr. Iain Corness, author of the Farang series of books, for proofreading the manuscript; my late mother Eva Minot (may she rest in peace) for convincing me not to give up on this project; Dave Sparks Jr. for bugging me to finally dust off the manuscript and make the finishing touches; Tom Gingerich for being a good sounding board off which to bounce ideas; Peter Malhotra, ‘father’ of the Pattaya Mail publishing family who goes above and beyond the call of duty for his extended family; and finally to ‘Lek’ and ‘Nid’, without whom there would be no Mango Rains.

a c k n o w l e d g e m e n t s

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The following is a true story based on the recollections of Lek, one of the two main characters in Mango Rains, as recounted to me in dozens of interviews conducted in Bangkok and Pattaya. The names of the main characters have been changed to protect their privacy.

I met Lek in the early 1990s in Bangkok. We became good friends and had many long conversations, mostly her talking about her past and her mother’s story, but also her dreams and aspirations. Unfortunately, after about three years we went our separate ways. Last I heard she had married and started a family. Nid has since retired from the music business. She too finally married, then moved to Europe.

I was quite moved by this remarkable life story, and felt compelled to spread the message that there is so much more behind the famous Thai smile, so much hidden away from the casual eye. And although their story is unique in its details, it is synonymous with so many others in Thailand, not only to those who eventually end up in the bar trade, but with the many who work in factories, in hotels and restaurants, doing menial labor for pittance, barely able to exist, much less get ahead in life. There are many more similar stories that end in tragedy. Lek and Nid’s story was inspirational to me as it ended in triumph.

Perhaps in it there is hope for others.

i n t r o d u c t i o n

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A warm breeze blew, causing the tops of the rice seedlings near her to quiver. In early June 1971, with the rainy season having just begun, Nid Sawang lay in pain on the edge of a rice paddy just outside a small town in northeast Thailand, near the Cambodian border. She had just turned 16 years of age. Although that accomplishment wouldn’t make it into anyone’s history book, it was a small miracle for Nid.

The ground was moist, but she didn’t care. It couldn’t be much longer now. She was nearing the end of her pregnancy, yet it had become clear to her that starvation was most likely going to come first. Her stomach pain kept her awake even though she wanted nothing more than to slip into a comfortable sleep, to make all her troubles go away.

She accepted her conditions. If this is what fate had planned for her she wouldn’t fight it. She would just lie there and try to shut out the pain. Alone and helpless, with no one around to hear her cries of pain, she finally shut her eyes and let her mind drift away.

The hooves of a water buffalo made soft clomping sounds on the gravel road that cut through the center of Somchai’s farm. The shackles of its harness jingled rhythmically, keeping an ever so slow beat as it strained under the pressure of pulling a wooden cart behind.

Somchai barely had to steer the beast, for it had been down this path a hundred times before. This gave him plenty of time

c h a p t e r

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to gaze upon the land that stretched out before him as far as he could see. It was his farm now, had been since his father passed away. The land he would someday pass on to his eldest son Thawanee, had been in his family for many generations.

Life had never been easy for his family. Farm life never was. There had been droughts, there had been territorial struggles with the Khmer, there had even been countless changes of government over the years, but somehow Somchai’s family had managed to hold on to this precious plot of fertility.

‘Your great-grandfather almost lost this farm back in the drought of 20-21,’ Somchai spoke over his shoulder. His son Thawanee had come along on this trip to repair a broken paddy dam and lay resting in the back of the cart.

‘Back in those days entire villages were like extend-ed families,’ Somchai continued. ‘Farmers helped farmers, families helped families, and everyone looked out for one another. There wasn’t any competition because rice wasn’t sold. Traded sometimes, but it was mostly grown only for families to eat,’ he said.

Thawanee recognized what was coming by the tone in his father’s voice. ‘Everything was changing and nothing was as good as it was in the old days.’ How many times had he heard it? Never mind, Thawanee loved and respected his father and knew how much tradition meant to him, so he sat up to listen.

‘The drought years were tough times. If it wasn’t for the fact that everyone helped each other, many good people would have lost their farms. I shudder to think what would happen if we had a drought now. Sure, there are still a few old timers left, but we’re a vanishing breed.’

As he listened to his father’s fond memories of days gone by, Thawanee stared aimlessly at the long road ahead. Suddenly, something caught his eye. ‘What do you suppose that is, Por?’ Thawanee pointed to the spot where the object rested.

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Somchai strained his eyes to see what he was pointing at. ‘I don’t know. It almost looks like a person.’

‘What do you suppose he’s doing way out here?’ ‘I don’t know. I guess we had better find out.’ Somchai

took his switch and gave the buffalo a hard smack on its hind quarters. The gesture was futile. The buffalo had no interest in picking up the pace.

As they made progress toward the intruder, Somchai and Thawanee stared intensely at the person who lay prone beside their road. It had been a while since they had had a visitor, and both pondered who it might be that was interrupting their day and why they had done so. Finally, the wooden spoke wheels creaked to a halt when the wagon got close enough for the riders to see what appeared to be a young pregnant woman lying motionless.

‘Hello,’ Somchai called out to her. When she didn’t respond, it became apparent that something was wrong. ‘Go check on her,’ he commanded his son.

Apprehensive, Thawanee took a deep breath before he jumped out of the wagon and walked over to where she was lying. ‘Hello, can you hear me?’ He asked as he took her by the hand. Her arm was limp and cold and she still didn’t respond.

‘Is she alive?’ Somchai asked.Thawanee knelt down and put his head on her chest. ‘She’s

barely breathing.’‘Get her in the wagon,’ Somchai commanded.

Nid was slowly jostled out of her unconsciousness by the uneven sway and bumpy ride of the makeshift ambulance as it made its way past rice paddies on one side of the path and a tapioca grove off in the distance to the other. Just before reaching the farmhouse, she blinked open her eyes. Patches of dark clouds crowded the sky. It would rain soon.

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Was this some sort of holy chariot sent to take her into her next life? Was this what it was like to die? Her stomach began to hurt again.

‘Hey Por, she’s awake!’ Nid heard someone say.Was this a holy person sent to ease her journey? She turned

to see who had spoken. He was just a boy. He couldn’t be much older than she, Nid thought, as she tried to sit up to talk with him.

‘Just lie back and rest. We’re almost there,’ Thawanee tried to sound reassuring.

Almost where? Nid thought. Her angel of mercy didn’t much look the part. He appeared to be just a poor farm boy.

‘Soam, come quick! We need your help,’ Somchai yelled.Nid slowly turned to see where the new voice was coming

from. She could only see what looked like the back of an older man driving the cart.

‘Who is she?’ An older woman joined the two men after the wagon came to a stop outside a small farmhouse.

‘I don’t know,’ Somchai said to his wife. ‘We found her lying by the side of the path not far from the village road. She looks very sick.’

Sick? Nid thought. I’m not dead?‘She’s pregnant,’ Soam said, astonished.Pregnant? Nid looked down to her belly. Yes, my baby.

Again she tried to sit up. This time Thawanee helped steady her.

‘Where am I?’ Nid asked. She felt dizzy and thought she might faint at any moment.

‘You’re on the Somchai farm. Who are you? What happened?’ Soam asked her as she guided her out of the wagon.

‘Hungry,’ was all that Nid could muster. Her eyes felt heavy. Maybe she should just go back to sleep.

‘She’s starving,’ Soam exclaimed. ‘We have to feed her, quickly. Get her inside.’

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Somchai and Thawanee carefully carried Nid into the family’s small wooden farm house. Once inside, Soam instructed the men to place her on the sitting mats and use pillows to prop her up. As they did so, their eldest daughter Wan brought her a bowl of hot rice soup.

‘How long have you been at the edge of my farm?’ Somchai asked after Nid had finished her second helping. The entire family, which now included several younger children, had gathered around to stare at this mysterious young woman.

‘I don’t know,’ Nid replied. She could feel the warm liquid and rice bring back her strength as the meal slowly passed into her depleted system.

‘Why was it on my farm that you chose to die?’ Somchai blurted out. Soam gave him a curious glance.

‘I don’t know that either,’ Nid answered, seemingly unfazed by the question. She looked down at her belly and sighed. ‘I may have been very bad and perhaps deserve to die, but not yet. My fate is in the hands of Buddha and if I could ask him to grant me a dying wish, it would be to give life to my unborn child.’

‘Do you have a husband or family that may help grant you this wish?’

‘I do not. I am alone and an outcast.’ Even though her strength was returning, Nid couldn’t bear to look her saviors in the eyes.

Somchai cast a glance over at Soam. She was slowly shaking her head and had a pained expression on her face. ‘What have you done to deserve this fate?’

Nid’s stare was fixed firmly on the floor in front of her. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. You have been very kind to me. You brought me into your home and served me this delicious soup. You saved my life, at least for now. I do not wish for your good deed to become bad in your mind so please don’t ask me to tell you what it is that I have done. When I finish this soup I

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will be on my way again. I don’t want to bring any bad tidings to you or your family.’

‘Where will you go?’ Somchai asked.‘I don’t know,’ Nid replied.Somchai looked over at Soam again, then looked around at

the rest of his family before returning his attention to Nid. A moment of silence passed before he began.

‘Last night I had a dream,’ Somchai spoke slowly and chose his words carefully. ‘I dreamt of a fire in our barn. In my dream a woman bearing a child came and used magic to bring water to extinguish the fire.

‘As you might know, to dream of fire will bring bad luck, but to dream of water conquering fire foretells good luck. You may think I’m just a simple farmer but I believe in these things. They have been a way of life for farmers like me for many generations.

‘Today we found you on the edge of our farm near death. I’m convinced it wasn’t a coincidence. It had to have something to do with my dream last night. It must be some sort of sign from the mother of water asking repayment for her help. I cannot say no to something that’s much more powerful than any of us can imagine. Please accept my invitation to stay in my home until you are recovered enough to find your way.’

‘I . . . I don’t know what to say. I have no money and I am too weak to work for you. I wouldn’t have any way to repay you.’

‘You need not worry. It has been a good year so far and we have more than enough food to share. I believe you are an omen of good luck. That will be payment enough.’

‘What about your friends and neighbors? I’m sure they will wonder about me.’

‘If anyone should ask we will tell them you are my cousin from Korat who has fallen upon misfortune. I won’t worry about that and neither should you,’ the farmer said.

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