From: ssg9328@uxa.cso.uiuc.edu (Samart Srijumnong)
Subject: DAUGHTER FOR SALE (A short story)
Organization: University of Illinois at Urbana
Date: Wed, 16 Dec 1992 06:19:55 GMT
Keywords: Thai literature


                  DAUGHTER FOR SALE*
                  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Written by Samruam Singh; Translated by Katherine A. Bowie)
* The story first published in JATURAT 1, No.23 (16 December 1975):
50-51


                        * * *

   After he gave his word to Yai Phloy, Lung Maa couldn't think
of what to tell his daughter. His heart ached, knowing that the
words Yai Phloy had uttered that day were outright lies. But what
was he to have done? No matter what, he would have to let his
daughter go with Yai Phloy. So what point would there have been in
disagreeing with her, in forcing her to speak the truth? Wouldn't he
only be degrading himself by admitting openly for everyone to hear
that he was so destitute that he had to sell his daughter. Far
better to let Yai Phloy go on with her eloquent deception. However
wrong, he could then mumble that he had been tricked by Yai Phloy.
In any event, a man is better branded as having been conned that
branded as having sold his daughter into prostitution.

   Yai Phloy's soliloquy was most pervasive. Anyone listening to
it would have been seduced by it. Yai Phloy began by elucidating in
great detail about how children's behavior these days was getting
steadily worse and worse, especially city children, and especially
in Bangkok. This was because their parents were so busy working,
striving to get ahead, that they had not time to stay at home with
their children. Instead, the children were ignored until they
finally got into trouble. Hiring someone to take care of the
children was extremely difficult. Some hired servants who, as soon
as their employers weren't watching, absconded with everything in
the house. Lost of them stole, even if just a little here and there.
But the major problem was that servants were so unreliable. As soon
as they were the least bit tired or were criticized or scolded in
the least. They ran away back to their homes. Consequently, several
of Bangkok's wealthy elite had requested Yai Phloy to find them
dependable girls to be their servants. They paid good wages and,
moreover, even paid money in advance. As many girls as she could get
would be placed.

   Even though Yai Phloy was not from his village, Lung Maa had
known Yai Phloy since she had been a young girl. In those days, her
beauty was known throughout the subdistrict. But before any of the
local youths were able to compete for possession, Yai Phloy had
already run off to Bangkok with someone who had passed through with
the medicine show. Much, much later, when she finally came back,
word had it that she had become thoroughly Bangkokian, with a
haughty manner and pretentious lifestyles. She appeared to have
become a lady of no insignificant wealth. Yai Phloy went back and
forth to Bangkok often. Of the girls that went to Bangkok with her,
some came back even poorer than before. And some disappeared
completely. 

   Lung Maa knew perfectly well what kind of work the girls who
went with Yai Phloy did in Bangkok, because one day he had gone to
get an injection at the district health center. That day, the only
too discreet doctor there had told him that two or three girls who
had gone to Bangkok with Yai Phloy had come back with severe cases
of gonorrhea, so severe that he had to send them into town for
treatment.

   Lung Maa heaved a deep sigh as he thought of his daughter who
was soon to become one more in the ranks of unlucky girls. He wanted
to talk with his daughter so she would understand and be as
untroubled as possible. But he could think of nothing to say.

   Paa Saeng, his partner through life, was lying sick in the
hospital in the city, suffering from an intestinal problem. She was
waiting for the money that would be used to pay for the blood and
surgery needed to sustain her life. Her survival, though, would only
continue her pain and suffering.

   He couldn't borrow money from anyone else any more. His
present debt totalled already about 10,000 baht. He'd been in debt
for nearly ten years. In all those years, all his efforts had only
succeeded in ensuring that his debts compounded interest slowly.

   One year, the garlic price had been exceptionally good, which
was why he found himself in his present state. The merchants that
year had come directly to the village, buying at fourteen to fifteen
baht a kilo. It meant that, for once, Lung Maa had enough money to
think of working for a better life. So, he borrowed 10,000 baht.
With that and the money he had saved previously, he bought another
three rai of paddyfield. He was willing to pay the interest rate of
150 thang (Note: Thang [pronounced taang+ not thaang+] is a northern
Thai version of bushel. During 1977, one thang of rice can be sold
for 45-50 baht. Please note also that one rai [=1,600 sq. meters or
0.4 acre] of land yields 30-60 thang per crop.) of rice per year. 
He had planned to use the entire rice crop from the newly bought
land to pay the interest and use the money from the dry season to
pay off the original loan.

   But he met with bad luck. The following year, the garlic
prices dropped to between thirty and fifty satang (one 100th of
baht) a kilo, despite his effort to appease the merchants by
bringing the garlic directly to their warehouses and despite the
fact that the seed he had bought had been very expensive, nearly
fifty baht per kilo. He thought they were probably garlic seeds
imported from China. That year began his downward cycle. No matter
how he struggled by trying other crops, the profit he made was only
enough to see his family through. One year, the price of rice
dropped to five baht a thang, forcing him to give up his new plot of
land to his creditor. But he was still left with debts worth more
than the plot of land he had inherited from his parents. He debts
kept steadily increasing. Now he was working his remaining four rai
without getting anything himself, because the rice yield went to pay
the interest on his debts. The hope that he would one day clear
himself of his debts had faded.

   As he thought of his past, his eyes brimmed with tears of
bitterness at his fate, welling over as his thoughts turned to the
future. In another tow or three days, his daughter, while still
living, would be forced into hell in Bangkok. In two or three weeks,
he would once again face the painful sight of his creditor callously
coming to collect 200 thang of rice. This year there had not been
enough water, so he was not sure if he would have enough rice to
pay, and if there would be any left over. Agony tore his heart as he
recalled the words of his creditor, echoing in his mind: "Maa, the
money you've borrowed from me now amounts to more than the value of
the land you mortgaged. What am I to do? If it keeps on like this,
I'm afraid I's going to have to ask to claim your land and house.
Next year my son is going abroad, so I'll be having a lot of
expenses myself. So please try to pay me by then, if even only the
interest."

		           * * *

   So now his daughter had gone with Yai Phloy. He had controlled
his tears. His parting words to his daughter had been to obey Yai
Phloy without questions. If she had any problems, she should write
a letter and let him know. He consoled her by saying if he had a
chance, he would come to visit her. Of what he had prepared to tell
her, nor a single word would come out.

   The 2,500 baht he had received as an advance from Yai Phloy
was barely enough to pay for Paa Saeng's hospital expenses. And when
Paa Saeng returned home and learned that her daughter had gone off
with Yai Phloy, she fainted instantly. When she recovered, she began
sobbing and sobbing. She wouldn't talk to or even look Lung Maa in
face, let alone any of her other five children who were standing
around her. Lung Maa could think of nothing to say, so he sought
silent refuge in making bamboo ties. (Note: About 2 feet long ties
made of bamboo are to be used in binding the harvested rice stalks
together) 

   Late that night, when all their children were asleep, Paa
Saeng's voice, muffled with the sounds of weeping, whispered, "Phii
Maa, didn't you know what Ee Phloy took our daughter to do?"

   "Mother, I knew, but it was necessary. You know as well as I
that we had no choice. When you were in hospital, if we didn't have
the money to pay for the cost of medicine, the blood, the saline,
and other expenses, the doctor wouldn't have been willing to treat
you. They wouldn't let us go to the destitute ward. Are you angry
with me?"

   "No, I'm not angry. But I feel so sad. Ever since I was born,
there's been nothing but suffering."

   "Do you know Yai Phloy well?"

   "Oh, the people in the market place know her only too well.
She's taken several of their daughters to sell already. She gets
paid 500 baht a head for some, 2-300 baht for others. She takes
whatever she can get. She's been a prostitute herself, ever since
she was young. When she was not longer able to sell herself, she
began selling young girls instead. Her parents had a lot of debts
then. Now things seem to be going better for them, but they still
owe money."

   "I worry about our daughter. I feel so sorry for her. Ever
since she left, I don't sleep at night."

   "Phii Maa, the matter has happened and nothing can be done, so
we might as well let it pass. We'll help each other to share the
burden of our demerit. It's just as if she has gone off and gotten
a husband, only that she doesn't have a real husband...By the time
she can earn the money to help her parents, I wonder how many
husbands she will have to have..."



                  * THE END *


The story appears in VOICES FROM THE THAI COUNTRYSIDE: THE SHORT
STORIES OF SAMRUAM SINGH, edited and translated by Katherine A.
Bowie, published by U of Wisconsin Center for Southeast Asian
Studies, 1991.