Mine is Patong. Patong is the receptionist at the mayor's office in my village. Sometimes, I think she single-handedly runs the place. She is my Meh Bpratet Thai (Thai mom), my caretaker, my champion, my counterpart, and my favorite, favorite, favorite person in Thailand.
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| Family portrait. Patong is wearing the blue flowered shirt... and as you can see, she's got her eye on me. |
Patong was assigned to take care of me when I first arrived in my village, to watch over me, to mother me. In any other situation, this might have been a recipe for disaster. I've always been very independent (ask my American mom about it) and I've always taken care of myself. And I came to Thailand with the assumption that none of that would change. But it has.
During one of my headstrong fits while arguing with Patong, I thought I was so clever when I said in Thai "I'm a 31-year-old American woman, I capable of doing things myself." Patong was quick to remind me "This isn't America. This is Thailand. Things are different here and you must listen to me if you want to stay safe." I went from feeling 31 to three.
What's funniest about this experience - moving to another country not knowing a soul, living alone in a village of people who are, on the outside, nothing like me at all, learning how to speak, to feed myself, bathe myself, to even conduct myself all in another culture - is that it's a tiny bit like being reborn knowing what I already know yet still having to go through the all the stages of life again. And unfortunately and surprisingly, making a lot of the same mistakes I made the first time.
Until that day Patong put me in my place, it never occurred to me that having someone essentially raise me would be a good thing, a very happy thing, an opportunity to forge a bond with someone who it was very unlikely that I would have ever met had it not been for Peace Corps.
Nowadays, Patong often follows me on her motorcycle as I ride my bike to the market, or to the school. She drives by my classroom to make sure I am there and safe. She tells me I am not allowed to ride my bike on the main road because it's too dangerous and that druggies might hurt me. She tells me that I can leave my bike at the police station for two days, but not three days, when I go out of town because it will get stolen. She has informed me that the reason I have a bum knee is because I eat too much chicken. She comes to my house and tells me I need to clean it. She tells me when she thinks a project idea will or won't work. She tells me when I need to exercise, when I look fat, skinny, or just right. She tells me (and everyone else) that I need to be home by sunset. She understands my Thai, which I can only imagine is much like the mother who can understand her toddler's babbling, when no one else in the room has any idea what I'm trying to say.
And best of all, she makes things happen. Every project I've worked on here is courtesy of Patong. When I wanted to teach the village kids about healthy lifestyles, she made it happen. When I wanted to start teaching in the village schools, she made it happen.
My first year here was extremely difficult and I am certain I was quite unpleasant to be around most of the time. I'm so glad Patong didn't give up on me. And I'm so, so, so glad she didn't let me give up on myself.
Right now, I'm planning a sex education camp for the youth in our village, which I'm really excited about because it's combating both a problem in our community and a problem in Thailand. And guess who is making it happen...
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| Patong, me, and Lily at the office. |
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