Thailand farm girl; ups & downs

By Darren (from Bangkok)

I started a dalliance with a Thailand farm girl. It was to be a tumultuous affair, laden with delight and fright. I sold off and packed up my life in the UK, a life of protecting myself and my belongings from criminals had come to an end.  My soul wanted some peace.

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I would get that peace, but only with the cost of some trauma on top. My Thailand farm girl was as sweet as I could have ever imagined and, as it turned out, she was also as mental as I could never have imagined. It seems that some experience is called for when searching for the girls in Thailand that are marriage worthy...

The move-in had happened, her family gracious and kind from the get go. I was making myself at home. My new job, although badly paid, was becoming fun. I settled in to the provincial life, a just reward for my lifetime’s effort on moral and honest living. A marriage ceremony and a swollen belly for my wife soon followed. Soon after that a tiny browned daughter appeared. With my big face apparent on her, the brown skin from her mother. She shone as any brand new life should.

A typical rural setting in Thailand, complete with Buffalo!

Soon after the birth my girl became angry. Any attempt to leave the house for anything was met with fury and jealousy. Nappies were needed but getting them meant having sexual intercourse with all the girls along the way. This continued for a few years. The apple of my eye always able to divert me away from the now skulking maniac that marched around the house. She accused me of imaginary everything egged on by her mother. It was here I realized the mother hated me and had always done so.

There were three in the marriage cake, but the cherry on top was a beautiful girl and she always calmed me. My first child, I was completely taken and small things stopped annoying me. No matter the scowls and weirdness, my little princess was as pretty as I ever thought a daughter could be. The small things however, grew.

Thailand farm girl bonfire

After a kayaking trip with some fellow teachers, I returned home. My Thailand farm girl was hiding, the bedroom door locked. The child sleeping. She looked tired out, panda eyes had set in. Confused I went into the spare room to start sorting out some paperwork and found my stuff missing, ripped, and broken. So many years protecting my belongings from thieving youths in the UK was now defeated.

My belongings were gone. My life collecting stuff, not expensive stuff, just the cool things that a human keeps. All my mother’s pictures of my childhood burned and destroyed by my wife. A whole shipping container of stuff, photos and things I had owned from days long gone, were now smouldering in the yard. Half crusted pictures of distant relatives. Photos and special trinkets from recent family celebratory events flapped in the breeze. The weirdest part was my Thailand farm girl, locked in the bedroom. Silent.

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In the morning she was gone. I clinked my back and stood up straight, as I have always done, and got on with the task of seeing if I could salvage anything. My girl’s mother came spluttering up on a motorbike. She scorned at me and left.

I waited as the calm and completely normal man I am. I am verging on boring, I have always been happy with that. Just work, family, and rugby on Sundays was all I ever wanted. I rose to chat to my returning crazed wife as her mother wandered off to the back of the house. My wife screamed in Thai language, I screamed back. All my life’s stuff nothing more than land bound flotsam.

Violence erupts…

It was then she stabbed me in the hip with a knife, the pain unutterable and frantic, my world crashed in an instant. My Thailand farm girl unhinged far more than I had suspected. I looked at her as she mouthed words, these were inaudible as the pain deafened me. Ringing in my ears and loss of stability meant I hit the floor. Nobody in the house called an ambulance. My Thai language was not getting across the message on the phone. Finally the mother begrudgingly told them what happened. This is the same woman whose feet I cleaned to show my respect too at the wedding.

She was annoyed at me for being stabbed in my own house. I was ruining towels too and that seemed to irk her more than a bleeding man. I demanded my daughter not see me like this. This the grandmother took as a time to take my little girl for ice-cream. Her daddy was bleeding in the kitchen and she was off for treats. It was then I realized, it was just the daughter that was wanted. Stabbing the daddy was nothing to my wife or her mother.

My daughter was the only respite from the damage, I had lost belongings but gained an angel. Worthy of all the stuff I ever owned and more. But I had to fight for that too. My daughter grew into a full and bespoke human being. And as any good little girl would, she believed her mummy. Attempts to divide us with weaponized words and underhand lies worked well. My daughters little brain soaking up all the lies, a little girl tends to listen to her mummy. The separation of my little girl and I was in full swing. My wife and her family joined in. This left only a flummoxed brother-in-law who remained divided by familial obedience and the thought that his sister was insane.  But Thai culture would state that calling her insane would offend her. Especially from a younger brother and definitely in front of a foreigner.

I love this country, but some things I just can’t fathom. Even after eight years I still choke on the near death experience at the hands of a crazy Thailand farm girl. Still it remains surreal and not of my world. I am too boring a guy to comprehend the other end of the human scale. This scale exists regardless of geographic location. This end of a scale that means a human stabs a man and then takes his daughter for ice-cream.

I always wanted long, funny, heart-melting conversations with my daughter. I imagined when looking at her crumpled newly born face that we would joke together. I never imagined that while pushing her on a swing I would hear terrible things about me. My baby girl, brainwashed, didn’t even know what she was saying. My ex-wife had broken the sacred human rule of not involving children. Slowly and after a few agonizing years my angel grew up. Her bright little face told me her bright little brain had seen through the bullshit.

It was a long road here, one I didn’t even know existed. But I found a new girl, she sits at the boring end of the scale, just nice for me.  And my angel stays with us. A weekly respite from her Thailand farm girl mother and the still angry lunatic that is her crazy grandmother.

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