Letters from a Widower (2)
In memory of my dear wife I write down some beautiful, special or fun anecdotes. Mali was a beautiful woman and together we experienced many fun or remarkable things. Below are some of those events that I can look back on with a smile.
You can read part 1 here: www.thailandblog.nl/column/letters-van-een-weduwnaar/
Night owl
It was 2011, Mali still lived in Thailand and we mainly kept in touch via Skype. Sometimes we let each other's phone ring briefly to let the other know you were online. One night I was suddenly awakened by a phone call. Despite the impossible time I turned on my computer to Skype, what could be going on to wake me up in the middle of the night? I opened Skype, on the other side was Mali who indicated that he had completely forgotten about the time difference. She apologized and told me to go back to sleep soon. That seemed a bit absurd to me, after all I had already been awakened and we talked for at least another hour.
Rude mother-in-law
Mali told me a few months ago how vulgar she found my mother when Mali had only just arrived in the Netherlands. My mother came to visit us and started shouting 'Pussy, pussy'. That kind of rude language, that is not possible, Mali thought. Only later did the penny drop that mother had tried to get our cat's attention.
Drive like a Thai
During the first six months, a foreign national may still drive a car in the Netherlands. That was of course so nice because then I didn't have to drive all the time. Driving in Dutch traffic went well in Mali. Until one quiet day we drove to my father's. The roads were almost empty, not a car to be seen at the last major intersection. We were pre-sorted to turn left, the light turned green and suddenly Mali drove almost left around the traffic island. "RIGHT, KWA, KWA!" I yelled. Fortunately, no traffic was coming, although that was precisely the reason she was on autopilot. Well, can happen if you are used to driving on the other side of the road.
Thai khi nok
Luckily, Mali didn't have a hole in her hand, but she was often able to make (more expensive) purchases spontaneously. She sometimes showed what she wanted to buy for herself, me or us together. Sometimes I said that I didn't think it was a wise purchase and that the product would be of little use to us. Often I was right, and the product soon ended up in the back of the cupboard. Of course I let Mali do what she wanted and she really didn't have to justify her purchases, but she often showed that she intended to buy.
One day it was that time again, Mali had seen something beautiful, a piece of jewelry I think, and showed it to me. I asked her if she liked it and would actually use it. Mali thought for a moment and then told me she wouldn't buy it after all. I told her 'if you really like it, buy it'. I was told a firm 'no'. I said again that if this piece of jewelry would make her happy, she should buy it. Mali got a little angry and said she really didn't want to buy it anymore. 'Why not?' I asked. With a broad smile she replied 'Thai khi nok*, saving money is better. I am smart'. Financially, I didn't have to worry that Mali would do strange things with our money. I read stories such as pocket money for the Thai partner or shielding one's own bank account as some Dutch partners tend to do with some surprise.
* Khi nok > bird droppings, stingy(nature). Usually used for farang (white noses): 'Farang khi nok'.
Dancing in the kitchen
It sometimes happened that leftovers were left or ingredients were forgotten. Sometimes I opened the fridge and asked Mali if we shouldn't even finish something. 'Yes, tomorrow' was often the answer. But even then things were sometimes forgotten or we didn't feel like eating that product. If we had to throw away food, I sometimes said that I had warned against it and it was a bit of a shame. I sometimes joked that Mali must have loved throwing things away. Mali didn't always like to hear that, so whenever she pulled something out of the fridge she could tell me to shut up with a disapproving look. I then took the product out of the refrigerator, smiled broadly and performed a little dance. Mali then repeated in a somewhat louder tone that I should not say anything. To which I said 'I don't say anything' and then performed a happy dance and rhythmically made my way towards the trash can while I sang 'I don't say anything, I like… jajaja… I don't say anything, I like, yes, lalala'. Of course Mali indicated that I was not quite right in my head, after which we both burst out laughing.
She must have been a really great girl.
It's always the wrong ones that go first.
Again, my deepest condolences as you process this terrible loss.
She was just a beautiful lady full of happiness, joy and positivity. Something that also radiated to me and made me an even better person.
For the sake of completeness, a link to part 1 (the plugin that automatically generates related links has failed or is now disabled):
https://www.thailandblog.nl/column/brieven-van-een-weduwnaar/
Dear Rob,
Good luck , try to hold on to the good memories you had with Mali !
They can never take that away from you!
Bart.
Nice these experiences, they are so recognizable, experienced a night owl, drive like a Dutchman in Thailand, I occasionally grab my left shoulder for my seat belt in the car, sometimes turn on the windshield wiper when I want to go in direction wanting to take the roundabout the wrong way at an unguarded moment, my wife likes to buy my clothes now and then in a shopping mall, where it is considerably more expensive, while she likes to buy her clothes at the market, khi nok, it is cheaper there , if your wife thinks like this, you're fine, no money beating, I don't dance triumphantly in the kitchen anymore, I leave everything in the large fridge that I don't use myself, the rest is managed by my wife, so calm , very little goes away. That's how you do it, nice dancing, nice peuhuh, and then laughing, those are those beautiful memories.
Great, hold on to them, I hope it puts a little smile on your face already.
Come with those anecdotes, nice to hear.
Nico B
I find it funny that similar situations can just as well occur with two people who come from the same village in the Netherlands. Of course, the word 'comparable' should be taken very broadly with the story about “pussy, pussy”, but probably the majority of Dutch refrigerators are full of “inedible remains”. Even forgetting the time difference happens to many who are on a long business trip and want to hear the latest news from home.
At the moment, the Dutch sometimes, but often too inappropriately, want to emphasize 'how different' and 'how unique' their native culture is. These stories by Rob V. make you realize that it's not too bad with that 'being different and unique'. After all, his stories are about two people from two completely different cultures and despite that enormous cultural difference, there is that recognisability. I think it's nice to be able to observe this and I thank Rob V. for making this possible by writing about his life with Mali. Thanks!
Totally agree Taitai. Culture is just a thin sauce over a chunk of human character. We may have come from completely different countries and cultures, but that has never been an obstacle or a source of confusion or misunderstanding. As people we were just a great match, two personalities who got along more than fantastic with each other with love and respect for each other. I think the whole “that's their culture” is highly exaggerated. I don't see anything useful in a manual on how to deal with Thai people, because recognisability in each other's personality was by far the most important. Now I do have a soft spot for Asia and Asian ladies, but Mali could just as easily have been someone from my own village. We were just two people who loved each other dearly and would do anything to be together.