Zefke Mols

Although Zefke Mols passed away many years ago, when I do, I have to Thailand I think of him regularly. To be honest, I never knew him, but a song by the Limburg troubadour Jo Erens, who unfortunately died much too early, keeps Zefke alive in my mind.

He was a simple soul with his heart in the right place, a real village figure. Write this in the hope that the real Sittard resident will not charge me too heavily for the word 'Village figure', because Toon Hermans does not come from a village but from the city of Sittard and that says enough.

But what does Zefke Mols actually have to do with Thailand, many will wonder. Nothing, nothing at all. In fact, I am convinced that he has hardly ever heard of the country, let alone ever been there. He will not have missed it either, because there was only one country for him, that was Limburg, with Sittard as the most important place on earth.

Thailand

On the other hand, I am sure that no Thai has ever wondered where Sittard is, let alone that anyone there has ever heard of Zefke Mols. Although Zefke was not interested in politics, it would be good if many Thai political figures would take on Zefke's skin. Just look at the billboards or in a photographer's window in Thailand and you'll see what I mean.

Men, in impeccable white outfits, with twenty awards pinned to their chests and staring straight ahead, form the backdrop in many a photographer's shop window. Not to mention the immense posters that litter the streets during election time with these imaginary headlines. What the man or woman, who works hard and barely earns ten euros a day, should appeal to in such a polished face filled with self-importance remains a mystery to me. The corruption in politics as well as in the police and the armed forces radiates from these shop window heads.

Medals on his stomach

No, just give me Mr. Zefke Mols, as he was sung about by Jo Erens in the Limburg dialect. “Zefke Mols old, gray and worn out, one of our city prophets. With his pipe in his mouth and the medals on his stomach, he walks around Sittard all day long”. Look, there is the difference between our Zefke and those Thai bloated heads who rely on appearance.

Zefke was already making fun of it. He was averse to all that boasting and pinned everything that glittered not on his chest but on his stomach. He must have thought of the saying “Write it on your stomach”. Beating on his chest was not an option for him. Zefke was a great person.