A fairy tale from the Isaan

In the Isan (northeast of Thailand) you will find numerous small villages, where farmers try to build a reasonable living in rice cultivation. The farmers in that area all have one thing in common: they are poor!  

Thailand is called the "ricebowl of Asia" but the farmers in the Isan can barely survive on the produce of their land, they are exploited from the cradle to the grave. The traders or the factory pay only a pittance for the rice yield.

Chuvit was such a rice farmer, he had 30 rai of land that he used entirely to grow Thai Hom Mali rice, known in the western world as jasmine rice. He too was poor, but Chuvit did not complain, he suffered in silence, for it had always been so.

Chuvit worked on his land for four months during the rainy season. In a crooked position he planted the rice plants in the mud, 30 cm below the water-filled plain. Working bent over was of course bad for your back and many of his older fellow villagers had a worn back because of this work in sometimes 35 degrees tropical sun and 90% humidity. Occasionally there were also fatalities from venomous snake bites. Recently, Chuvit's neighbor was bitten by a snake and died on the long drive from the field to the hospital. The widow had offered the land to Chuvit for takeover at 8.000 Baht per rai, a fraction of its real value, but Chuvit did not have the money and there were no other buyers.

When the rice was harvested, Chuvit again bent over the field to cut the rice with a sickle and tie it into bundles. He then worked 14 hours a day to bring in the harvest as quickly as possible. He had no help because his wife had died giving birth to their only child, a daughter. When the daughter grew a little, she helped on the land until she was old enough to look for work in Pattaya. Chuvit did not ask what work she did there, he was happy that she sent him some money every month. He saved that money as much as possible and was able to pay his neighbor last year to thresh the rice by machine. He could now dry the rice on a waterproof groundsheet and feed the chaff to the buffalo.

It had been a good harvest, thanks to the sacred cows at the Royal Plow Ceremony. The cows could choose from seven fodders offered by Chuvit, and if the maize was chosen, it meant an abundant crop of rice. That's how it had been predicted to him and that's how it had come true. With his daughter's money he could now also use fertilizer and the yield was an average of 500 kilos of rice per rai. Chuvit started calculating, 30 rai yielded about 15.000 kilos. Even if the price for a kilo of rice were only 14 Baht, it could easily last all year round at about 15.000 Baht per month.

The sacks of rice were loaded onto a truck, which drove around three times a week to collect the rice from the farmers during harvest time. The owner of the rice factory offered this service for free. Chuvit sat proudly on top of the sacks and waved merrily to his neighbors and friends. He had managed to do all of this on his own. But unfortunately his cheerful mood was tempered at the entrance of the factory.

Chavalit, the owner, stood at the gate with his usual sour face. It seemed as if a black cloud hovered permanently above his head. He frowned when he saw Chuvit on the car and even before the car stopped he grumbled: “Eight Baht a kilo”.

“The new government has promised us to pay a minimum of 14 Baht,” said Chuvit.

“Then take your rice to the government, but not on my chariot,” was the reply, and Chavalit turned his back brusquely on Chuvit.

“Would you like to pay me 12 Baht then?”', Chuvit asked plaintively.

“Why should I, there is an abundance of rice this year. If you don't accept my prize, I'll have you throw sacks of rice off my wagon and see what you do with it." Chavalit, completely sure of himself, walked away from him.

When he got home, Chuvit started calculating again. If he only had 10.000 Baht a month to spend, he would not starve, but he could forget about buying a tractor or even a buffalo. He wouldn't be able to afford fertilizer either, so next year's harvest would be a lot less. He was caught in a continuing downward spiral of poverty. There was only one thing he could do: drink! He sat down in a shady spot with only the buffalo for company and steadily drank. He could no longer think, but his depression was gone. He started singing Thai songs happily on his own.

At one point he became aware that someone was sitting next to him singing along. It was a shadowy form of his long-dead wife. She gave him a sad smile and then whispered six numbers in his ear: 4. 10, 18, 23. 42 and 46. Chuvit immediately recognized the series of numbers as his, his wife's, and his daughter's ages and birthdays. He immediately knew what to do.

The “lao kao” still left him with a bit of a headache, but with a surprisingly clear mind he set off for the big city the next morning. He searched and found the previously mentioned numbers at various lottery ticket sellers and he wasn't even that surprised that he hit the jackpot. The prize of 78 million baht was credited to his bank account within 48 hours. Chuvit now had to think carefully about what he was going to do in the coming period.

The first sign of a storm was brewing when Chavalit opened the gates to his factory at the start of another week. A group of his workers stood by a nice new car parked at the entrance, where a large sign with text was hung. He ordered the workers inside to get to work, but no one moved. He pushed his way through the group of about 30 workers on his payroll and saw the large sign, which looked professional.

WANTED – WORKMEN

Easy work, loading and unloading of rice bags

Guaranteed 100 Baht more daily wage than at Chavalit

Next to it an even bigger plate, on which 20 Baht per kilo of rice was offered. Chavalit walked to the car, and bellowed at Chuvit, who smiled at him: “What does this mean? Are you trying to ruin me? How can a poor farmer like you pay these ridiculously high prices? You seem crazy!

Calmly Chuvit replied, “You tried to ruin me with ridiculously low prices for my rice when I was a poor peasant. Now I am a wealthy businessman and I am going to share my wealth with other farmers. The bank pays me almost 60.000 Baht per week in interest, which is about 8.500 Baht per day. I can guarantee the money that I now offer every day and it will not make me any less”. Chuvit gave the factory owner a paper with the bank's calculations, which looked at it with dismay. He slowly sank to his knees, for it was clear he was a ruined man.

Chuvit kindly continued: “Unlike you, I am willing to be merciful. Your factory is worthless now, but I'll offer you 1 million Baht for it. My lawyer has already prepared the papers that we can sign together tomorrow.”

“My business is worth much more,” the broken man cried.

“That was my rice and then some: for every day that I now have to rent a car with a driver to transport the rice to a rented warehouse, my price will be reduced by 5.000 Baht.”

Chuvit looked unfazed as Chavalit collapsed mentally and accepted the offer.

Later that evening, Chuvit sat alone in his house and looked at the photo of his dead wife. He had to make more plans, because the money was not for him alone. He would ask his daughter to stop working in Pattaya and come home. He would buy a new house with a television and a refrigerator. He would buy the widow's land for 10.000 Baht per rai. He would reward his neighbors for the money he borrowed when he was hungry and for the beer they gave him when he was sad. He would buy a tractor that would also make his life easier.

He went outside and looked at the sign he had put up: Wanted: rice, 20 baht per kilo. He smiled, crossed out 20 and made it 30 Baht per kilo.

Oh yes, his neighbors' houses were in need of a makeover, he should arrange that, a satisfied Chuvit thought.

(A bit) adapted from a story from the Pattaya trader.

About this blogger

Gringo

Bert Gringhuis (1945), born and raised in Almelo in the beautiful Twente. Later lived for many years in Amsterdam and Alkmaar, working in export for various companies. I first came to Thailand in 1980 and immediately fell in love with the country. Been back many times since then and moved to Thailand after my (early) retirement as a widower. I have been living there for 22 years now with my somewhat younger Thai lady Poopae.
My first experiences in Thailand as a kind of newsletter sent to family, friends and acquaintances, which later appeared under the name Gringo on Thailandblog. Many, many articles followed those first stories and that has grown into an almost daily hobby.
In the Netherlands still an avid footballer and football referee, but the years are starting to tell and in Thailand still avid, but the pool billiards is really of inferior quality, ha ha!

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