Miss Bangkok: Memoirs of a Thai Prostitute Read Online Free Page A

gambling and drinking with her friends. I can still recall memories of him hanging mosquito nets over my bed. He was just a boy himself when he accepted responsibility for me. I cherish these memories as they are a rare reminder of an innocent time in my childhood.
    What semblance of childhood I had vanished when my brother left. I began to lead a life with no structure to it. I would sit in front of a television screen watching soap operas all day. I did as I pleased. I didn’t know what parental guidance was.
    The soap opera Dao Phra Suk , which means Venus, became my staple diet. It told the story of a girl called Dao, who had been abandoned by her mother at the hospital immediately after her birth. She lived a miserable childhood. She was treated like a slave by her adoptive mother, who forced her to clean her house as if she were a poor servant girl. She eventually ran away from home, only to end up in a brothel where she remained until she was rescued by love.
    I often compared my own plight to that of Dao. Although she suffered more than I, her dignity and morale remained firmly intact. She was a true survivor. When she worked as a prostitute, she deceived men into thinking that they had slept with her by plying them with liquor until they were rendered senseless.
    I often wished I had her strength. I secretly prayed to Buddha, asking him to bless Dao so she could find love and escape the demons that haunted her. When I prayed for Dao’s happiness, though, I was actually praying for my own. I didn’t know what true happiness was, but I knew that poverty had no role to play in it.
    My life was turned upside down the year I turned 17. That was the year in which my parents separated.
    Although I had always suspected it to be inevitable, I was still devastated by their break up. Mae ’s addiction to gambling had become exhausting and knew no bounds. As in most of these incidents, I cannot remember exactly when it happened, but I recall that she vanished for three days. She had gone to a friend’s house and gambled what little money she had in her possession. I had always been charged with the unenviable task of taking her home every night when she got drunk and could no longer find the way.
    For my mother, gambling was a means of escape. For me, her addiction was a source of embarrassment. I hated her for it. I resented having to call to the ‘gambling house’ every few hours, where I was always made to feel unwelcome by mae ’s friends for obvious reasons.
    Por , on the other hand, had never been one to lose face. Thai men will tolerate all sorts of behaviour rather than risk a confrontation. Fetching your gambling-addicted wife is out of the question and emasculating. But on that day, por had had enough and took matters into his own hands. This was most unlike him because it is not the Thai way.
    When he discovered mae had been gone for three days, he was more than prepared to lose face. And I, for one, wasn’t going to miss it.
    The house where mae was staying was a short walk from ours. Por made the journey in less than two minutes and thumped on the front door. When no one answered, he opened it and called to my mother from the doorway, ‘You come home right now or I will find myself another mia . I am serious this time.’
    I was standing less than six feet behind him. Although I had seen my parents argue before, I had never seen por lose his temper like this.
    The women inside remained silent, and por stood as still as a statue while my mother taunted him: ‘Well if you can get yourself another wife you better do so because I’m not coming home yet.’
    He made no reply but closed the door to an outburst of laughter. This was perhaps the greatest insult that mae could have delivered.
    I turned and walked away. I didn’t want him to know that I had witnessed this, though I think by that stage he no longer cared enough to be embarrassed.
    I ran home, sat in front of the television, and pretended to be