Stepping Stones

Chapter 3-1

“How do you think it’ll go?” The three people sitting around the table on the rooftop of the ‘Four Winds Hotel’ in Baan Suay looked at each other. None of them wanted to be the first to speak. “Like that, is it?” asked Lek.

“Don’t worry about it. You’ve done all you can and so have we. I for one think you’ve got it in the bag. Don’t you, Nic?” encouraged Ayr.

“If I were a betting man, which I am, I would say that you have a seventy-thirty chance and I have put money on you, but I’d be happier with eighty-twenty.”

“Well, thanks for your confidence. Did we bet on me as well, Ayr?”

“Oh, you are not allowed to bet on the outcome, it’s against the law and as your close associate, neither should I, but I got my cousin to put five thousand on you – they wouldn’t take any more, given the odds. How much did you do, Nic?”

“I didn’t, and for the same reason, but my mother managed to place six thou at three to two on.”

“Yes, that’s what we took too.”

“OK, let’s go and see what’s happening shall we?” They finished the bottle of whiskey before them with a swift double each from a small glass that they passed around between them.

Ayr drove them to Nic’s house which was across the road from the village polling station. His wife, Jan, was handing out iced-water and cakes, made and donated by a local firm as a self-promotion, to people who had either already voted or who had walked up in the heat of the afternoon and wanted a breather before they did.

It had been nearly four years since her first and last election success, when she had won the hearts and votes of her ward members, but this was for a different post – a higher position and she would need the support of not only all her own village, but also that of most of the Moo, or wards, in the other five villages.

There were six candidates standing for the job of Head Orbortor, or Chief of Finance for the district. She was worried that she should have stood as Orbortor for her own ward first, before going for the job of Capo di Tutti Capi.

So were all her main supporters, and her enemies were hoping that she had bitten off more than she could chew, trying to run before she could even walk properly.

“Stand at the gate by the road, Lek and smile a lot. Greet everyone like a long-lost friend, however well you know them,” advised Nic, who had been in local politics for most of his adult life. He had been mayor for twelve years and was not interested in rising any higher, but a District Orbortor who was on his side, would make his job and life that much easier.

Lek moved out onto the side of the road, and looked back at her friends inside the garden nervously. There were three other hopeful candidates there already, and she cursed herself for not having the nonce to stand there earlier.

They nodded and smiled at each other, but not one of them meant anything by it. This election was for a plum job with a good salary, which could be used as a launching pad into bigger things. From District Orbortor she could get into regional and even provincial politics. She had everything going for her. She was about the right age, perhaps a year or two too old, but that wouldn’t go against her; everyone in the two Moo in Baan Suay would vote for her, with the exception of a hundred or so of the family and friends of the man she had ousted to get her current post of ward councillor, which she would have to relinquish, if she won today.

She was hedging her bets. If she lost today, she could re-stand in her ward elections in five months’ time. However, if she did win, she hoped that the previous councillor, who called himself Boss, would not stand again. That would mean that she had let her supporters down, because they had voted for her to get rid of him.

Still, she thought, let’s win this election first, and worry about the consequences later. She and her advisers had weighed up the pros and cons of standing and had decided to go for it. Her philosophy was to do one job at a time and to do it to the best of her ability.

“Hello, Mrs. Chang, how are you? Lovely to see you again. Is your son still doing well at university? He is such a credit to the village. Come in and join us for a chat after you have cast your vote, won’t you?”

“Hello, Ron, lovely day, isn’t it? How’s the drainage? Still holding out? Good, let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you, won’t you?”

The strongest threat came from Khun Tatsanai, a wealthy, cold-fish of a man from one of the nearby villages, designated as Moo 2, with seven combine harvesters and over three hundred rai of prime land. She could see him sitting just inside the mayor’s gate with his entourage.

Somehow he had got the best table in the best spot so that he could see everyone coming and going and they could see and hear him and his greetings. He also had his big, midnight-blue Mercedes parked just outside Nic’s but to the village side so that everyone would see it and its personalised number plates, and have to walk past it to get to the polling station.

Neither Nic nor Jan would have taken a bribe to allow him to buy that table, so he must have had someone waiting outside the gate to get in first. He knew all the tricks and reportedly had put on massive parties at his ranch-style house every night for the past week with expensive goody-bags for all those in attendance.

Lek had done none of that. The only concession that she had made to ‘the people’ was to be available for a ‘chat and a drink’ outside the hotel every night. OK, the drinks had been free, but Thai voters, especially in the countryside, still expected to be given something for turning out to vote, even if it had been made legally compulsory many years ago.

Old habits died hard and one of those ‘old habits’ was that men thought that rich men should be in charge of the country and women should be in charge of the kitchen and the children. ‘Women should be kept barefoot and pregnant,’ an old man had told her once, adding that he was only joking. Barefoot and pregnant, indeed! Except that he was a liar, he hadn’t been joking, he had meant it and he had voiced an opinion that many men and even some older women held.

On the whole though, the vast, overwhelming majority of women wanted to take part, or at least have their say and their vote, and most local women even wanted Lek to win. It was only the men that she had to worry about and that smiling jackass in there in particular.

Much to her embarrassment, she came out of her reverie to find herself staring at him and he was holding up his glass of light-brown liquid, mouthing the word ‘cheers’ to her. The consumption of alcohol was illegal on polling day and she just knew that that was what he was drinking, but she also knew that she would never prove it. If she tried, it would be spilled ‘accidentally’ or one of his flunkies would take the wrap, saying it was his.

She held up her hand and shouted ‘Chok dee, ka! Good Luck!’.

He was arrogant, he expected to win as if he already knew the result, although she was still slightly ahead in the exit polls. Who believed those though? People lied. They would promise their vote to one person for an invitation to a slap-up party and vote for the opposition. No-one could ever know in a secret ballot… until it was too late and they were sent home with their tail between their legs with everyone laughing at them and their confident expectations that had been fuelled by deceitful promises.

Craig waved to her holding up a bottle of Coke, she wasn’t sure whether to give up her post, but went in anyway.

“How many hundred you got now?” asked one of Tatsanai’s supporters and everyone on the table laughed except Fish, who held up his glass again. They all knew that the winner would need thousands even if the three candidates split the vote fairly evenly. She chose not to reply, but gave them one of her brightest smiles.

“I hate that lot over there, the arrogant…. so and so’s. They just cannot conceive of defeat. It’s his first election at anything, but he and his toadies are so used to him winning that… Oh, pass me that bottle will you, please, Craig? They make me so angry. It’s just a laugh to them, an easy way to get his foot in the door to bribe higher officials and make even more money.”

“That’s politics the world over. Why would the president of the United States or the Prime Minister of the UK sweat and strive for so long for a job that pays the same as a medium-to-high-ranking executive or accountant, if their weren’t other, unseen, unspoken-of perks?” opined Craig, but only Ayr and Lek could understand him.

“What perks?” asked Lek.

“Well, I don’t know… they’re ‘unspoken-of’, no-one’s told me.”

“So how do you now they exist?”

“Because it stands to reason. My ex-brother-in-law was earning as much as a thirty-year-old accountant partner of a firm as Margaret Thatcher was when she was a fifty-odd-year-old Prime Minister. They’re not on fantastic money for running a country, so they must be getting something else that does make it worthwhile, something that most people don’t know about. What about the MP’s’ expenses scandal?

“You’re in politics, Lek, you know that bribery and corruption exist.”

She did, but it wasn’t something she was going to discuss with a foreigner, even if he were her husband and certainly not in front of so many witnesses. “How much longer?”

“An hour, and then fifteen minutes, perhaps thirty for the count up. Come on, let’s go inside for a livener,” replied Nic. “I’ll go first, follow me in after a few minutes. I’ll take Craig with me, make it look as if I’m showing him the toilet.”

“Craig, go with Nic. He’ll take you to the toilet,” suggested Lek.

“I don’t need Nic to take me to the toilet, thank you very much! But if someone’s got to do it, why can’t it be that young woman over there?”

“Just go with him… for my sake? I’ll see you in a minute.”

“OK, if you insist.” He knew something was going on but didn’t know what until Nic handed him an ice-cold beer Chang from the fridge in the house and smiled broadly. “Oh, I see… The old drinks ban… kapun kap.”

Lek, Ayr and Jan joined them minutes later from the back garden door. “So, you didn’t mind Uncle Nic taking you to the toilet then? You can be so slow sometimes.”

“Maybe, but it would have been better if you had said ‘show you where the toilet is’. ‘Take you to the toilet’ is what you do with little children… you help them undo their trousers and show them where to point it.”