I
round the corner while popping a hot coconut milk ball (khnom krok) into
my mouth. The sidewalk is empty, the market to my left gated and silent.
There is still one shop, gates thrown
wide open, light spilling onto the street. In the stream of light, a woman
stoops, spoon in hand, a small bowl in the other. She is cooing at a
toddler who is slowing moving towards the center of the sidewalk. The
child is paying no attention to the familiar woman, and instead is focuses
on the gates of the shop next door.
Standing at the edge of the store
is a man whose teeth seem unable to pick a direction, he’s grinning. The store
is filled with large yellow candles, shrines, silver and gold offering bowels
catching the dim light from inside. I pass waving at the little girl whose eyes
are now transfixed on me.
“Sawadii-kha” I say before pooping
the other half of the coconut milk ball into my mouth. The girl’s face scrunches
and it seems inevitable that a scream is going to escape, when the woman swoops
in. Rather than comforting the toddler in a hug or embrace, she grabs the girl’s
hand. “Say Hello, Say Hello!”
The girl is frozen, unsure of what
to do next. I have stopped, and crouched down, so I am more or less at the
toddler’s eye level. I hear “kiss, kiss” and the girl is galloping towards me,
and plants a wet kiss on my cheek. Her smile is larger than the old man’s and
everyone is laughing.
I stand and before I round the
corner look back to see the woman extending the spoon towards the girl again.
Only this time she takes it into her mouth, her eyes following me.
