Kindness in Kanchanaburi

With his lined ebony face grimacing and tiny fists strained, the rickshaw driver hauls my backpack onto his bicycle. My skin glistening with sweat, a subtle breeze nudges my shoulders as we jerk down the dirt track. Stray dogs lie scattered on the road, apathetic and listless under the enveloping heat. “It’s too hot-yes?” the old man shouts back at me, his pointy knees oscillating up to his chin on the too-small bicycle, as he gestures towards the azure sky. Kanchanaburi, Thailand is 42 degrees today.

A fragile figure with angular cheekbones jutting out from under a straw hat stands hunched over a road-side food stall. She nods at us serenely. Flies bounce rampantly off the dangling carcasses for sale, the stench of flesh clinging to the still air.

Soon, we pass two naked children playing with a hosepipe outside a corrugated iron hut, shrieking and running in-and-out of the thrilling rush of cool water. As we jaggedly approach, they stop to peer shyly at the perched alien in the back of the rickshaw, long limbs folded, with pale skin and a pointed nose. I grin back before a chubby arm is thrust into the air, waving manically at me as I trundle out of sight.

The bland palette of dirt roads and iron huts vanquishes as the vivid river bursts into view. Arriving at the floating guesthouse on the river Kwai, I am breathless at the vast canopy lacing the sweeping riverbank; the distant mountains draped in a silvery mist, as if I’m gazing into a hazy dream. Even though dainty terracotta rooftops dot my eye line, the only glimpse of life is a fishing boat timidly putting across the water, creating arrow shaped ripples in its wake.

I reach into my bag, producing a fistful of baht for my driver. “No- you keep. You seem like very nice lady” he states sternly, mouth spreading wide to reveal two beige teeth and eyes gleaming, forming deep crevasses in his face. Promptly dismissing my protests, he leaps on his bicycle, and with a burst of effort, peddles away.