The end of our Peace Corps service is approaching more quickly every day, and last week I had the sudden news that I’ll be saying goodbye to one of my co-teachers this very week. Waewnapa, with whom I teach at my Tuesday-Friday school, will be spending the summer break in another province in order to start working on her masters degree. This means that she has to leave before the school year even ends. I’ve got just one day left with her! I thought I’d better use the opportunity to tell her story now.
Waewnapa was born the youngest of five children to an extremely poor family of farmers several kilometers north of our town. Her parents were unable to provide for her, so a childless couple in their village happily took her to be their own daughter. Until her teenage years, Waewnapa didn’t know that her birth parents, brothers, and sisters lived just across the street. She knew the people she now calls her "foster" parents as her own family.
At age 19, newly graduated from high school and wanting a more exciting life than the village could provide, Waewnapa moved with some friends to Bangkok. She worked as a salesgirl in a shopping mall, barely earning enough to get by. During her first few years there, she observed that a college degree would help her find a better job. She enrolled in night classes to study an English major. It took several years, but finally she finished and found a job working as a receptionist for an international company.
Also working at that company was a young man about her age, who had moved to Bangkok from southern Thailand. They were married in a traditional northern Thai ceremony at which both her birth family and foster family were present, and returned to live in Bangkok. Life was unpleasant, though. Waewnapa’s husband drank and gambled frequently, and wouldn’t allow her to go out with her friends. To pay his gambling debts, he sold the car she had bought herself. Pregnant and sick of marriage, she moved back up north five years ago. He occasionally called her family’s house looking for her, but she refused to see or talk to him.
When her daughter, Nong Muk ("pearl"), was born, Waewnapa knew she needed to find work that would allow her to both make a decent salary and live near her family. She returned to school again, this time to get a teaching degree. After several more difficult years, she finally found a regular teaching job in our town, just before we arrived here ourselves.
Today, Waewnapa continues to work hard. She helps to support both her birth mother and her foster parents, as well as her daughter. She wants Nong Muk to have a good education, and eventually that will mean sending her away to school in the city. In the meantime, she is determined to keep advancing her own education in the hope of finding better job security and more pay. She is also determined to remain single. I asked long ago if she knew where her ex-husband was. "I don’t know, maybe he’s dead for all I care," she responded. As a divorced single mother, she’s at a definite disadvantage in Thai society. She’s not bitter, but believes that marrying another Thai man would only mean a loss of the independence and self-confidence that she worked hard to find.
You wouldn’t know it from the photo, but Waewnapa is 36 years old today! She’s roasting mushrooms for one of my favorite northern Thai foods: nam prik het.
Waewnapa was born the youngest of five children to an extremely poor family of farmers several kilometers north of our town. Her parents were unable to provide for her, so a childless couple in their village happily took her to be their own daughter. Until her teenage years, Waewnapa didn’t know that her birth parents, brothers, and sisters lived just across the street. She knew the people she now calls her "foster" parents as her own family.
At age 19, newly graduated from high school and wanting a more exciting life than the village could provide, Waewnapa moved with some friends to Bangkok. She worked as a salesgirl in a shopping mall, barely earning enough to get by. During her first few years there, she observed that a college degree would help her find a better job. She enrolled in night classes to study an English major. It took several years, but finally she finished and found a job working as a receptionist for an international company.
Also working at that company was a young man about her age, who had moved to Bangkok from southern Thailand. They were married in a traditional northern Thai ceremony at which both her birth family and foster family were present, and returned to live in Bangkok. Life was unpleasant, though. Waewnapa’s husband drank and gambled frequently, and wouldn’t allow her to go out with her friends. To pay his gambling debts, he sold the car she had bought herself. Pregnant and sick of marriage, she moved back up north five years ago. He occasionally called her family’s house looking for her, but she refused to see or talk to him.
When her daughter, Nong Muk ("pearl"), was born, Waewnapa knew she needed to find work that would allow her to both make a decent salary and live near her family. She returned to school again, this time to get a teaching degree. After several more difficult years, she finally found a regular teaching job in our town, just before we arrived here ourselves.
Today, Waewnapa continues to work hard. She helps to support both her birth mother and her foster parents, as well as her daughter. She wants Nong Muk to have a good education, and eventually that will mean sending her away to school in the city. In the meantime, she is determined to keep advancing her own education in the hope of finding better job security and more pay. She is also determined to remain single. I asked long ago if she knew where her ex-husband was. "I don’t know, maybe he’s dead for all I care," she responded. As a divorced single mother, she’s at a definite disadvantage in Thai society. She’s not bitter, but believes that marrying another Thai man would only mean a loss of the independence and self-confidence that she worked hard to find.
You wouldn’t know it from the photo, but Waewnapa is 36 years old today! She’s roasting mushrooms for one of my favorite northern Thai foods: nam prik het.
2 comments:
I have one thing to say to her, "You GO girl!" I remember you telling me about her before. She has really made the best of every situation, despite the cards delt to her.
Wow! Also, she looks like she's about 22!
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