NEW JUCHE

INTERVIEW WITH NEW JUCHE BY P. SANCHOMPU

PS - Whores of Leith is quite unique in the respect that the interview footage is as much a feature as the music. Why is this, and what gave you the idea initially?

NJ - When I set about putting the first CD together I intended the interview stock to feature simply as a setting for the music, to generate atmosphere and sense of place. The music itself was inspired by Edinburgh's red light district in Leith and it's inhabitants. I lived there at the time. I had a far less concrete idea then of how I wanted the finished product to sound. However, engaging with those people and collecting the interviews was exciting and addictive, and I realised that for me, the CD was as much about me personally engaged in this activity as it was about the subjects themselves. When I realised that, I gained a more distinct sense of purpose.

PS - Could you explain about the subject matter? Why have you chosen such dark and shocking topics?

NJ - The CD's are basically like a scrapbook for me to explore any subject that interests me, or relates to me, and to record my observations and experiences.

There is absolutely no deliberate attempt to shock, and my interest and involvement is not contrived in any way to that end. I present the subject matter in an honest way, as it appears to me from where I stand in relation to it. If you'll forgive the phrase, it chooses me rather than me choosing it.

PS - Of course. Who is Justin Nickless and to what extent does he contribute?

NJ - Justin is a writer who moves between Bangkok and England. He is a very dear friend of mine and an honorary member of New Juche. He helped locate interviewees for Bangkok Fanny-Rat, conducted some of the interviews and assisted me in a general sense. His role in the forthcoming Cambodia project was similar.

PS - After the first CD you now seem to be pre-occupied with subjects related to South East Asia. Why? What interests you about this part of the world?

NJ - First and foremostly because I live in South East Asia. The recent history of the region is fascinating to me, as are aspects of the contemporary culture. It's also a very easy place to go and live if you want to follow certain more exotic pursuits in a place that offers maximum stimulation in a refreshingly relaxed, fairly rule-free environment, well, relative to the UK anyway.

PS - Which pursuits do you mean?

NJ - Nothing too surprising! But In spite of those distractions, I have, as I said, a deep fascination and respect for the region and it's cultures, particuarly Thailand, Vietnam and Cambodia. I've been studying Thai language for four years now and continue to read voraciously on a wide variety of topics relating to these countries.

PS - Ok, how do you go about constructing the music itself?

NJ - I always wanted the music to sound organic. Although I used some electronically generated sounds on the first CD there were none at all on the second, and certainly shan't be any on the new one. I've always used voices, mostly my own treated with effects, and home-made percussion kits, primarily. That's the meat and bones of the sound.
I record everything myself and arrange it on a digital sequencer.

PS - Why does Bangkok Fanny-rat still have the name "Whores of Leith" on it? And where does New Juche come into it?

NJ - Whores of Leith was the name of the first CD, aswell as being the name of the project as a whole, the name of the act. As Bangkok Fanny-Rat was an album by Whores of Leith, it bore that name also. New Juche is the name of the label and the overall creative force, but has now begun to be attached to the name of the act aswell. As the first edition of EP#1 was released by Ali Robertson's Giant Tank Records, it did not bare the name New Juche. The first edition copies sold out and have been replaced by the New Juche Special Edition. Whores of Leith now belongs exclusively to New Juche and vice-versa. New Juche undertakes all production responsibilities and administrative tasks. The only involvement of anyone externally is with regards to distribution, as in the case of our relationship with Turgid Animal's Italian Division, and the generous help we still gratefully receive from Ali Robertson of Giant Tank.

PS - What does New Juche mean?

NJ - Juche is a Korean word. It translates roughly as self-reliance.

PS - You used to be part of the UK noise group Giant Tank. Why did you leave?

NJ - Giant Tank used to be a collective group for whom I played percussion. It's now a record label and promotion outfit run by Ali Robertson, it's original founder, but Giant Tank as a group collapsed under the weight of it's own legend some years ago, leaving us all free to concentrate on our respective solo projects. Ali and Malcy Duff with Usurper, Rhian Thompson with CK Dexter Haven and more recently Hockyfrilla, and myself with Whores of Leith, among others.

PS - Could you talk a little about your new CD? The Khmer Rouge one?

NJ - Sure. We got into some really incredible situations in Cambodia. Besides the accomplishment of tracking down and interviewing high profile people such as mass-executioner Him Hoy and S21 survivor Vann Nath, the wealth of information from ordinary locals everywhere was amazing. During months in the country we failed to meet one person who hadn't lost multiple family members in the Pol Pot era. A girl that served me breakfast near my hotel described finding human bodyparts in a pond behind her house as a child, whilst another slightly older girl explained how she and her younger brother had watched a third sibling be garotted and then impaled by Khmer Rouge soldiers from their hiding place only feet away.

For the most part, no one wanted to say anything other than describe in very dry and unemotional terms the crimes they saw and experienced. Most wouldn't go into their emotional responses, as is the Khmer way, how it affects them now, and certainly not the Khmer Rouge movement in broader terms, especially anything that was relevant to politics today in the country. Nearly everyone wanted assurances from me that my project was not political, which of course it isn't.

In spite of this wealth of incredible anecdotes, it's the music that'll be the prime element on this new CD. We're moving in a slightly new direction. It won't be necessary to have more than a fleeting interest in Cambodia to find rewards in listening to the CD, possibly as oppossed to Bangkok Fanny-Rat and it's subject matter.

The booklet will be extensive, with a lot of information and photography. I spent weeks in the S21 facility taking pictures and reading, studying the thousands of photographs on display there. Despite the political restrictions on them, some of the staff there were very helpful, opening doors to me that usually remain firmly shut to visitors. I saw some truly unbelievable things.

This was also the most expensive CD to make so far. We had to pay off all kinds of officials and hire vehicles, guides into the provinces, translators etc.

PS - When will this CD be released?

NJ - It's taking a lot of time. Check newjuche.com for updates.

PS - Have you ever thought about making a visual documentary, or expanding into other forms of media?

NJ - Not with New Juche. I want to make music. Given my taste for diving in at the deep end to get information I'd gladly contribute to someone else's project if it interested me I suppose.

I'm writing a book that's basically an extension of Whores of Leith that I would love to see published.

PS - What music has influenced you, and what's on your CD player at the moment?

NJ - The Khmer 60's and 70's pop scene was incredible, the principal artists being Sinn Sissamouth and Ros Sereaysethea. I listen to them a lot. Of course everyone involved in that scene was tragically executed by the Khmer Rouge. A lot of traditional Khmer, Vietnamese and Mongolian music, which is all a huge influence on me. Scott Walker. Antony and the Johnsons first record which was given to me recently. I love pop music and opera from the DPRK, that's also an influence. I don't have access to much of the western music I used to listen to here.

NEW JUCHE IN CAMBODIA

DEFACED PHOTOGRAPHS OF KHMER ROUGE PERSONEL IN TUOL SLENG MUSEUM

RANONG

THE BUS RIDE TO RANONG WAS LONG AND UNEVENTFUL. IT WAS A PEASANT-CLASS BUS WITHOUT A TOILET AND NO AIR-CON. THE SCENERY WAS ENDLESS STRETCHES OF DIRTY, PALM TREE- LINED HIGHWAY WITH THE OCCASIONAL PETROL STATION AND HUGE BILLBOARDS WITH POSTERS OF LOCAL OFFICIALS IN PRISTINE WHITE UNIFORMS. THE WINDOWS NEEDED TO BE WIDE OPEN FOR THE DRAUGHT TO COMBAT THE SWELTERING HEAT, BUT AS THE SUN SET, ALL MANNER OF LARGE INSECTS WERE SUCKED INSIDE THE BUS, ENHANCING THE DISCOMFORT AND THE SWEATY, STICKY HUMIDITY.

RANONG IS THE RAINIEST PROVINCE IN THAILAND, AND IT WAS RAINING HARD WHEN WE ARRIVED. ASIDE FROM THE FOREIGNER?S GUESTHOUSE WE DISEMBARKED AT, ALL I HAD MADE OUT OF THE REST OF THE TOWN WERE GREY, CLOSED LOOKING BUILDINGS AND THE ODD NEARLY EMPTY NOODLE RESTAURANT. RANONG IS HALF WAY DOWN THE NARROW STRIP OF LAND THAT THAILAND SHARES WITH BURMA, SOUTH OF BANGKOK. AS BURMA TAPERS OFF TO A SHARP POINT GIVING WAY TO THAI TERRITORY, AND JUST BEYOND THAT MALAYSIA, IT SEPARATES FROM THE MAINLAND CREATING A TINY PENINSULA. FOREIGNERS NEEDING TO HOP OVER THE BORDER AND BACK TO RENEW THEIR VISAS OFTEN COME TO RANONG FOR THIS PURPOSE, ESPECIALLY IF THEY?RE STAYING ON ONE OF THE NEARBY ISLANDS. A DAILY BOAT TRIP FIRST THING IN THE MORNING FERRIES THEM ACROSS THE SLIM STRETCH OF WATER TO THE BURMESE SIDE AND BACK AGAIN. A SELECTION OF GUESTHOUSES FOR FOREIGNERS HAVE SPRUNG UP IN THE TOWN, BUT THERE IS NO OTHER WESTERN ENTERTAINMENT AS PEOPLE RARELY STAY MORE THAN A DAY AND A NIGHT.

MY GUESTHOUSE HAD A LARGE CAR PARK AT THE FRONT FOR BUSES TO TURN AROUND IN, AND AN OPEN-FRONTED RESTAURANT SELLING WESTERN FOOD. AFTER CHECKING IN AND DUMPING MY WET THINGS UPSTAIRS I ORDERED SOME FOOD AND A BEER IN THE RESTAURANT, WHICH WAS PAINTED YELLOW AND DECORATED WITH POLISHED PIECES OF DRIFTWOOD. THE FOOD WAS GREASY AND THE BEER WARM, BUT I ORDERED ANOTHER BOTTLE, AND THEN ANOTHER. THE RAIN FINALLY EASED OFF TO DRIZZLE.

ACROSS THE ROAD FROM THE CAR PARK SAT A COUPLE OF MOTORBIKE TAXIS UNDER A LARGE UMBRELLA SET INTO A LUMP OF CONCRETE. THE DRIVERS EYED ME GREEDILY AS I APPROACHED. I ASKED ONE OF THEM WHERE I SHOULD GO IF I WANTED TO MEET A BURMESE WOMAN, AND THEY BOTH SMILED.
THE DRIVERS OF MOTORBIKE TAXIS THROUGHOUT SOUTH EAST ASIA ARE WITHOUT DOUBT THE MOST RELIABLE, KNOWLEDGEABLE AND DISCREET GUIDES THROUGH THE REGION?S UNDERBELLY A FOREIGNER FRESH OFF THE BOAT CAN FIND. FROM COCK-FIGHTS TO ILLEGAL BOXING MATCHES, UNDERGROUND CASINOS AND LOCALS ONLY BROTHELS YOU WOULD NEVER EVEN HAVE KNOWN WERE THERE, THEY ARE A TOUCHSTONE TO A WORLD HERE THAT NINETY-NINE PERCENT OF TRAVELLERS IGNORE OR ARE UNAWARE OF. THEY ARE USUALLY FRIENDLY AND VERY CHEAP, AND IT?S UNLIKELY ANYTHING YOU ARE INTERESTED IN SEEING OR DOING WILL OFFEND THEM.

I CLIMBED ON THE BACK OF MY NEW FRIEND?S BIKE AND WE SET OFF INTO THE DARKNESS. I WAS DRENCHED IN SECONDS AS THE RAIN STARTED TO HAMMER DOWN AGAIN. RANONG SEEMED A DULL TOWN. WE PASSED THE SAME EMPTY RESTAURANTS AND DROVE THROUGH A NIGHT MARKET SHELTERED FROM THE DOWNPOUR BY HEAVY TARPAULIN SHEETS AND UMBRELLAS. JUST THE USUAL PILES OF FRUIT, VEGETABLES, MEAT, CHEAP CLOTHES AND PIRATED CD?S. OUT ONTO THE ROAD AGAIN WE HURTLED ALONG DARK DESERTED STREETS, SLOWING ONLY TO TURN DOWN SOME OBSCURE ALLEYWAY OR SOI, SQUEEZING PAST HUGE BASKETS OF REEKING, SODDEN GARBAGE AND DOGS SHELTERING IN DOORWAYS. WE WERE VERY FAR FROM THE GUESTHOUSE NOW, AND I HADN?T GOT A FUCKING CLUE WHICH DIRECTION IT WAS EVEN IN. INEVITABLY, AS I CLUNG TO THE BACK OF THE SEAT, I STARTED TO ENTERTAIN DISTURBING NOTIONS. WHY WAS IT SO FAR AWAY?

THE STREETS GAVE WAY TO WIDER AND WIDER SECTIONS OF PADDIES AND WASTELAND. WELL, IT?S TOO LATE NOW I THOUGHT; I?VE BOUGHT MY FUCKING TICKET. WITHOUT WARNING, THE RAIN STARTED TO BATTER DOWN TWICE AS HARD, AND I COULD BARELY OPEN MY EYES. MY DRIVER TURNED AROUND TO ME AND POINTED UP AT THE SKY AS IF I HADN?T NOTICED. HE SLOWED THE BIKE DOWN AND PARKED IT IN FRONT OF A ROW OF SHACKS WITH TARPAULIN COVERED ROOFS. HE BANGED ON A DOOR AND IT OPENED REVEALING A SMILING OLD WOMAN WHO BECKONED US IN. THE LEAN-TO WAS QUITE CLEAN AND TIDY INSIDE. ANOTHER LITTLE OLD WOMAN SAT ON A CHAIR, WHILE TWO MEN, A YOUNGER WOMAN AND FOUR CHILDREN SAT ON THE FLOOR WATCHING TELEVISION IN SPITE OF THE DRONING CACOPHONY OUTSIDE. THEY ALL LOOKED UP AT US AND SMILED. I REALISED THE DRIVER HAD TAKEN US HERE TO SHELTER, RANDOMLY, AS THE RAIN WAS COMING DOWN TOO HARD TO DRIVE. HE KNEW THESE PEOPLE NO MORE THAN I DID.

EVERYTHING IN MY POCKETS WAS SOAKED THROUGH, BUT LUCKILY I HAD AN UNOPENED PACKET OF CIGARETTES STILL IN THE PLASTIC WRAPPER. I DRIED MY HANDS ON A TOWEL OFFERED BY ONE OF THE WOMEN AND HANDED THEM ROUND TO ALL THE ADULTS. THE WOMAN WHO OPENED THE DOOR ASKED US WHERE WE WERE GOING AND THE DRIVER SPOKE THE NAME OF A PLACE. SHE SMILED, AS DID A COUPLE OF THE OTHERS. I FELT AWKWARD, AND I REALLY WANTED TO ASK WHAT THE HELL THIS PLACE WAS GOING TO BE LIKE, IF WE EVER GOT THERE, BUT I SMILED MYSELF AND KEPT QUIET. THE CHILDREN WERE STARING UP AT ME IN BEWILDERED, UNBLINKING FASCINATION. THEY?D PROBABLY NEVER SEEN A FOREIGNER BEFORE. I NOTICED EVERYONE ELSE IN THE ROOM WAS LOOKING AT ME TOO.

THE RAIN HAD ONLY DIED DOWN SLIGHTLY WHEN WE RETURNED TO THE BIKE. I TRIED TO COVER MY WALLET AND CIGARETTES WITH MY HANDS OVER MY POCKETS AS WE CAUTIOUSLY SET OFF AGAIN. THE SKY LIT UP WITH LIGHTNING ABOVE US. AFTER ABOUT FIVE MINUTES THE DRIVER SLOWED DOWN ALONG A ROAD LINED WITH EMPTY LOOKING ONE STOREY BUILDINGS. HALFWAY ALONG THERE WAS A NARROW SOI ON THE LEFT LEADING DOWN INTO WHAT SEEMED TO BE A LARGE CUL-DE-SAC. AS WE ENTERED THE SOI AND CAME OUT THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BUNGALOWS I REALISED WE HAD FINALLY ARRIVED. THERE WAS A MUDDY SORT OF CLEARING, SURROUNDED BY THICK-WALLED, CONCRETE PILLAR BOXES WITH HEAVY IRON DOORS. THE ILL-FITTING DOORS LET SHAFTS OF LIGHT SHOOT OUT ACROSS THE CLEARING, BUT THE MAIN LIGHT SOURCE WAS COMING FROM WHAT LOOKED LIKE A SMALL SHOP FRONT AT THE FAR SIDE, LIT UP WELL ENOUGH SO I COULD SEE IT THROUGH THE RAIN. OUTSIDE THIS WAS A CIRCULAR STONE TABLE WITH FIVE OR SIX PEOPLE SEATED AROUND IT, COVERED BY A HEAVY TARPAULIN UMBRELLA. WE SLOWLY DROVE OVER TO THEM. THIS WAS FAR FROM WHAT I HAD EXPECTED WHEN I FIRST GOT ON THE MOTORBIKE, BUT I HAD DEFINITELY PASSED THE POINT OF NO RETURN.

I STOOD IN FRONT OF THE TABLE FEELING LIKE I HAD TURNED UP TO A JOB INTERVIEW. THE DRIVER SPOKE VERY FAST AT THE TABLE OF PEOPLE AS HE PULLED A BEER OUT OF A GLASS FRIDGE BESIDE THEM. A FAT GREASY-HAIRED MAN WITH A THICK MOUSTACHE GOT UP AND WALKED SLOWLY OVER TO ME. HE WAS WEARING WHITE TROUSERS AND A SHIRT WITH A DIRTY ORANGE WAISTCOAT LIKE THE MOTO TAXI DRIVERS IN BANGKOK WEAR. HE LOOKED AT ME FOR HALF A SECOND, SMILED, AND SAID ?500 BAHT.?

I PULLED OUT MY WALLET AND REMOVED THE SODDEN WAD OF CASH, SKILFULLY PEELED OFF A 500 BAHT NOTE AND HANDED IT TO HIM. HE GESTURED THAT I WALK BACK TOWARDS THE ENTRANCE, AND SHOUTED OUT SOMETHING INTO THE RAIN. IMMEDIATELY THE DOORS OF THE BLOCK BUILDINGS SWUNG OPEN AND AN ARMY OF FEMALES SPILLED OUT INTO THE TORRENT FROM ALL DIRECTIONS. IT WAS SUDDEN AND SURREAL. BETWEEN TWENTY OR THIRTY GIRLS SURROUNDED ME IN THE DOWNPOUR, SCREAMING, LAUGHING, PRODDING AND PULLING AT ME, AND I COULDN?T MAKE OUT A SINGLE FACE IN THE CHAOS. IT WAS COMICAL; WHAT THE FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO? I BARELY FOCUSED ON ONE GIRL BEFORE SHE WAS SHOVED OUT THE WAY AND REPLACED BY ANOTHER. IT WAS LIKE A WRITHING MERRY-GO-ROUND OF FLESH AND NOISE IN THE DARKNESS AND POUNDING RAIN. IT WAS LIKE BEING SWALLOWED.

?PICK ONE? SHOUTED MY DRIVER FROM THE STONE TABLE. I COLLECTED MYSELF, CONSIDERED THE ALTERNATIVES AND THEN SHOUTED OUT IN CLEAR, SLOW THAI, ?WHO IS FROM BURMA AND HAS BIG BREASTS??

THEY SEEMED TO INSTANTLY BREAK OFF INTO FACTIONS TALKING FURIOUSLY AMONGST THEMSELVES. TWO THAI GIRLS APPEARED IN FRONT OF ME EACH HOLDING THE HANDS OF A BEAUTIFUL BURMESE GIRL WHO STOOD BETWEEN THEM. ALL THREE GRINNED AT ME. I REACHED OUT AND TOOK THE BURMESE GIRL?S HAND AS SHE OFFERED IT. AS QUICKLY AS THEY HAD DESCENDED UPON ME THE OTHER GIRLS MELTED BACK INTO THEIR CONCRETE BLOCKS IN SILENCE AND DRENCHED TO THE BONE. ONE BY ONE THE IRON DOORS SLAMMED SHUT AND BOLTS SLID ACROSS THEM.

THERE ARE BURMESE REFUGEES ALL OVER THAILAND. THE MILITARY REGIME AT HOME HAS FORCED MANY TO SEEK A HIGHER WAGE THERE. THE LAST TIME I WAS IN KANCHANABURI I MET A BURMESE DISSIDENT SWIMMING IN THE RIVER KWAI. HE HAD SNEAKED OVER THE BORDER TO ATTEND A MEETING. HE TOLD ME HE WAS RISKING HIS LIFE AS SUSPECTED MEMBERS OF POLITICAL GROUPS CAUGHT LEAVING OR ENTERING THE COUNTRY ILLEGALLY ARE IMPRISONED WITHOUT TRIAL OR SOMETIMES SHOT ON THE SPOT. DESPITE HIS PROTESTATIONS I ASKED HIM TO MEET ME LATER AT THE GUESTHOUSE WHERE I BOUGHT HIM DINNER AND GAVE HIM 300 BAHT AND A PACKET OF CIGARETTES.

YOU CAN FIND A LARGE NUMBER OF BURMESE WORKING IN RESTAURANTS AND HOTELS ON THE ISLANDS IN THE SOUTH OF THAILAND, WHERE THEIR PRESENCE IS TACITLY TOLERATED FOR SOME REASON.

THE BURMESE GIRL LED ME TOWARDS HER CONCRETE BUNKER, TO THE LEFT OF THE SHOP FRONT. SHE BOLTED THE DOOR FROM THE INSIDE AND LOOKED AT ME SHEEPISHLY. SHE WAS A VERY BEAUTIFUL GIRL. I?D GUESS IN HER LATE TWENTIES WITH LONG BLACK HAIR, AN EVER SO SLIGHTLY SQUAT FRAME WITH WIDE HIPS AND LARGE BREASTS. HER MOUTH AND EYES CURLED UPWARDS AT THE SIDES LIKE A CARVING ON A KHMER TEMPLE. THE ROOM WAS A CAST CONCRETE CELL, DIVIDED INTO TWO WITH A THICK CURTAIN, PARTIALLY DRAWN. THERE WERE A FEW BATTERED POSTERS OF ANIMALS AND CHINESE POP STARS ON THE WALL AND A PILE OR TWO OF DIRTY BLANKETS AND TOWELS. BEHIND THE CURTAIN WAS A LARGE TOOM FILLED TO THE BRIM WITH A PLASTIC BOWL FLOATING IN IT. A SQUAT-TOILET LAY BEHIND IT AND AN UPTURNED CARDBOARD BOX UPON WHICH LAY A TOOTHBRUSH AND SOME OTHER TOILETRIES. THE ROOM WAS LIT BY A BARE BULB HANGING IN THE TOILET SIDE. IT HAD BEEN CLEARED UP WHEN THEY HEARD MY MOTORBIKE I THOUGHT, BUT I GUESSED AT LEAST FOUR PEOPLE SLEPT IN HERE NORMALLY. THE AIR WAS THICK AND RIPE.

I ASKED HER NAME IN THAI AND ENGLISH BUT SHE JUST LOOKED AT ME AWKWARDLY WITH A SHY SMILE ON HER LIPS. SHE ASKED ME A QUESTION IN GUTTURAL BURMESE WHICH I SHRUGGED AT, POINTING TO MY EARS AND SHAKING MY HEAD. I SMILED TO PUT HER AT EASE. SHE STARTED TO TAKE OFF HER CLOTHES. I STOPPED HER AND ASKED IF SHE HAD A CONDOM, UNROLLING A PRETEND ONE OVER MY FINGER. SHE TURNED AND DUG AROUND UNDER THE BLANKETS, PULLING OUT SOME PAPER WITH BURMESE SCRIPT SCRAWLED IN BIRO ON IT, WHICH SHE LOOKED AT AND FROWNED, AND THEN A BATTERED LOOKING CONDOM WHICH SHE PUT INTO MY HAND.

AT THAT MOMENT I HEARD NOISES OUTSIDE OUR DOOR AND SOMEONE SHOUTING. I WALKED OVER AND TRIED TO OPEN THE DOOR BUT IT HAD BEEN LOCKED FROM THE OUTSIDE. STABS OF PANIC MADE ME BANG LOUDLY ON IT BUT THE BURMESE GIRL JUMPED IN FRONT OF ME AND PUSHED ME BACK, WHISPERING IN HER LANGUAGE AND MIMING WHAT LOOKED TO ME LIKE HAND-CUFFS. I COULDN?T IMAGINE WHAT SHE MEANT. SHE KEPT REPEATING THE SAME WORD OVER AGAIN AND LOOKING RIGHT INTO MY EYES, WITH AN EXPRESSION OF PLEADING. IN MY DRUNKEN NAIVETY, AND ALMOST IN DENIAL OF THE POTENTIAL DANGER AND HELPLESSNESS OF MY SITUATION, I DECIDED SHE WAS TRYING TO ENCOURAGE ME TO TIE HER UP, MAYBE SO I WOULD GIVE PAPA SAN SOME POSITIVE FEEDBACK ABOUT HER. I TRIED TO EXPLAIN THAT I DIDN?T WANT TO DO ANYTHING LIKE THAT WITH PATHETIC HAND GESTURES AND SIGN LANGUAGE POINTLESSLY NARRATED IN THAI. SHE SMILED AT ME AGAIN, PUT HER FINGER TO HER LIPS AND POINTED AT THE DOOR.

I HEARD SOMEONE UNLOCKING THE DOOR FOLLOWED BY THREE WEAK KNOCKS. I OPENED IT CAUTIOUSLY. A FAT WOMAN WITH FLAKY SKIN AROUND THE HAIRLINE OF HER LONG RECEDING CURLS STOOD SMILING AT ME, SWINGING A PADLOCK IN HER HAND. SHE EXPLAINED IN THAI THAT THEY HAD JUST BEEN RAIDED BY THE POLICE. THEY HAD GONE NOW, BUT SHE WAS SORRY SHE HAD HAD TO LOCK ME IN FOR MY OWN SAFETY. I TOLD HER NOT TO WORRY ABOUT IT, AND ASKED IF SHE WOULD BRING ME A BEER. SHE TOLD ME TO WAIT AND RETURNED IN SECONDS WITH A SMALL CAN OF SINGHA.

BACK IN THE ROOM I DOWNED THE BEER AND WASHED MY ARM-PITS AND COCK WITH WATER FROM THE TOOM. THE INTERRUPTIONS HAD LEFT ME EVEN LESS EXCITED THAN I HAD BEEN IN THE FIRST PLACE, AND I FELT FOOLISH. I JUST WANTED TO GET IT OVER WITH. THE BURMESE GIRL SPREAD OUT SOME BLANKETS AND I LAY DOWN. THEY SMELLED OF CONCRETE DUST. SHE CLIMBED ON TOP OF ME AWKWARDLY AND SLIPPED ON THE CONDOM WHILE I WATCHED. MY LUST SUDDENLY GALLOPED AHEAD OF ANY OTHER CONCERN AND I BURIED MY FACE IN HER BREASTS AND SHIVERED MYSELF TO ORGASM IN MINUTES, KNOCKING MY HEAD ON THE STONE FLOOR AS I SLUMPED BACK.

I THANKED THE BURMESE GIRL PROFUSELY AS I LEFT THE BUNKER. I LOOKED AT HER FACE AS I SPOKE TO HER AND I COULDN?T DETECT DISGUST OR SADNESS OR PAIN. TO ME, SHE WORE AN EXPRESSION OF GIDDY RELIEF THAT PROBABLY MATCHED MY OWN.

THE GUESTHOUSE WAS LOCKED UP WHEN WE ARRIVED BACK THERE AND I HAD TO BANG ON THE METAL SHUTTERS. THE SAME SMALL MAN WHO SERVED ME MY REFRESHMENTS EARLIER THAT EVENING OPENED THEM UP AND SMILED AT ME, A GAUDY COLLECTION OF AMULETS HANGING ROUND HIS NECK. TO MY DISMAY, THE MOTO DRIVER TOLD HIM WHERE WE?D BEEN AND CRACKED SOME JOKES ABOUT MY INITIAL BEWILDERMENT. I WANDERED INTO THE DARKNESS TO THE SOUND OF THEIR NASAL LAUGHTER.

I CANNOT GUESS AS TO THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE BURMESE GIRL?S ARRIVAL IN THAT PLACE. IT?S POSSIBLE THAT SHE WAS SOLD BY HER FAMILY OR TRICKED INTO GOING BY A PROCURESS. OR SHE MAY HAVE CHOSEN TO WORK THERE ON ACCOUNT OF HAVING NO LANGUAGE SKILLS IN THAI OR ENGLISH. I AM SURE THOUGH, THAT REGARDLESS OF HOW SHE GOT THERE, SHE DIDN?T HAVE THE CHOICE TO LEAVE. AND I THINK THE POLICE THAT NIGHT WERE LOOKING FOR BURMESE IMMIGRANTS AND CHILDREN. AFTER I LEFT I THOUGHT ABOUT HER PARENTS. HER FATHER SPECIFICALLY. I WONDERED IF HE KNEW WHERE SHE WAS OR IF HE WAS RESPONSIBLE. I WONDER IF SHE?S STILL THERE NOW. IN SPITE OF THE UGLINESS OF OUR MEETING I FIND THAT I?VE ROMANTICISED MY MEMORY OF HER, LIKE ONE DOES AN OLD GIRLFRIEND. I SUPPOSE REGARDLESS OF OUR INTIMACY THEN, AND MY KNOWLEDGE OF CASAS LIKE THE ONE IN RANONG, I SIMPLY CAN?T EVEN IMAGINE WHAT IT?S LIKE TO BE HER.