The Jungle Book

[somtamslap]

A series of anecdotes about a year spent working in the Thai jungle for Thai wages with Thai/Burmese people - Sentenced to a year of this by empty wallets and long since departed brain cells.



LK and his mate:

We'd been working up the mountain for a week or so when our employer deemed it necessary that we should be given a pair of lackies. A couple of the locals to help us with the task at hand, which in this case was the clearance of some 100 rai of virgin tropical monsoon rainforest.

We'd been introduced to most of our colleagues and had quickly deduced that they were a pleasant albeit rather odourous bunch of gentlemen. Whilst we would work in combat trousers and light t-shirts, these chaps would don ill fitting jeans (either too big or so tight their bollocks would burst), sweatshirt upon sweatshirt, scarves, balaclavas and wooly mittens ; no wonder the pungency of the whoft was so potent. (remember; it tends to get rather humid in the tropics, Betty Swallocks was a common nickname up on the mountain)

We arrived at nigh on the summit of the mountain we were working on (we'd work from summit to foot) and told that our new friends had already made the journey and were apparently eagerly hacking away at the dense undergrowth.

The jeep which delivered us, a huge vat of water and our tools (machete's, rakes, (we had to burn the shit we cut) and strimmers) made a U-turn and buggered off back down the mountain, leaving us to fend for ourselves.

First things first though, old chap, where in the name of a red ant's right testicle are these new fellows?

We searched around, listening for any sign of jungle demolishion...nothing...we were met with an eery silence.

"Fuck, they think we're rich, the bastards are going to jump out of the bushes and ambush us..quick, pass me the fucking machete..I'm not going out like this"

5 minutes past and still we heard or saw nothing..then, suddenly...'bump'.."what the fuck was that?"..then again but with more frequency this time..'bump'....'bump....'bump'.....bump'...

It sounded like large boulders were being tossed in our direction.

"Bloody hell, they're launching an arial attack!"

Our focus was directed to the canopy of coconut trees above us; it was then we caught our first sighting of one of our new pals, plucking his breakfast from a tree, a good 50 feet high.
We glanced at the pile of cocnuts he'd assembled and noticed a skinned jungle rat, slow cooking over an efficient fire of embers next to it. Quite an innovative chap, our new mate.

Right, so that's one little piggy, where the other.

A rustling in a thicket behind us captured our attention; machetes were raised accordingly..
An elderly chap, rose alarmingly quickly from a horizantal dozing position in the bush and started blindly hacking away at a bramble bush, sickle in one hand, bottle of Lau Kau clutched tightly, almost lovingly, in the other.
Just take a little snooze did we, old bean?

So, there we have them; LK and his mate.

[somtamslap]

The Red Ant Incident

Creepy crawlies are part and parcel of the nature of this line of work. They occupy virtually every square inch of the forest's floor and vegetation.
Most commonly found, in no specifc order, are:

* Wasps - Both big, bugger off hornets and their smaller cousins which tend to construct their nests at head height.

* Spiders - Not necessarily dangerous, although poisionous arachnids do exist in the jungle, but the mere sight of these adult - hand sized specimens initially had us running for the hills, crying 'the end of the world is nigh'.

* Snakes - From pythons to king cobras, although we'd typically come across less dangerous types such as the tree and rat snake.

* Scorpions - Big black fuckers that meant business

* Red Ants - EVERYWHERE...the big uns with the pincers. These wee fuckers will not only bite you, but will bite you with such malice that their pincers and indeed their heads stay stitched to your skin after you've removed the body..they mean to inflict maximum pain and do so, quite effectively.

It was a rainy afternoon, but we always found precipitation a most welcomed break, as humidity was repleaced by a torrential monsoon shower.
All 4 of us, LK and his mate were present, were slashing away at the dense dense undergrowth towering over us. The fact that we had another 95 rai of the same to clear was quite a daunting prospect, but for now our spirits were, although not by any means high, in a fair state and although withnall (yes, withnall) would go through the occasional despondent phase (hahahaha, ponce) we kept at it...we worked, as they say, like fucking Trojans.

Due to the cooling effects of the rain, progress was a little more rapid and we found ourselves delivering deft overhand swipes and crisp horizantal blows to the vegetation which faced us; our machetes being sharpened sporadically on pieces of limestone , which the mountain was comprised of.

However, one particular overhead smash caused me a huge amount of discomfort and pain.

Above me, out of my peripheral vision, was a red ants nest the size of a basketball. I successfully managed to chop the fucking thing in half and a torrential down pour of ants fell onto me and started to attack my head.. about 3000 of them.

T-shirt off, trousers off, shoes off, pants and socks off, rolling around the jungle floor in a tropical monsoon storm trying to swot the fuckers off me, I thought..

"Dear Mum,

Having a wonderful time in Thailand, the beaches are magnificent and the sea warm and crystal clear..."

All this happening whilst withnall, LK and his mate..sat there nearly puking with laughter.

I was picking ants out of my arsehole for a week..



Bastards things..bane of my exsitence for 12 months..

[somtamslap]

Tooled up?

This vocation required the use of some rather heavy machinery. Firstly we had our trusty machetes/sickles/whatever the fuck they are. These would be used for close combat or when a particularly obstinate tree would fail to succumb to the strimmer.
The strimmer/weedwacker/bushbollocker (depending on where you may hail from) was infact our weapon of choice for the majority of the frolicks on the mountain; not your everyday nylon corded machines for tidying up the edges of your manicured lawn though..good Lord, no, these fuckers had huge metal blades which were ideal for a spot of deforestation..they went through bark like butter.

Intially we were provided with a pair of two stroke machines which were so old and mistreated by their previous users that they'd work for precisely 2 minutes at a time before coughing and spluttering like an old boy propping up the bar with a hand rolled cigarette protruding from the corner of his tabacco stained face..we'd often spend the first two hours of the morning trying to get the fucking things started.

After a month or two of dropping subtle hints like 'Your strimmers are fucking shit' , an incident took place which secured us a pair of brand new Honda 4 strokes, I nearly paid for them with my life, mind you..

During one of the two stroke's more healthier moments, I was getting into my stride and had put a good 10 minutes of mass destruction behind me, it was actually quite satifying looking back on your path of devastation. The thing with the strimmer is that the vegetation was so thick that you were unable to see what was under it..be it a boulder or tree trunk..and when you hit either of those at full revs it gives you a wee bit of a jolt..as in your whole body involuntarily does a retarded version of the jitterbug as you are showered with debris from the offending obstacle.
We soon learnt to give the jungle a proverbial haircut before going about the actual assault and battery.
Alas, I was in the zone, the Green Zone as we'd often refer to it and taking advantage of my strimmer's second wind of life. Because of my exhuberance for the task at hand, I failed to noticed a large piece of limestone semi buried below a cluster of greenery.

*Smash*

The force of the collision some how caused the blade of the strimmer to detach itself from the machine, whizzing within a centimetre passed my neck at some 10 thousand revs per minute..

The blade was discovered later on by withnall, some 50 metres from where I stood..a faint whoft of fecal matter expelling itself from my trouser..a close call indeed..

I opined to the supervisor that I thought it in my best interests to not die, so could we please have some new, safe machines to work with.

They were replaced and included in his purchases from the Honda garage was a lawn mower..a fucking lawn mower?..."you want us to mow the fucking jungle?"

But that's a different story..

[somtamslap]

Camp Life:

The hamlet in which our colleagues dwelled was comprised of a series of some 30 or so corrugated iron and wooden shacks.
They were the size of a very very humble garden shed; you know, the type your great uncle Bernard scuttles off into of a Sunday afternoon, after copping an eye full of snatch at his morning church attendance.
Each of these shacks would house either invidual persons or a husband and wife (boyfriend and girlfriend). It was a very common occurrence for couples to make the long journey from the depths of Issan to try and ensure a better future for their offspring who would more often than not be in the hugely incapable hands of YAI and DA...needs must I suppose.
The camp was a hive of activity from 5 am onwards, when breakfast would be plucked, stabbed, caught, trapped or regurgitated and communal shower and shitter facilities queued for.
One toilet, 30 plus people..you can imagine the abuse that fucker took..of course no paper, squirter, or soap in sight..pure unadulterated fucking filth..

The shower came in the form of a large basin, about the size of a pool table, where morning stories of 'what will or what had just been consumed for breakfast' would keenly be swapped.

The working day was from 7am to 5pm, so you'd often be able to hear folks sprinting exuberantly down the mountain at 4.59pm, screaming' LAU KAU', at the top of their lungs.

Showers were had, once again exchanging stories of food, and the day's catches would be laid out on a large table which was the central point of the camp.

Rats and papaya made for easy pickings, but snakes and monitor lizards were also fairly frequently on the menu.

Dinner, too, was a communal affair and at around 6.30pm everyday, shacks would be departed for the table, each and everyone clutching a small basket of sticky rice which was an absolutely essential accompaniment to the daily evening banquet.

And of course there was lau kau present...and lots of it...

[bobo746]

so you gave up your acting career to become a thai navvie good move mate

[somtamslap]

so you gave up your acting career to become a thai navvie good move mate

Yer know, the acting was just an off the cuff gig, there was never gonna be any future in it..

[withnallstoke]

so you gave up your acting career

Not very photogenic.
Wide angle lenses were still expensive then.

[somtamslap]

Not very photogenic. Wide angle lenses were still expensive then.

So bitter, so very very bitter.
Just because the Thais gave me a great nickname and referred to you as the 'old useless northern bastard'..it's all water under the bridge, you mustn't weep over spilt coconut milk..

[somtamslap]

Views like this softened the blow, a tad..



Lunch would sometimes be eaten here..

[pescator]

Wow, you sure went native.

Great tales. Keep `em coming, please.

I seem to recall that this is a repost.
But I read it a long time ago and appreciated the reaquaintance. (sp)

[dirk diggler]

Kudos for your efforts, were you ever the same again after that?

Was there any poontang on offer? Lau Kau is an affa thing?

[somtamslap]

I seem to recall that this is a repost. But I read it a long time ago and appreciated the reaquaintance.

It's a follow on from a post I wrote a couple of years back..so just continuing the story..

Was there any poontang on offer?

At least half of our colleagues were yokel wenches..very interesting experience..

[dirk diggler]

Not even a mercy hand job? They must've been all over you.

[somtamslap]

Not even a mercy hand job? They must've been all over you.

99 per cent had husbands, so it's a bit of a no-no shagging someone elses bird up a mountain with loads of machetes about the place..the remaining one per cent indeed wanted a portion but, fuck that, I've seen more attractive hippos..

[lom]

Views like this softened the blow, a tad..

Those islands looks familiar, where was that jungle?

[somtamslap]

Those islands looks familiar, where was that jungle?

S/W of the Island..sort of Ban Taling Ngam/Thong Krut way..the five islands were always visable from where we worked.

[lom]

Thought so..
Must have been hell being out in the jungle so far far away from civilisation

[somtamslap]

Must have been hell being out in the jungle so far far away from civilisation

AT LEAST 20 minutes to the nearest 7/11!

[dirk diggler]

OUCH! What were they paying you guys again? Was it the same rate as the locals?