Pa Joe's Place

By Clancy Tucker

Boo is a seven-year-old Thai girl whose father is dying. She must leave home and travel 1700 kilometres to live in an orphanage, ‘Pa Joe’s Place’, run by a foreigner (farang). With a bag of clothes, some food and a mysterious envelope addressed to ‘Pa Joe’, she endures an adventurous train trip to Songkhla. On the way, she meets influential people who know Pa Joe, and a wise monk who gives Boo a lucky amulet.

Boo settles into ‘Pa Joe’s Place’, makes friends and inspires Pa; an American Jesuit priest who has cared for Thai orphans for 50 years. She and her friends establish a successful jam-making business to make money for Pa and Boo meets Jack Ryan, an Australian farmer she admires. Shattered by the death of her father, Boo runs from Pa Joe’s Place but is soon found by Pa and the Chief of Police.

Boo has survived four life-threatening situations since she left home: a train crash, snakebite, tsunami and a fire. Suddenly she takes ill and is rushed to hospital. Will her lucky amulet help her to survive?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Morris Publishing Australia
• Release date: Jun 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9780992505233

Clancy Tucker

Clancy writes young adult fiction for reluctant readers, but has also achieved success as a poet and photographer. He has lived in four countries, speaks three languages. He has been short-listed and highly commended in writing contests: 2006 & 2007 National Literary Awards, Raspberry & Vine (twice), Positive words, Australian Writers On-Line, Shaggy Sheep Tale, The Cancer Council Arts Awards (2005 & 2008), The Dusty Swag Awards (2010) and had ten short stories published in literary magazines (Page Seventeen, Branching Out & Positive Words), newspapers (The Standard, Mountain Views & The Advocate), written articles for Kid Magazine in the USA and won a poetry prize to name a life-size statue designed by renowned Belgian sculptor, Bruno Torfs. In 2010, he was awarded a two-week mentorship by the National Education & Employment Foundation. He is now a full time writer but has been a speechwriter, public servant, farmer, and small business operator. Clancy has worked with street kids and draws on life’s experiences to write entertaining stories for kids.

Book preview

Chapter 1

My best friend, Nat, took my hand and we headed home from school in the blazing heat. Rickety busses full of kids took off noisily and blew dirty fumes into the air, but Nat and I were walking home. We stopped and bowed as we passed the temple next to our school, hoping that none of the stray dogs that hung around the temple annoyed us. A lot of them were mangy. All of them looked hungry and mean. They were skin and bones. It had been another good day for me. I’d passed the monthly examination set by one of our teachers, Khun Apichai.

‘Hoei, Boo,’ Nat said, raising my hand in the air and repeating my favourite expression. It means ‘Oh, Boo’. I used it whenever I was happy, surprised or disappointed.

‘What, Nat?’ I asked, stopping to inspect a spider making a web on a mango tree.

‘You must be happy that your test results were so good. Did you hear what our teacher said about you?’

‘Of course I did,’ I replied, picking a sweet-smelling wild flower that grew beside the road, embarrassed by her question. Nat hadn’t stopped talking about my results since they’d been announced. It annoyed me. I didn’t like bringing attention to myself. Some of my classmates struggled with their lessons, but learning was easy for me. Often I would not put my hand up to answer a question even though I knew the answer, fearing my classmates would think I was bragging.

‘She said you are a top student … The best she has ever taught. And, she also said you were the quickest runner for your age.’

‘Maybe,’ I muttered.

‘No maybe. She’s right. You are so smart, Boo. You are very quick too. Look at those ribbons you’ve won at our school sports,’ she added, placing an arm around my waist. ‘And you’re my best friend. I love having smart friends.’

‘Thanks.’ Nat was right. I’d won prizes for running and had always topped my class in all subjects, including English. My teachers and my parents had always encouraged me to learn but they didn’t need to encourage me. I was hungry to learn. There was so much I was curious about.

‘You’re welcome, Boo. Hey, what will you do when you grow up? Ever thought about that?’ I knew the answer to that question. It was something I’d thought lots about since Poppa had been sick.

‘I’d like to be a doctor or a nurse … Some job where I can help people.’

‘Oh. But you could be a professor. You’re clever enough.’

‘No, not for me,’ I said, stopping to pick up something shiny on the road. It was an old shoe buckle.

‘Why?’

‘They only talk to students and read books all day. I saw that in an American movie,’ I said.

‘But you love reading, Boo. You read all the time.’

‘I do, but I can be a doctor and read books when I finish work.’

‘You know my uncle … The one who is a doctor?’ Nat asked.

‘Yes, I’ve met him before – Doctor Bamrung,’ I replied.

‘Well. He told my dad that it took him seven long years of study to become a doctor.’

‘So?’

‘That’s a long time, Boo.’

‘But doctors have lots to learn, that’s why it takes so long, Nat.’

‘Might cost a lot of money to become a doctor, Boo,’ she added.

‘I think so, but I want to win a scholarship and go to university in Chiang Mai or Bangkok.’

Nat became quiet, probably thinking of her next question. I took advantage of the situation and ran towards the big lagoon in our village.

‘Wait, Boo!’ Nat yelled, but I kept running until I reached one of my favourite spots. It was a small, wooden pier used by people who fished in the lagoon by canoe. Nat soon arrived and squatted beside me. I’d sat on the edge of the pier and dangled my feet over the water, looking for fish that often swam near the pier.

‘What took you so long?’ I chuckled, glancing at her shiny new shoes.

‘I stopped to collect some stones to skim across the water.’

‘Oh. That’s something I’m not good at, Nat.’

‘Watch this, Boo.’

Nat stood up, crouched low and threw a stone across the lagoon. I watched and smiled when the stone skipped seven times across the surface before it landed with a plopping noise. Nat was an expert at skimming stones.

‘How was that?’ she cried out.

‘Amazing. Well done.’

While Nat threw stones, I leant against one of the pier posts and looked at the massive lagoon that stored water for the local rice farmers. It was a wonderful place with lots of wildlife and fish. Birds loved it. I’d spent many hours fishing at the lagoon with Poppa and my brothers, Taksin, Sawat, Thapsit and Anapan. We always caught something; usually snakehead, catfish or carp. Fishing was my favourite hobby, especially when I went with Poppa. He always told me interesting things. Poppa and my brothers had taught me everything about fishing, lures and bait. They’d even taught me how to gut and clean the fish we caught. My father knew lots about fishing, and he had told me many interesting facts about fish, like how big they grew, whether they were surface or bottom feeders and how best to catch them.

Nat continued to throw stones across the glass-like surface of the lagoon, shouting every time she achieved success. I looked at the beautiful water lilies, duck weed and lotus plants that grew everywhere in that part of the lagoon. That’s why I loved that spot. It was not only pretty, but also a good place to think and to read a book. Many birds like swamp hens and river chat could be seen swimming around searching for food.

‘Nat, what time is it?’ I asked.

‘Almost four,’ she replied.

‘Hoei, Boo!’ I hollered ‘Got to go. Need to do my chores.’

‘Oh, okay.’

I stood up, patted her on the back and headed home. ‘See you tomorrow, Nat.’

Nat’s house was located between our house and the lagoon. It was a large brick house with strong steel gates at the front, surrounded by a high brick wall on all sides. The rear garden was beautiful. It contained a large fish pond, a big entertainment area and an aviary of colourful birds that Nat’s father had collected.

I stopped for a few minutes and compared Nat’s house to mine, noticing two modern vehicles sitting in the carport and three motorbikes parked nearby. I’d always liked going to Nat’s big house. It was more modern than ours and full of luxuries, including ceiling fans and air conditioning; things we didn’t have. The inside of her house always smelt fresh, maybe because Nat’s mother always loved to have freshly cut flowers in the house. In the family room was a gigantic television, plus leather couches and chairs that were so comfortable. You could smell the leather when you sat on them.

The kitchen contained all the latest appliances, including a dish washing machine, bread-making machine and a rice steamer. The two bathrooms in Nat’s house were very big. Both of them had a separate shower and bath, and all the bedrooms contained soft beds that farangs, foreigners, used. Each bed had fluffy pillows and colourful sheets, and the bedroom windows were decorated with beautiful curtains, specially made to reduce the heat from the hot Thai sun. Nat’s house had two separate toilets and a special room for Nat and her brothers to do their homework. My best friend’s house was so different to the other houses in the village. Some people in our village called it ‘The palace’.

My home was a simple Thai house made of unpainted teak wood with a corrugated iron roof. We had a small two-storey home that had two bedrooms, open windows with shutters and no modern appliances. Downstairs was for cooking, eating, washing and relaxing, but a large veranda at the front and back of our house was where we spent most of our time. We had an old television set, a radio and furniture given to us by neighbours when they’d bought new furniture. The only toilet was outside, next to the area where Momma and my sisters washed our dishes and clothes. There were nine of us in my family and we all loved our house.

Upstairs contained two bedrooms; one small one for Momma and Poppa and one for me and my brothers and sisters. Our bedroom was a simple room with seven mats laid neatly across the floor, two windows and one old wardrobe where the seven of us stored our clothes. The only decorations were two posters of a rock group my brother, Thapsit, loved, and a photograph of our wonderful king.

All of us slept on thin straw mats on the floor. We had no air conditioning. We didn’t even own a vehicle, but Poppa owned an old motor bike that he used to travel to and from work. However, we had a big back yard with beautiful plants that were grown by my brother, Anapan. He loved growing plants. One day he planned to own his own plant nursery. Our home wasn’t as large as Nat’s, but we loved it.

I arrived home, removed my shoes and left them at the front door. My shoes were nothing like Nat’s shoes. Mine were old and worn. Poppa had mended them twice already. Later on, I’d have to clean my shoes and those of my brothers and sisters when they arrived home from school; one of my chores.

‘Momma!’ I shouted, but no one was home. That was strange. Normally Momma was busy doing something around our house, but always waiting for me to arrive home and give me a treat like iced mango slices or sticky rice with sweet milk. Arriving home from school was a great time for Momma and me. No one else was home so we always chatted about things; me about school and Momma about things that were happening in our village.

I changed my clothes and drank some cold water. Other than my chores, I needed to sit and think – alone. Something strange had been happening at home for the past week and I didn’t know why. Our house was always a happy home, but for the past few days it had changed. Everyone had been quiet; almost sad. Even my sisters, Thip and Wanee, who were often noisy, had been very quiet.

I hid my ‘Excellence’ certificate in the wardrobe with the other awards I’d won and finished most of my chores. Making sure our two buffalos had enough water was my favourite job. I loved those animals. They were big but gentle and I always gave them many pats. On really hot days I sprayed them with water from the hose to cool them down.

With only one chore left to do I headed to the big mangosteen tree at the back of our house, ready to climb up to another of my favourite places. I had a few special places. Other than the lagoon, our temple and my school, the mangosteen tree was also a special place to be. It was a private place I shared with no one. I liked being with people, but I also liked to be alone to think. Two of my brothers, Sawat and Anapan, had built a wooden platform for me half-way up the tree because I was always climbing it. My brothers also erected a wooden ladder so I could reach the platform. It was where I had spent many hours thinking, reading and dreaming. My family called it ‘Baan Boo’ – Boo’s House. Momma still hadn’t arrived home. She must have gone to the temple. Music was coming from that direction.

Our chickens loved to roost on the rungs of the ladder that led to my treehouse so I chased them away. With a pocket full of rice crackers and a small bottle of water, I climbed up the ladder, squatted cross-legged on the platform and looked out across our back yard. The view was beautiful. It always made me happy. Baan Boo was my private piece of heaven. It even had two small orchids strapped to a branch of the tree and a special place to put my drink bottle. Anapan had added those, and Sawat had made a pillow for me and tacked a thin straw mat on the floor of the platform. Sitting in a waterproof container were some magazines, comics, books and newspapers.

‘Hoei, Boo!’ I hollered and checked my rubber sandals. ‘That smells awful.’ I must have stepped on some chicken droppings as I climbed the ladder and threw my sandals below, making some chickens scatter as my sandals hit the ground.

Munching on the salty rice crackers, I looked ahead and smiled at the view. The village lagoon could easily be seen from Baan Boo, and many wild birds flew in and landed on the water in search of food. Watching the wildlife on our lagoon reminded me of documentaries I’d seen on television at Nat’s place. Nat’s father loved documentaries. So did I. From Baan Boo, I sometimes saw fishermen in boats or canoes with fishing nets and spears, or planes flying across the sky like silver darts in the clouds. In the background was a big mountain range that divided Thailand from Myanmar. Poppa had always told me that the highest peak was called ‘Anchalee Mountain’. He said it had been named after Momma because the mountain was as beautiful as my mother. I believed him until I went to school. Always curious about things, I went to our school library and learnt the truth. The real name for the mountain is Doi Inthanon which is 2,565 metres above sea level. That night I teased Poppa and told him with a serious face that they’d changed the name of Momma’s mountain to Doi Inthanon and asked him what he was going to do about it. My family laughed loudly. Poppa hugged me and apologised for teasing me.

My mother had still not arrived home so I lay on my cushion and watched as the sun began to slowly slide away. The sky was beautiful. The sun had spread its red glow amongst a few fluffy clouds. Although the sky looked wonderful, I kept wondering why our home had become so sad. I couldn’t work it out, no matter how hard I thought about it. Everyone was doing what they normally did. Poppa was sick but he was still working, Momma was busy and my brothers and sisters and I were going to school. Nothing had changed so I decided to ask Momma when she arrived home. She’d know what was happening. She always did.

Chapter 2

Last night I cried myself to sleep. It was an awful night. My four older brothers and two older sisters tried to cheer me up but it was useless. It was okay for them. They weren’t leaving home. I was. I knew something had happened, or was about to happen, when Momma finally came home from the temple. I climbed down from Baan Boo and found her crying, but she wouldn’t tell me why she was upset. I just hugged her, thinking that someone in the village had died.

However, Momma and Poppa called me outside after dinner and I was scared. I hadn’t done anything wrong. The three of us sat on an old wooden bench and my father told me he was sick. So sick, he wasn’t expected to live. That really upset me. He had a disease of the blood. Poppa told me what it was called but I couldn’t pronounce it. It was something like leuk ... aemia. Two of his brothers had already died from it. Poppa had been sick for many months but we all hoped he’d get better. All of us had regular blood tests to make sure we didn’t have the same disease. My last blood test was two weeks ago.

A second piece of news made me feel sick. With Poppa gone, Momma would have eight mouths to feed and, because I was the youngest, my parents decided that I should leave home. Also, my eldest brother and sister would finish school and begin work to support the family. Thip was seventeen and Sawat was eighteen. Momma said that both of them had already found jobs. Thip was to work in a factory in a nearby village and Sawat was going to work for Nat’s dad in the rice fields. The bad news about my sister and brother made me cry. Both of them were good students. They studied hard and knew what they wanted to do when they left school. Sawat wanted to be an engineer, and Thip had plans to open her own shop.

‘But, I don’t eat much ... And I won’t be any trouble,’ I choked. Poppa grabbed me and hugged me. Momma stood up and gently stroked my back as I cried and cried. Now I knew why our family had been sad for the past week. The news was awful for everyone.

‘Boo, this hasn’t been an easy decision for us,’ said my father, wiping his eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’ I clutched Poppa, not wanting to let go of him. With my eyes closed, I asked Buddha for a big favour – for Poppa to get better and not die. I was being selfish. If Poppa lived, I would not be sent away and my brother and sister could stay at school.

As my parents and I talked, our hens and chickens pecked and scratched for food around us. They always did that, but I felt anger towards them. They had such a simple life; didn’t care that I had to leave home or that my father was sick.

Poppa sniffled a lot. My mother cried too, but she seemed much stronger than Poppa. I guess she had to be strong. Momma would soon have a lot of responsibility.

‘Boo, you will leave in two days,’ said Momma, and one thought raced through my mind: Poppa must have had a very short time to live.

‘Where am I going?’ I asked. My parents looked at each other.

‘A long way from home,’ said Poppa. ‘You will take the train to a city called Songkhla.’

I’d seen that name on a map of Thailand and knew it was somewhere in the south. ‘Why must I go so far away? For how long?’ I asked. ‘Can I ever come back?’

Poppa frowned and rubbed his chin before he answered my question. ‘Boo, it is a special home. I have heard it is a wonderful place run by a good farang. You are clever. You need opportunities that we cannot give you.’

‘A farang?’ I spluttered, wondering why I would be sent to a place run by a foreigner in a country that had millions of Thai people. I’d never met or had anything to do with farangs or Christians. We were Buddhists. I’d seen many farang tourists in Chiang Mai, but I’d never had a reason to speak with them.

‘He is a Christian priest, and a very good man. Many Thai kids live there. I have been told that they have an excellent school, Boo,’ Poppa added. I looked at my parents but said nothing. They looked sad and I felt sick. I wanted to run away and hide. I would never see my father again; probably never see my mother, brothers and sisters as well.

Momma and Poppa had nothing more to say so I walked inside to pore over a map of my country on the kitchen table. I needed to know exactly where Songkhla was. It was a wonderful map, covered in plastic to protect it. Momma had bought it at a market many years ago and I’d looked at it lots of times, trying to work out where we were in the world. Thailand is a long country with 70,000,000 people, bordered by Myanmar, Laos, Kampuchea and Malaysia.

With tears running down my cheeks, I quickly found Songkhla and realised it was a long way from home. The map contained a kilometre chart so I tried to work out how far I had to travel to my new home. With one finger on my village and another finger on Songkhla, I worked out that the trip from my village to Songkhla was equal to twenty-four trips to and from Chiang Mai. Poppa and Momma often took me to Chiang Mai when we could borrow a vehicle. It was usually once a month for Poppa to visit a hospital for treatment. I enjoyed those trips but Momma always drove home because Poppa was sick after his treatment.

Our village is called Nong Chom, one of nine villages in a district that is home to more than 14,000 people; most of them farmers. Nong Chom is about 70 kilometres north of Chiang Mai, one of the largest cities in Thailand and a favourite place for farangs to holiday.

‘Hoei, Boo,’ I sniffled, having calculated that I would travel more than 1,700 kilometres by train to reach Songkhla. It seemed such a long way for a seven-year-old girl to be travelling alone.

Poppa entered our house via the old creaky steps, sat beside me and gazed at the large map. He frowned when I silently pointed to our village then slid my finger down the map and pointed to Songkhla. My small finger had travelled a long way; almost the entire length of our country. Always curious about Thailand, I read many books from our school library and watched the nightly news on television. Sometimes I read interesting stories in Poppa’s daily newspaper, especially in the travel section, wanting to learn about places surrounded by mountains and the ocean.

My father had always been a quiet man, but he was very affectionate and we loved him very much. Poppa worked hard as a rice farmer, but no matter how hard his day had been working in the hot sun, he always came home happy to see his family. However, our family would soon change. I would be gone and Poppa would be dead. Those horrible thoughts made me cry.

Momma walked in and sat beside me. She placed a hand across my shoulders, squeezed me gently then pushed a piece of paper across the table. I looked down and saw a train ticket. I’d seen them before, lying on the ground when we’d been to a market near the railway station in Chiang Mai. Two things jumped up and slapped my cheeks as I gawked at the ticket: my name and my destination.

Boo Nawigamune

Chiang Mai – Songkhla

Tears crawled down my face. Each tear felt like the raindrops I’d seen on lotus flowers after monsoonal rains. My parents had not been teasing me. I was leaving home forever. It was a one-way ticket. Feeling crushed, I slumped over the map and sobbed. My parents said nothing. What could they say?

It was dark when I went upstairs to our bedroom to find my brothers and sisters still awake. I’m sure they were thinking about our family’s future. All of them looked sad; especially Thip. She was crying.

Chapter 3

The next morning I woke up feeling numb, hoping I had dreamt about Poppa’s sickness and me having to leave home for an orphanage in the south. My sisters and brothers had already left for school. They went to a high school in Chang Dao which was far from our village; waking up early every day to catch a bus to school. It was a very long day for them but they didn’t mind. They loved school.

Momma wanted me to stay home and relax before my long train trip, but I disagreed with her and stood in the kitchen with my hands jammed on my hips.

‘Momma, I must say goodbye to my friends and thank my teachers. Please, Momma,’ I pleaded. My mother leant against a bench and folded her arms; something she often did when she wanted to make an important point. Poppa entered the kitchen looking very pale. His skin looked awful. I pressed my hands together on my chest and bowed. We call it the ‘Wai’. It’s the way Thai people offer respect. Farangs I’d seen in Chiang Mai and in American movies at Nat’s place shook hands or kissed each other on the cheek.

‘Good. I’m glad you are going to school today, Boo. Your friends need to say farewell,’ Poppa said, pouring himself a bowl of Thai Congee – a rice porridge known as ‘Jok’. Momma sat beside me, tapped my hand and smiled. I guess Poppa had had the last word about me going to school.

As soon as I’d finished my jok, I ran to our bedroom to grab my knapsack and some books I needed to return to the school library. Poppa was sitting alone at the kitchen table with his head in his hands when I returned to the kitchen. I gently rubbed his back, kissed him and left.

‘Love you, Poppa.’

It was another hot day. My next big problem was to work out how to tell my best friend the bad news. Nat would be upset to hear that I was leaving, and to learn that my father was dying. Trying to be strong, I took a deep breath and skipped on the edge of the road, chatted to buffalos in the paddy fields and waved to anyone who passed me on a motorcycle, pretending that things were normal. They were not normal. My life had been turned upside down.

A few hundred metres from Nat’s home I looked up to find her swinging on the large, metal gate at the front of her house. She always did that while she waited for me to arrive. Nat loves to talk and is very confident. She is also very pretty. Her family owns the largest rice farm in our district and Poppa told me that her father is a very successful man.

‘Nat!’ I hollered. She grinned, jumped off the gate and ran towards me. We held hands and headed to school which was a good kilometre from home. As usual, Nat chatted about some show she had seen on television. I listened, but I jumped in when I had the chance. ‘Nat. I have some big news,’ I said in a low voice.

‘News? What sort of news?’ she demanded.

I took a deep breath before I spoke. ‘It’s the baddest type of news.’ Nat stopped walking, spun me around and placed both hands on my shoulders. ‘What? Tell me.’ I tried not to cry but I couldn’t help it. My best friend hugged me tightly when she saw tears in my eyes. ‘It’s okay, Boo. Tell me when you are ready,’ she said softly in my ear. I heard what she said but I was too busy crying on her clean white shirt.

Nat was very patient. I looked at her and found her crying so I gasped some air, took her by the hand and walked to a roadside stall that was vacant. The stall was roughly made but it had a long wooden bench and a thatched roof that protected us from the sun. There was so much bad news to tell Nat, and I felt guilty for making her cry. Not only was my father dying and I heading to Songkhla, I was also about to lose my best friend.

‘Tomorrow I’m going to the south of Thailand to live ... And my father is dying,’ I blurted.

‘Hoei, Boo,’ she gasped with wide eyes. ‘What? Why? Tomorrow ... Your dad?’

‘Yes, it’s all true, Nat. Today will be my last day at our school.’ Nat looked sad so I gave her another big hug.

‘But ... But what about us? We’re best friends. How long will you be there? Why are you going south?’ she sobbed.

Not wanting to be late for my last day at school, I grabbed her wrist and looked at her beautiful watch. It was silver, with a picture of Mickey Mouse on the face. Nat loved it. So did I.

‘We better go or we will be late. Come on, Nat. I’ll tell you on the way to school.’

I told Nat all that I knew as we walked to school hand in hand. There wasn’t much to tell but Nat was shocked by my news. I gripped her hand and babbled. She sniffled and listened. When we reached the gates to our school she wiped her eyes and gave me a beaming smile.

‘This school will miss you, but not as much as me, Boo. Let’s go. This is going to be a big day for you,’ she said, hugged me and walked into school. I went to the principal’s office to tell him that he was about to lose a student, but Poppa had already spoken to him.

I told all of my friends the sad news at morning recess. They couldn’t believe that I