Jesus

When I was a child my sister had this picture bible for kids, which had been given to her by her god mother. It was a large hardback book with many pictures and some chosen stories extracted from the bible such as Moses and the parting of the waves, some parables, Jesus and the feeding of the many, and ones like that. But what I mostly remembered it for was the picture on the front. The hardback book had one of those glossy front and back covers that tucked into the front and back book covers. On the front of this was the name and a picture of a young man in sandals and flowing white robes with a hand held out with long blonde or golden locks, a light beard and blue eyes. Behind him was a blazing sun that left a halo round his head.

I was sitting at one of the stone tables at Mr. Bow’s just off of Tanao Road looking down the soi past the dogs, motorcycles and the occasional worker who were drifting in and out of the shophouses. It was hot, but the sun was falling and the temperature would soon drop. For now, though the sun was blazing lower into my eyes causing me to squint and think of moving bench. But the benches round the table were taken by the others sitting with me, but they were chatting to each other. I was both alone and surrounded at the same time, but in one of those late afternoon thoughtful, quiet periods that hit you in the tropics just letting my mind run over whatever came into it as I looked away from the table and around where I was but not really taking in the run down shophouses, wooden buildings and greenery or the little alley off the side that led back to where I had come from.

At some point my wandering gaze caused me to look back down the soi towards the road that ran past the distant post office and barbers and on towards the cheaper guest houses where some of the growing African community stayed. There was someone coming towards me. At first, they were a silhouette or shadow with the sinking sun right behind them. The intense light caused my eyes to struggle at first. I squinted as little drops of water ran from my eyes. But this quickly passed and I saw the figure near with a vast light around their head. The closer they came, the more I saw. The approaching figure was a young man in sandals and flowing white robes with long blonde or golden locks, a light beard and blue eyes. Behind him the blazing sun still left a glowing golden halo around his head.

This was my first ever encounter with Jesus.

Jesus, as he was known, for his real name if ever revealed, which I believe it was not if my memory serves me right, was never used, did not exactly have any biblical qualities, or certainly not the ones in the New Testament. In fact, Jesus was the biggest pervert I have ever met in my life and I do not think in the remaining years, it is possible to meet anyone in the same league. We called him Jesus because he had that long blond wavy hair, blue eyes and dressed in baggy free flowing clothes. He appeared like those pictures of Jesus that were common in children’s versions of the bible like my sister had, complete with artistic license to differ from how a person born in the Middle East would really look like. I also suspect the nickname was employed with a certain irony in mind considering those who coined it.

He would drift into the Khaosan area, as he freely travelled the world, alone and completely unannounced. I suspect it was the same when he was in Latin America, the Caribbean, Africa, Other parts of Asia and eastern Europe. He was always alone and seemed to lead a totally unplanned life devoid of anyone close to him.

Jesus was one of the few people I met who was genuinely paid by his family never to return home, which to him was a place in somewhere like Maryland or Connecticut – I forget which, but a place like that in the US. He hailed from real wealth and had a monthly allowance he accessed from a trust fund that had only one condition – that he would never in his life re-enter the United States. I, we, would speculate exactly why this condition arose, but it was not too difficult to make an informed guess, as you discovered the little about him that you could.

The allowance was obviously generous and no doubt more than any of the rest of were used to. It enabled him to travel the world pretty much at his whim and to indulge in whatever he wanted at any time. One week he would be in Quito. The next in Luanda, The one after that in Bangkok. And so, it went. He was a genuine world traveller. Having said that, Jesus was not someone living the high life or who could be described as profligate. He did at times need large amounts of money and on occasions I learned, even had to request more from his family, which I am told was always forthcoming. We can only speculate on why he would at times need the extra money, but I am sure that those of you reading will be able to think of a reason or two when you finish reading.

He appeared on at least two occasions during my time in the Khaosan Road environs, and as mentioned earlier, I first saw him walking up the little alley that led to Mr. Bow’s shop where we hung out. I was sitting with Colin and Graham as usual, and there were a few others around. I cannot remember exactly who, but some had met Jesus before and it was clear he was walking towards us to sit at the round table and partake of whatever was being discussed.

Mr. Bow’s shop was across Tanao from that end of Khaosan and positioned to be approached form a few directions. The clientele, which may be a bit a bit of a polite word in describing the people who regularly or occasionally appeared in Mr. Bow’s ranged from travellers, a few English language teachers with dreams of adventure through to hardened criminals with everything in between. You did not find any well-heeled, well-balanced types there. I was in the former category at that point and moved to the teacher one, and I enjoyed the stories, but was careful of not crossing any lines in what I did, wanted, indulged in or spoke about. It was a place where what you heard remained between those present at that time it came out.

Jesus came over to the table and sat down. Small talk concerning travel was all that came up. People started to have a small bottle of beer each, except for Jesus. He sat nursing a plastic bottle of water. In fact, he never drank, and you would only ever see him with a bottle of water, or on occasions a hot tea. As time passed by, that day, there was a suggestion we should head to the bar areas – Cowboy One one on Soi Cowboy was the bar of choice of this group for some reason I cannot remember. Indeed, that was where it was announced we would head. Jesus declined the offer, but those who knew and hadn’t seen him for a while gently cajoled and coerced him to join us on the trip. That was the only time I ever saw him in the bar area. and I am told it was indeed the only time he ever went. A taxi was duly sought out as nobody fancied the long bus trip that night.

Arriving at Soi Cowboy from the Asoke end, we wandered past the glittering bars and the country music bar at the head of the street, and through the groups of tourists, various expats, scantily clad young women and hard eyed Thai men that always lined the street in the early 90s. We all knew the area and moved through it easily. Jesus stood out in his flowing fisherman’s trousers, loose robe, and with one of those handmade material bags over his shoulder, when compared to the jeans, t-shirts and short sleeved shirt wearing foreigners, but a path made way and we reached the middle of the soi where Cowboy One was located. In we went.

The bar was pretty much like many others, a single shop house bar with a dancing stage taking up maybe half of one side of the shop, and a narrow bar on the other side. The rest was seating booths with tables. At times a young bored looking woman with a number attached to her bikini would go up onto the stage and dance, or stare blankly into the mirror on the wall opposite her. Others would wander the bar looking for men to sit with, and if lucky earn a tip or drink. It was the standard format. We headed for the back and took over the last table as usual. I found myself next to Jesus who was sat on the outside. Beers were ordered and in the case of Jesus a single glass bottle of water, one of those with a pull top.

I found it hard to talk to him. I wondered what we may have in common to talk of as I had not travelled widely and knew nothing of him. So, he told me of a few places he had been and I sat and mostly listened as he talked to me, and then at times the others close to the two of us. A beer was had and a second ordered. So, it went on to a third beer and by now Jesus was out of water, so he ordered a cup of tea – Lipton’s with no milk and no sugar as it was all they had when his requested Chinese or Jasmine tea were not on the menu. It was not to his liking and time was getting on. He said that he wanted to go to other more suitable places to see what was happening and maybe seek out someone to his liking.

“What about the girls in here?” I asked, and heard a snigger from both Graham and Colin.

“They are too classy, for my taste and I want something more earthy,” was the reply that I got.

I thought that I had better shut up as unlike the others I did not know the man, and as you quickly learn on subjects like this, everyone has their own particular taste and its best left undiscussed or commented on.

So, we all left and Jesus wandered off to the end of the soi. The rest of us were left to pace the soi and see what was happening, or look for anyone else we knew who was out that night. We ended sitting outside the one shophouse come pharmacy in the soi that also sold bottles of beer. The only place in the area that sold drinks at regular shop prices, which of course appealed to the others. It was an uneventful night, so we talked a little. I asked about Jesus.

“Will he get a taxi? Where will he go?”

“No, Jesus does not take taxis, he walks everywhere and anywhere, and will search for what he wants as he goes. It is best not to ask too much about him. He is different. But he will head for the railway sidings, the poorer quieter parts of Chinatown, Hua Lampong and the slums. Those are his haunts and the people he is looking for will be there.”

I stopped there with my enquiry.

One way or another, we later ended up back at the Khaosan area and the night was over.

A few days later, when returning from a short trip to the beach, I fancied a beer and to see what was going on after returning to my Khaosan room. Bow’s was quiet and only Colin sat there.

“Anything going on?” I enquired.

“Not much. It is a quiet day and nobody is around”

We sat and drank a little of our beer.

“You seemed interested in Jesus the other day.” Said Colin.

“No! I was just making small talk,” I replied thinking I had managed to cross one of the lines Colin always warned me about.

“No worries, mate,” he said. “You are a good bloke and can be trusted.”

I felt happy at that.

“Jesus,” he continued. “You see that bag he carries everywhere with him?”

I nodded.

“Well, do you know what it is in it.”

I stayed quiet having no idea.

“Rope, cuffs, a torch with a supply of batteries keys for the cuffs, a camera.”

“Wow!” I responded not knowing where this was going, and not sure I wanted to know more. In truth I was not even sure if my leg was being pulled or it was true.

“And a complete set of gynaecological instruments. It is said that Jesus trained to be a doctor. It fits with his money background, so may be true. The rumours are that something went wrong and he never completed his training, but who knows about rumours and he is a tight one – not easy to get anything out of him. He never drinks.”

I sat quietly taking a sip or two more of beer. There was really no comment to make to this.

“Well. Jesus prowls the kind of places where the most desperate women can be found who will do anything for almost no money. A few of the guys have gone out with him. Nobody has ever gone a second time and those ones who have will never sit here when they see him around. They won’t say much to anyone, but you know me. Everyone talks to me.”

Some details were gone into but this is not a place to record them. Those stories are more for over beer in a quiet place now that so much time has passed and those involved in this story are either dead or long gone.

After that early evening with Colin, I saw Jesus around, but stayed clear. His practices were not what I wanted to be connected to in any way.

I was sat at Bow’s at a later date after becoming a teacher. I was again in the company of Colin and Graham and enjoying a beer and talk of football – Portsmouth, West Ham. It was getting time to order another one.

“Here comes Jesus!” announced Graham.

I looked and he was walking in the same style of clothes towards our table just like the first time I had seen him – a young man in sandals and flowing white robes with long blonde or golden locks, a light beard and blue eyes. Behind him yet again was the blazing sun that left a halo round his head. I slowly but purposefully finished my beer and looked at Colin. He winked.

“You are going to go, aren’t you? You have better things to do. Go do them”

I forgot about ordering another beer, said my goodbyes and turned and walked away. That was the last time I ever saw Jesus.

I later wondered, when Colin had told me the stories of Jesus desires, perversions and excesses, if he had actually done me a big favour.