My Thai Grandparents

Also my neighbors, my friends

Whenever I come back to the village from a long or even short day trip, the first thing I usually do is go see my Khun Yie and Khun Dta. Visiting their house reminds me I am home again and the places and faces that are familiar most to me, welcome me back with open arms and fresh stories of the excitement I missed while I was gone. They give me a sense of belonging and calm.
Note: Khun is a formal title use for anyone (ie: Miss, Mrs., Mr. Sir, Ma’am) Yie in Thai is simply grandmother and it is an unspecified title given to women of a certain age, of a certain status—usually someone who is indeed a grandmother. The same goes for men of a certain age with the title Dta. Thus, it is not unusual for every older man and woman (usually 45-50+) to be addressed as Yie and Dta. Which, is why I usually differentiate my Yie & Dta with their first names attached.

Ever since I moved to this residential enclave of a Northeastern Thailand farming community, Khun Dta and Khun Yie have been more than neighbors. In every circumstance and every sense of the word ‘hospitable’, they have gone above and beyond the call of duty to make me feel welcomed, a part of the community and perhaps most importantly, loved unequivocally—just as I am. Not since I was a 9 years old and my maternal grandmother was still in good health, have I really had a relationship like this with two people capable of projecting a certain mixture of security, wisdom, and patience—the kinds of which only come with age. Some may think it’s unusual that my adopted Thai grandparents are both younger than my parents by about 10 years each but, my relation to them is so natural that I often forget their age. Even though, they’re not grandparents in reality and they have two grown daughters of their own who are only a few years older than me, they way we relate is distinct from that of a parent-child relationship.

One of the many ways we connect on a familial level is through the art of cooking and eating. I call it an art in this sense because we are all very advanced in both. Khun Yie has taught me a bit of Thai cooking here and there throughout the last year and ½--much like my maternal grandmother taught me when I was younger. And I have taught her some of what I know and make-up about cooking (not so much American-style but my style). Almost every night, we gather for either a famine or a feast but, just the same, we experience the meal together—sometimes we’ll have 4 dishes of rich Thai curries, omelet, fresh vegetables, and chili sauce while other times, we’ll just crack open a can of “Blaa Gra Pong” (Mackeral in tomato sauce) and smear it over our rice when we’re low on ingredients or too tired to cook. Whenever there’s a celebration or either party comes into a kind of sweet, delicious treat, the protocol is always to share and enjoy together.



Each time I have had a quandary, whether it be termites or headaches, my notoriously crazy-talking neighbor to the rear or the need for a hammer, my Thai grandparents have always risen to the occasion. Miniature crisis after another are adverted thanks to their good-natured disperses of wisdom.

Like any grandparents, they spoil me. When Yie makes a big batch of Pad Thai, she always brings me a steaming bowl full. Abundant fruit during the mango season followed by rambutan season, followed watermelon season surely guarantees we relish in the bounty together and I always get a bag full of whatever there’s a surplus of. When I’m sick, almost even beforehand, my Yie can feel it like a sixth sense and she’s there knocking on my door, handing me a bowl of rice porridge and telling me to rest up and drink hot water. Likewise, I spoil them. Almost every time I go somewhere, I bring them back something. Mostly it’s sweets and delicacies found only in certain places—like both times I’ve been to Rayong, I brought back a huge bag of dried squid that we fried up and ate for breakfast and dinner until the bag was empty. Out in the fields, Yie sports a sun hat with a flower pattern that I got her on a trip to the market at the Cambodian border.

Sometimes when my neighbor to the rear is being extra noisy, I roll over to Yie’s and sheepishly ask if I can crash on her floor. Usually, she’s got the mattress already rolled out and waiting for me. That’s just how it goes with us. For the most part, we get each other in the only way a grandchild and grandparent can.

Without them, my experience wouldn’t be the same. They make it a little easier to get through the day, to come back to site, to feel at ease in a foreign land. And, maybe it’s also just the way I interact in my current surroundings and how they react to me but, for the most part, it’s pure harmony. Often my neighbor says to me.... “You’re not like other farangs... it’s odd... but, I think you were Thai in another life...” I guess that would explain a lot of things; namely, how I came to have a wonderful set of Thai grandparents!



"Hank" Dta's Best Friend