Matt Owens Rees

When presence matters more than purpose

They arrived in convoy—pressed shirts, polished shoes, and practiced smiles—ready for the flashbulbs and flattery.

No agenda, no announcements, just the optics of arrival. It’s a familiar dance: dignitaries doing the rounds, their presence calibrated for the cameras of the local newspaper rather than the community.

The photo op parade begins, and with it, the quiet choreography of being seen to be seen.

I was working at Khun Yai’s house with Mango, one of Khun Yai’s neighbours, when the Big Wigs strolled in.

“Here come the Head Honchos,” my co-worker said.

Mango and I were mixing sand and cement to make concrete for the floor of the new toilet. About six other guys were engaged in other tasks as usual—laughing and joking as they worked, just like previous days.

The ladies were chatting together, no doubt gossiping about someone in the village. Fact or fiction, truth or tale—it doesn’t matter. It’s part of everyday life here in Thailand. Frustrating, yes—but this is Thai culture at its most revealing.

Not happening here at Khun Yai’s home. I’m not the subject of any gossip, but it does frustrate me—and most other farangs—when they do this.

Everyone stopped work when the great and the good started their rehearsed speeches. We all listened, but I got the impression that most of us would rather have been continuing with our work. The men looked glum but the ladies put on their best smiles for the press cameras.

Working in the Chain Gang

Bored with all their pointless talking, my mind turned to a joke the men played on me yesterday.

We were passing full buckets of sand to one another along what observers would have seen as a “chain gang”. It was the quickest way to get the sand to where it was needed. You see it a lot on Thai building sites. In the West we’d use barrows and fork-lift trucks to move materials around.

One worker had deliberately substituted a full bucket for an empty one. When it reached me, of course, everyone laughed. At the party that’s bound to take place tonight, I’ll think of something to get my own back.



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Soldiers at Khun Yai’s House – Matt Owens Rees