หนึ่ง. Rubies and Rucksacks

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Smells of fish sauce and wok-stained stir fry wafted from street stalls as the tuk-tuk threaded through traffic. Our driver wrestled taxis, mopeds, and black-fumed buses. At one stop, we came alongside a tuk-tuk containing a large Western man. He lay limp in the back. A woman was screaming. She was German.

“He has hit his head; he needs a doctor.” Blood spilled from the man’s forehead.

Somchai yelled something in Thai to our driver, and our tuk-tuk lurched forward.

December 1987