Features

The gifts

(A Christmas Story by O. Henry, condensed version)

Only one dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all she had saved. Three times Della had counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.
There was clearly nothing she could do now but fall down on the old worn couch and cry. So Della did. You see life is made up of tears and smiles - but mainly of tears.
When Della had finished crying she patted her cheeks with face-powder. She stood by the window and looked out sadly at the grey cat walking along a grey fence in a grey garden. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim, her husband, a present. She had been saving every cent she could for months; but twenty dollars a week - which was the total of their income - doesn’t leave much for saving. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. And now she had only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Many happy hours she had spent trying to think of something nice for him. Something fine and rare - something good enough to belong to her Jim.
There was a mirror between the windows of the room. Suddenly she turned away from the window and stood in front of the mirror. Her eyes were shining brightly, but her face had lost it’s colour within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to it’s full length.
Now, Della and Jim had two possessions they were very proud of. One was Jim’s gold watch, which had been his father’s and his grandfather’s. The other was Della’s lovely, brown, shining hair. It reached to below her knees; and when she let it hang freely, it fell around her like a beautiful cloak.
Nervously and quickly she pinned up her hair again. She hesitated for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed onto the worn red carpet.
She put on her old brown jacket and her old brown hat. Then, with her eyes still shining brightly, she ran out of the door and down the stairs to the street.
She stopped at a shop where the sign said: ‘Madame Sofonia. We buy hair Goods of All Kinds.’ Della ran up the steps and paused for a moment at the top to get back her breath. She opened the door.
“Will you buy my hair?’ asked Della.
‘Yes, I buy hair,’ said Madame. ‘Take off your hat and let’s have a look at it.’
Down fell that pile of brown hair.
‘Twenty dollars,’ said Madame, lifting the hair in an expert way.
‘Give it to me quickly,’ said Della.
The next two hours passed by happily. She was looking in the shops for Jim’s present.
She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was not another one like it in all the shops, and she had searched them carefully. It was a gold watch chain, simple in design. Like all good things, it was it’s simplicity, and not a lot of decoration, which showed it’s real value. Clearly, it was good enough for Jim’s watch. As soon as she saw it she knew it must be Jim’s. It was just right for him. Although Jim’s watch was beautiful, he sometimes looked ashamed because of the old leather strap he used instead of a chain. It cost her twenty-one dollars, and she hurried home with it held tightly in her hand.
When Della reached home she was no longer exited, for now she felt a little worried about what she had done. She looked at what remained of her hair, and then started to work at it with quick fingers.
In less than forty minutes her head was covered with tiny curls, which made her look like a naughty schoolboy. When she had finished she examined carefully her reflection in the mirror.
At 7 o’clock the coffee was made and she had the pots and pans ready on the stove to cook the supper.
Jim was never late. Della sat on the edge of the table nearest the door. She had the gold watch chain hidden in her hand. Then she heard him at the bottom of the stairs, and she turned pale just for a moment. She had the habit of saying little silent prayers about the simplest things, and now she whispered; ‘Please God, make him think I’m still pretty.’
The door opened and Jim stepped in. He looked thin and very serious. Poor man, he was only twenty-two and responsible for a family! He needed a new coat and his shoes were old and worn.
Jim closed the door. Then he stood still. He began to stare at Della, and there was an expression in his eyes which she could not understand. It frightened her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor horror, nor any of the feelings she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her with a peculiar expression on his face.
Della slid off the table and went to him.
‘Jim!’ she cried, ‘don’t look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold it because I couldn’t have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It’ll grow again - you don’t mind, do you? I just had to do it. My hair grows very fast, you know. Please say “Merry Christmas!” Jim, and let’s be happy. You don’t know what a nice - what a beautiful, nice gift I’ve got for you.’
‘You’ve cut your hair?’ asked Jim, slowly, as if he had not understood anything Della had said to him.
‘I’ve cut it off and sold it,’ said Della. ‘Don’t you like me just as well, anyhow? My hair is gone, but I’m just the same!’
Jim looked about the room curiously. ‘You say your hair is gone?’ he said, looking a little stupid. ‘You needn’t look for it,’ said Della. ‘It’s sold, I tell you - sold and gone, too. It’s Christmas Eve, Jim. Be good to me, because it went for you.’
Jim seemed to wake quickly out of his dream. He took a package from his coat pocket and threw it upon the table.
‘Don’t make any mistake about me, Della,’ he said, ‘I don’t think there is anything about hair that could make me like my dear wife any less. But if you unwrap that package you’ll see why I was upset for a while at first.’
Her quick fingers tore at the string and paper. And then an exited scream of joy; and then a very quick female change to tears and cries.
For there were the combs - the pair of combs which for months Della had been going to look at in a shop window. Beautiful combs, real tortoise-shell with jewelled edges. And they were just the colour to wear in her beautiful hair - if she still had it! They were expensive combs, she knew, and she had wanted them so much; but she had never dreamed that they would ever be hers. And now they were hers, but because her hair was gone she would have no use for them.
However, she held them close to her chest, and at last she was able to look up through her tears and smile and say: ‘My hair grows so fast, Jim!’
Then Della remembered something else and cried, ‘Oh, oh!’ Jim had not yet seen his beautiful gift. Eagerly she held it out to him in her open hand. The precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and warm spirit.
‘Isn’t it lovely, Jim? I searched all over town for it. You’ll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it.’
Instead of obeying, Jim dropped down on the old couch, put his hands on his head and smiled.
‘Della,’ said he, ‘let’s put away our Christmas gifts and keep them for a while. They’re too nice to use just now. I sold the watch to get money to buy your combs.
- And now, let’s have our supper.’

Enforce helmet laws

Dear Sir,
I am an innocent farang who is always trying, but constantly failing, to understand the Thai mind and way of doing things. But I was really surprised to read in the latest “Mail” that, as a mark of respect for this year’s auspicious Royal anniversary, the police are going to start enforcing the crash helmet law.
Although of course I acknowledge the importance of the Royal event, I fail to see why it bears any relevance to the enforcement of a law that was passed by the legitimate government of Thailand and is therefore applicable to each and every inhabitant of this fair nation.
“Each and every inhabitant” surely includes members of the police force (my typing finger lingered over “A” instead of “O” in that last word). Am I the only person to have noticed the number of uniformed policemen who drive their motorbikes without helmets on their heads?
May I, through the courtesy of your journal, express a wish for the New Year? May the many motorcyclists mounted on their macho machines kill and injure only themselves. I wonder how many people, both innocent and culpable, will die on the new Road 3 Grand Prix race track next year.
By the way, why do so many writers of letters to the “Mail” cower behind pseudonyms?
Yours faithfully,
Oliver W. Minto

Etiquette

“Lillian’s Etiquette and Beauty Aids
Are for the wealthy and not for “Maids”.
I also think they should be printed in Thai,
‘Cos many Thai people do not comply.
Western requirements to Social Behavior
Are somewhat confusing to Asian flavour.
Every Country has its courteous action —
Nose-rubbing, Hands clenched, Low-bowing salutation.
To shake somebody’s hand, could be pathogenic.
Own hands together much more hygienic.
Elbows on table, a certain taboo.
Hands below the table in other Country rue!
Some eat, using only a fork.
Others, peas on a fork tine, taught!
Used serviette, neatly folded — not real.
Place chair to table, when finished meal.
For babes are triangular “Napkins”.
Starched serviette balanced on knees...win.
Eastern ‘Food-shops’ supply small paper squares,
To clean utensils, mop-up slops ...who cares?
By far the best, a scented damp cloth,
Refreshing after traffic jams, come forth.
Can eat with fingers in Thai family.
A No-No in England, as can be disorderly.
But “Finger-licking” can be good —
Yet not polite by Thai Parenthood.
To pat on a head shows great regard.
Here in Thailand, this is barred.
The word ‘Thank-you’ and a smile,
Softens the slip and can beguile,
Although you shook-hands, instead of salute,
You’ll be forgiven & maybe thought ‘cute’!
So Etiquette in Countries near and far,
If unbeknown, can cause a Faux Pas!
Mai-ben-arai

Beauty comes from within

Dear Sir,
In the 29th November edition, I see that Lillian’s Etiquette and Beauty Tips are finished. She has done a good job, although I do not agree with every advice she has given on Etiquette. The beauty tips are not for me, as I shall never be a Beauty Queen and am quite happy growing old naturally, without lotions, dyed hair, diets, etc. You are what you are and no amount of so-called beauty treatment can change aging. The saying goes, “Beauty is skin-deep” & I say, Beauty comes from the heart.
Mai-ben-arai
P.S. From “Everything Within” by A.C. Marshall.
When considering questions of etiquette we have to bear in mind that there are two distinct aspects of the subject; 1) Things that are correct to do, and 2) Things that are not done in public. Etiquette, also changes through generations, but doing the right thing at the right time, will always be marks of good breeding...

Taxi alternative

Dear Sir,
Maybe this will be of interest to your readers.
There are too many baht buses on Beach Road and plenty taxis who go to Bangkok. But there is no taxi you could telephone in order to bring you somewhere within Pattaya. But these two companies have agreed to send a car, take on passengers and drive them to their destination in Pattaya for 100 baht. From far away, like Jomtien or Naklua, it might cost more. Ask for the price.
They send any car they have. It could be a limousine or a baht bus. And there is no guarantee that there are cars available. But try:
Kittinant Tour on Soi Chaiyapoon, tel: 720275 or 01-9457149.
Khun Tui, Soi Thidawan, tel: 429578, open 8 a.m. - 9 p.m.
If there is demand enough, we might get a regular taxi service within Pattaya. Then we can avoid our dangerous motorbikes. Kittinant Tour also has taxis to the airport for 750 baht.
Olof Eisen

The gifts

Enforce helmet laws

Etiquette

Beauty comes from within

Taxi alternative