Fade to Grey

I often find myself staring out into yonder. People watching.
I see people going about their daily lives, living out the daily grind.
Funny how that means something different to everyone.
I see a man watching the traffic go by, and I wonder what he's thinking.
A poor man, guiding in a rich man's car. Waiting for the menial sum to be pushed out the window afterwards. Why is that? What caused his world to be that way?

It's easy to excuse the poor as a simple people, with simple thoughts, and not the lofty ideals notions that we possess. When we see a plot of land, we see a house or a development: an investment for the future, or another piece of the puzzle that is our life's goals.
A poor man sees a plot of land... What does he see? What does he think? Does his simple life dictate that he holds simple views? Does he possess the capacity to be financially successful? Is he limited by his resources, or are his resources limited by his mindset? Or is he a victim of circumstance: a rich, influential, intelligent man, trapped in the body of a peasant?

Depending on which scale you measured by, my wife and I are either moderately well off or obscenely rich. Monetary stature aside, one area of true richness we hold is in the friendships we've made.

Over a beer or three, a friend and I talked about life.

My friend is a well educated man. Now by that I don't necessarily mean he's a Rhode Scholar. He is academically clever enough: but the wisdom I refer to is drawn from years lived abroad, in different countries and cultures, working with people to find solutions to whatever problems they may face. He has formed what many lack, and what is almost impossible to teach in a lecture hall. He has what I would refer to as a balanced world view, something many professors, lecturers, and leaders of nations have failed to grasp - and yet which is something that is required to prevent prejudice, judgement, and racism within yourself.

On this fine afternoon, we saw fit to cover the big issues. One of which was the issues of bar girls.

'Bar girls' is an innocent enough term in Australia. When applied to Thailand, however, it takes on a different angle.

You see, a bar girl starts the night serving beer, and talking to the patrons. It's very common for people to go to a bar by themselves- think of travelling businessmen, for example. There's nothing sadder than a man sitting in a bar by himself, drowning his sorrows. Someone to talk to is nice. So the girls will sit by him, across the bar, hanging on his every word. He opens up, because... well. His wife/friends/parents/boss doesn't understand him anyway, and buys her a drink, and buys many more for himself and for her. And her wage is justified again.

Now, during the course of the night, should someone take a particular fancy to that bargirl, her full attention can be purchased from the bar for the remainder of the evening. This purchase is referred to as the barfine. Following the payment, a second, personal payment will be negotiated with the bar girl as to the end result of the night's activities.

If you have an inkling that what I'm referring to is prostitution, then you're pretty much on the money. But if you're thinking this girl is a prostitute, then you're only half right.

My friend works in different countries throughout south east asia. To his credit, he's gone to the effort of learning the language of at least one of the countries that he has lived in. So he's in a bar, having a beer, and quite bored. So he begins chatting to one of the bar girls. He's talking in her native language, which is making things a lot easier on her behalf.

The direction of the conversation soon turns to what brought her to be working in a girly bar in Phuket.

I'm from the country, she explains, and I send money home to my family. I can make money here I could never make back at home.

So, what of the mechanics of this whole thing? Do you have much say in who you go home with at the end of the night?

She explains that she's not planning on working here for long. She'd like to meet someone one day, maybe marry a guy who once came to the bar. Other girls she knows have done it, and are living a good life. And besides, it's not like she'd go home with just anyone. She wouldn't go home with a jerk, just the nice guys. She'd never leave with someone she doesn't feel safe with.
Kinda, if you think about it... the sort of guy she'd like to stay with.

All of this got me thinking.

We live in a polished, western world. Even those of us who have left the western world still see everything through our own western lenses. Culture, whether it be ours or theirs, never goes away, and never stops influencing how we view a given situation.

"You grow up your whole life with people telling you that things are black or white," he says.

This girl's a bargirl.
This girl's a slut.
This one's a whore.
This one... well, she's just looking for a man.

"But it doesn't work."

Life, he says, is grey. You can't make a judgement on something by what you see on the outside.

In that moment he spoke of more wisdom that I've read in any textbook, heard from a pulpit, or spat from my own mouth.

You don't know, because you don't know her.

Or him. Or them. Or anything.

Maybe. Just maybe.

If we looked at life as though it were grey, maybe we wouldn't see bargirls. Or whores. Or bums, peasants, beggars, queers, slags, or druggos.

We'd see people.

But all we see is problems.