Our villa had a large dining room with seating for ten people though we had only eight men in our villa. We ate only breakfast and dinner at the villa and had lunch at the American Embassy’s American Community Association, an upscale club and restaurant facility. We had a large living room where we watched current American movies on a sixteen millimeter projector we had. At the end of each day, one of us would stop by the postal office and sign out whichever movie was available.
Each person in our villa had an additional duty. Mine was collecting thirty dollars from each person at the end of the month to pay our villa staff. This monthly fee would vary downward as additional revenue was collected from our villa’s bar sales. I would then dole out the payments pretty much equally except for the cook who had trained in American food preparation and papasan who supervised the maids and gardener. Besides making our beds and keeping the rooms neat and clean, the maids would wash and iron our clothes and even polish our shoes. It was an easy life while living in the villa. There were several villas in the American community, and once or twice a month each villa would host a barbeque open to all Americans. Money for these barbeques came from the bar profits in each of the villas. Each person in our villa held an open bar account on the honor system. We merely added another tick mark indicating beer, soda or liquor on our monthly account sheet. At the end of the month our villa bar manager would come around collecting monies for our accounts. Once a month we held meetings where every person displayed his account sheets and cash on hand. If no one challenged the account or cash on hand, that month’s account was approved.
Our villa had a full kitchen staffed with an older Laotian lady who cooked some fabulous and traditional American meals. The resident in charge of buying the food would get whatever the cook dictated based on her knowledge of our varied tastes and preferences. This was working well until the resident managing the cook and kitchen left upon completion of his tour. It was several weeks before we got his replacement, so we all took turns buying the meat, veggies and whatever else the Laotian cook put on her list.
We were just getting used to this routine, and it was working well until we got the new guy. Bill happily took on the assignment of coordinating the food purchases then dictating to Pawnee, the Laotian cook, what she would be cooking for us. He was keen on soul food, so we began eating ham hocks, collard greens, fried chicken and chicken with dumplings. All eight of us were seated around the table for dinner one evening when Pawnee started serving the ham hocks. I commented “Damn, I didn’t realize Pawnee knew how to cook soul food.”
“Oh, she don’t know. I had to show her how to cook them,” Bill said. “I called my wife and she contacted her mom. They sent me a shitload of recipes.”
“By chance, did they include any for Mexican dishes, Bill?” I asked.
Before Bill could answer, and with a slight smile, Larry said “Bill, we don’t have to eat ethnic food alone. We’re all here used to typical American food, and Pawnee cooks some outstanding dishes. Unless anyone else objects, let’s plan on soul food no more than once or twice a month.”
Bill stopped eating and looked around the table. I was still trying to deal with my ham hock. “Well, you gave me this duty," he said. "I didn’t ask for this. I was told I had free reign to manage it as I wanted.” Larry tried to intercede, “But, Bill, we’re only trying to get some consensus here. Please don’t get . . . ” Before Larry could finish, and raising his voice making all of us uncomfortable, Bill continued, “I’ve worked my ass off putting together meals that I am proud of. You know you can’t find ham hocks or collard greens anywhere in Laos. I had to go to the Udorn1 commissary to get them.”
Everyone was quiet noting that Bill was extremely upset and had stopped eating. I could see the fire in his eyes as he continued. “Fuck you all! I’m done with this shit.” He pushed his plate away from him, stood up and left the dining room.
Nobody said a word for a couple of minutes while Bill was noisily going upstairs to sulk. Henry then asked “Well, do you all want to keep eating soul food, or do we switch duties to get him off food manager?” Nobody moved. Nobody said a word. We all knew that Bill had purchased several weeks’ worth of frozen food with the majority of it being ethnic black food. Whoever took the food manager duty would have to use up the inventory before returning back to traditional American food.
It was near the end of the month, and I mentioned that I would be opting out of the villa’s food program at the end of that month. At the dinner table that following night, three other residents decided to do likewise. Beginning the first of that following month, I started eating my meals at the American Community Association. It cost me more than the villa’s meals, but I could choose my dishes. Bill kept up the ethnic black food until all but two or three residents quit. Eventually, the villa’s meal program was abandoned.
I was in charge of paying the Laotian workers, so I offered Pawnee, who had been the villa’s cook for so many years, the choice of staying on as a house maid or finding another cook position. Pawnee had never married but always wanted a child. She had just adopted a five or six year old girl to raise as her own. Primarily for this, I was able to keep paying Pawnee her cook wages which was considerably more than the other house maids.
1 Udorn, Thailand, is just across the Mekong River from Vientiane and home to the U.S. Air Force Base.
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