Colin Cotterill - Thirty-Three Teeth

“Come. Just have a little bit to keep us company.”

This was the way Dtui remembered neighbors being. Even the poorest family would invite you to eat the last few scraps with them. This couple didn’t know who she was. She hoped socialism wouldn’t destroy all this.

“I’m sorry to arrive like this,” she said, sitting at the mat on the loose parquet floor. “My name’s Chundee Chantavongheuan, but people call me Dtui. I’m a nurse at Mahosot.”

“Good health, Dtui,” said the wife as she pushed the small plates of vegetables and fish to within her reach. She removed the lid from the sticky rice container and put it near the other food. The man spoke for the first time. He and his wife had interchangeable masculine and feminine qualities about their faces.

“I assume you know I’m Dr. Vansana. This is my wife, Sam.”

Dtui nodded and smiled and helped herself to a small pinch of rice from the wedge.

“Good health to you both.” She dipped the rice into one of the sauces and popped it into her mouth. Sam went off to the back room.

“I work in the morgue,” Dtui said, breaking off more rice. “I work with Dr. Siri Paiboun.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of him. Most of his practice was in the jungle, I believe.”

“That’s him. I’ve come to ask for a little help on one of the cases we’re working on; a recent spate of killings.”

“The bear?”

There really were so few secrets in Vientiane.

“Yes. Except I’m starting to believe it wasn’t the bear at all.”

“Is that so?”

“Dr. Vansana, you’re the visiting physician for the internment islands on Nam Ngum Reservoir?”

“That’s right. For over a year.”

“You must have come to know the inmates quite well by now.”

“Those that want to be known, yes.”

“Can you think of anyone there who might be capable of killing women violently? Any psychopathic murderers escaped lately?”

“Ahh, Dtui. People don’t escape from Don Thao. Virtually the only way to get off is in a bag with your name written on a tag. There are some psychotics there, and a number of murderers. But the really serious violent criminals all seem to have been … removed from the general population.”

“Removed? Do you mean executed?”

“I’m not even sure I should be discussing this. I’m really in no position to make such a claim.”

“But it’s possible?”

“I suppose.”

“And the ones they kill, do they do it on the island?”

“I haven’t said they do such a thing and I haven’t seen it happen. But the conditions there are barbaric. People die all the time of malaria, dysentery, and the like. The facilities are quite basic, and I don’t have enough medicines to treat even the most treatable illnesses. I go twice a week, and there’s a new pile of bodies every time I get there. I don’t have time to look at the cadavers, but I do hear rumors.”

“What kind?”

“Just comments like ‘You won’t have to check so-and-so’s lungs this week, Doc. He won’t be using them no more. He upset the warden last week.’”

“That’s terrible. Surely you’ve reported this to someone?”

“It’s in the weekly report I submit to the Health Department. They pass it on to Corrections. But I doubt if anyone reads them. Conditions haven’t improved at all, and I’ve been pushing for better sanitation and mosquito coils since I started. I just go there and do what I can. It isn’t much.”

Sam returned with some newly cubed papaya on a plate. She put it on the mat in front of the guest.

“Thank you.”

“Straight from the tree. I hope it’s ripe enough.”

She joined them on the floor and watched Dtui try the fruit.

“M’mm. It’s lovely. I wish we still had trees. My mom misses the fresh fruit.”

“There you are. I must be psychic. I’ve cut down a couple more for you to take home with you. They’re out back.”

Dtui thanked her and ate some more of the fruit before continuing her questioning.

“Dr. Vansana, how did you get this job? It sounds simply awful.”

“I suppose it’s my reward for not escaping to Thailand,” he laughed. “They probably think anyone with a degree who stuck around has to be a spy.”

“Why did you stick around?”

“We’re Lao, Dtui. We love our country. You don’t help a place you love by running away when times get tough. Sam’s a teacher. I’m a doctor. We didn’t choose these professions because we thought it would make our lives more comfortable. I’m quite sure you didn’t either.”

“No. But I wasn’t expecting it to be this difficult. Do you still feel like you’re contributing? All you see are patients dying because you haven’t got the resources to help.”

“I don’t kill all of them. There are those that I can help. Some get better. I focus on them.”

“But none get off the island.”

“I didn’t say that. I said none escape. There are those that are judged to no longer be a threat to society. Some of the addicts survive. Some of the petty criminals repent.”

“And they let them go?”

“It costs money to feed them all.”

“Don’t you think the really clever con-men get through the net, pretend to play the game just to get their backsides off the island?”

“I dare say some do.”

“Do any crazies get off?”

“Not the type of crazy you’re looking for.”

“What types?”

“Some people with mild retardation, some memory disorders, some with delusional conditions, some-”

“Any of these delusion victims released recently?”

“Dtui, these aren’t dangerous people.”

“Give me an example.”

“There are a few. There was an elderly lady who thought she was sixteen. She was flirting with all the male guards. Then, last week there was a young man called Seua. He’s probably the most placid man you could meet. He’s a big chap but calm as a catfish. He was very popular there. He was polite and helpful, so they decided to let him go.”

“What was he in for?”

“Like a lot of them, it was just a petty crime. He stole food because he was hungry. He just had the misfortune to steal it from a shop that belonged to an army officer.”

“What type of food?”

“Pardon?”

“What food did he take?”

“If I remember correctly, it was meat from a butcher’s stall.”

“And what was his delusion?”

“Dtui, this isn’t the man you’re looking for. I knew him and liked him very much. His disorder hadn’t reached the stage of schizophrenia. I think I can recognize latent violence.”

“What did he believe, Doctor?”

He looked at his wife, then at Dtui.

“He believed he was the host to an evil spirit. He always talked of it very matter-of-factly, as if he were talking about a loose tooth or a tattoo.”

“Did he say what spirit?”

“Yes, it was a weretiger.”

“Wait. He believed he hosted the spirit of a man who turned into a tiger?”

“No. The myth is that the weretiger is a tiger who from time to time can transform into the shape of a man. But Seua never showed any aggressive tendencies. It was all talk. Dtui?”

She was on her feet.

“Do you know what time the Corrections Department opens in the morning, Doctor?”

Crazy Rajid’s eyebrow had stopped bleeding at last. It had spouted enough blood to fill the Nam Poo fountain by itself. Phosy had never seen anyone who found his own blood so hilarious. He laughed so hard Phosy had no choice but to laugh with him. Perhaps, Phosy wondered, this is the letting of the mad blood. Perhaps, at the end of it, Crazy Rajid will be as sane as the next man. They could discuss worldly issues as equals. But there was no sign of it.