Black Tiger

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Authors: Jennifer Kewley Draskau
informed me that in his time he had been one of the most bloodthirsty butchers in the history of the country. Still, I knew that there was a man capable of surpassing the blood-stained general’s colourful record. I was fairly sure that this new figure was the subject of my meeting with General Worawong.
    After we had exchanged the usual courtesies, the general accepted the chair I offered. He looked so fragile that I fancied the icy blast from the air conditioner might have lifted him like a leaf and sent him whirling about the room. A Marine brought our tea. The general went on about the key to Thailand’s future success being education, not the presence of military bases belonging to foreign powers. I nodded eagerly, as though in complete agreement, adding that the United States maintains military bases in Thailand for the protection of our allies, the Thai people, against the communist threat. After a pause he continued about the importance of non-fragmentation. He tried to convince me of the need to ensure the loyalty of hill tribes. I sensed a wave of disapproval and disgust. His eyes met mine with a veiled accusation; we both knew that was a bumpy road, which I was not prepared to go down at this time. I said that I was aware of the concern that the hill tribes’ lifestyle might constitute a threat to national security, though inwardly I was wondering how much further we had to go. I’ve always found such delicate circumlocutions tedious.
    He nodded again, and I nodded too, and we sat there nodding silently, like two Chinese mandarin dolls.
    Then his face lit up as though he’d had a sudden inspiration, and I knew we had reached the point in our discussion where he was going to reveal his intentions, or at least twitch the veil aside and allow me a glimpse.
    ‘A Western-educated tribesman!’ he exclaimed. ‘Imagine what a weapon against ignorance and depravity that would be. What a potential power for good!’ He fell silent. The ball was in my court.
    I decided to put him out of his misery. It wasn’t a bad idea: a king’s favourite, a tame tribesman, sympathetic to American aims and aspirations, familiar with the American way of life. I asked if it was Sya Dam he spoke of. He nodded almost imperceptibly in agreement. Then I reminded the general that the aims of the South East Asia Treaty Organization are not military. He was nodding again, this time with a gleam in his beady slanting eye.
    ‘As an indication of the good relations that exist between our two great nations, it is intended that scholarships to American institutes of learning will form a major part of our new programme,’ I said. ‘Any candidate put forward for such an award would come, I take it, with the best credentials, highly recommended?’
    ‘Oh, yes, recommendations from the very highest source. You may rest absolutely assured of it.’ He paused, making sure of me. ‘May I ask, General van Hooten, when SEATO’s new educational programme was proposed?’
    ‘It is of comparatively recent date—a week or so,’ I lied. ‘I have been intending to announce it. Somehow it slipped my mind…’
    General Worawong nodded graciously, and his lips parted in a real smile, revealing the ochre-coloured tips of rodential teeth.
    April 7, 1968
    Even before this meeting with the general, I already had a passing acquaintance with Colonel Sya. I found him to be an impressive man, both in respect of his superb physique and obvious mental powers. But he never assumed in my mind the mythical, almost cult-like status that many people accorded him. Still, he was a force to be reckoned with: Sya Dam, the Black Tiger.
    It always struck me as strangely incongruous that such a man should have assumed this absurdly romantic nickname. It had to be an exercise in irony—certainly a nom de guerre. Ordinarily, I’d have said nom de plume like any other poor ignorant soldier. But I had the inestimable privilege of being married to Mrs Taylor van Hooten, nee

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