ACROSS two oceans, seventeen international datelines, and more than ten thousand miles away from Guyana, you can find the Kingdom of Thailand, formerly Siam.
For those old enough to remember, it is just a place in a 1956 movie, ‘The King and I’, starring the late Yul Brynner.
For me, it is a surrogate home for a number of reasons, such as the abundance of pineapples, mangoes, psydiums, dunks, bora, karila, breadfruit and sorrel at prices reminiscent
of Guyana circa the 1960s.This also comes with the added attraction of living in a developing country in tropical Southeast Asia.
After a few years, one gets accustomed to the humidity, rain, flooding, mosquitoes and gossiping neighbours!
Having avoided all of the depressing pitfalls, I occupy myself by teaching English at a bilingual high school. It was during this episode two years ago that it all happened.
Periodically, during teaching, I would punctuate my class with stories from my childhood days in the then British Guiana; stories of Masakuraman, Moongazer, Ole Higue and other ‘jumbie stories’.
It was during one of these sessions while I was relating the adventures of two ‘baccoos’, namely Bai and Boisee, which, according to my aunt Masie, were responsible for the disappearance of items or small amounts of cash around the house, including money she thought she’d hidden under the oilskin tablecloth.
After getting no reasonable answer from the children in the house, she would conclude, with pot-spoon in one hand and after wiping her face with her food-stained apron, “Well, I guess Bai and Boisee come in de house and tek it.”
According to aunt Masie’s husband, Uncle Eustace, Bai and Boisee were two spirit-like people not more than eighteen inches tall that were once owned by a rich Asian man in
Robb Street. The ‘baccoos’ were responsible for his wealth, and obeyed his every command, just
as long as he kept them fed with milk and bananas.
However, when the owner of the baccoos died, they pair had to fend for themselves. So, in their invisible state, they would go from place-to-place creating all kinds of mischief,
including stealing money.
As I unfolded the adventures of Bai and Boisee to a class of high school seventh-graders, I noticed one of the female Thai teachers hanging on to my every word with intense interest. When the session was over, she came to me and wanted to know more about baccoos.  I explained to her that I was only repeating what I’d heard when I was not more than ten years old.
I asked her why the interest in a folk tale that was spawned more than 10,000 miles away. She told me that she had never heard the word ‘baccoo’ before, and it sounded nice.
With the passage of time, we both drifted apart. I was later told that she was now teaching at an international school in a province south of Bangkok. One holiday weekend while in a southern province, I ran into her. She remembered me, and proceeded to remind me about Bai and Boisee. With a smile on her face, she said, “I got married eighteen months ago, and I would like to show you my new house. Would like you to meet my husband? He is from Australia.”
Having never passed up a chance to make new acquaintances, shake hands and shoot the breeze, my reply was, “Hey, I would be glad to meet your husband so I could wish you both success in your marriage.”
Her smile got even bigger as she noticed that I was willing to go with her and see where she lived.
As I climbed into the back seat of her car, she turned around and said, “By the way, I have a newborn baby boy at home; his name is Baccoo.”
“Stop! Stop the car!” I cried.
With a surprised look on her face, she asked what the matter was. Without showing any sign of worry, I said, “Since I was knee high, my parents warned me about baccoos. I just
don’t feel comfortable going to a house, knowing that there is a ‘baccoo’ inside. Thanks, but no
thanks.”
With that, I came out of the car and headed for the safety of a crowded coffee shop.
If you ever come to Thailand and you so desire, I could take you to my friend’s house to
see a real live baccoo.
(Reprinted from the August edition of the Guyana Cultural Association of New York’s Newsletter)