Finding Prasit Hemmin
Getting to Koh Panyee, Prasit’s tiny island village, is not easy. In 2018 my family and I traveled from our home in Singapore to Phuket, a busy tourist destination on the west coast of Thailand. From there I planned a two day trip to Koh Panyee.
Koh Panyee is located in the middle of the Phang Nga Bay. While many islands in the bay are full of fancy hotels and sun-bathing tourists, Koh Panyee is not. Its sleepy fishing village follows tidal cycles not tourist seasons.
After an hour-long taxi ride from Phuket, I arrived at a pier on a hidden tidal river. There, dozens of longboats waited to take tourists out to the surrounding islands. The drivers laughed when I asked for a one-way trip to Koh Panyee–no one wanted to fill their big boats with just one passenger. With a bit of negotiating, I managed to convince one, and we were off.
An hour later, I was walking through the raised walkways of Koh Panyee. First stop was the James Bond Bungalow, a makeshift hostel named after the popular island nearby where a James Bond movie was filmed in 1974. After losing myself in the maze of alleyways, I found it on the outermost jetty. No one was around. It was pretty clear that I was the only visitor staying there that night. By the looks of it, I may have been the only guest all season.
Checking in, I asked the woman about Prasit, the player I had read about in my research. At that point, I didn’t know if Prasit was still on the island. She shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. Her English was about as good as my Thai.
As if on cue, a group of young boys ran into the room with a soccer ball. I took out my phone and showed pictures of the floating field. I pointed to the boys’ ball. “Prasit? Prasit?” I asked. Oh, the woman realized, wide-eyed. She said something to the boys who then grabbed my hand and dragged me out the door.
As we walked back towards the mosque, villagers were closing their storefronts for the day, the sun started dipping towards the horizon. We stopped in front of the school courtyard where a group of young adults were playing soccer, a sign that the sport was still a village mainstay.
A man came over. “Prasit?” I asked. No, he shook his head. He was the school’s English teacher, he explained.
“Prasit,” he added, “Is visiting a friend’s house near the mosque.” I smiled and thanked the man.
By now, I was beginning to know my way through the village. Minutes later, I arrived at the steps of the mosque, looking around at the houses nearby. A man came out of one.
“Prasit?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered. “Can I help you?”
I had finally found Prasit. And he spoke English! I introduced myself and asked if he’d be willing to share his story with me.
He’d be happy to, he said, but it was evening prayer time. “Let’s meet in the morning,” he added. “After morning prayers. At 6 am?”
“Sure!” I said. After coming all this way and finding out that Prasit and the floating field are still on the island, I could wait one more day, right?
I woke early the next morning. I was not going to miss this meeting, but when I went to open the door to the bungalow, it was locked. When I tried to unlock it, the inside latch kept spinning and spinning–the lock was broken! I kept trying, but no luck. There was no way I could get out. Walking to the back of the bungalow, the side facing the sea, I realized that if I wanted to make the meeting, I’d have to jump into the sea and swim to the next pier.
Pacing back and forth, considering my options, I decided to try the lock one last time. With one last desperate jigger, I caught the latch inside. The lock twisted open. I burst out of the bungalow and ran to catch up with Prasit.
