SSFF: Lek Prik Ki Nu
Snake Snake Fish Fish is an ongoing series based around Thai idioms/phrases/colloquialisms, written about and illustrated by Cloé Fortier-King and guest contributors. This week, Teresa Derr is the contributing author of the Snake Snake Fish Fish column. Photo: Gretchen Evans
Teresa Derr, 134 YinD
I was sitting on the ground (on a bamboo mat) with my Thai tutor, and she noticed me viciously squishing all the ants I saw, giving no mercy to any ant that came within arms reach of me. She laughed at me and asked me what I had against ants.
I told her it wasn’t all ants, but these specific ants that I detest. I loathe them, with a passion. I have history with these ants and we are mortal enemies. (Note: These are my feelings in English. Unfortunately, in Thai, the best I can communicate is that I don’t like them very much, and make a big frowny face.)
There are multiple reasons for my animosity towards these ants, chief among them being the awful reaction I have when they bite me. If dengue and malaria weren’t concerns, I’d much prefer mosquito bites to a bite from one of these things. A mosquito bite stops bothering me after an hour or so, but these bites hurt and itch and swell up for at least three days. If that weren’t reason enough to despise these ants (and justification for squishing any that come near me), they are also the bane of my electrical existence. Multiple times they have made their home in the light switches of my bathroom and kitchen, rendering them useless. They have tried to make their home in my computer, climbing under the keys and behind the screen, and it took me a week to shake them all out. But the absolute worst was when these ants made a nest in the washing machine, breaking it. I had become too spoiled. Going a month and a half hand-washing my clothes turned what had been a relatively relaxed 45-minute process into a much more laborious two-hour endeavor. I blame the ants, and I will hold this grudge until the end of time. Or at least until the end of service.
When I told my Thai tutor this, she nodded. “Ah, lek prik ki nu.”
I took a second to think about that. “The… small pepper rat shit?”
She laughed and explained. Prik ki nu is the name of a small pepper that is known for being spicier than all its bigger counterparts. So, lek prik ki nu is a saying that means beware the small things, or (to modify an English idiom) spicy things come in small packages (editor’s note: this can also be used to describe something “tiny, but mighty”).
The more I think about it, the more I relate to that saying. As a Peace Corps volunteer, there are so many big, big changes and adjustments to make, and it can be relatively easy* to prepare for those. It’s still a change, but you know it’s coming. It’s the small things that you can’t prepare for that can be a real, ongoing challenge to deal with. Such as these ants. Or asking for rides any time you want to go to the grocery store. Or learning that privacy is an illusion no one in your community believes in.
But just like spice can be a good or bad thing, depending on your preferences, spice tolerance, and the meal you’re eating – these small challeges can be wonderful or debilitating. You can burn out because of them, or you can figure out how to adapt and end up finding beauty in them. I have not yet found any beauty in these ants that I couldn’t do without – they will likely feature in stories that I tell my family members long into the future, so they aren’t without some benefits!
*I would like to acknowledge that it is not easy at all, only easy in comparison to preparing for something you don’t know about.