Den is back from upcountry, 250 baht richer, but confused.
He received 200 baht from the party that won in his constituency and another 50 baht from another party whose name he cannot remember. I went through all the main parties but none seemed to ring a bell. That could be attributed to Den's hungover state. The money was paid the day before the election. There were no receipts.
He's confused because he should have received 1,000 baht. Fellow villagers say that's how much they got, but then the village headman took his cut. I suggested that 80% was more like an open gash than a cut.
By the time he got back to Bangkok on Tuesday the money was gone, most of it drunk away on Sunday night while sitting on a bamboo mat with friends under the Isan Moon. What about the alcohol ban, I asked.
"What alcohol ban?" Den replied.
Den's bewilderment over his payment is akin to my confusion over the entire election. I followed the lead-up like a hawk. And like Den, I had a few questions. How was a prime minister going to be chosen a few days after the election with the help of a 250-man Senate that doesn't yet exist? Was the world aware that one of the prime ministerial candidates would be handpicking the Senate that would ultimately cast deciding votes on who would be prime minister? It's a shame Gilbert and Sullivan aren't around today; they'd compose a hell of a libretto about that.
One of my friends described the aftermath as "normal Twilight Zone" for Thailand. I wish I could think up a line like that. I've received phone calls from family and friends all week, wanting to know the results.
"We're watching the news on the BBC about your first election in eight years!" said cousin Suzie, calling from Paris where she was on holiday. "What's the result?"
How fortuitous for cousin Suzie that she was able to watch the news on the BBC. In Thailand, we couldn't. On Sunday, every time the BBC cut to a story on the election, the screen cut to a notice, reading: "Transmission will resume shortly."
Is that not a little insidious? This means that, as of last Sunday, TrueVision was employing at least one person to sit there watching the BBC all day, her finger on the button, ready to cut the broadcast whenever there was news of the election. One hopes she was paid only minimum wage.
It also means Thailand hasn't progressed much since the 1991 coup, when the cable service of the day did exactly the same thing during the Black May riots. I remember, because I was watching. I don't blame TrueVisions. I'd like to know who ordered them to do it, and whether that person knows about a thing called the internet.
While Den was sitting on his bamboo mat, I was in front of my TV watching as Pheu Thai took the lead. Sometime later on Sunday night, when I wasn't watching, those figures became skewed, as Phalang Pracharat overtook Pheu Thai.
These things happen in election counts. Even in my own constituency, where the Pheu Thai candidate led throughout the evening, he got bumped by Phalang Phracharat after I went to bed.
As I write this, 95% of the 32 million votes have been counted. Phalang Pracharat leads Pheu Thai, but not by much. Yet a look at the apportioning of seats in the House of Representatives raises more questions. Phalang Pracharat wins 24% of the vote and gets 28% of the seats. Pheu Thai gets 22% of the vote and 38% of the seats. Isn't that what we call gerrymandering in the West?
Phalang Pracharat claims that, because it leads in the popular vote, it should get to form a government. Pheu Thai claims that, because it has more seats, it should get to form the government. They both have a point.
But my real confusion lies with the party list.
I assumed party list seats would be allocated in proportion to the number of votes received. That would be a bit like Den expecting his full payment of 1,000 baht.
On the party list, Pheu Thai has zero seats. It has reached some sort of "cap" on votes. This is to ensure that one party doesn't dominate the political scene, such as, well, the one that was in power before the latest coup. So Pheu Thai has been capped. But Phalang Pracharat hasn't. They got 19 party list seats.
There is something else that added to my confusion.
While Den was chugging down rice whiskey, I was grappling with my calculator. Were you counting the votes that were flashing up on the screen on Sunday night? I sure was. And they simply didn't add up.
By Wednesday, I was comforted by the fact that I wasn't alone. The media bombarded the Election Commission with questions about miscounts and "ghost" ballots in various constituencies.
Brass-necked Election Commissioners, in a rare press conference, warned that they would charge anyone under the Computer Crimes Act who dared to suggest the numbers didn't add up. This is a little unfair, since it is a case of mathematics. The EC is, in effect, threatening to lock you up for being good at arithmetic.
(The EC claims the tallies are wrong due to staff at polling booths. Still, we're not allowed to complain about it. I'm going to jail because some work experience students couldn't add up?)
And while we are on the topic of the EC, what about those 1,500 votes from New Zealand? I haven't examined the Computer Crimes Act closely enough to know whether I could go to jail for suggesting that the EC needs to change its messenger boys, but they sure as hell do. That delivery of votes touched down at Suvarnabhumi on Saturday morning. The EC didn't come to collect them until a day later, which meant they were invalid.
But 5% of the votes remain uncounted. Couldn't they, like, just add those 1,500 votes in with the remaining 5%?
Weirdly, the only thing that doesn't confuse me about the election is Den's admission of receiving money.
That system is well protected. Den can't kick up a stink up about it for two reasons. One, he'd be arrested, and two, he likes getting paid to vote. It's difficult for the media to investigate because nobody's going to go on the record, and Thailand's ever-changing laws mean that the mere mention of its existence -- not unlike ballot miscounts -- can land you in jail.
I can just about live with that. As for the rest, it's way beyond me. It might be easier just to run away, head to the Northeast and lead a simple life under the Isan Moon on a bamboo mat, none the wiser, nor wanting to be challenged by notions of inquiry. That, apparently, is bliss.
