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Meeting an old friend
Sabaydii,
Here is the continuation of a series 'Coming home'
entitled 'Meeting an old friend'
Hakphaang,
Kongkeo Saycocie
Meeting an old friend
Slowly
Our ferry boat took off
Then out of nowhere
A tall and haggard man
Wildly waved at us
For some unknown reasons
The boat stopped
Waiting for the man
To jump on board
As I later know
The man was a crew member
Working in this part of the country
For quite some time
To my surprise
The man was no other
But my grammar school buddy
At Thadeua
A town 3 miles north of ThaNaLeng
Telling you the truth
I almost didn't recognize him
His hair was mostly grey
Most importantly
There was nothing left of his own self
I remember
When we last met
When I was about to leave the country
Full of life he was
So not to embarrass him
More than he currently was
I gently tapped his shoulder
and said among other things
'You will be fine'
Will he in reality?
I am not sure
With no college education
Or even high school diploma
His luck would be hard
To come by
Before we ceremoniously parted
I looked at him in his eyes
Shook his hand firmly
And said
As much to convince myself as he
'You will be fine'
Fine?
What a strange word
It rang in my ears
Are the people I met
All over the country fine?
Or is it just for a few people
Lucky enough to be blessed
With this basic word?
Seeing my friend
Wave me a long goodbye
I felt like
Something stuck in my throat
I don't know
When this uneasiness is going to leave me
What I know is
The image of my friend
Will likely stick in my troubled consciousness
For a long time to come...
8.11.03
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Pakse - a last look
Sabaydii,
Here is the continuation of a series ‘Coming home’ entitled ‘Pakse – a last look’
Hakphaang,
Kongkeo Saycocie
Pakse - a last look
We left Pakse
For Thakek
Right after dropping off our Japanese friends
At Ubol
As our vehicle passed through
The old cranky iron one-way bridge
I took a good look at the river-like city
There
pedestrians and bikers alike
Waiting patiently for the cop to signal
A go-ahead pass over the bridge
In the distance
A couple of boy monks bathing at the river
Splashing water
Playing like kids
One more time
Far beyond
A pack of Tuk-Tuk
With their drivers stretching out on the seat
Waiting for the passengers to jump in
Pakse
A city where Chao BounOum’s legacy
Was still felt
For better or for worse
See
His thousand-rooms palace
Now a five star hotel
Pricey beyond reach
Dominated the entire landscape
When townspeople talked of him
You couldn’t help but detecting
A tinge of quiet reverence
The new leaders had yet to crack in
Yes the man was more than
What was pictured of him
Like it or not
Chao BounOum was Pakse
In fact the South itself
It would be a while
Before a sense of separateness
Long established
Tied the South back
To the whole of Muang Lao again
Pakse
Like a virile masculine
Itching to thrust this land forward
With simple directness
Complete sincerity
And inexhaustible strength
Powerful enough
To revive Muang Lao again
What you need to do is
Just wait and see…
8.2.03
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On the way to Thakek
Sabaydii,
Here is the continuation of a series ‘Coming home’ entitled ‘On the way to Thakek ’
Hakphaang,
Kongkeo Saycocie
On the way to Thakek
Since the Japanese left us
One of them an architect
Couldn’t sit in the back seat
Dizzy he said
I then take the front seat
Couldn’t put into words
What a view around me
Muang Lao at her best
Lush forest covered both sides of the road
As far as the eyes could see
Then out of nowhere
A big vacant lot
Devoid of any big tall trees
Crept in before my very own eyes
Was told
A big chunk of our country’s forest
Was forever gone
Very much like the sad picture
Troubling my soul in front
I remember
Back in 1960s
Flying in a helicopter
Looking down through its open door
I saw nothing below
But green patches of land
Trees and trees everywhere
Dad
Like other patriots
Loved and treasured everyone of them
Knowing what a treasure
This land was bestowed with
Wouldn’t believe my ears
Couldn’t trust my eyes
This beautiful land would be soon
Bereft of this irreversible treasure
And gone with it
Also Deer wild roosters
Rich soil
And our soul as well
Was told
General Cheng or something
King of area
Reaping the spoils of the country
Making it known
Who really ruled this land
This is Muang Lao
Now and then
What is the difference?
Will that ever change?
Our driver
Eking out a living
Trekking all over the country
Had nothing nice to say
But pure scorn
For our ‘benevolent’ leaders
And protectors
From whom?
From what?
He told me
At the direst days
When sacrifice was needed
When the Thai blockaded the country
And when revolution was the only hope left
Everything was given for the land he loved
Even money to buy a can of milk
For his only baby
Alas
This is what people like him
Get in return
As our pick-up moved along
Thought ran up in my mind
For what this land could be
For what damage the revolution had caused
And for the wishes and dreams dashed
Before they could ever take off
With the many bridges built by the Japanese
Along route 13
Link Quon Lao together?
Will they ever patch up the scars
Left by centuries of distrust?
And will they take us to a place
We can only dream of?
With the window rolled down
I let the sweltering Lao air
Brush my rosy cheeks
Carrying my tired soul
To a long long way
8.13.03
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Thakek - my would-be hometown
Sabaydii,
Here is the continuation of a series ‘Coming home’ entitled ‘Thakek – my would-be hometown’
Hakphaang,
Kongkeo Saycocie
Thakek - my would-be hometown
Over 30 years
I left Thakek
The second home of the Saycocie families
Where I had lived for the 3 crucial years
For the first time in my trip
I felt like
I was finally home
As soon as our vehicle
Veered its way to the town
Still sleepy after 30 years of revolution
Old memories began to surge back
There
Stood the old movie theater
Now left unattended
Opposite the theater
Was the house of the famous songwriter and singer
Ai Silavong
His song ‘Thakek’
Immortalized the town in the Lao folklore
Not far
Close to the river
Where the old market once stood
Was a miniature park
And next to it
Was the defunct ferry port
With only the cement stairs
Leading down to the river
Still left
Against the cruelty of time
Through the courtesy of our driver
We dropped by to see the post office
My family once occupied
As soon as my eyes touched the building
Now decrepit and unused
With the plank of wood
Cut across the windows and doors
My heart sank to the bottom
Like Muang Lao herself
Chained of her own accord
Naïveté but no less arrogance
The imprinting image laughed at me
For what I could have been
For the talent least used
And for the grandeur of Muang Lao
Long lost
What could I do?
Dad
A man of few words
Less educated than I was
Have much to offer
To the land he loved
What about me?
Quon Lao but only through a physical trait
Devoid of any emotional attachment
Whatsoever
If so
Am I that different from the very people
Currently ripping the country apart?
Like the thousands of letters
Passing by this post office
Through the caring hand of my dad
Through his employees’ utmost dedication
I will find a way
To reconnect to a home
I never have
We LaoNork never will…
8.14.03
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Meeting my old folks
Sabaydii,
Here is the continuation of a series ‘Coming home’ entitled ‘Meeting my old folks’
Hakphaang,
Kongkeo Saycocie
Meeting my old folks
No sooner our vehicle took off
We passed by the old rusty iron bridge
Spanning the two sides of Thakek
Together
Down below and out to the Mekong itself
The water ran high up
Close to the bridge
No less
Before
My friends used to jump down this bridge
Making an impressive splash
While I myself just watched
Like the proverb that goes
Living by the river
Still buys fish
That is me
I couldn’t swim
Though I live by the river
Almost all of my life
In Muang Lao
This bridge
The river down below
Brought me more lasting memories
Fishing we were
Dad and me
Not a few times
We rowed a small boat
Pulling the fish net
As a fish as big as my young hand
Caught in its net
Memories after memories
Flushed in
As our pick-up rolled by
The places well-registered in my mind
The badminton court
I and my French buddy
Played competitively
Wat Kang
Where I liked to get KhaoTomh
Left behind from the monks’ bowls
The governor residence
Where I watched the boat race
At the finishing end
The soccer stadium
Where I watched my favorite team
College de Thakek played
And finally
Ecole Charite
Where they first spotted
My literary talent with the first prize
Thakek
It was hard to believe
Over 30 years had passed
Still very much stayed the same
Apart from the few buildings
Sprawling around the town
With my heart trembling
Our pick-up reached
The foot of Wat ChomThong
My dad’s only brother’s house
Deep in my heart
I knew
How much my dad loved his old brother
Seeing him amounted to seeing my dad again
Slowly I opened the gate
Walked up to the house
Climbed up the staircase
And opened the door
My aunt was the first
To greet me
Though many years had gone by
She still recognized me
Maybe
I looked very much like my dad
Or maybe
She had an uncanny sense
Of what her husband’s folks was like
Then the most rewarding moment in Laos came
When my dad’s brother
Carrying his shaky body out to meet me
Though sick and tired
His eyes beamed with delight
Seeing his beloved brother in me
The brother he had not seen
Since the new regime took over
The brother who lost his life
Not long landing in America
And the brother who epitomized
Honesty sincerity and devotion to family
With my hands together
And head bowed
I knelt down at his feet
And let my long held tears
Flowed down my cheeks
For I had not properly mourned my dad
Passing away in a strange land
While I was still stuck in Laos
To an ideology
More and more alien to me
When I left my dad’s house
A new resolve settling in
This is a land of my ancestors
Never again
I will leave her
Like my dad
Though no more
Still very much
In the land he loved
In everything I saw
And so will I
For eons to come…
8.15.03
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A lonely night at the river
Sabaydii,
Here is the continuation of a series ‘Coming home’ entitled ‘A lonely night at the river’
Hakphaang,
Kongkeo Saycocie
A lonely night at the river
Staying overnight
At the newly built hotel
With the room facing the Mekong
I couldn’t help but thinking of the days
I looked back at Thakek
From the Thai shore
Many a time
I got out of the Napho camp
Coming to Nakhon Phanom
Just to stare at Thakek
At Muang Lao
I left behind
What a sinking feeling indeed
To see the land dear to my heart
Not of my soul
Any more
They say
It will be hard
To leave the land
You’ve lived all your life
But you will be over it soon
Will I?
Tens of years
I had lived abroad
Made a home there
And carved out
A nice little life
But still
Not a moment went by
My heart wasn’t longing
For the fragrant smell of DokChampa
My dad planted
And so too
Whenever I hear about DouangChampa’s tune
I felt like my heart was crying
Sobbing trembling
Tonight
With the moonlight dancing
On the calm surface of the river
I let my heart cry out
For the land I was born into
For the country I was rendered powerless
And for my soul badly torn
Before it could even begin to soar
Will I be ever whole again?
No answer
But the silent flow
Of this holy river…
8.18.03
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Morning in Thakek
Sabaydii,
Here is the continuation of a series ‘Coming home’ entitled ‘Morning in Thakek’
Hakphaang,
Kongkeo Saycocie
Morning in Thakek
As usual
I got up early
Relishing every waking minute
In Muang Lao
This morning
The sky was cloudy
Likely it was going to rain
At any time
Hoping to catch
What was to be like
in Thakek again
After 30 years of tormented longing
Like two couple birds
Kept apart for so long
We flew to one another’s embrace
Like mad
At the fate we couldn’t control
At the cruel joke befalling on us
And at the path we took
So divergent
As if we were nothing
But complete strangers
With quick stride
I reached the old ferry boat port
A few hundred yards away
Meeting me there was a one-room building
As old as my life on earth
Don’t know
Why it was still there
After all these years
Maybe it was used as a cheap billboard
Slogan posting was it
As one banner read
‘everything for motherland’
slanting across its dirty wall
No sooner
Than I planted my feet there
Rain began to pour down
And with it came a gusty wind
Causing the ripples
With the surface of the fast moving water
Suddenly came into view
Through the thick branch of tree leaves
Hiding a good chunk of the river
A motorboat with its top open
No wonder
The boatman
Soaked wet like a chick
Fallen into a pool of water
Made a dash move to the shore
And disappeared
From my sight
While absorbing this fascinating scene
An old man came
Taken his shelter by me
Under the very old roof of the ferry port
Seeing that we were both stuck
I inquired about his life
His town and if by chance
He happened to know my dad
The headmaster of the town post office
As answering to my wish
The old man knew my dad
Telling me
How he came to mail letters at the post office
From the small island in the Mekong
How he met my dad
But never engaging in any conversation
And how reputable
My dad’s honesty reverberated
Far outside the town
As we parted
When downpour rain
Began to turn into drizzle
I walked off
Unconcerned about the pothole
My feet fell into
Let the rain drip all over my face
Let the pothole bury mud into my shoes
And let the shivering cold
Trembled me
I didn’t care
At last one Saycocie
Carved out a place under the sun
Would I be next in line?
Or was I already late?
Who cared?
8.18.03
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Mahaxay for the first time
Sabaydii,
Here is the continuation of a series ‘Coming home’ entitled ‘Mahaxay for the first time’
Hakphaang,
Kongkeo Saycocie
Mahaxay for the first time
Mahaxay
The land of my great great-grandfather
I had never been there
Just heard from my mom
My great grandpa was ChaoMuang
Well beloved by his people
Was constantly told
This town was a beauty
Beyond words
Though not there yet
My heart had already flown
To this magical place
Sitting with the like of great grandpa
Listening to his wise words
Recounting about the heroic stories
Mahaxay people waging against
The invading Siamese
And true to the legend
Mahaxay stood in front of me
Disclosing its unearthly charm
Unlike anything I had seen
There
Towering across the sky
Over the steep granite hills
Dotting the landscape
At their foot
Yellowish green rice fields
Stretching beyond eyesight
Then
XebangFai river dancing its way
Across the town
Cutting through its beautiful scenery
Before emptying itself
On the great Mekong river
Far far below
Couldn’t say
Why I felt like home here
Maybe
The temple with its big Pho tree
My mom told me of
There my dad and dad’s dad
Used to be a monk
As poised as a Buddha himself
Or maybe
I was just tired
Traveling in this world
For what purpose
I was not sure
With my gaze
On the river leaving the town
The mountains sheltering against the invaders
And the rice fields feeding its inhabitants
I let my mind wander
What happens to this land
So beautiful and yet so depressed
So charming and yet so sad
Will Lam Mahaxay
Roam this land
With its vigorous rhythm
Enchanting tune
And powerful Melody
Like the days of my great grandpa
Again?
I will wait and see…
8.19.03
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Schools at Mahaxay
Sabaydii,
Here is the continuation of a series ‘Coming home’ entitled ‘Schools at Mahaxay’
Hakphaang,
Kongkeo Saycocie
Schools at Mahaxay
Our pick-up stopped at the school
The buffaloes grazed at its field
The bell at their necks stroke
Each time they moved about
Inside the classroom we entered
Toys were lying around
On the dirt floor
Made from the very earth
The field outside made of
Not sure
Whether this was a preschool
Or a kindergarten
For kids aged as young as four
And as old as six
Had a day of their young lives
Pushing the toy cars
Feeding baby dolls
So on and so forth
The teacher
With her own kid
Not yet to start school
Holding on to her leg
Was radiating with pride
For no other schools
Could command this kind of luxury
At another classroom
A third grader was put into test
Reading what was on the blackboard
Out loud for us to hear
His Thakek or Mahaxay accent
Reverberated across the room
Reassuring me one more time
I was home
Among the things I was familiar
Among the voice sweetest to my ears
And among the faces I could die staring at
The bell rang
Or to be correct
The empty bucket hung by the school pillar
Was struck continuously
Awakening me from the reverie
Like kids everywhere
Mahaxay kids competing against one another
rushing out to the field in front
There I saw
A group of girls
Played the jumping over the rope
A group of boys
Kicked something
Looking like a ball
While buffaloes grazing nearby
And dogs running around
Adding to a mother feeding her baby
With her own very breast
At the balcony of the house nearby
What a sight to behold!
Muang Lao
What else do I need
To reassure myself
I am finally home
A beautiful girl walking by
Blushing all the way
Seeing me pointing a camcorder at
Amid all the poverty
The many holes in the school roofs
And the shaky chairs
About to crumble
The best of Muang Lao
Did shine through
Oh Muang Lao
How much I love to be with you
Again and again
8.19.03
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With the villagers
Sabaydii,
Here is the continuation of a series ‘Coming home’ entitled ‘With the villagers’
Hakphaang,
Kongkeo Saycocie
With the villagers
At another school we went to
Built by the Japanese
And finished for a change
This brand new school
Made of concrete
And white painted
Stood in sharp contrast
With the shabby looking huts
And thatched houses of the village
Even from a distance
I was marveled
At the grand structure
With high and long roof
Shaped down almost to the ground
Once getting close
I could see
The many windows
Lining up the almost invisible walls
Inside
Shiny desks
Real blackboard
And outrageously clean classrooms
Warmly welcome us
Not a few kids
With new white shirts
New blue shorts or Sinh
A courtesy of the Japanese donors
The teachers in Kaki uniform
Smiled at us
Proud of their state-of-the-art school
The whole country was talking of
At the far end of the building
One room was used as a meeting place
Where villagers proudly crowded it
Excitedly waiting for the meeting to begin
Outside
On the corner of the room
Coconuts mangoes
Bananas and all kinds of fruits
Brought by the appreciative villagers
Grinned at us
The city folks
When it was my turn to speak
I just added
I was glad to be here
Though living abroad
Muang Lao was still very much
A big part of me
That was why I was home
And that was it
No promise give whatsoever
Knowing full well
Nothing in my power
Sadder still
I myself was not even legally Lao
Just called for when needed
And would be right discarded
When of no use
Anymore
When I left Mahaxay
Sending off with the traditional Baci
And a community lunch
With LaotTho on the side
And a broken Khene accompanied it
I knew deep down in my heart
These people and this land
Needed me
Needed all Lao
Will I
Will we
Leave them in the dark?
Won’t the innocent eyes of the young Lao
Move us a bit?
Won’t the sunken faces of the old
Staring aimlessly into the distance
Shaken us at all?
Only we ourselves can tell
8.20.03
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A stroll in the old street
Sabaydii,
Here is the continuation of a series ‘Coming home’ entitled ‘A stroll in the old street’
Hakphaang,
Kongkeo Saycocie
A stroll in the old street
Getting back to the hotel
With the sun was about to set in
Sending off its last ray
Reddish blue
On the far horizon
I took a leisure walk
Along the old street
In front of the hotel
Running alongside the Mekong river
Not far
On my left
Once stood the casino
A sin spot of the town
And of the old regime as well
Further down the road
Close to the post office
The once lively houses
Lining up the road
Stood instead
grim-looking buildings
Paint never touched
Seeing this road again
The road I raced a hundred yard against my friends
The road I rode my bike
Up and down with sheer pleasure
And the road for no apparent reason
I came to watch
The spectacular sunset
I was watching now
I couldn't help but wondering
What happened during all those years?
The Thai bank
All the glittering
All the tall buildings
What about the Lao bank?
Frozen in time
Or worse yet
Deteriorating in time?
Apart from the spectacular sunset
Everything looked out of place
Setting an eye on the post office
My home for so long
For a last time
Before darkness crept in
I strode back to the hotel
Past the boat restaurant
About to set off its night life
Past the park
Where two teenager lovers
With the bush behind
Sat like two cats licking on one another
And past the food stalls
Where women wearing short skirts
Were loitering
My heart knew
It would be a long time
Before Muang Lao ever got back
Even to her 'decadent' days...
8/20/03
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