That Sikhottabong

Sabaydii,

Here is the continuation of a series ‘Coming home’ entitled ‘That Sikhottabong’

Hakphaang,
Kongkeo Saycocie

That Sikhottabong

Before leaving Thakek
To Vientiane
We did take some time
To see That Sikhottabong
A stupa beloved by Thakek people

I remember
Every third month
Lao calendar of course
This very place was rocked
With the monks chanting
The lights dazzling
And the sound booming
From the loudspeakers

Today
In the middle of August
The place was eerily silent
Apart from the buffaloes’ bells
Ringing at times
I could even hear my own heart beating

At the front
The sign said
‘closed for renovation’
Not sure
How long the sign had been there
With no activities whatsoever going on
I wonder
How long the renovation would be

It was said
Thao Sikhot cursed Muang Lao
Vientiane to be exact
The curse went
Never would Vientiane be prosperous
Longer than an elephant’s flapping his ears
Or a snake’s licking his tongue

Sad to say
The curse was still haunting this land
Not of Thao Sikhot’s wrath
But of our own making

Let DonChan stand
Let That Sikhot about to fall
into the Mekong stood
Only through our very sweat
Pouring down our very forehead
Would Muang Lao rise up again

With my hands together
And my head bowed
I paid respect to Thao Sikhot
The legend he might be
For the people he won
For the bravery he showed
And for the vision
Grander than the lot of himself

Will our leaders of nowadays
Ever come that close?
We are all waiting…

8.21.03

A rural school on the way to Vientiane

Sabaydii,

Here is the continuation of a series ‘Coming home’ entitled ‘A rural school on the way to Vientiane’

Hakphaang,
Kongkeo Saycocie

A rural school on the way to Vientiane

Stopping by
We were at a rural school
Looking dreamily
At the paved road
Fast running by

In front
Stood a DokChampa tree
With one boy hanging on
and a little boy bust naked
clinging to his big sister

Strolling inside the classroom
Where kids waiting for their teacher
To arrive
I showed them the recording
I took
Including their very own

Maybe
It was the first time
They saw themselves
Reflected
Not from the mirror
Or the water reflection

They were quite taken
By the their own images
Brightly shown
On the LCD screen

I was told
All of the students
Never ventured out of their village
Seeing themselves
Like the movie they watched
At the temple open air
Must have been quite a feat indeed

Too bad
They didn’t have class that afternoon
Teacher couldn’t make it
Must have been out for a supplementary income
And must have been another half day school

One student I heard
Wading through the flooding field
To school
And for nothing

At another classroom
A separate building by itself
Boomed the voice of the kids
Alas a teacher at last

With the recorded button on
I moved to that classroom
The only one with the class going on
So sad to say
Of the whole school
Only two classrooms
What else could I expect?

A young girl
Maybe 8 or 9
With one hand on her baby brother
And another busily jotting down
The lesson on the blackboard
Not black enough

Not a few times
She squinted at the letters in front
Trying her best to decipher
What was there
really

Then time to read
Aloud and together
The whole class was like waves
Rushing back and forth to the shore

Their bodies swung
Perfectly in rhythm
Every time the magic wand
Majestically pointed by the teacher

After all
The blackboard was so low
The writing was so out of sight
And so illegible

When break was finally arrived
The little girl with a baby brother
Hung on her back
Took off to the village
And disappeared among the many of coconut trees

Like dark clouds
About to swallow the area
I also left the school
Hoping to see it in a better shape
Next time around

8.21.03

On the route to Vientiane
Sabaydii,

Here is the continuation of a series ‘Coming home’ entitled ‘On the route to Vientiane’

Hakphaang,
Kongkeo Saycocie

On the route to Vientiane

Route 13 well paved
Running along the Mekong River
Connecting most of the major towns
From north to south

Along its sides
Stood villagers
Ready to savor
What modern life
Had to offer

At many spots
Shops opening
Villagers stopping by
And kids playing
By the road

It did take a moment
To sink in
This is Laos
A land where contrasting things
Are juxtaposed

There
Fast moving cars
Flying at top speed
And here
Slow moving buffaloes
Dragging their tired legs
Just to move across the field

No one just can’t figure out
Danger looms everywhere
With one slight turn of the wheel
Life and death is but a sad reality

Don’t know
Why Laos highway has to share
Its space with pedestrians
Or it is nobody’s business

Pak Kading
Where the road was dangerously curved
Where it claimed so many lives before
Our driver recited a mantra

Not until we passed through
Reputedly a haunted spot
Did he stop the mantra
And puffing out a big sign of relief

Muang Lao
a land of superstition
A far cry from the dialectic materialism
The new regime was so proud of

Greeting us
Outside Pak Kading
Was the grand Buddha statue
In its sitting posture
Overlooking mortals like us
From a lush hill

We stopped the car
Enjoying the view

I took off to the Mekong
The very place I crossed it
To the Thai side
Close to 20 years ago

Today
At the shore
Paksane shore
Kids were climbing the tree
Holding their breath
And jumping head on into the river

With my mind collected
I looked at the kids
With a calm composure
And let the bygones be bygones

Will the new regime do the same?
Or this land belongs to them alone?

8.21.03