|
I was born in "Bunt" Khangkhok in a small village called "Bunt Dong Kum
Meunt" |
| (dark village in
the woods if you will). Then my family moved to Savannakhet, for my |
| father was an Art
Professor there. When the Indochina Civil War (Lao, Viet, Khmer) |
| was over, my
family moved back to "Bunt" Khangkhok. Then my father was sent to a |
| re-educational
camp for six months. |
|
Within that six months gap, we had to learn to fend for ourselves. With five kids, |
| my mother took up
fishing, "sye teump", and "sye kar" (laid bamboo fish traps in the |
| river
("say")). I would help her check the fish traps for fish, for I could
swim. In |
| retrospect,
that was kind of scary, for my mother could not swim. Thank heaven that |
| she did not fall
into the deep end. With a warm thought and smile at heart, I could |
| never repay my
mother's many sacrifices for us (siblings). |
|
At one weekend, my older brother and I would hunt small games like birds, lizards, |
| and
rodents. The hunt would take us through many rice fields, woods, and villages. |
| Exhausted, we
would usually get home at dusk. We did not want to rush home in the |
| dark, for we were
afraid of getting spook by the many ghosts ("pea lawk") of the night. |
|
At another weekend, my older brother and I would wake up early dawn where there |
| was a dim trace
of orange light in the distant sky. With our shovels ("siem"), we would |
| plow the wet
ground from the receding misty night ("narm mock") for worms. In the
|
| evening, we would
go lay the fish line with bunch of hooks hanging with worms of the |
| main line
("sai bait piak") in the river ("huoi") that ran through our rice
field. The river |
| was the lifeblood
of our rice farm. Then we would go lay bunch of small fish poles |
| ("sai bait
kun") of the foot of the pond. Each pole was inserted into the muddy ground |
| at one
end. Then we would head home for the night. At night walking home, we
were |
| not too fond of
the critter sounds in the dark. Especially, I could not stand the |
| hungry,
blood sucking mosquitoes. |
|
At the next dawn, we would go check on the fish lines in the river and the pond. |
| The fishes that
were caught usually swallowed the hooks. It was kind of a pain, for |
| we had to pry the
fish mouth with our fingers to remove the hook. Sometimes, our |
| fingers became
the bait when the fishes struggled to get free. In this case, I would |
| squeeze the life
out of the one that bit me. By the time we were done checking the lines |
| and gathering all
the fish lines and poles, the fishes would fill up our bamboo bucket |
| ("kong").
Then we would hurry home, so our mother could sell them in the morning |
| market ("taa
lat sout"). In retrospect, the circumstances had forced us to mature at a |
| young age.
Then again, every kid had responsibilities growing up in a small village. |
|
At another time after the pouring rain slowed down to sprinkling, my brother and I |
| lighted our torch
("ga bong") and disappeared into the night. With a bamboo weave |
| basket
("kong"), we were on the hunt for frogs ("jup kiat, jup goap").
We just followed |
| the sound and
picked a frog up one by one. Checking on my older brother, I could |
| always see his
torch illumination about 25 feet away. Due to hunting greed, I did not |
| pay attention and
came face to face with a big poisonous snake ("gu juang uang"). |
| It was rising in
height, so I just dropped my torch and sprinted in my brother's |
| direction.
Running and screaming, "gu juang uang", I fell couple of times in the
dark. |
| However, that did
not stop me, and that was the fastest I had ever run. Besides, my |
| basket was filled
with frogs anyway, so I pressured my brother to go home because I |
| certainly would
not want that snake to sneak up on us (old tale says it happens). |
| One bite from
that snake, neither of us would ever see the light of day again. And |
| I would ever want
to find that out or about to question the old tale. |
|
In the rice farming season where the ground was always soaked with monsoon rain, |
| I would get the
opportunity to help my grandfather tend the water buffaloes ("lieng |
| kwua"), plow
rice field ("tai na"), and plant rice ("dum na"). Waking up at
dawn, |
| my grandfather
would let me take my favorite water buffalo ("kwua") to graze on |
| the meadow.
Riding the buffalo's bareback, I could feel all its roughness under my |
| legs. On
the way out of the village trail, I could hear the roosters singing (nature's |
| alarm clock),
chickens and birds calling, and whatever living things that would like to |
| make noise (like
saying, hey, I'm awake!). After grazing in the meadow until sunrise, I |
| would lead the
buffalo to the rice field and put the plow equipment on its hump. Then |
| I would flick the
rope against its side as to say go. Then it would drag the plow on the |
| muddy rice field
back and forth to completion. Every now and then, I would stop to |
| pull out the
blood sucking leeches from my muddy legs. Sicken to my stomach just |
| thinking about
it, I could still feel the slimy, rubber band like texture. At lunch time, |
| I would
ravenously eat sticky rice with whatever for the day--even with Laos' |
| homemade fish
sauce and pepper ("jarm par daak"). Yummy! After lunch, I would |
| help plant the
rice by placing the rice sprout (about a foot in length) into the mud. |
| Gosh, each rice
field was pretty wide; of course, all the able body relatives helped. |
| At the end of the
day, I was soaked with mud and sweat. My body's aroma |
| smelled like
homemade fish sauce ("par daak"). Before heading home, I would |
| climb to a tree
trunk above the river and then drop I went like a cannon ball into |
| the river.
Splashed, then I would swim around like a fish out of water to wash myself. |
|
After six months, my father returned home. We were happy to have him back. |
| He helped ease
our foraging for food, for he was a natural hunter and gatherer. |
| Growing up
without a father, he had earned all his keeps through his own efforts. He |
| went back to
teaching in a high school in town about half hour in walking distance |
| from our village.
Sadly, he was under constant watch by the Pathet Lao ("ai nong") |
| soldiers.
Some of his friends was taken away and never seen again. So, he was |
| constantly
looking over his shoulder and did not trust anyone. One day, my mother |
| told my father
that she has a brother and an uncle in America. She did not want to |
| have the kids
grow up without a father. My father felt a deep sadness in his heart, |
| for he grew up
without a father. He did not want any of us to experience growing up |
| without a
father. They decided that we would have a better life and future in America. |
|
Then my father had a secret talk with my uncle. My father told him that my mother's |
| relatives would
help his family resettle in America. So, he sought out the rebels and |
| became one
("pork guuk sart"). In the meantime, my mother tried to sell all of our |
| belongings and
livestock. When asked by the villagers, my parents told them to get |
| money to buy
food. Unfortunately, there was famine around that time. Using guerilla |
| warfare, my
uncle's group was always on the move. Once he found the way to |
| Thailand, he sent
for us. One early morning, there was a lady passed by my house. |
| She had bananas
in two baskets, and she was on her way to the morning market. |
| She asked for my
father. When my father met her, she shook my father's hand with a |
| note. She
was a messenger from the rebel village, for I had never seen her before. The |
| note read,
"We will leave at 11 am." With just clothes on our back and whatever we |
| could carry, we
took off toward the rebel village. Our grandmother led us out of the |
| village to the
outskirts. In case somebody asked along the way, we could say that we |
| were going to our
other farm ("hai") up in the hill beyond the village, so people would |
| not suspect
anything. If we were to get caught, then we would never see our father |
| again.
With sad eyes, then my grandmother took one last look at all of us and said, |
| "Please take
care of each other, for this may be the last time we may see each other |
| again in this
lifetime." At the time, I thought we were just going to visit a relative in |
| in a distant
village. My parents had a sad look in their eyes, and they were holding in |
| the tears (crying
at heart). My grandmother turned and walked back with her head |
| down. Never
looking back, my grandmother kept waking. I was sure that she was |
| crying, for I saw
tears in my parents eyes. Now I have wished that I had hugged my |
| grandmother for
one last embrace as to say that I would miss her, too. |
|
Then we walked forward. After hours of walking (seemed like an eternity to a kid), |
| we came to a fork
in a dusty road. My father told us to wait while he disappeared in |
| one path.
We were worried, for he did not return for awhile. Along the way, he asked |
| the villager
where our destined village was, and it was the other path. So, we kept |
| walking until we
came to the rebel village. The peasants were busy planting rice ("dum |
| na").
Then my father put his glasses back on. Then a lady approached and asked if he |
| was the art
professor. My father said, "Yes!" They were looking for a man with |
| glasses. My
father took it off, for he did not want to get recognize by his students |
| from a distance. |
|
The lady led us into the jungle at the edge of the rice field. Everyone was waiting |
| for us. If
we were 15 minutes late, they would have left without us. And I would not |
| even want to
speculate what would happen to us. All the rebels had long hairs, tattoos, |
| and protective
charms ("kong") around their necks. And the night before, I heard |
| someone said that
a pig was sacrificed to appease the protective spirit ("jump pea") |
| that would
accompany us in our journey. All in all, there were about 60 people, |
| including women
and children. Then we started walking deeper into the jungle along a |
| narrow path that
was set by the rebels. Interestingly, the deeper we went--echoes of |
| nature were
silence like bird calls. I could hear the beating of my heart and the cracking |
| foot steps of
myself and others along the trail. Exhausted, I did not pay attention to |
| anything and just
kept up on the trail. Then we came upon a big water puddle that |
| was left by the
rain. I could see mosquitoes, tadpoles, bugs, and spider webs. I could |
| only imagine
whatever else took a zip of that unsanitary water. Hey, dying of thirst, |
| everyone took a
zip anyway. The rebels warned us that we could get sick and told us |
| to wait until we
came across a stream. In desperation, no one would listen and took a |
| gulp to quench
their thirst anyway. Being a kid, I joined the crowd (yeah!). |
| Afterwards, I
felt like throwing up, for the water smelled like "par daak".
Interestingly, |
| "par
daak" has certain connotation around certain condition (sometimes smell good and |
| sometimes smell
bad). We "Konlao" decide! |
|
As I thought things could not get any worse, the rain started pouring. My mother |
| fell and passed
out from exhaustion. Then my father took my baby brother, and my |
| mother was
carried on the Army hand carrying bed by the rebels. Then my baby |
| brother started
crying. I heard somebody shouted out, "Shut the baby up! We cannot |
| sacrifice
everyone for one child!" Then my mother faintly called out, "Please give |
| him to me."
My father gave my baby brother to my mother, and she breast fed him. |
| Then he was
quiet. In the middle of no where, we came across a hut ("tieng na") in a |
| middle of a
rice field. We took refuge until the pouring rain receded. After three
days |
| and two nights of
walking, we finally arrived at the Mekong river. On the way down to |
| the Mekong
delta, the Pathet Lao soldiers were returning from a night patrol on the |
| other side of the
trail. Since we were accompanied by the protective spirit, they did not |
| see any of us.
Many people claimed that the spirit was always walking ahead of them |
| (moving white
misty fog ahead throughout the night--trace of human figure). While |
| resting, I
checked the sole of my feet, and they were bleeding from thorns and |
| whatever sharp
things that I stepped on along the way. But I did not shed a tear. |
| Anyway, the
rebels searched the area for mines toward the shore of the river. |
| With a
flashlight, the rebel signaled the Thailand side. Since it was almost |
| daylight, there
was no signal back. Then two rebels cut down a banana stems and |
| used the stems to
swim to the Thailand side. Then they arrived back with two boats. |
| First trip, women
and children were boarded. The boats' rims were about three inches |
| from sinking.
For some reason, the water was calm. Second trip, the men were boarded |
| and hanged of to
the side of the boats. Once everyone was on the Thailand side, we |
| went to stay at
the leader of the rebel's house for one day. |
|
At the next morning, we walked to the Thai police station. A young officer shouted,
|
| "Go back to
where you came from! We don't want you in our country!" We turned |
| and started
walking back. Then an older officer shouted, "Please welcome! The young |
| man needs to mind
his manner!" Then we were in the Thai police station for two |
| weeks.
Every morning, a truck would arrive to take the men to work in a nearby farm. |
| They were paid 20
"baut" a day. That was the money to buy food. After all the paper |
| work was done,
then the officers drove us into the Orbone refugee camp. In the |
| interrogation
process, the men were called all kinds of names. One young officer |
| name calling
favorite was, "You water buffalo..." ("buck kwua"). |
|
Once we arrived at camp, we went to seek out friends and relatives. Luckily,
we |
| had relatives
there, so we stayed with them until we could get our own living quarter. |
| I made a lot of
friends--Lao and Thai kids. So, I went everywhere around camp to play |
| marbles
("lean mark bee"). At times, we would sneak out of camp and go watch the |
| horse race (good
walking distance). However, I usually arrived home before dusk, for |
| I did not want to
get scold by my father. A lot of kids liked to hang outside the |
| movie theater
outside of camp. When an adult bought a ticket, we would ask if we |
| could get in with
them. If they said yes, we would just hold their hands going in, and |
| that was how we
got to watch free movies. Inside the theater, there was piss odor |
| everywhere.
When it got dark, we kids just went to find a corner (who could see) and |
| pissed if we
needed to. Hey, I know what you are thinking, but we're naughty |
| kids--okay!
Especially, we loved to get together and go swim at a nearby river outside |
| of camp. We
loved to run and jump off the cliff into the river. Some kid told me that |
| a kid died a year
ago when he jumped and landed on a stick that was hidden in the |
| murky water.
After enough fun, then we would head back to camp and line up for |
| crackers and
milk. I would line up several times to hoard the crackers and dump the |
| milk. |
|
After a year in camp, then we got a sponsor in Bradford, Vermont. In fact, it was
the |
| United Church
congregation. Usually, one of the young lovers would be crying and |
| screaming before
boarding the bus to another camp in Bangkok. Once we got to the |
| new camp, we went
to find ourselves an open area on the floor and laid down a |
| long grass weave
mat ("sart") to recede for the night. The rice and food were cooked |
| in a huge cleaned
out oil tanks. The food was not very sanitary but we were fed |
| nevertheless.
About two weeks, we boarded a 747 Jet and left for a new life in |
| America. On
the Jet, we could not eat American food, for it did not have any taste. |
| When we stopped
in Hong Kong, we had fried rice and chickens. Then the Jet |
| stopped in Los
Angeles. After that, we boarded a bus to the outskirts of the city and |
| stayed in a
"motel-6" like place. After a week there, we boarded a plane to our final |
| destination,
Bradford, Vermont. |
|
In summary, I am forever indebted to my parents' sacrifices and the other "pea |
| nong Lao"
sacrifices, assisting us in our journey. For as long as I have my breath, |
| they will always
have a place in my heart and thought. One last thought, I hope and |
| wish that we all
walk a peaceful path and experience all the treasures of life may |
| bring (good or
bad). Preferably, more good any day! |
| |
|
Haak Pang Pea Nong Lao Tuke Khon! |
