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Sabaydii,
Here is the continuation of a series ‘Coming home’ entitled
‘Crossing the
Hakphaang,
Kongkeo Saycocie
The day
We crossed the
To Muang Khowt[1] as Tai Pakse[2] called the opposite bank
Rain poured down real hard
Not satisfied with just sitting in the vehicle
With all the windows rolled up
I ventured out into the main boat
Where the engine carrying tens of vehicles
Across the mighty
Sheltering under the boat roof
With merchants soaked wet with the rain
I took out my camcorder
And recorded Muang Lao at her finest
There
PhuThao and PhuNang[3]
Lying beside one another
Beginning to take shape
Right in front of me
Stood toweringly the thousand rooms palace
Not of anyone else
but the notorious Chao BounOum[4]
By my left
Loomed the half-constructed
The second one in Muang Lao
Built by the Japanese
To my right and all around
Was nothing but the turbulent water
At times saturated with
Floating logs, twigs
Branches and even animal carcass
Like I put it my series
‘along the shores of the
this river was nothing
but the heartbeat of Muang Lao
getting to know it
and then you will get to know
the very place you came from
Today
The river might be rough
Not most pretty to look at
But still
There is something in it
Belying all its ugliness
The tears of many wives
Lost her husbands trying to cross the river
The blood of countless patriots
Shed profusely at the hands of the invaders
And the wishes and dreams of all Quon Lao[6]
Drowned painfully
When Naga[7] the guardian angel of Muang Lao
Left this sad land for good
Will our Naga be back?
Only the
Approaching Muang Khouat
A Lao shore opposite Pakse
Where both shores belonged to Muang Lao
Like a PoPa book[8] I once read
Couldn’t put into words
What a strange feeling indeed!
Stranger still
When I walked across the demarcation fences
Where Ubol[9] stood
Muang Lao was just no more
Oh the once great LanXang[10]
What was left of her
But a pitiful piece of land
And a bickering people
fighting for the diminishing crumbs
Our Lao compatriots
Isan[11] whom we called
Weren’t much better
The way they looked at me
The different clothes I wore
Told a sad story in itself
A story of otherness
With nothing binding us back
Is that the way Quon Lao are
Wherever they may be?
If that so
May I be strong enough
Like the majestic
Flowing like nothing ever happens.
8.12.03
[1] The old Champassak opposite of Pakse is called Muang Khowt or ‘old town’.
[2] People of Pakse. Since the Lao was of the Tai race, we still call ourselves as Tai such as Tai Pakse, Tai Vientiane, etc... Also, Tai or Thai means people of a certain town, certain city.
[3] To people of Pakse, the range of mountains overlapping one another as a backdrop of their town is seen as the picture of a male hero lying beside the female heroine.
[4] The onetime leader of the right wing group in the old regime. He was notorious for hoarding everything from power to wealth and from female companions to a contingent of bodyguards. In his own right, he was considered the king of the South as his title ‘Chao’ in front of his name suggests.
[5] My memoir about life
experience in
[6] Lao people.
[7] The mythical serpent-like
creature, king of the
[8] The alphabet book of the Lao language pretty much like the ABC book. In that book, one of the writing reads:
my country is called Muang Lao
far and wide as you can see
with the
…
[9] The Thai border province.
Asides from this one and the one at the Thai
[10] The name of the former
kingdom of
[11] The current