Sabaydii,

 

Here is the continuation of a series ‘Coming home’ entitled ‘Morning in Thakek’

 

Hakphaang,

 

 

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[1]

Carved out a place under the sun

Would I be next in line?

Or was I already late?

Who cared?

 

8.18.03