|
|
Sabaydii,
Here is the continuation of a series ‘Coming home’ entitled ‘Bounthanong – a Caravan of Muang Lao’
Hakphaang,
Kongkeo Saycocie
Took almost my whole stay in
To find this friend of mine Bounthanong
A writer so sharp a tongue
The authorities had to rebuke him
It was said
Namely by Euay Dara
His writing so much infuriated
The information ministry he was under
That he was forced to resign
Both as a government employee
And as a president of the Lao Writer Association
This news took all the social conscious writers hard
And with his departure she saw an end
To the future of a once promising Lao writer
Of this high caliber
With some luck
And a persistent hunt
I found the bar
Bounthanong owned
With his wife as a cook
By the ex-Soviet cultural center
At the start of Luangprabang road[1]
Like Euay Dara told me
His bar was decorated with a cowboy sort of a logo
A far cry
From the day
He had nothing nice
To say about
And inside
It was dimly lighted
As to reflect the mood of the bar
Catering to the a growing middle class
When I first entered
The one man band was still playing
A soft tuned American song
Solo with his guitar
Some young middle aged Lao
Sat eating and drinking at the table
Only one or two couple danced
At the small floor
As soon as Bounthanong saw
The like of me
He hadn’t seen for so long
He made a dash
From a table nearby
Like the old days
He hadn’t changed that much
Apart from some weight he gained
And a few grey hair
He greeted me
With a typical wide smile
And shook my hand
With such exuberance
The more he looked at me
The more it reminded me of Nga of Caravan[2]
The Thai rebel songwriter and singer
With his curly hair
And a cigarette in his hand
After a few drinks
He poured fourth
His discontent with the present regime
At the injustice they incurred on people like him
At the widespread bribery and corruption
And at the direction
the country was dangerously moving towards
As they say
If you want to know
about the heartbeat of any country
talk to the writer
and so I did
Admitted
He was down
But don’t count him out yet
In one of his plans
He would turn one corner of this bar
Into a reading room
A showcase place for the aspiring writers
On a bigger scale
He would do the travel magazine
Called ‘Muong Lao’
To widen his knowledge of the country
Before making a triumphant come-back
I had trust in him
For the fire in him
Would never let him
Just disappear
With some songs he helped produce
And some books he once wrote
Thrust in my hand
We said a good bye
And hoped to see one another
In a better light
Next time around…
9.5.03