Here is the continuation of a series 'Coming home' entitled 'A very able new force'

Hakphaang,

Kongkeo Saycocie

Phonesavan or Tik

My acquaintance in Laos

The one in charge of

School project and scholarship in the country

Was an interesting person

Born in Savannakhet

And graduated from the university in the Soviet Union

She was the right candidate

For this demanding job

Running the Minsai Lao office

Coordinating any contact with the headquarter in Tokyo

And its main subsidiaries in Thailand

Before

I was contacted to run the Lao office

Many things were in the way

I wasn't that free to move to Laos

Most importantly

The government just wouldn't like

A LaoNork to have such a big role in Lao education

A face was at stake here

And maybe justifiably so

Close to a hundred candidates

Applying for this job

Virtually none came close

To a standard the Japanese

Was looking for

A basic accounting

General international practice

And the utmost dedication to the job

Beyond the job requirement itself

In another word

The passion for what you do

And the ability to carry it through

No matter what

Glad I was

When they found the right person

Lao kids just couldn't wait

Any longer

I myself

When all things settled

Just came to help out

Whatever I could

And that was I came to know Tik

And learnt of Laos

I wouldn't have thought of

Among other qualities

She made all things run that smooth

With all the officials at any level

Yes it did take time to know

How committed she was to the job

So all my blessing to her

A Lao woman

The foundation of the country future

Generally speaking

I thought

She was quite pleased

With what direction the country was taking

Then a little poking here and there

She began to leak out

Her frustration at what she thought

The selling out of the power-that-be

Once an education for all

An exemplar achievement of the new regime

Was forever discarded

In its place

Came an educational system

Reminiscent of the much maligned old regime

Triangular shape indeed

With the few at the benefit

And the majority poor

Just couldn't afford to pay their kids

Beyond the primary school level

Couldn't help to wonder

What legitimacy did the government still have?

What was its raison d'etre still based upon?

Equality and justice for all?

Or were these a thing of the past too?

Then there is one thing

Shared by all

Officials or not

Having to deal with the Thai

A deep resentment

At how we are treated

From the so-called caring big brother

On our visit to the education ministry

The one in charge of the primary school

We ran across the Thai official

Rewriting the country educational curriculum

I guess

No one was pleased with this move

Except maybe the ones benefiting

From the Thai Bath

When we left the building

I could see what she went through

In this society of ours

While spectacular statistics posted on the board

Praising the accomplishment of all grade level

Was still in front of me

 I rubbed my eyes

And let the sad stories I had confronted so far

Undone the rosy picture

Only existed in the dream

9.8.03

Sabaydii,

Here is the continuation of a series 'Coming home' entitled 'The returnee'

Hakphaang,

My wife's grandma

Lived behind the Thai Embassy

With some time to spare

I went to see her

The house

My wife once lived

While her father the major in the old regime

Went to Samanar

Or the detention camp

Was quite big

The owner

My wife's uncle

Once left the country

Was now back

Having no kids whatsoever

He and his wife - a Souvannavong

Decided to come back to Laos

After many years of exile in France

With a degree in accounting

His wife landed a job

With the French cultural center

But it was completely a different story for him

Good only with the game of tennis

It was hard to get clients rich enough

To pay his dues

Worse yet

When applying for a national team coach

He was told

They couldn't consider his candidacy

For he was not a member

What an exclusive club indeed

Mad at what he got

He bombarded at the government

Promising so much for the returnee

But delivering so little

Now what will the returnee like him do?

But gluing himself in front of the satellite TV

And lamenting the good years

Gone by

My classmate

Married to the family

And living there

Had no less a nice word

To the power-that-be

A doctor himself

And seen quite a world

Being with the soccer national team

Was looking forward to the days

The old guard was gone

And came hopefully

The new leaders

Visionary enough

To bring Laos out of this inertia

Laos

I wonder

When is fate going to be with her?

With all Lao?

My wife's grandma

Had seen all

Both the good and ugly side of life

And so does the life of the country

Will she live long enough?

To see all her children

And grandchildren

Had a better share

In their very own country

Can't say for sure

For when she left the world

A few years later

Laos was still slowly

Emerging from the dark

9.9.03

9.10.03

Sabaydii,

Here is the continuation of a series 'Coming home' entitled 'DokHak revisited'

Hakphaang,

Standing there

In front of the classroom

Beautiful as ever

A woman of my love

This heart just wouldn't forget

With the long stick on her hand

Pointing at the writing on the blackboard

Her students read aloud

English lessons of course

What a chorus indeed

With over half a hundred voices

Packed in a middle size classroom

Every inch of the space fully occupied

When her eyes wandered around the room

And stopped at me

I could see

A tinge of surprise

Bubbling in those twinkling eyes of hers

A few days ago

Not long after my coming back to Vientiane

I stopped by to see her at her house

The one I frequented many times before

Didn't want to say

What I really felt

What my love could be

May the bygones be bygones

Then why did I come back

Seeing her again?

Maybe to get a last look

At the young girl I dearly loved

Now a mature woman

Or maybe

To let her know

Of all people in this land

No one was dearer to me than she was

With her students

Giggling at the two of us

Didn't know why

I said 'good bye' to her

Knowing full well

This would be the last time

We would ever meet

Like Muang Lao

Meant so much to me

Destined I was to be apart

And so did my love to her

9.10.03

Notes

She is an English teacher for the secondary school located inside Dongdok campus. Don't know why.

Sabaydii,

Here is the continuation of a series 'Coming home' entitled 'The old Lycee'

Hakphaang,

Was told

My classmate since Sixieme B

Manh

Forgot his last name

Was a math teacher

At the Lycee

Now called

Matthayom Tone Pai

Before Oudom Vientiane

The time I graduated

With time to kill

And an attachment to the school

I studied for so long

I went to see both

Hard to put into words

My school in front

Looked different

Maybe the strange looking blue color

Ai Nong style

Or the students too young

To roam this once a sanctuary

Of the Lao finest institution

I remember

In my early days at Lycee

Back in 1971

Students were far older looking

From Troisieme up Terminale

Virtually everyone was

A PhuBao PhuSao

Fully bloosomed

And ready to take on the world

Now very much

Like kids in primary schools

A far cry from the good old days

Was also told

This school was still much coveted

A thing to be bragged about

No much difference from before

Like the olden days

Black Benz Mercedes

Parked at the front yard

The right thing to do or not

Once inside the campus

In the teacher lounge

I asked for my friend

To my dismay

He wasn't scheduled

To teach that afternoon

Maybe too much an overload

With close to 50 students in class

Far more too much of a quota

Than anyone could handle

Not letting anything dampen my spirit

I strolled around the school

Walking along the corridor

Many times I used to pass

Not far

I saw a lot of scooters

Numerous to count

Then at another side

Bigger lot for the bicycles

Not much different

From the olden days

Was that so?

At close look

At the buildings scattered

In every direction

My eyes caught sight of

The broken windows

Too painful to watch

I looked away

Like a passer-by

I just recorded

The deteriorating of my beloved school

Through the lens of the camcorder

And let my happy old days

Swept away the sad picture I saw

Hopefully

When I came back

Next time around

My 'Lycee' would be in a better shape

With a longing look

At the institution

So much meant

To all the Lycee alumni

I formed a word 'Thank you'

In my lip

And let it embrace the school

Beautiful as ever

In our longing hearts

9.11.03

Notes

Sixieme B is equivalent to 7^th grade. The strange thing was that usually it would take 8 years to finish Lycee compared to only 6 years of secondary school in the U.S. (junior high and high school). Here is how the Lycee system worked at that time:

Sixieme B

Sixieme A

Cinquieme

Quatrieme

Troisieme

I guess those five levels are equivalent to the junior high plus 9^th grade. Generally, if you are really good with the exam taken at the Lycee after you have finished primary school, they can place you even in Cinquieme but very rarely. I saw some students had passed the exam with high grades so they bypassed Sixieme B and went straight to Sixieme A.

Then

Seconde

Premiere

Terminale

The last three is equivalent to

10^th grade

11^th grade

and 12^th grade

respectively

Sabaydii,

Here is the continuation of a series 'Coming home' entitled 'A good view of Vientiane'

Hakphaang,

Only a few yards from Lycee

Stood Anousavaly LanXang

Or at the olden days

The monument of former soldiers

With quickening steps

I dashed across the road

To the monument

Circled by hordes of cars

TukTuk bicycles and scooters

Among the green patches

Around the tall structure

Sat students

Some doing homework

Some just playing around

Under the monument

Open on four sides

Rows of traditional Lao cloth

Occupied the space

As far as one could see

On the ceiling itself

Painted pictures decorating it

Not that eye pleasing

But only so so

After buying a ticket

I climbed up the stairs

Through the dark

And damp tunnel

On all sides

Vacant slot stared at me

Dejectedly

Wonder

Why anyone didn't

Bother to make any use

Of the vacant place

Only at the top

Did I find fresh air

And a view worth my climb

All around me

Vientiane was within a bird's view

On one side

That Luang with its tall spire

Caught my eyes

On another

LanXang Avenue stretching

All the way to Wat PhaKeo

And HoKham or the presidential palace

And on its way

Passing through Lycee

TaLat Souat

And the new tall building

Interesting to see

All the traffic stopped

When the red light was on

And the pedestrians walking

Across the grand avenue

Some with big baskets on their backs

And some with kids in their hands

Couldn't help to remember

The other day

I helped an old woman

With a slightly bent back

Crossing the busy street

When she was safely through

A big sign of relief shone

On her tired face

And a thank you note

Still sweet in my ears

Vientiane

How much potential it has

Only it knows

Where it is going

Hope

I live long to see

The days when it challenges

The vastness of the sky

Like the days of Chao Saysettha

When Vientiane when Muang Lao

Was no less glamorous than Adhuttaya

And no less valiant than Burengnong

The Burmese world conqueror himself

9.11.03

Sabaydii,

Here is the continuation of a series 'Coming home' entitled 'Summer grass'

Hakphaang,

Looking at the grass

Springing up by the roadside

I thought of Basho's haiku

Summer grass

All that is left

Of warriors’ dreams

I just don't know

How many lives were cut short?

And for what?

For the piece of land

Where the grass now grows

It was painful to see

Two brothers

One on the side of the old government

And another on the side of the Pathet Lao

Trying to get the pieces of themselves

Now that the war was over

The older brother in the U.S.

While they younger one in Laos

With his thatched house

A lower rung of the ladder

Still poor as before

Just want to ask

Why did we fight?

Isn't Muang Lao too big

For all of us?

Or are we but a pawn

To be pushed around?

What is a warrior then

If there is still one left?

Not the type that grasps the land

And let it be worse than before

But one with enough sense

To fight against his own greed

To know he has done his job

And then moved on

Let others more in tune with time

Take care of the land

You profess to love

And then the summer glass

Will mean something

Summer grass

Warriors come warriors go

All is left but you and me

9.23.03

Sabaydii,

Here is the continuation of a series 'Coming home' entitled 'Two grand structures'

Hakphaang,

Passing by That Luang ground

Seeing the two grand structures

One of the national assembly

The other of the monument of the soldiers

Pathet Lao soldiers

Can't really say

What I thought

A nation divided

A country trying to forget its past

Grand as the national assembly is

It lacks something of substance

With only a cheerleading role

What's its use for then?

Like everything of the old regime

Nothing is good enough

So came bigger grander

But unfortunately

Not something that makes it so

The spirit

The energy

That brings forth that idea

With the car on NongBone road

Halfway between the old national assembly

And the new one

The old soldier monument

And the new one

I was stuck in the middle

A man of two pasts

Equally unpleasant

Where would I turn then?

Tell me

9.23.03

Sabaydii,

Here is the continuation of a series 'Coming home' entitled 'What's a writer?'

Hakphaang,

At the time I was in Laos

One Lao writer got honored

With the SEA write

Or South East Asian award

Given every year

For the 11 countries of the subcontinent

Thought

That writer's works must be exceptional

Upon close investigation

Turning out to be

Just a slot for Muang Lao's turn this year

Then if so

Why not to any other Lao writers

Whose works measured up to the standard

And not to one associated with the party

To me

A writer is not

The one who regurgitates the party line

But the one

Who speaks out the truth

Whatever truth it may be

Yes to be a writer

It need more than the ability to write

Anyone with some schooling can do

Instead

A writer a social conscious one

Carries the country burden on his shoulders

On one hand

He uplifts the spirit of his people

For the tasks well done

On another

He lashes out against any wrongdoing

With all his rage

In another word

A writer is like a schoolteacher

Harsh he may be

But always fair

With only the students' progress in mind

Some might damn his approach

But true to his standard

He lives up to it

To be a good writer

Is not an easy task

An overnight work

But years and years of hard work

Years and years of observation

And years and years of devotion

As they say

An ordinary writer writes

Whatever comes to his mind

Or what is dictated to him

A good writer writes

To the standard of his peers

But an exceptional writer

Writes ahead of his time

Shredding all the patterns

All the walls all the masks

Until a naked truth can shine through

Since this kind of a writer is such

A rare species in itself

He will be the first to get all the blame

But the last one to get a pat on his back

Only and only that

Any of the Lao writers

Will deserve to get honored

With not just a SEA write

But something dear to all Lao hearts

9.23.03

Sabaydii,

Here is the continuation of a series 'Coming home' entitled 'A line of broken shoes'

Hakphaang,

Read someone's haiku

Overwhelmed by the message

I sat motionless

By the roadside

Summer dawn

A broken line of shoes

At the temple steps

Behind me

Stood HoTai Wat Sisaket

The emblem of Lao defiance

Can't help to wonder

How many passing by this temple

Still take to heart

They are but a long line of Lao warriors

With their tasks still unfinished?

Proud we are to be Lao

But what did we do?

Just passing by

To have our faces

Reflected back

From the yellowish wall?

Did I see?

Did we see?

How many lives got buried here?

Their faces were contorted with pain

I could only imagine

What did I do then?

Throwing myself

Into oblivion?

What a joke it is

One of the best Lao minds

Drowning himself

Like an idiot

If this is a joke

It must be the cruelest one indeed

Sad as it may be

We are but a broken line of shoes

Time forgot

History condemns

When will we ever be back?

I don't know

Summer dawn

The little shoes we still have

Are but a sad accusation of ourselves

Of what we have become

Of what we could have been

9.24.03

Here is the continuation of a series 'Coming home' entitled 'What hurts the most'

Hakphaang,

They say

Nothing can hurt you

If you don't take it

Not so

In my case

Singled out by history

As the most naive

I went to Laos

With hope running high

For the first time

Laos is at peace

Hardly a possibility

Years and years ago

No less significant

She is in ASEAN

The first step to openness

Advancement

And the trickiest of all

Hope

From now on

Landlocked will become

Land linked

What more can I ask?

Alas

When I was there

The little things I saw

All but giving conflicting signals

As they say

It looks like a duck

Smells like a duck

But it is not a duck

What is it then?

Pure and simple

I don't know

But it hurts no less badly

The new regime or not

I don't care

Just carry Muang Lao

To the other shore

Don't know

When I will be back again

When the pain is going to leave me

Or it this my fate

Damned forever

Like the country I dearly love?

Gone away coming back

Still the same old things

That's Muang Lao of thee

9.24.03