21. Looking For Your Heart

Looking For Your Heart

The sun was still shining with its red light spreading over the west when I dragged myself in Bane Dong Koy village. The villagers’ voice calling their pigs to come and eat their food could be heard as far as the foot of the hills, “Ee Ee, Ee Ee.” This was the same voice I heard two years ago when I was working there as a community development worker.

As soon as I set my feet in the village, many eyes turned to me with friendly greetings,

"Our brother-in-law Poy just arrived for a visit." They all greeted me in different ways, with casual language used by members of the same family who meet again after being away for some time.  Friendly laughter was heard many times with only brief intermissions. 

When I climbed the first stair step at Uncle Nhom’s house, what surprised me was the calm shown by all the family members sitting around the fireplace. They all turned their eyes to me as if I was a stranger even though I used to live in this house before. Deep in my heart, I was even thinking about asking them to accept me as another member of the family. My visit there that day was partly guided by that wish.

After looking at me for almost one minute, Uncle Yom was the first to say something. I glanced around the house and had the impression that somebody was missing. I did not ask any questions but did formally greet each family member before climbing the stairs.

Shortly after I chatted with everybody, Aunt Nhom brought dinner. Still, nobody said anything to address my worrying. Everybody ate the food with appetite. The only thing strange was that Kee Noi and Aunt Nhom, who used to get me to talk about various stories, didn’t say much that day despite the fact that we have not seen each other for two years. One would expect more chatting than usual. Instead, Aunt Nhom and Kee Noi kept very quiet, with only occasional forced smiles.

When I could no longer help it, I asked them, “Where is Nhom? Why isn’t she here for dinner? Is she still at the rice field?" I asked the question while putting rice in my mouth and watching everybody’s reaction.

I noticed Uncle Yom’s face turning immediately sad. He put his rice wad back in the serving basket, and slipped out to a corner of the kitchen to lit a cigarette. Aunt Yom also put her rice back in the basket, walked to the drinking water container, filled a glass of water and left it in front of me and went downstairs. I looked at Bak Kee Noi and was about to ask him something, but he too walked downstairs. Nobody said a single word to answer my question.

            Although I knew that my mouth and my stomach still needed some more food, I had to stop eating and pick up the dishes as I used to do at this house. After, cleaning the dishes and putting all of them at their usual locations, I walked to the kitchen’s balcony where Uncle Nhom was putting a pipe in his mouth and tried to inhale some cigarette smoke. I took a chair that was left leaning against the house’s outside wall,  sat down near him, and was about to repeat my question when I had to stop. Uncle Nhom’s cold and stern voice struck my ears and got them numb for some time.

"Nhom told us she was going to Vientiane to see you because she said Ai Phat told her to do so. But you are here now and you are asking for Nhom. So, what’s the matter?  I don’t get it.”

My face turned ultra-red. If I had a mirror to look at right then, I probably could tell how red it really was. My throat was glued with stick saliva and became dry. My whole body was shaking as if something was pushing it in all directions. At that moment, I felt that no matter what, now that I was there, I had to know what really happened. I tried to explain while swallowing with difficulty,

“Dad, I used to tell Nhom to be patient no matter what. If there was something she could not resolve by herself, she should write to me about it, or come and see me”.

 “So, Nhom did go to see you, didn’t she?”

I told him the truth, “No! Nhom didn’t come to see me."

I tried to look at Uncle Nhom's eyes which had turned red. He did not say anything but was staring at me. At that very moment, as I could tell, his eyes looked like an executioner’s eyes. I was shaking all over but had to control myself to keep my poise. We kept staring at each other for some time without blinking an eye but, in the end, Uncle Nhom turned his face toward the rice field where you could only see spotty rice plants here and there, decimated by a severe drought. Near the edge of the rice field, a couple of birds were flying from one end of the field to the other and suddenly disappeared in the bordering forest.

Uncle Nhom pulled his pipe from his mouth and, with his eyes fixed at the bamboo trees, started speaking up with a low voice.

            “Then, where is she now? Here is the first letter she wrote to me when she arrived in Vientiane. She wrote that she has met and was staying with you," Uncle Nhom said while digging a letter from his pocket and handing it to me. After reading through it, I asked him a question,

”Could you tell me why did she leave?"

Uncle Yom removed the pipe from his mouth and started telling me the story in a succinct and precise way.

"After you left, Nhom has high hope she would meet with you again someday. She herself told me that you would come back for a visit within two years. When the rice growing season arrived, everything seemed to indicate that bad luck was going to hit our villagers again. That year, nobody was able to do any regular farming because of the drought; no dry farming either because they banned forest clearing. Even if there was no ban, farming would still not have been possible because it was so dry. The following year, we were hoping that things would improve. It turned out that nothing changed much at all. So, during the past two to three years, we had to seek job somewhere else to bring in some food.

“One day, Nhom said she was going to go and see you. She wanted to have you help her find a job so she could send some money home to buy food and school supplies. Two months after she left, we got this letter that she wrote.  But since then, she didn’t write us any more letters. The only thing we got was money and some packages. We want to know where she is, what she is doing, and why we no longer hear from her. We thought you were the one that helped her find a job and that she must have been staying with you”.

Uncle Nhom and I chatted until almost mid-night before going to bed. When I lowered my head on the pillow, the images of the past suddenly emerged in my mind and wouldn’t let me sleep.  I was thinking about the events that took place when I was on assignment here working on community development and met with Nhom. She was a nice and courteous girl, the one that deep in my heart I was looking for. Eventually, love flourished between the two of us, in complete faith and full commitment. Before I went back to my home office, I promised her I would be back in two years.

By the time I woke up the next morning, the sun was already high in the sky. I dressed up and said good-bye to her parents. As I set foot on the bus, I thought to myself that, in the future, if I had a chance to meet with Nhom again, I would most definitely ask her about what actually happened.  I was dying to know why Nhom didn’t live up to the promises we made to each other. Or was it just part of nature, since we express words with our tongue, which is a boneless muscle? You can say one thing now and do something different later.

I felt very disappointed, tried to lean against the back of the seat, and closed my eyes. As I started getting sleepy, Nhom’s picture showed up again in my mind. I opened my eyes but my heart was still preoccupied by images of the past between Nhom and I.

I did not know how many minutes have gone by since the bus had arrived at the station. As soon as I regained full conscience, I looked outside and realized that the bus had already stopped at the northern T-2 bus station. Passengers stepped out of the bus one by one and left the station for their respective destinations.

I got up from my seat, used some left-over water in a plastic bottle to wash my face, grabbed my bag, and jumped out of the bus. I then took a Tuk-Tuk motor cycle ride to go home. The Tuk-Tuk headed toward the Nongdouang market, turned left to Nongbouathong and right to Dongpalep, continued on Nongtha road, passed Houaihong and Bane Tatmixay, and dropped me off at my home. I felt so tired that day and planned to take a full rest before going to work the following day.

While I was still sleepy, one of my friends called. I extended my arm to grab the phone. My friend asked,  

“Buddy, are you now back from your out-of-town trip?"

“I came back this morning."

“How did it go? Did you meet with your sweetheart?"

“Yes, I met with her," I replied like a drunkard.

“Are you available this evening? I was invited to a small party and they asked me to invite you as well. So, come to see me at six o'clock this evening."

"OK!"

“Don't change your mind. If you did, you won’t be able to meet a beautiful girl who just joined the club."

“OK!"

After I hang up, I looked at my watch. It was already five thirty. To tell the truth, I wasn’t looking forward to having any glasses of beer, or meeting with the beautiful girl my friend was talking about. But deep in my heart I was keen on looking for Nhom as soon as I was back in Vientiane. Once you made a promise and ended up breaking it, you will always feel frustrated and revengeful. How could she tell her parents she was staying with me? After I left her house I have never seen her again in person, not even her shadow.  This called for at least two or three rounds of explaining the next time we meet.

After taking a shower and dressing up properly, I rode my faithful bike to the scheduled appointment place. “This is where new beautiful girls show up," said my dear friend, pointing at the front of a nightclub lit with two to three light bulbs. Inside were three to four sofas and several dinner tables. The lighting was half dark half lit, but you could see faces fairly clearly. My friend and I went inside and sat on the sofa located near the wall on the right hand side. 

A young man of about 18 approached us and politely greeted us,

“Hello, gentlemen, should we start with some bottles of beer?”

My buddy said, “Bring us three bottles of beer first! And can you ask Miss Done to sit with us? My friend just came from out-of-town.”

“Yes, I can! Please wait a few seconds.”

I tracked the young man until he disappeared behind the left door. Soon afterward, he came back with a girl. My heart beat with trepidation in a very abnormal fashion.  I was secretly praying that this was not Nhom, the girl that I loved because I didn't want to see her in this night club environment. Anywhere else would be OK, but not here. Three bottles of beer were placed on the table and that girl sat down with us. The minute I saw her, I was greatly relieved because she wasn’t the girl I was after.

“She is not Done," my friend said.

“Yes! This girl is called Done.”

“Maybe I was mixed up with names."

We drank with pleasure, emptied the three bottles, ordered four more, and after that, some hors d’oeuvre. At that point, I felt a little bit drunk. I tried to chat with Done about various subjects and learned that she was from the same province as Nhom. First, I tried not to ask but at the end couldn’t help it.

“May I ask you something?"

“Yes! Please do," she replied to me.

“Do you know someone by the name of Nhom?"

“Where did you know her from?" she asked.

“Well, it doesn't matter where. Tell me first if you know Nhom”, I asked point blank.

“There is nobody by that name over here right now! But there is one who looks very much like her. Do you want to meet with her or only with Nhom?” she said half-jokingly.

“Yes! Please bring her in."

At that moment, I really felt strangely disoriented. Maybe that was due to the fatigue I inherited because of the trip I just made. I leaned against the sofa with my eyes half-shut by the power of the light beer.

“Here she is, the girl who looks like Nhom.”

“Oh! They really look alike”, I said half-drunk after turning my face to her. I was also stunned and tried to rub my eyes several times. My heart was jumping and forced me to say, "Nhom!" I might be visually a little bit disturbed then, but I did notice that her face became ashen. She left the table quickly. I tried to call her back, to no avail. I got up from the sofa and tried to follow her, leaning left and right but my friend stopped me, pulled my hand down and told me,

“If she is not interested in you, then let her go. There are plenty of beautiful girls here."

“My friend, allow me to go and talk with this girl. I really must see her."

            That night, no matter how hard I tried, I didn’t get anywhere. My friend took me home, and I sort of caught some words in the air about “mistaken identity”. I could not admit that I saw the wrong person because her face still stuck for ever in my memory.

The following day, I quitted worrying. I went back to the same night club, ordered a bottle of beer, and asked the same young man I met the night before to bring Done in. Done showed up with a big smile in her face. As soon as she sat down on the sofa, she immediately greeted me with a question,

“Last night, were you disoriented because of love or because of the beer?”

I replied to her with a question, “Could I ask for your help?”

"Please do. Just tell me how, I will be glad to help!”

“Could I meet with last night’s girl again?”

“She told me she doesn't want to see you!"

“Why?"

"I don’t know why. She only told me that she doesn't want to see you."

“I am not a policeman with the task of investigating someone. You can tell her any lies you want as long as I can see her, that’s not illegal. Please help me I; I will give you a reward."

“Oh,  my God! I have never seen such a straight-to-the-point man like you before. Yes! I will help you, but only once!"

A few minutes later, she walked back to me, slightly shaking her head. She sat down with her hands under her cheeks, gave me a disappointed look, and said,

“There are plenty of girls. Why are you only that interested in that girl?"

“You do not understand. It’s more than pure interest.”

“What is it then?"

“May I go inside that room? Since she didn’t come out to see me, can I go in to see her instead?"

"She did come out, but when she saw you from the door, she went back in.”

I didn’t care about anything else. After asking for the club owner’s permission, I walked toward the right door and turned left into an aisle surrounded by apartments. The door of the apartment to the right was wide open. I saw a girl collecting her belongings. I walked to her asked, “Excuse me! Which room is Nhom staying at?"

“There is nobody by that name over here. Try somewhere else.”

“What is your name?

“My name is Pouai."

“You don’t have to lie to me. Your name is Nhom. Why do we have to lie to each other? If there is a problem, is it not better to try to work it out?  How would things improve if we keep on lying to people and deceiving them?” That was a rather long sentence that I used. She turned her face in my direction, a face as red as a fully grown pepper.

“Nhom! Nhom! You really are Nhom!" I couldn’t help to stay quiet.

“Yes, I am Nhom. What do you want to do?” she said with an angry voice.

“Nhom, I just came back from visiting your younger brother and your parents yesterday morning. I was committed to searching for you and, once I found you, to sending you home!”

“Send me home and you will then take care of my parents and brothers and sisters, is that right? Can you do it?”

She sat down on the frame of the bed like someone without soul. Soon, her tears emerged and started running down her white cheeks. She didn’t care to wipe her tears but instead let them drop uncontrolled. She then spoke up with emotion,

“If I don’t do this job, what other job would I do? I cannot even read and write."

“There are other ways to resolve the problem," I explained.

“Are you going to find me a job? Do you have any ideas where and how? Nowadays they only hire someone with education and degrees.  Do you know what school grade I last attended?"

“But you should not try to hide from me like this"

“Why do you need to know? I’m just a bad girl.”

“If you think it’s bad, then you shouldn’t have done it!”

            “Do you know anyone on earth who enjoys doing what he/she dislikes? Do you really think I like this job? You misjudged me. If I could find a better job, why would I do what I’m doing? What would you pick, do this job, or let yourself and your loved ones die of hunger? Who would want to create bad image for himself or herself? Who on this world would want to be exposed to the sun and the rain when he/she can avoid that? Do you really think I enjoyed doing what I do, when anybody can come in and kiss me or do anything they want anytime with me? You can go and ask women if they want to have several husbands.”

These lengthy explanations filled my ears rather badly.

The temperature went down gradually. I invited Nhom to sit at the table I have booked earlier for more discussion.  I looked at Nhom with sympathy but was still eager to critique her at length. She sat with her face looking down and used her fingers to scratch the flower pictures printed on the napkin.

“I would like you to go back home," I said after a long silence.

"You think you know how to take care of me and my family, is that right?”

“If we don’t do that, are there any other jobs for you?” I asked with a louder voice than before.

“I worked for 200,000 kips to 300,000 kips a month to feed myself and my family. You know that I have a family of eight to support. You come here to drink eight to nine bottles of beer in just a few hours. Do the calculation. Nine bottles times 12,000 kips per bottle, that’s how many thousands of kips? My family doesn’t have that much income at all. If I made that much, I wouldn’t be here even if you paid me. How can you say that?” she counter-attacked me.

“Nhom, no matter what, I still love you as I did before. I will look for some funds for you to start a business,” I said instinctively.

"Yes, go ahead and give me some funds."

At the restaurant, the band was fairly loud, but I felt sad. I stared with both my eyes at Nhom's face, which was just flooded with tears. I wanted to use all ten of my fingers to dry her tears, but there were so many people around us. I was not afraid of her, but I did respect her because people are not valued based on their appearances and faces. Their moral commitments are better indices of their personalities. That night, I said good-bye to Nhom pretty late in the night, “Nhom, I’m leaving now, it’s getting late. I still love you and will continue to love you forever!”

“Good luck!” she said with a smile mixed with tears.

20. The Waiting Day Arrives

The Waiting Day Arrives

Nhai carried a fourteen month old baby, jumping along the small road paved with broken bricks. She also sang songs with loud intermixed with low voice. Then, she stopped under a Kok Ta Kop tree and was thinking;"People might think I am mad.  I already have a family. Why do I still jump up and down like a teenager? Come on, Nhai! You are the head of the explosives recovery team, why would you act like this?"

Nhai and her baby sat down on a wooden bench in the middle of the yard. She looked into the sky above the Kok Ta Kop tree, which was covered with green leaves. She watched the clouds that floated around in the blue sky, pushed by the wind. 

All this made her think back six years ago, when she and her family lost her mother, a respected elder member. That was in the middle of June, under a clear sky. Nhai was carrying a food bag across the north side of the rice field when the blast of a bomb explosion was heard coming from the west. Water particles were flying in the air, amidst smokes that covered the whole bamboo forest.

Nhai frozed on the spot, but tried to direct her eyes to the area on fire and emitting strong smells. She was wondering if her father had detonated a bomb to clear up bamboo trees at the edge of the rice field and make more room available for farming. She tried to walk faster toward the edge of the rice field.  But, oh my God, when she got to within less than a few footsteps of the site of the explosion, she saw her father holding her mother and crying.  

"Nhai, your mother got hit by a ‘bombie’! Go home quickly and tell Uncle Pheng to bring a motor cycle here to take her mother to the hospital."

Her legs fainted on the spot. Nhai sobbed with a voice that could be heard throughout the whole rice field. She managed to touch her mother who was covered with blood. Both of her mother’s legs were broken, and portions of her intestines popped up from her stomach, covered with dark red blood.

"Please help my mother. She got hit by a bomb".

This loud voice asking for help resonated throughout the rice field and was heard by the other villagers working in the area. Those folks dropped their hand tools and rushed in to the site of the accident.  But, alas, after being carried halfway through the rice field, her mother couldn’t resist the crucifying pain and died.

The funeral for Nhai’s mother was performed at the village’s remote temple.  Relatives came from everywhere to pay their last respect to the deceased. Crying and moaning was the common practice; people were commiserating and openly blaming the unexploded ordnances, “Oh! How many more people will die because of ordnances?" Many funeral attendants had tears running down their cheeks.

Nhai walked in slowly and sat on her knees next to her mother’s coffin. Her eyes turned to a 25 by 30 centimeter photo of her mother.  In her hand were some burning perfume sticks. She cried and in the end managed to utter a few words,

"My dear mother! If your soul is alive, please help all of us to stay safe from danger.  I don’t know what to do now that you are gone!” She couldn’t do anything more other than crying with great pain and sorrow.

Her baby cried and waked her up from her sad dream.  She stood up, dried her tears, looked at her baby, and said,

“Cha! Cha! Go back to sleep in the cradle!”

Nhai hung the cradle to a branch of Kok Ta kop tree and moved it around with the baby inside.

“Close your eyes, I will sing to put you to sleep.  I will wash your diapers and wrap them around you. Eu! Eu! Close your eyes.” She went through the same motion several times until the baby felt asleep.

Nhai then went to the kitchen, placed some firewood under the soup pan, and returned to sit at the same bench. By that time, the sky turned from blue to dark as if the rain was on its way. Nhai looked to the west and saw a couple of birds flying east. This type of weather reminded her of the first day she went in to apply for the ordnances collector job, which was also the day she experienced her first disappointment in life. Various derisive words were used by the villagers about her job application, such as “A woman who doesn’t behave like a woman, way too ambitious to apply for an ordnances collector job. She should be ashamed of herself. Who is going to hire her? Plus, she barely has an education.”

Her father once told her at dinner, “I think you should withdraw your application, Nhai. This is becoming shameful. You can apply for a different job.”

“I can’t.  I must apply and re-apply if I have to, as long as they advertized for ordnances collector jobs. One day, they will endorse me,” she said with her eyes looking down to the floor and forcing saliva down her throat.

The third spring after her mother’s death, Nhai was still thinking about trying to become an ordnances collector. The thing she always remembered was the day she was asked to go in for the interview.

“Do you really want to be an ordnances collector?"

“Yes, I do."

“Why do you want the job that bad?"

“There are many villagers, including my own mother, who was killed by a bomb when she went farming," said Nhai leaning against the table, scratching it with her thumb nails, and acting very emotionally.

“OK, if you really want the job, we will hire you to see how much patience you really have.”

“I will survive no matter what happens.”

"You have to understand one thing and that is, ordnances collection means risking your life every second. If we do not learn all the things that need to be learnt, this could mean potentially losing your life."

“Even if I die, I won’t regret it."

“Do you know how many times you have applied for this job?”

"Four times."

“We want you to know that this is the main issue. We have noticed your perseverance in going after this job and we want to give you a chance, but you have to understand that point.”

Nhai stood up from her seat and kneed down on the floor with tears. These were tears of joy, tears that marked a sudden lifetime opportunity to face future challenges.

Some of the negative villagers’ feelings evaporated after she was sent for job training on ordnances collection in Vientiane. At the graduation ceremony, Nhai was proclaimed the top graduating trainee. The day of telling each other goodbye arrived. Everybody raised their hands to do so with tears in their eyes and fond memories, before going back to their respective assignment locations.

Time flied like water going under the bridge. Nhai’s life changed from being a plain villager to becoming a UXO team member. One could clearly notice that she always carried a book in her hands, even when she was in the middle of rice field, baking under the sizzling sun. She often opened the book, read a few pages of it, and went back onto the ground to continue sorting and digging. From time to time, she would pull out a handkerchief to wipe her sweat.

Her team leader often congratulated her and said,

“You are doing a great job, Nhai. This really reflects your strong desire to be an ordnances collector”.

Not getting any reaction other than a faint smile from Nhai, the team leader added, “I have heard that you will be promoted."

After hearing that, Nhai got up from the bomb hole she was digging and wiped her sweat. She put her handkerchief in her pocket, and approached her team leader.

“It’s not that important, boss. What is most important is to be able to do what you wanted to do”, she said with a broad smile

“Well, that’s what makes our big boss and our chief expert very happy”.

Nhai walked side by side with the team leader and headed toward the rest area to have lunch as she used to do every time during her work days. Nhai gave her assistance to many of her team members, especially women.

“Nhai, why are you sitting here by yourself?"

“Sy! Say something before you walk in. You stunned me!”

            “You were dreaming, were you not?”

“I was dreaming all over! What I can do for you?"

“This afternoon, the project director wanted us to destroy a big unexploded bomb, but we don’t know how to do it safely. That’s why I’m here to seek your help.”

Nhai said to her younger sister who was working on a silk weaver, “Somphou, please look after the nephew! I will go to work and will be back as soon as I can.” Then, Nhai stood up from the wooden bench, took a deep breath and thought about her mother again.

“Mom! Today, I’m getting what I had wished for. May your spirit protect me from danger all the time! I will do this job the best I can. May your soul stay in heaven.”

Written on July 23, 2005

19. Money vs. Life

Money vs. Life

Khamkeuth didn’t know how long he has been sitting in the dark in the kitchen patio, with his hands under his cheeks. It was then close to mid-night. He was waiting for the sun to rise because he had to make a decision affecting the fate of his five years old daughter.

Everything was awfully quiet. You didn’t hear anything except for the uninterruptible shrill sound made by the cicadas. From time to time, Khamkeuth heard the noise of dew moisture drops falling on his head and the moaning of his young daughter who was then sleeping in her mother’s arms.

"Khamkeuth, you should take your daughter to the hospital! If we keep on treating her with herbal medicine, who knows when she might recover", Uncle Som suggested.

"Uncle, I do want to take her to the hospital, but I have no money."

"Anything you can sell, do it now.  As long as you are alive, you will still be able to earn some money later. From what I can tell, she had been sick for almost six days now.  We cannot sit on it for ever, believe me. Use whatever money you have available. If you are a little bit short, you should ask for help from the doctor,” explained Uncle Som.

Khamkeuth didn’t react in any ways, except thinking at his rice field that was then filled with large and small spots of dead rice plants.  He used to walk up and down that field under the hot sun, with a basket in hand to move water from the ponds to the dry areas.  Once in a while, he raised his arms up and used his sleeves to wipe the sweat that flooded his face. Eventually, all the ponds went dry.  Oh, my God! You do have a strange way to punish the working people.

Super dry rice plants felt to the ground by the thousands. He shook his head like a hopeless person and looked at the horizon with sadness. Khamkeut had to find job with other villagers to bring some food for his family every day. The same situation prevailed during this year and last year’s rice growing season. May and June came without a single drop of rain for the seeds to soak in and sprout.

"Uncle Som, I don’t know what to do. Anything that is worth selling has already been sold to buy food for the family,” Khamkeuth said to Uncle Som.

“How about your big buffalo? You know, a daughter is more important than anything else."

“If I sold the buffalo, where would I find another one for farming? I will have to rent both the buffalo and the rice field. That would be tough to do.”

Khamkeuth took a long breath. He could hear louder and louder moaning from his sick daughter Phonkam, along with his wife’s voice trying to comfort her. He got up and rushed inside to grab a pajama, soaked it with water from a jar in the kitchen and used it to wash Phonkam’s face. 

“Our daughter is having a seizure. We have to do like this to reduce the shock,” he said to his wife. He brought a paracytamol pill and a bowl of water for his daughter to reduce her fever. He then sat down beside his wife, watched his daughter and added,

“Tomorrow, somebody will bring us some money. We should have enough to take our daughter to the hospital."

"Who is going to give you money that easily?" his wife asked with inquisitive eyes.

“I sold them our big buffalo."

“How are we going to grow rice next year? We are renting both the rice field and the buffalo. Aren’t we going to be out of business?”

“Honey, I didn’t know what else to do. This is our daughter’s life we are talking about. If we don’t have any buffalo or any growing field, we can still rent them."

After the second or third round of roosters’ crowing, Khamkeuth went to his bedroom, pulled out an antique silk-like cloth and put it in an old bag with a lot of grey spots on it. He put Phonkam on his back and wrapped her with a white pajama. People from remote areas did this when they carried their children on the highway, for a trip that could take two to three hours.

The following morning, Khamkeuth got out of the bus rather tired, with his daughter Phonkam on his back, asleep and moaning. He waved at a tricycle driver and asked him to take them to the hospital.

“Where do you want to go?"

“To the hospital!"

“Which hospital?"

“Anyone.  Do it fast; my daughter is very sick."

The tricycle driver made many road turns before reaching and stopping at a big building. This was very exciting to Khamkeuth, because he had never seen a building this big in his life. He was not interested in anything but rushing his daughter into the emergency room, screaming,

"Help, Doctor! My daughter is about to die."

Two or three nurses immediately took Phonkam into the emergency room. About five minutes later, the door of the emergency room opened. As soon as he saw the doctor, Khamkeuth ran toward him, deeply concerned about his child’s condition. The doctor stared at him and asked,

“You are the child’s father, right?"

“Yes, Doctor."

“Please wait here because the doctor has not seen her yet. After he did, we should know if your daughter has to be hospitalized or not. But right now, go and pay 15,000 kips for the shot she just had.”

Khamkeuth felt ashamed he thought the man dressed in white was a doctor and addressed him as if he was one.  He also thought about the 15,000 kips he had to pay. My! This costs as much as a whole month home treatment using traditional medicine. He said to himself, “Be as it may, now that we are in the hospital; I should let the doctor treat my daughter first.”

“Honey, we have to wait for the doctor to make his diagnosis before we can tell what caused your illness”, Khamkeuth told her daughter, caressing her head with love.

Time passed. As a dad, he waited with great worries as if a fire was burning inside his heart. He looked at every door to find out who is the real doctor who would come out and treat Phonkam, and became increasingly concerned. Phonkam was shaking of fever as if she had malaria. He kept patting her head back and forth, while watching at every door that opened up.

Somebody suddenly opened the door and walked in. Words instinctively came out of Khamkeuth’s mouth, without knowing who that person was,

"Doctor, please help my daughter!"

“I am not a doctor, just the tricycle driver that brought you to the hospital a while ago.  I need 15,000 kips from you for the ride.”

"15,000 kips? Why that much?"

"It’s not that expensive. These days, gasoline costs a lot, you know.”

Khamkeuth looked outside through the windows. The sun was already over the trees but still no doctor in sight. He looked at Phonkam who continued to shake constantly, with her face becoming darker and darker.  He ran outside to see if he could find a doctor. He did it again and again without much success. When he could not bear to see his daughter in deep pain, he decided to walk farther toward the end of the big building.

When he was there, he heard several people talking. He stepped inside and saw a patient lying on a bed, probably somebody in the same situation as his daughter. The person who sat beside the patient’s bed was speaking with a slightly fat doctor wearing a necklace as big as a small finger and a bracelet the size of two fingers. He could not bear to wait any longer and decided to go in.

“Doctor, please go and check my daughter. Her seizure is getting worse.”

“Go back there first! I will be there later," said the doctor, looking at him from top to bottom.

Khamkeut backed out and hurried back to the room where his beloved daughter was crying in pain. He ran in and out of the room, waiting for the doctor to arrive and acting very nervously. He perspired heavily and his sweat started dropping to the floor. His face became pale when he saw his daughter shaking more and more heavily. He couldn’t control himself and screamed loudly,

“Doctor! Please help my daughter. She is about to die."

This time, Khamkeuth’s call for help frightened the hospital’s patients and doctors who then came out in mass. What most the folks saw was Khamkeuth holding his daughter against his chest and sobbing. A doctor and some nurses took Phonkam in the medical examination room for about thirty minutes, leaving her dad waiting outside.

Those thirty minutes were like an eternity to Khamkeuth and created enough worries to stop his heart from beating. He waited, cried, and prayed the divinities to save his daughter’s life. As soon as the doctor emerged from the room, Khamkeuth rushed to ask him,

“How did it go, doctor? How is my daughter doing?”

“Don’t ask me those questions yet. Go in and see your daughter first, then come back and see me in this room.”

Khamkeuth opened the door in a hurry and saw his beloved daughter asleep. He used both of his hands to pat her hair back and forth with love. He then came out of the room to meet with the doctor again.

The minute he stepped in the room, the doctor looked at him from top to bottom and then turned his head to a filing cabinet on his right. The doctor pulled out a small piece of paper from the cabinet.  Khamkeuth tried to see what was on that paper, which looked like the paper used to wrap a cigarette. The doctor then slowly said,

“Now, can you tell me how much money do you have to pay for your daughter’s treatment?"

Khamkeuth said, “Doctor, I really don't have much. This is all we have in our family. We sold the only buffalo we had to get some money to pay for our daughter’s treatment.”

“That part, I don’t need to know. I only want to know how much money do you have in hand?"

“Just one million and five hundred thousand kips."

The doctor glanced at Khamkeuth once more, took a deep breath and said,

“In that case, you better take your daughter home and treat her with traditional medicine!"

“Excuse me, Doctor! We have already treated her without success with traditional medicine before we brought her to the hospital.”

"But if that’s all the money you have, that’s not enough to treat your daughter. At least, you should have two to three million kips!"

“Doctor, could I get some benevolent assistance for the needy from the hospital?”

The doctor paused for some thought and said,

“I understand your situation. In that case, the only way is to bring a letter from your village headman, and I will recommend that the hospital management help you with the payment.”

“Thank you very much for your kindness.  I will keep your good deed in my heart forever."

18. Eyes Tainted With Dust

Eyes Tainted With Dust

            Do you want to go and look at the cars with me?" a friend of mine asked while staring at me from top to bottom.

“How can I go with you? I don’t have money", I replied to him half-jokingly. But in the end, I had to get into my friend’s luxury sedan and drove out with him to Thadeua to look at cars at Thanaleng.

That day, the weather in Vientiane was especially hot. Along the road, you could see steaming vapors shooting up to the sky, which made you feel dizzy.

Less than twenty minutes later, we arrived at Thanaleng.  Somphone disappeared into the office while Saysamonh and I wandered around the parking lot where almost all types of cars are up for sale.

“This one is worth $3,000 US, that one, $5,000 USD, and the ones over there, $6,000”, Saysamonh told me, pointing to each individual car. In response, I nodded my head as usual.

            To buy a nice car when you only have 10,000 kips in your pocket could be a problem. The fact that the cars had to be paid in US dollars and that my salary was fairly low made it extremely difficult for me to swallow. While my good friend and I were walking around the car lot, the phone rang. I grabbed my cell phone and said,

"Hello my friend, how are you?"

"I am Ok."

"Can I help you with anything?"

"Yes!  Today my friend brought a pheasant from Khamkeuth district. I would like you to come and see me, is that possible? I would like to introduce you to him so he knows how you and I are related to each other."

"OK! I will do that.  I should go back in a few minutes. "

After he was done, my friend started the engine and turned the wheels back to Bane Phonetong Chommany. When we arrived at the appointment site, we were offered a glass of cold water, which greatly pleased me. Although I have lived in this village for many years, this was the first time that I had a chance to come to this place. I didn’t know how long I was sitting there, sipping cold water, when somebody brought a dish with fried squid and placed it in front of me, along with two bottles of Lao beer.

“Fresh water is not good enough; fresh beer is better", said a woman in her thirties who came and sat beside me, laughing with pride after making that introductory comment.

After a few glasses of beer, I started feeling a little bit dizzy. My face was getting numb. The hostess told the cook,

"Let’s serve lunch, it’s getting late!"

Lunch was then promptly served.  By then, the dish of fried squid was already empty. My buddy looked at me several times, but I didn’t know what he was trying to tell me. The time was 1:30 p.m., which was way past the usual lunch-hour accordingly to local standards. I felt hungry and didn’t pay attention to my friend’s signals. As I was squeezing the vaporizing sticky rice in my hand and about to dig into the pheasant salad bowl, my friend said,

"I will definitely defame you! I am pretty sure I will do it!" 

My friend looked at me again as I was about to hit the bowl to get some food for my empty stomach. I was hungry, my face was pale, and my heart was beating stronger than normal.  I put the sticky rice in my mouth and started chewing.  The hostess looked at me with a sweet smile and said,

"Bon appétit!  Please eat! Or, maybe, you don’t eat pheasant?”

“I know you are one of the government officials who urge people not to hunt wild animals.  If you eat pheasant, I will slander you," my close friend repeated.

"You can eat it. There is nothing wrong; the pheasant was already dead," my hostess commented.

"If you eat it, I will know all your hidden secrets," my close friend warned.

"If we do not eat it, other people will because it was dead," my hostess added.

"If you eat it, that means you are lying to yourself and to others. You wanted people to stop eating wild animals and stop killing them, but you yourself eat those animals," my close friend repeated.

I kept squeezing and squeezing the sticky rice that I had in my hand until it was as sticky as the glue. I swallowed the rice wad with great effort like someone pulling a fallen tree by its branches.  My saliva was dry like the forest in May, before the onset of summer. My face was so numb that I would not have felt any pain when hit by a 5-kilogram hammer.

"Do it, my friend! Eat the wild animal’s meat. It was 100 percent dead”, my hostess chimed in.

"Is that because you don’t you eat wild animal’s meat, or is that because of your official duties?” asked a man in his forties who sat close by.

"No! No!" I replied with trembling voice.

"If it is not because of your duty, then you can eat it," said the thirty years old woman.

"My friend is one of the workers who preach wild animals preservation," my buddy clarified.

"Duty is duty; eating is eating," my hostess concluded.

I did not know what to do; but my hand mechanically reached out for a spoon on the lunch basket. I used the spoon to pick a piece of pheasant’s meat and put it in my mouth. People were looking at me all at once, including my hostess and everybody else present in the room. Everything happened very quietly and very quickly…

17.The Foretold Fortune

The Foretold Fortune

When faced with a series of difficult circumstances one sometimes almost feels ready to commit suicide. But if you do kill yourself, those who outlive you will use it as a motive to criticize you, accusing you for being a dumb person who doesn’t know how to resolve his own problems. Sometimes, you might be afraid that, after you committed suicide, you might end up in hell. Also, what would happen to your surviving family? Who would take care of them? As he kept on thinking, all Bounleune could do was to rest his chin on his hands and take a deep breath to alleviate his worries.

That day, Bounleune got tired of sitting with his hands on his knees and wrestling with those devil-triggered worries that controlled his head. He grabbed his motor cycle and drove around Vientiane to get rid of those worries momentarily. He veered his motor cycle into the That Dam compound and slipped into a house where 5 to 6 of his former schoolmates were staying. All of them had the same problems and their main interest was to find out how their future would look like and what to do to avoid misfortunes. The only way to do so was to see a fortune teller who could predict the future and offer possible solutions to dark predictions. Bounleune took a deep long breath and told his friends this was the first time in his life that he was interested in fortune telling.

“Try to see a fortune teller for me and find out what I need to do to be successful in my job"

“I am tired; and no matter what I do, I will not get any better. In fact, I will be worse off. I’m not sure what is cursing me."

“My friend, the fortune teller knows everything about our life. He can even tell we did in the past, what we do now, and what we need to do in the future to make things better. If you do not believe me, tomorrow you should go to see the fortune teller and follow his instructions. I think your life may be better after that," a close friend of Bouleune advised him with great confidence.

"I have never done it before. I am afraid that it will be of no use."

“One important thing, my dear Bounleune, is that we have to believe in what we do. If we don’t, fortune-telling will not be accurate for you. You have to believe in something."

“But I have heard that fortune telling is just guessing and cannot be taken seriously," said Bounleune.

"My friend, that’s exactly how a non-believer thinks."

The open, free-for-all discussion on how to find ways to address life problems ended without any real conclusions. Everyone went his own way, which caused headache to Bounleune. What a dumb life! He sat with his hand on his cheeks and thought back to what one of his old friends said when they went to school in the former Soviet Union,

"Can you see that everything is so unpredictable? One day, I was running out of ideas because nothing worked for me. After I went to see a fortune teller and did what he suggested, less than half a year later I got promoted to the branch chief’s position!”

Bounleune got up from the chair and continued thinking. Finally he decided to go and see a fortune teller to find out for himself what it is all about. for sure. He changed his dresses, put on his work attires, headed out to the morning market, and sat down in front of a fortune teller.

"Young man, do you want to find out about your fortune?"

Bounleune did not waste any time. He took the cards as instructed by the fortune teller and arranged them into separated piles. The fortune teller looked at Bounleune and the pile of cards in front of him, and asked,

“What do you want to know? In the past, you went to study abroad and you were a good student."

Bouleune’s eyes immediately opened widely. He thought about his friend telling him that the fortune teller knows everything. This guy was so accurate like if he had seen everything with his own eyes.

The fortune teller slightly moved his seat and asked another question,

“When you studied abroad, how many girl friends did you have? I see you had two girl friends; one black and one white! Where do you stand now in your life? I see you have many problems, and they are mostly work-related. People are trying to give you hard time. You must be very careful because you still have kharma from your past life."

“What should I do?"

“You have to make merit offering immediately because your fortune is at its lowest point right now."

Bounleune came home with some sadness. He had to do merit-making as advised by the fortune teller, something he had never done before. And, if the fortune teller was just guessing, how did he know that much about somebody else’s past life? Did he have magic eyes to speak with so much confidence?

That night, Bounleune could not sleep. He woke up many times as if he had something stuck in his back. When he got up the next morning, he saw the bright sun light passing through a small window opening and landing in his room. He quickly washed his face, and put on a nice suit with neck-tie like if he was going to attend an international conference. He used his cell phone to ask his friend to come and pick him up.

He drove to the morning market with his friend on a Tiger pick-up car and went directly to a fortune teller’s shop.

“Chief, what do you want to consult me about?"

"About my fortune."

He went through the various steps of card dealing and sorting requested by the fortune teller. The fortune teller looked squarely at his face, then looked at the cards and slowly spoke up.

“The chief’s fortune is very good. It looks like you will be promoted in the near future."

“How about my family situation right now?” asked Bounleune.

“Right now, you have plenty of money and you are among the wealthy people.”

Bounleune got and walked back to the pick-up car. He laughed and laughed loudly and drove away.