8.Promise Under Moonlight

Promise Under Moonlight

August 1996. A four-door pickup with a Lao Red Cross license plate ran toward the town of Soukouma at medium speed, passing through a green rice field. The landscape has changed a lot compared to that of last year. All the roads leading to town are now going through huge rice fields the edges of which could hardly be seen. Even though we were inside the vehicle, we could still hear the sound of water flowing steadily over the dikes. We had been driving over a muddy road for many hours; it was time to stop somewhere by the rice field to give the car a wash. 
“ Let’s find a good site”, said Vilay.
As we got out of the pickup, a gentle breeze brought in the sweet smell of the growing rice plants to our great delight. We had to get the pickup into the water to wash the mud off. I told Vilay I was going for a quick 15 to 20 minute walk along the road to stretch my legs. Rice fields extended to the horizon, and birds were flying back and forth and they were busy singing. This year the crop should be abundant, unless a natural disaster were to strike; the rice plants look so luxuriant and the cultivation acreage had increased many folds from last year. This relaxed atmosphere made me dream while I was wide-awake and I couldn't help but sit down and admire the landscape.
Back in 1991, a survey team had been combing the area, gathering data on soil conditions. Cars were continuously running around from dawn to dust going from one work site to another.
Our pickup crossed the rice fields and made a stop at a house under construction. People greeted one another with friendly accolades and it only took me a short while to find out that the owner's name was Bounkong. Even though we just got introduced to each other, the fact that we were in the same profession made it sounded like we were old acquaintances. I drank a full glass of water and looked around. My eyes stopped at a hut, which was located near the survey team's temporary quarters. Inside that hut I saw a bed and some household goods like soaps, washing detergents, and a few other items. One could sense a lot of care and attention was given to that attractive shop by with its owner, giving it a special personal touch.  I found out that her name was Nang Kong. This beautiful girl looked like a flower and she was out there decorating the place in a very pleasant way. And, she was still single! Despite its remoteness, this was a very inviting place to stay; everything was so pure and so natural compared to other more civilized and brighter areas where purity and sincerity are hard to find.
The girl and I had a chance to get acquainted and in due time nurtured a loving relationship. That night was a full moon night, with a gentle breeze blowing from the east. Now and then one could hear the birds singing from far away from Houai Kamouane creek. A lonely owl sang "Crouk, Crouk" from the top of a tree. If you were out there by yourself this late in the night, it could be pretty eerie enough to make your hair stand up. But that didn't bother us. We promised to love each other for life before we departed.
Each of us let our sweet dream wander with the wind. We had short breaths and we had long breaths; she looked at me and then turned her face down, and dug a small hole in the ground with a stick. When she quietly cleared her nose, I realized she was crying. I got hold of myself and managed to tell her with conviction and sincerity that she will be my only love. She immediately responded with a trembling voice,
"You made me love you and trust you, and then you will leave me."
"In fact, after I met with you, I no longer wish to leave you at all. But I have to, because of my work. What else could I do?"
"What about me? What should I do?", she said as she raised her beautiful hand to dry her tears.
All I could do was to try to reassure her with a calm voice:
"Kong sweetie. Please wait for me. As soon as I'm done with my work in Vientiane, I will be back to formally ask for your hands. Of course, assuming you will not change your mind before!"
Above us, stars were surrounding a majestic full moon, all waiting to witness our declaration of love to each other and to wish us eternal happiness. The owl also seemed to be sending his songs at higher frequency from somewhere by the creek as if he was signaling our impending separation.
I once more promised,
"As soon as I arrive in Vientiane, I will send you a letter. Do not forget to respond, whether you have anything to tell me or not."
A few days later I returned to Vientiane with the rest of my team.  I immediately sent her my first letter at her Soukhouma address. For the next month, my writing was once a week. My last letter read,
"My dear Kong,
"From the day I left you for Vientiane, I haven't stopped thinking about you. Do you miss me too? My return trip went fine, but I long for you, my one and only love, every second. Would you believe me if I told you I have been dreaming about you every night? Late at night during the moon cycle, I would look up and feel overwhelmed by the falling dew. The moon remains clear and serene. Kong, do you watch the moon like I do? Kong, my love, after you receive this letter, send me some news. Do not forget the promises we made to one another. I'm always ready to go back and ask you to be my wife as promised.  Love,
Boun Lay"
I wrote one letter after another, but didn't know what happened to them. Did they ever get delivered to her? Did she find another lover? Was she too busy? At first I was patient but later on her silence started to wear on me. I was so nervous that I spent time and again to smoke cigarette after cigarette; the whole area below my bed was full of cigarette butts. My smoking increased drastically, from one pack a day to two or three packs a day. The cigarette smoke fed up people sitting next to me, and my own health took a toll, even though I never forgot Kong.
I was interrupted in my daydreaming when Mr. Vilay, the Lao Red Cross official, said,
"Let's go in and get some drinks, before we go into town".
I turned my back to the guava tree and walked away from that corner of the paddy field to rejoin the rest of my team, still troubled by those memories. All I could do was to surmise that by now, she should have been married, carried children, and happy with her family. One day, I had a chance to walk along that same road I used to take, going by her house. The chair I used to sit on was still there, near the coconut tree.
I noticed an old woman near the house and approached her,
"M'am, what happened to all the folks that used to live here?"
"This house? They all went to spend the night at their farmhouse," she said.
"And the two sisters? Where are they?"
"They got married."
"Both of them?"
"Yes, the older sister first, and the younger sister, two months after that."
"Where were the grooms from?"
"Oh, they were from this area."
I felt relieved, knowing that she married somebody local so they can continue the same type of occupation. She now has a family that has found happiness working in the field. Although naturally deeply disappointed, I wished continued happiness for her and her family.