============================================================== To reach ALL SJD members, please send to sjd@satjadham.net ... Do NOT include any other addresses when sending to the list... Include as LITTLE of the original messages as possible........ Message sent by: LanXang Siengkhene *** Announcement: *** Please register for SatJaDham Fifth Annual conference at the website http://www.satjadham.org/sjd5sd/ ============================================================== Sabaydii my fellow Satjadhamers, Next month, Phayvanh and I will launch a novel project. As a fine and energetic writer, Phayvanh will take care of the month of May with her very fine novel. I, myself, will cover the whole month of June with the novel “Fallen Leaves” (just finished the first chapter). My novel is likely to have about 10 chapters. Anyone who is interested in taking part in this project, please sign in: July ? August ? September ? November ? December ? As a jumpstart to this project, I will post a short story called “The Exile”. In case that you can’t write or not in a position to write a novel yet, a short story is fine. That is if it is a short story, each month should have at least 2 postings. Soudary, Amp, Dokmai, Alisak, Adisack, Pom, Toon and anyone! It is time for you to shine. Join us! By the way, here is my short story for this month Satjadham birthday. ***** Devoted to all of our patriots overseas. No patriot wants to leave his homeland but as circumstance is beyond one’s control, one is destined to live a life one has never imagined of. With that in mind, the short story below comes into being. ***** The Exile He is always at his computer desk writing articles. He doesn’t mind the noise all around. In fact, he is used to any kind of disturbance. At the kitchen, his wife is making the dishes. The bang from pot and pan become a normal thing whenever she is entrenched in the kitchen. Sometimes, she even complains that the kitchen is too small. It is not designed for cooking at all. At the other end of the living room, his son is playing the video game while his daughter blasted the music as if the noise from the kitchen and the video game is not enough. “Come help me with the cooking?” Comes a sound from the kitchen. “Wait. Give me 5 more minutes.” He answers as soon as he heard her. In fact, he took care of some cooking before sitting at the computer desk. Still, his wife finds something else for him to do all the time. 5minutes have passed and he doesn’t show sign of getting up yet. His wife looks at the clock and makes an unpleasant voice: “When are you going to come help me?” and, after a brief pause: “are you going to eat your writing instead?” With those words, he has to get up hesitantly. Of course, his face shows sign of discontent. Still, he realizes that if he doesn’t get back at that moment, there is going to be no dinner. Over 10 years of marriage, they still don’t get anywhere despite his college degree. His salary is below her expectation. What’s important is he still can not make enough money to buy a home for her yet. Sometimes, out of frustration, she threatened to divorce him. What’s more: he grows beard. Looking not so handsome, to start with, even makes him look worse now. With that in mind, he tries his best to please her. He knows he can’t find any nicer, prettier woman than she is. What’s more: he realizes that she has given so much to him. It is time that he should care of her as he had promised to her. Still, he is addicted to writing. In fact, he loves Muang Lao and Quon Lao so much that he can’t take himself away from writing about them. At times, he could write the whole day and still has more to add on. It has been close to 20 years he was away from Laos. Most people whom he knows have already gone back to visit her. For him, he just couldn’t make himself go. It doesn’t mean that he is too poor to afford it. In fact, it is more than a money matter. In his mind, he still has a vivid memory of the day he left Laos. That day, he had to cling on a raft letting the swift current of the rainy season drift him wherever it wished. With life on the edge, he still couldn’t hold his eyes from glancing at the land he had left behind. “I felt a shivering in my heart and a flow of tears down my cheeks as a chilly breeze brushed against my face and a cold water submerged my body…” His journal once recorded. Now, there was going to be only the memory left…no more walking by the Mekong River at the sunset and no more staying by grandpa listening to the old, old stories. If only he had wings, he would fly back to see grandpa in the middle of the night and get a glimpse of the majestic Mekong River one more time. Sadly to say, his grandpa just passed away. Now, he has no compelling reason to step his foot in the land that exiles him any more. He wishes that, some day, if Muang Lao belongs to Quon Lao again, he would be the first one to go back and would never leave her again. He knows that it is just a wishful thinking. It is likely that he would die broken hearted in this foreign land. “Take Ngau to bed early today. He didn’t have enough sleep last night.” His wife hollers while frying the pan. Ngau is their only son. She loves him as dearly as her own eyes. Sometimes, he will get into trouble if he doesn’t feed him as lovingly as she is. To say the least, their son is old enough to take care of himself. Still, mother’s love is just overflowing as to do nothing for her beloved son. Then, she added: “You can stay as late as you want after Ngau sleeps.” “As you said” he replies while waiting to be told what to do. “Pass me the salt” she says even without looking at him. Sometimes, he wonders why she has to make him come to the kitchen as she can handle everything by herself. Then, he realizes that women always need to feel that their husbands care about them. It is not the labor that matters much but the presence and the willingness to help do. Back in Laos, he was a student of great potential. He could dissect thick books with ease. Like other young Lao youth, he was leaning to the left. He thought they represented the best wishes of ordinary Lao people. Little did he realize that he was just a fool being dragged around. At the onset of the revolution, he was too anxious to contribute to the land he cared, and to the people he loved. He sincerely hoped that, one day, Laos would be for all Lao again. Then unexpectedly, things changed for the worse. The monarchy was abolished. The coalition government was dissolved. Many capable people and ardent patriots were leaving the country in hordes. Worse yet, for those who stayed behind, there were both secluded and open seminars. Left leaning as he was, he was still shocked to see these drastic actions towards his own compatriots for the only reason that they happened to be on another side of the fence. At the same time, he witnessed the rampant corruption of those who were supposedly on the side of people, not to mention that these new leaders had plunged Laos into a political and economic Dark Age. Gradually, his hope of a better Laos was shattered. The iron rule was in place instead of a democracy where people were the true masters of the country. Worse yet, the country was heavily interfered by the supposedly comrade-in-arms. That was more than he could tolerate. If he had to live, it was better to live as a free man than becoming virtually a slave in his own country. At least, it would save him some insanity. That went his self-imposed exile. “Why don’t you go back to Laos if you love her so much?” asks his wife. “If it is that simple” he mumbles to himself. In fact, nobody understands as to why he doesn’t go back to Laos or, at least, visits her. He can travel to any place he likes. Better yet, with dollars in his pocket, he will be treated like a king as many returnees were. Still, that is not what he wants from Laos. In fact, he can go by a simple life teaching Lao kids in the countryside as long as she is free to follow the path of her proud LanXang ancestors again. “Prepare the table. We are going to have dinner now.” His wife calls out to him for he is sneaking back to the computer desk again. After setting the table, he rushes back as fast as he gets there. Before he could sink in the chair, his wife’s voice takes him back. “If you are not hungry yet, come feed Ngau first.” As usual, after feeding Ngau, it is the time to wash the dishes, clean the floor, and help the kids doing the homework. Before he can finish everything, it is almost 10pm. Alone at the computer desk, his eyes wander to a far place. No matter how hard he tries, he just can’t finish his article. Or does it mean that the life of the exile like him can only function when time is hectic? Or does it mean that being an exile, he has to taste the exiled life full of frustration until the end of his life? Whatever it is, the last words of his abrupt end article are: “I wish for one thing in life. Hope that it is not too much: when I die, have my ashes sent back to Muang Lao for, while being alive, I never have a chance to be with her at all.” ***** Hakphaang, Kongkeo Saycocie __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Talk to your friends online and get email alerts with Yahoo! Messenger. http://im.yahoo.com/ _ ***************************************************************** Visit SatJaDham Homepage at: http://www.satjadham.org (or .net) *****************************************************************