Sabaydii, For the next couple of days, I will present you a story of my Khene which I bought from Laos. In fact, I already finished writing it on a paper but I need to type it in order for you to read it. For a start, here is the first installment. ***** This Khene has come a long way It is there leaning against the wall next to my computer desk. Before, I placed it on the entertainment set, but it fell off a couple of times. My wife suggested that I should lay it down somewhere safely otherwise it will break off due to the constant falling. If it is so, my brave adventure with it will amount to nothing. She soundly reminded me. That’s right. Telling the truth, I had so much hard time bringing it to the U.S. that I swore I would never carry one from Laos any more. You might ask what I am talking about. Why is it so hard bringing it to the U.S.? Yes, it is the Khene - pronouned like “Khaen”. As I pride myself on being a true Lao, I have to have to own one. Now, imagine a long instrument about the length of a guitar, but very delicate in its structure that if something hard pressed on it, it might easily be broken off. Once it is broken, it can not be fixed like a guitar while maintaining the same sound quality. Also, this khene is too long to fit my luggage so the only way to bring it to the U.S. is to carry it with me. That is precisely the thing I did. The story goes… I bought this Khene at the formerly known as the Morning Market on the last day I stayed in Laos. The reason it took me too long to get one was because I wondered how I could carry all of my stuffs to the U.S. I had two big luggage (one for my clothes along with my books and another containing things from folks at home for folks in the U.S.). Also, on the way to the U.S., I had to stop in Thailand and Japan, not as a transit point but for a stay quite some time. I thought carrying a Khene with me would certainly look countryside not to mention awkward with mountains of luggage all around me. Also, I vividly remembered one event about Khene when I visited a village in Mahaxay district, Khammouane province. To my surprise, the whole village has only one Khene and it was not working well. Worse, there was hardly anyone who could play it. Just imagine Mahaxay district where Khene played such a prominent feature in the district cultural life and where the making of a good Khene was well known, now it becomes more and more a thing of the past. Hurting by that incident, I decided to go on with one at the very last moment. The journey began at Wattay (Vientiane) airport. Carrying a Khene was not a big deal in one’s own country though some might look at me as a country boy. Then the real journey started at DonMuang (Bangkok) airport. There, Thai people watched me with strange looking eyes: some in scorn and some in pride. For those scornful eyes, they seemed to say “here is another Buk Suoy” refering mainly to the Isan country boys. For the those admiring eyes, they mainly came from those who were labeled as Isan people. That day, an influx of Isan people coming home from work in Taiwain due to the recent Asian economic crisis. Though being of a different country, we speak the same language, and not surprisingly, when they saw my Khene, their eyes completely accepted me as one of their own. Besides the incident of the eyes, everything seemed to go smoothly. At least, they had a car to pick me up at the airport. When I checked in the hotel, with a Khene in my hand, every hotel staff present at that time knew at once that I was not Chinese, Japanese or Korean which some people mistakenly thought of me because of my skin and my one layered lid eyes but Lao and purely Lao. Carrying a U.S. passport and a wallet packed with dollars certainly made the Thai people treat me differently. Talking about this, I remembered one incident very well. One of my friends from Laos went to buy the airplane tickets. When she presented the airline people her Lao passport, their eyes and demeanor changed for the worse. By intention or not, her passport dropped from the counter. When one of the airline people were about to pick it up for my friend, the other one yelled at him: “Don’t do that. She is not our people.” While in Thailand, I left my Khene at the hotel. Still, the spirit of the Khene went with me when I visited Wat PhaKeo and saw PhaKeo who was shamelessly stolen from us like many of our people and territory. Interestingly, most of the taxi drivers in Bangkok were from Isan. At least all of a dozen trips I made around the city were from Isan. When they knew that I was Lao, they distinguished themselves clearly as Lao when talking about Thai people. From their statement, they strongly claimed that Thailand was built on their sweat and blood. Only if they had a leader, Thai people wouldn’t be a match to them. Too bad, these strongly built people were virtually a second class citizen even in their own country. On the upbeat side, almost everywhere, Tam Mak Houng or in Thailand they called Som Tam, was a hit. I ate it every day while staying there. There were two kinds of Tam Mak Houng: Lao style and Thai style (to suit the taste of Thai people). I tried Thai style once but it was no match for Lao style in its spiciness and delicious to the bones. The Isan lady who Tam Mak Houng the Lao style while I was visiting Khorat was very pleased to see me finish the full plate of it. (To be continued) Hakphaang, Kongkeo Saycocie