The story was about a woman whose portrait decorated the front window of
the photography shop in Vientiane.  Every passerby whose eyes happened
to fall on the portrait just couldn’t help admiring her beautiful
smile.  Then the story was kind of tracing back to the owner of that
smile, how she left the country and settled in New York with the first
wave of refugees, and how the smile was more and more a thing of the
past as she was stuck in a high rising building with no one to talk to
and no one to understand.  It will do a lot of justice if you can read
it by yourself. Besides, I read the story over 17 years ago. Still, I
remembered the picture he painted very well. That could tell you how
powerful the story was.   By the way, It was entitled “That Smile” and
was translated into the Thai language.  Thinking of the story again, I
was kind of sad to leave the country where every single Lao was most
needed.
I would love to talk about some of the people who are more or less like
Ai Outhin such Bounthanong, another fellow writer, Euay Dara and Euay
DouangDeuane, the daughters of Maha Sila Viravong who are the well know
writers themselves, Euay Mayouri, a Lao historian and researcher, and
Loung Houmphanh, an ardent preserver of Lao culture and heritage.  I
think I will leave them for my next story devoted specially to Laos.
Ai Outhin was very pleased that I had brought a Khene from Laos with
me.  Still, he asked where I got it.  He told me that the best Khene
should be from Nam Ngum.  He knew the maker of Khene since he had build
another house of a Lao style over there by the river.   In his vision,
he planned to use it as a library to store all Lao books, and also a
place for the gathering of Lao writers.  He confided with me that the
quality of writing in Laos was very bad compared to the time before
1975.  Up to recently, in order to have more leeway, he focused his
writing mainly on young kids.  No matter what he wrote, they were in
good quality and, as a result, some of his works were translated in many
languages namely French and English.  With me, I have a collection of
his recent works kindly provided to me by my wife, Euay DouangDeuane.
While in Tokyo, I met a Japanese guy with a boyish looking face.  His
name is Othsuka.  I knew him through email.  Through this guy, I had a
chance to see another side of Japan.  It was kind of a red light
district, and it was well know throughout Japan.  This quarter of Tokyo
was very alive during the night. Its many streets were crowded with
business dressed male who were hanging around after work and pretty
women who were looking for cheap money.  Adding neon lights from the
adult bookstores, nude dancing places, high skyrocketing buildings, and
blaring noises from the passing cars and shouting sex salesman, this
place seemed to be never at sleep.
At the corner of one street, my eyes happened to fall on one couple, a
business dressed male and a tight skirt female busily kissing one
another.  I thought of recording the scene but just stopped my video
camera for some untold reasons.  I jokingly said to Othsuka that this
video intrusion might upset them.  Othsuka answered with a weird smile
that :”No, it won’t but, instead, they will kill you.”
We smell this quarter of Tokyo until most of the business dressed male
were about to leave this place in herds.  Yes, it was almost midnight
and the last train around would arrive very soon.  When we got to the
station, the place was swelled with all sorts of people, and they strode
faster than usual.  Once the train arrived, everybody was for oneself
dashing in as fast as one could.  Here, there was no courtesy, no giving
in seat to older people or female.  You were considered lucky to get
in.  Most of the time riding a train meant standing on the train with
people’s breath on your neck, and their bodies rubbing on you each time
the train made a stop.  I remembered my Russian friend who jokingly said
to his Japanese wife when we were riding on the train the other day:
“The Japanese are considered to be very polite people except in the
train.  Here, there is no excuse me, no anything.”  Looking at her, I
couldn’t help thinking of Othsuka’s words: “The Japanese women are
nothing more than a sexual object.  They are treated badly by their male
counterparts.  Worse, they accept that role.  I hate Japanese women.  On
the other hand, I like Lao women wearing Sinh.  The sight of Lao
schoolgirls wearing Sinh to school really fascinates me.  That’s why I
like to visit Laos whenever I can.”  In fact, this Othsuka went to Laos
a dozen times already and had a Lao girlfriend.  What amazed me about
him was that he could speak, read and write Lao better than most of our
young Lao kids in the U.S. That was not all. He could play Khene too.  I
wondered how he could do all that while working over half a day and had
only 4 or 5 hours of sleep every night (it took him over two hours to
get to work and another two hours to get back home).  I would like to
take this occasion to thank him for his kindness taking care of
everything for me starting from the train tickets to paying for the
hefty Lao meal.  Without him, I would see Japan only on one side.
At Narita airport on the last day in Japan, an American guy saw my Khene
while I was waiting to board the plane to the U.S. He said “Thailand?”
“No” I proudly answered “Lao”.  Yes, Khene could never be anything else
but Lao.
…..
Glancing at my Khene again, I couldn’t help smiling at it.  No one knows
how much I grow attached to it, and no one knows what it means to me.
This Khene as well as any Khene is not only a musical instrument but it
is us, our root, our hope, and our life. Like the saying that goes:
“Wherever the Khene is played, the Lao is there.”
If only I hold everything I do to my heart the way I carry the Khene, I
will sure make Muang Lao and Quon Lao proud.  Maybe, one day, or maybe
until the day I can manage to play the Khene the way our ancestors play
it.  Until that day….

Let me end the story with this free verse:
I will some day

Lan Tae, Tae Lae Lae Lan Tae ….
Beautiful is the Khene
Riveting is its sound
Meaningful is its tone
When you hear it
It transports you back
To where
once the two banks of the Mekong river was Lao
to when
our hearts were pounding at the same beat
and to why
sacrificing one’s life for one’s country was more precious
than serving under other others.

I will one day play it
With all of my heart and soul
For all Lao to listen
To remember
And to not forget
What we once were
And where we always wanted to be

Remember
What Chao Anou said
In San Lub Bo Soun (the indestructible message)
“Born to the lion life,
won’t it be a shame
to hide under the shallow grass?”

If you are a true Lao,
You will know what I mean
Lan Tae, Tae Lae Lae Lan Tae ….



Hakphaang,
Kongkeo Saycocie