By now, I hope everyone has had a chance to digest (and even internalize) 
Sonny's poem.  Not to divert attention from his poem, I'd like to submit 
mine. It's inspired by an Genevieve's article, which reminded me of the 
injustice that inflicted our Salt Lake Laotian community a few years ago.  
Despite my awareness of numerous injustices in my lifetime, I strive to  
limit my complaining while aspiring to help build a more just society.  
Having mentioned that lifelong goal, I will briefly outline the injustice 
that cripled the financial and spiritual welfare of our people in Utah.

In 1991, Jim Robinson, a jolly Santa Claus-like figure, came to the 
rescue of the under-paid Lao workforce.  His kindness manifested in the 
form of providing high-paying, self-paced assembly jobs, which could be 
performed at home.  For his kindness, Mr. Jim required a modest sum of 
money, in advance, as a security deposit for the materials that were taken 
home. Like some viral disease, the news of Mr. Jim's kindness reached every 
Laotian home within a couple of weeks.  Along with the news came dreams 
of sports cars and fancy houses and hot spas and classy clothes 
and...happiness!

As our people flocked to the pot of gold, we brought with us thousands 
and thousands of dollars in good faith.  After about a month's promise, 
Mr. Jim finally did bless us with our very first fat pay checks on a Friday.
The checks cleared with no problem and everybody's confidence rose to 
higher peaks.  

On the following Monday, news had reached our home that Mr. Jim's shop 
was completely abandoned and everyone asked each other:  "Where's Mr. Jim?".
It didn't take long before we asked:  "Where's that jerk, Jim?".  Not long 
after that, we realized that most of our savings had gone down the 
drain; collectively, we lost over $250,000.  Even worse, the banks 
re-claimed the money that was wrongly given to us.  Ultimately, we were 
stuck with these disgustingly bright yellow containers in which we lugged 
our assembled work; it remains a useful artifact in our home. 

When Mr. Jim was finally tracked down, he was virtually immune to any 
legal liability on the grounds that "there was not enough evidence to try 
him".  Forgive my legal ignorance, but 40 to 50 witnesses (families) is 
enough evidence to convict a saint.  Attempts to get legal help were 
futile; not enough of us would risk "throwing good money after bad 
money".  Furthermore, the individual families were comforted by their 
smaller loss relative to what others might have lost.  Even more 
"crab-like", the ones that watched us getting scammed from afar laughed 
sadistically at our ignorance.  Brothers and sisters, I am saddened and 
angered at the political impotence of our people.

Perhaps that wasn't so "brief" after all.  Here's my tribute to Mr. Jim:

           Justice

Life is about searching for the truth,
for in the absence of truth, we meander
perpetually in obscurity.

Life is about mustering up the courage
to confront the truth, for in the absence
of courage, we inevitably retract to the familiar
fetal position, only to rot in oblivion.

But courage alone does not suffice, for
it may sometimes lead us astray.
Wisdom, my dear friends, is the
invisible hand that sprinkles specks
of light toward and along the treacherous road
to justice.  And in justice we all shall rejoice.

vic

------
Satjadham will not only strengthen my courage,
but will also bestow upon me the much-lacking wisdom.
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to all those
who've made this avenue of communication possible.  
(A special thanks to a friend who persistently and caringly
lured me into joining)