“I Little Slave”

When I received my undergraduate course catalog the summer before my freshman year at Yale University, the one class that I knew for certain I needed to take was on the history of the Vietnam War. It was the closest thing I could find to help me understand why family came to the United States. I was certain that one of the most esteemed History departments in the country must have the answers to validate my family’s struggles. When I finally arrived in New Haven, I sat in the front of the lecture hall, determined not to miss a single detail of what I felt would be the most important course in my education up to that point. The teaching assistant began the class by handing out the syllabus, which I hastily ripped through as if I were opening a Christmas present. There it was, an entire lecture devoted to Laos, the Secret War and the Ho Chi Minh Trail. With excitement, I told the professor that I was Laotian and eager to learn as much as possible from his course. Although the professor actually apologized for not allocating more time to Laos, I remained enthusiastic. The course reading list included works by Grant Evans, Stanley Karnow, Neil Sheehan and other highly regarded researchers, who each devoted several chapters exclusively to the role that Laos played in recent history. I felt like a thirsty long distance runner being handed a large cup of ice water, at last. This was 1995.

While I was happy with my general education in Southeast Asian history, I was never entirely satisfied with what I learned about Laos. I continued to keep an interest in developments in Laos through family and various news media outlets. It was just before my first trip to Laos in 2007 that I learned of a memoir detailing one man’s personal experience inside communist Laos. I originally thought to bring the book with me to read on the trip, but later realized I was better off not doing so. If my course at Yale was like a cup of water, Bounsang Khamkeo’s book, “I Little Slave” should be compared to a waterfall. Written in a true refugee voice, it is the sort of book that would have caused the Lao PDR border officials to think twice about letting me through. Bounsang Khamkeo’s “I Little Slave” is important for several reasons. Firstly, he presents to a wide English-reading audience a rare first hand account of what really happened inside the enigmatic Lao government in the 1970s and 1980s. Secondly, his intellectual training enables him to significantly place his personal experiences in a broader historical context. Finally, his survival and continued optimism serves as inspiration to future generations to carry on the work for justice, democracy, dignity, and human rights in Laos.

Bounsang was born in Laos and spent most of his youth growing up in the southern city of Pakse. His parents were fortunate to have the means to educate him in French schools, including sending him to France for higher education. He returned to Laos with a Ph.D. in Political Science from the University of Toulouse and, like many proud young students of his generation, was eager to put his education to work in the service of the country of his birth. He joined the ranks of the Laotian civil service in the country’s capital of Vientiane, quickly rising through the ranks – praised and promoted for his intelligence and abilities.

To the outside world, Laos was a neutral country working out its political differences through coalitions and negotiated agreements. Bounsang worked for important political figures, who assured him this was the case. However, he did not need classified clearance to figure out that, internally, Laos was a country in the middle of a bloody civil war. While the Royal Lao government maintained control of the city centers, it only took a short trip into the outlying provinces to discover that the communist Pathet Lao forces were quickly seizing control of the countryside and waiting for the optimal time to take complete control of the country. Fearing the worst, Bounsang’s father began to sell his property and prepared to leave the county, desperately urging Bounsang to follow him. When the dominoes fell in South Vietnam in 1975, the Pathet Lao took over Vientiane and refugees poured over the border into neighboring Thailand. Bounsang chose to remain behind, reluctant to abandon the homeland to which he only recently returned. With an educational background in political history, he understood that the country’s royal legacy was obsolete and he deeply desired to make a contribution to the country’s new goals for a democratic society.

Almost overnight, symbols of the now obsolete monarchy were seized and destroyed. The three headed elephant was banned from all government stationary and references to the royal family was shunned. No longer would there be distinction between rank and class. The traditional hierarchical term for “Ka-Noi” (literally “Little Slave”) meaning “I” would be eliminated because there would no longer be masters and subservients. All people would be equals, referring to one another by the egalitarian “Sa-Hai” (Comrade) or “Ai / Nong” (Brother). Bounsang was encouraged by the new leaders to continue his work: representing government interests to foreign diplomats, working closely with socialist countries and even traveling overseas to promote development programs. Although the ideological transition had some initial setbacks, Bounsang felt confident that, overall, the country would change some day in the future.

As with all tightly woven illusions, the seams of the ideal people’s revolution eventually began to reveal itself. Bounsang soon became acutely aware of the hypocrisy surrounding him. It did not take much effort for him to lift the veil of democracy which masked the injustice commited by the bureaucratic elite. He witnessed poverty and destitution among the common people which were brought on by failed agrarian policies instituted by incompetent party cadres who earned their positions through following the party line and arranging personal favors. He saw high ranking generals and government leaders indulging in foreign goods and luxuries, which were unattainable by ordinary people because the leaders themselves had outlawed them. When the inequities became too apparent to conceal, dissenters were swiftly ushered away to be “re-educated”. For failing to comply with the orders of his corrupt superior, Bounsang was arrested and sent to so called “re-education” which would take him seven years and four months to complete.

One of the most important aspects of “I Little Slave” is Bounsang’s vivid depiction of his experience in the prison camps, which was officially referred to by the deceptive euphemism “Seminar”. Family and friends were denied access to the prison camps. Bounsang relates that, “the prison authorities instructed the prisoners that in communist Laos prisoners had the party as their father and the government as their mother to take care of them, so prisoners did not need family!” Food, clothing and even letters intended for detainees were permanently seized by officials. They were not only robbed of their rights, but also stripped of the very dignity that the revolution so boldly promised. Placed in shackles and forced to kneel, Bounsang was to refer to himself again as “Ka-Noi” to the prison guard Masters. Concealed from the rest of the country and ignored by the outside world, Bounsang and hundreds of other Laotian prisoners of conscience struggled under destitute conditions, lingering for years without civil procedure or a just trial.

Detainees were required to commit to communist ideologies to memory, do hard labor with little food and sleep on damp wooden planks. Young and uneducated prison guards were relentless in their maltreatment of the jailed men, often scolding and caning them for minor offenses at whim. Not even the King of Laos and his immediate family, with all of their inheritance and influence, were spared the cruelty of inhumane confinement. An untold number of people died from torture, starvation, cold, disease and neglect in the remote Pha Deng and Sop Hao prison camps in Hoa Phanh Province. Three years into his captivity, Bounsang was resolved to not only survive, but document their dreadful experience and expose to the world the injustices brought upon them. He said, “I want to be witness to inhuman treatment of citizens under communist regime.”

Growing up in America and having never gone a day without a wholesome meal or a comfortable place to rest, it was a truly humbling experience to speak to Bounsang, who is now in his 60s and lives in Washington State. He admits that there are still lingering physical pains and discomforts resulting from his hard prison life, but he reassured me that from his routine annual check-ups his doctors say he is doing fine. Most importantly he is surrounded by his loving and devoted wife, grown children and multiple grandchildren. First and foremost he thanked me for my interest in his work and dedicates his book to the younger generation of Laotians, with hopes that we continue to stay interested and involved in Laos. When asked about the possibility of political change in Laos and the means to achieve it, he says “I respect all exile movements that struggle for regime change in Laos, but we need coordination for things to be done efficiently.” Despite his years of suffering, he maintains a positive view that change in Laos must come by peaceful means. Even with regards to his former superior, who originally caused him to imprisoned, Dr. Bounsang has expressed forgiveness and does not wish ill upon him. “Being born a human being,” he says, “we should do not seek to bring harm upon fellow human beings.” He believes that it is the responsibility of the younger generation to bring forth these changes. He is especially concerned that the current Lao economy depends too heavily on foreign aid and the detrimental export of natural resources such as timber, precious minerals and hydroelectric power as repayment for such aid. As it stands, he laments, Laos has accepted nearly $3 billion worth of loans from foreign countries, yet the profits from government enterprises are hoarded by a select few and siphoned out of the country, to pay for homes in Thailand, France, the United States and Switzerland, leaving the country as a whole in a state of poverty, perpetuating its status as a nation of paupers. He warns that “there will be dire consequences for Laos if the present system of corruption and exploitation continues. The opportunity for peaceful change is in the hand of the this new generation of revolutionaries.”

Bounsang offers a solution to the grim prospects: “There is no denying that there is an intellectual vacuum in Laos. The present leadership lacks real technical training and as a result is unable to make sound policies. Laos must make peace with its past and welcome back all Laotian people spread out all over the world, even those from opposing political parties, to pool the resources available inside and outside of the country, in order to build a better future together.” He does not idealize the past and remains opposed to the return of the monarchy. He does not feel that any individual should be granted power to rule over another by virtue of their birth. However, he strongly opposes what he describes as “the corruption, exploitation and incompetence of the present communist way of governing.”

He points out that, while many Laotians have been encouraged to returned from exile abroad, too many have been deceived into investing in fraudulent schemes or fall victim to extortion by government officials at all levels. Real change is needed, he insists: “Laos must be a true democracy with free and fair elections, with participation of other parties. The current leadership must allow patriotic individuals who are morally principled, appropriately qualified and suitably educated the opportunity to make desperately needed reforms.” With increased foreign influence and tourism in Laos, it is becoming increasingly important for the political climate to change in order for the country to retain its sovereign character. It is no doubt a heavy burden that he places on the shoulders of our generation, but it is hopefully a bearable load when compared to the weight of the past.

Dr. Bounsang Khamkeo originally drafted “I Little Slave” in French and intended to publish it in France soon after its completion, then later decided to have it translated into English. He explained that, “This country [USA] has given my family and I a place to live in peace, so I want to give back to America.” English was a new language to him when he arrived in the United States, but with the help of English as Second Language teachers, he was able to learn the language quickly. He is presently a university lecturer and travels throughout the country to share his story. In April he presented and discussed his book at Harvard University. “I Little Slave” is available from Amazon.com, Barnes & Nobles and several bookstores online. The book is currently rated five stars by Amazon members, which is not only an honor for Dr. Bounsang, but a great source of pride for many Laotians. He also reads his book out loud in Lao, in weekly broadcasts on Radio Free Asia. The book is being translated into written Lao by a fellow refugee for potential distribution worldwide, with hopes of reaching out to the people who may not have a full picture of their country’s past and who cannot read English.

For futher details visit http://ilittleslave.com/.

Laostha Rap

In the 2009 Oscar Nominated Documentary “Nerakhoon” a familiar Laotian rap song “Hee Labert” is prominently featured. Keo Keonorasak, who produced the band’s first two albums, shares with us his story of how the band came to be…

I originally heard about Laosthas duo on the streets, before they were a formal band. When I found out they were from San Jose, I decided to contact them and we immediately clicked. Shortly after, I funded and produced their first master CD, and their first album “Laostha”. By luck, we managed to get an investor to fund our first 2000 copies of CD to sell, but had a hard time selling it. It took about a year before we could even sell 1000 CDs (out of the back of my trunk!). We were about to give up, until one graet week went by and I was suddenly getting phones calls from all sorts of stores. I was overwhelmed that people were calling all the way from east coast. They were ordering CDs at wholesale amounts and became steady clients.

After about 5000 copies of the first album were sold, we decided to make the second album “Represent”. It took about six months to complete recording and production. “Represent” became a hit right away and fans were begining to contact us directly. At that time, I was also working to promote Brandon’s single to be included with Laostha’s album. We started booking performances in San Diego and Texas and Brandon became the ladies favorite. I remember a day in Amarillo, Texas where he was signing girls breast with permanent markers. We also booked Boston, but unfortunately the group broke up before that happened.

We had many fans and many people also gave feedback about our music. Laostha had a “fobby” accent in the music and it was appreciated by many, but also mocked by many. Laostha’s style was well respected by the Laotian adult males. Laotian women were disgusted by the vulgar lyrics but could find amusement in them. In general, we found that Lao people were so chill. They can dislike something and just laugh it off. When I first started in the music business, my family members were not supportive at all. They thought I was wasting my time and waited for my day to fail. When they heard the finished music product, it even disgust them more. This only fueled and pushed me harder to succeed.

After our break-up, we went our own ways. Laostha tried to do a third album and I was getting complaints even though I didn’t produced it. Laostha had their share of “expressing their anger” regarding the breakup in their new songs, but there’s no grudge between us anymore. Buc Lae and Singh Sly is living in San Jose now and we are considering whether we should get together again and work on another album. We are all very excited and overwhelmed to hear that there was a Laostha song in the background of Nerakhoon — I just hope they can list us on the credits! Thank you Lae Manivanh, Sly Phomkai, Brandon Daranouvongs for making my experience in music a part of my life.

-Keo Keonorasak

Daraphon Souvanna Phouma Stieglitz, community activist

On my recent visit to Laos, I could still find many reminders of the country’s royal past, one of the most prominent being the Royal Palace (or “Haw Kham “) in Luang Prabang, which was converted into a national museum. The palace was built in 1904 during the French colonial era for King Sisavang Vong and his statue can still be found on the palace grounds. King Sisavang Vong remains widely revered because he presided over the country’s independence from the French Union and was one of Asia’s longest ruling monarchs. Upon his death in 1959, the king was given a grand funeral service attended by foreign diplomats and heads of state, his ashes were buried with full honors in Wat That Luang, Vientiane. King Sisavang Vong’s successor-son met with far less fortunate circumstances. In December of 1975, King Savang Vatthana was forced to abdicate and bring an end to the 600 year old monarchy. He and members of his immediate family were taken to an internment camp in Sam Neau, northern Laos. King Savang Vatthana died without a public burial and the precise date of his death is still in dispute.

Many descendants of King Sisavang Vong left Laos after the monarchy came to an end, several re-establishing their lives in Western Europe and North America. One of his descendants, great-granddaughter Dara Stieglitz, now leads an active life in the Garden State of New Jersey. Following the royal form, she would be titled Her Highness Tiao Daraphon Souvanna Phouma Stieglitz. She is the daughter of His Highness Tiao Mangkhala Souvanna Phouma and Her Royal Highness Tiao Ouannarangsi Souphantharangsi. The Princess was later adopted in 1974 by her aunt Her Highness Tiao Moune Souvanna Phouma and her husband Perry Stieglitz. Her father is the first son of His Highness Tiao Souvanna Phouma, the last prime minister of the Kingdom of Laos and Aline Claire Allard, daughter of a French father and a Lao mother. Her mother is the daughter of His Royal Highness Tiao Souphantharangsi, the younger brother of the late King Savang Vatthana, by the same mother and same father. Making light of her heritage, she says “we have an inside joke in the family that my mother married down, that makes us the children halfway up to heaven.”

In the book titled “In a Little Kingdom: The Tragedy of Laos 1960-1980″ Dara’s adopted father Perry Stieglitz explores with intimate detail the dramatic role her paternal grandfather, Prince Souvanna Phouma played in Laotian politics. Stieglitz first visited Laos in 1959 on a Fulbright grant to teach English and returned in 1961 as a U.S. State Department foreign service officer. He married her aunt Princess Moune, daughter of Prince Souvanna Phouma, in 1968 and as a result became a close witness to the political battle for control over Laos between the “Three Lao Princes”. Prince Souvanna Phouma, his half brother Souphanouvong and Boun Oum Na Champassak from the south, alternately led the country against foreign domination and civil wars. Stieglitz greatly admired Prince Souvanna Phouma for being a pragmatic prime minister, continuously working to bring the competing factions together. His neutralist position was supported by U.S. President John F. Kennedy and the Geneva Conference of 1961. Which was in contrast to Souphanouvong, who was called the “Red Prince” for his full support of the socialist revolutionaries and a departure from the conservative Prince Boun Oum, who stood in full opposition to communism. Despite their differences, they are still considered to be three of the most important political leaders of post-colonial Laos. Backed by the Soviet Union and the North Vietnamese Army, the communist Pathet Lao forces overthrew the royalist government. Dara’s maternal grandfather was with his brother, the King, when they were taken away.

Being the granddaughter and great-granddaughter of two tremendously significant figures in modern Lao history is no small burden. She explains that, “Expectations are huge before and when people meet me. Just hearing my family name, I see people wonder what I want from them. Just seeing me, I feel people questioning how to approach me. As one person recently said, ‘OMG How do I talk to a princess?’ (and he is not the first to have this question)”. Her answer to them all is, “We are humans first and foremost. Second we are male or female. Third we are Royals. How I got to be born into such an illustrious family behooves everyone including me …” While she accepts her title, she describes herself as a no “Disney Princess” with grace, beauty and a soft spoken manner, admitting that, “I laugh loudly with joy, rarely wear makeup, I move all muscles in my body to music, I speak from my heart.” She claims that she failed Lao Traditional Dancing when she was 7 and was asked not to dance. But, she reassures me that, “I definitely can salsa and cha-cha!”

Dara has three siblings that she knows of and says, “the more the merrier.” She loves her siblings and their spouses. “Anyone marrying any of us,” she says, “had to have guts.” She herself shunned tradition by marrying her long-time partner, three years after their daughter was born and says it, “makes life exciting.” With regards to her decision to marry a non-Laotian man, she says, “Interracial marriage is beautiful, it strengthens our blood and brings new thoughts and points of view into families and communities. It is well known that with any community that continuously intermarry their children the potential of having genetic issues — case in point certain religious based communities, and royal families.” Dara’s describes her husband as an Irish-English-Catholic-American from Queens, New York whose roots can also be traced to Trinidad and Tobago.

Born in the United Kingdom in 1964 while her maternal grandparents were in London as Ambassadors, Dara understood early on that her life was not ordinary: “I was not the nicest child, spoiled, indulged. I was surrounded by abundance. Abundance for me is defined by how much love I am surrounded with. I am grateful for all my life experiences and for all the individuals who shared of themselves for my well being.” In the ten years she lived in Laos, she recalls traveling back and forth between Vientiane and Luang Prabang, between grandparents, but not seeing much else. She moved every 2-3 years, even in Laos, but was kept grounded by what she describes as the “greatest and most wonderful family and friends.” Some of her oldest friends were ones she had since age 10, and one of them even married into her family, “It’s like yesterday, when we get together whether by phone, by e-mail, Facebook, now Twitter or in person.”

Out of concern for her safety due to the political changes within Laos, Dara was adopted in Thailand by her aunt and her husband who was an American citizen. At age 11 she stood before the court in New York City to take her citizenship oath and recalls not understanding a single word of what she was saying. After going between Thailand, Belgium and France, she finally came to live in the U.S. permanently at age 16. These days, she describes herself as a mother, wife, daughter, sister, cousin, an aunt and a friend. She also doubles as a cook, gardener, chauffeur, house cleaner, painter, webmaster and coach — presently a secretary for the New Jersey Professional Coaches Association. She studied at George Mason University, receiving degrees and training in neonatal and pediatric nursing as well as special education. She is also trained as a Success Coach and Certified Family Coach, “guid[ing] people of all ages and backgrounds to obtain the goals they desire in their lives,” and helping people, “change their environment to support individuals and families as they are undergoing personal growth and transformation.” Her services were colorfully described in a recent Washington Post article titled “Kid Tamer”. She describes herself as spiritual, but nondenominational, having studied and lived within Theravada Buddhism, Nichiren Buddhism, Catholicism and Judaism.

Regarding the turbulent years of conflict in Laos, Dara prefers to learn from them and not involve herself in the political debates. She teaches her daughter the same, “It was a period in history. It is her choice to learn from it. All I ask is ‘what are you learning from reading, hearing and seeing anything? How are you responding to people who come in contact with you no matter their thoughts, words nor actions?’” She has returned to Laos three times since she left in 1980, to visit her maternal grandmother and to see her paternal grandfather who passed the day she left in 1984. In 2008, she returned with give Children A Choice, a non-profit organization based in New Jersey. This was her first time in the mountains, being a city child, and she felt that the experience was fabulous, “I went by van from Vientiane to Luang Prabang, four days three nights with my 9 year old daughter, saw parts of Laos I never knew existed nor were so beautiful. When I was young, the fear and possibility of kidnapping was huge, so I was inside the gates most of the time. I apologize to all my uncles who were policemen to whom I gave heart palpitations and maybe even lost their jobs because of my antics.” She loves the work that the people of Give Children a Choice are doing because she feels their mission is in line with her own passion for communication, education and coaching. She plans to return with them to Laos as a volunteer.

Dara is especially proud of her work with the Laotian American National Alliance (LANA), which was started in 1996. She does advocacy work for the group, speaking for many persons of Lao descent, especially in regards to health and education. Her advocacy also includes asking people to keep learning, be involved and knowledgeable of things that might affect them, including available scholarships, health care issues such as Medicare and immigration matters. She joined LANA because she resolved to make it her life purpose to create environments where people can discuss all topics with integrity, honesty and openness. She maintains the www.lana-usa.org website and in collaboration with her colleagues, shares information of interest and of importance to the Lao community. It is entirely volunteer work, which means no pay for travel, mailings or phone calls. She explains that the team is motivated by their concern for the community at large, because they love to connect and empower people for the purpose of promoting the greatest good.

LANA focused on connecting Laotian Americans with the First International Lao New Year Festival held in the San Francisco Bay Area, April 10-12, 2009, http://www.laonewyear.com/. This event was a collaboration with the Center for Lao Studies and Lao Heritage Foundation. Their first event was a commemoration held on April 10th in Novato California, where several thousand Southeast Asians, including Laotians of all ethnicities, immigrated through Hamilton Field in the late 1970s. Starting the following morning, on April 11th, was a full day long celebration of Laotian culture, involving many multiracial and multiethnic groups. It was a mixture of the old and the new, with traditional dance performances as well as popular modern music. The final day included a screening of the Lao-American documentary “Nerakhoon: The Betrayal” which has been nominated this year for an Academy Award (Oscar). Their motto for the event was to “Celebrate, Collaborate, Educate, Advocate 30+ years in the United States.” Indeed, the group worked tirelessly for several months with supporters throughout the country to pull together an awesome celebration.

LANA is also focused on Census 2010, and she relates: “This is very, very important and crucial to our community because we need numbers to support our advocacy work in each state where there are Lao persons of all ethnicity. We need these numbers for education purposes, for health care, for immigration, to let people know we are here and there are lots of us. Census data shapes the future of our emerging community, define our Lao American voice and political influence in Congress. Census information is used to allocate billions of dollars in government funding for important community that we rely upon, such as schools, roads, hospitals, child-care centers and more. Census data is utilized as a source of key statistical information needed to secure federal, state and philanthropic grants from private foundations and tools to advocate for policy changes. The census determines how many seats each state will have in the U.S. House of Representatives as well as the boundaries of legislative districts. Also lack of data continues to perpetuate the myths of overachieving Asian American populations, especially the disparities and achievement gaps among Southeast Asian and Pacific Islanders. This means people believe that Laotian Americans do not need support of any kind which is so far from the truth. We have the second highest dropout rates for highschoolers.”

LANA is actively fundraising to have an Executive Director, who can represent all Laotians in Washington, D.C. She explains, “Having presence is of importance 90% of the time, because then people know we exist and are active in the American society.” While she has no comment about the current political climate in Laos, she does have an opinion about U.S. politics. “YES!” she says, “Change happened. I live in the U.S., I exercise my voting rights. Every voice counts.” Thank you with Dara for sharing your story and yourself with all of us.

Find more about LANA at http://www.lana-usa.org/.

Professional Profile: Phoumy Sayavong

Name: Phoumy Sayavong

Employer: Oakland Unified School District

Job Title: Senior Researcher

Location: Oakland , CA

Job Description: I am the coordinator of research and evaluation projects in a school district with 110 schools and 40,000 students. Part of my job involves analyzing and interpreting district-wide academic achievement data that include quarterly assessments and annual standardize test scores. One of my biggest annual projects is called the Use Your Voice survey that goes out to over 100,000 students, teachers, administrators, staff, parents, community-based organizations, district directors and officers. The responses to the survey provide the school district with opinions that help guide policy makers as they work on improving the quality of service to our educational system.

How did you end up working there?

I had always dreamed about what it would be like to have a job traveling throughout the country. I learned quickly what it was like as I started my first day of the job by getting on a plane headed for Vermont. The glamour of traveling faded quickly when I was assigned to evaluate programs in Pulaski (Wisconsin), Lyndon (Vermont), and the toughest schools in Chicago. When the position for a senior researcher opened up in Oakland, California, I took it without much hesitation. I was not only coming home, but it also allowed me to work with a very diverse student population. It’s here that I get the opportunity to learn from and contribute to solving big academic challenges. I also get to apply my personal experience and much of what I’ve learned in graduate school to explain people’s thoughts and behavior.

What do you love most about your job?

This job provides the opportunity for me to answer many questions that I used to have about the educational system even since I came to this country at the age of seven. I used to ask questions such as, ” Where do textbooks come from?” and “Why am I taking so many tests?”, “Why am I in ESL?”, and “How did my teachers seem to know everything?” After all these years of pondering, it’s funny to think that I am now working as a researcher who’s primary role is to ask questions.

What was your the first job you ever had?

I was picking berries at the age of 11 in Washington. My parents would travel three hours to Vancouver, Washington and drop my sister and I off at our cousins’ house each summer. We had three months to earn as much as we could. It was probably the most difficult and most enjoyable job I’ve ever had.

What motivates you?

I was born in Laos and arrived in Seattle, Washington at the age of seven. As far as I can remember, my first day of school was full of awe and wonder. I had no idea what I was doing or what anyone was saying because I’ve never been schooled nor did I speak any English. A week later, I learned that neither my classmates nor teacher knew what to say to me. My teacher or the school administrators didn’t know how to teach me and my older sister because were made up two of the three Lao students at the school. The administrators had no other way of communicating with us so they brought in the only Lao expert they knew to help bridge the language barrier, a third grade girl who knew about as much Lao as we knew English. In that moment, I was clear that everyone felt helpless in the situation. Within a few weeks, my sister and I moved to a new school with a large Southeast Asian student population. It was an hour bus ride each way but being among other kids like me and learning in specialized programs with Lao speaking teaches made all the difference in the world.

Overcoming moments of helplessness has been my driving force as an adult. Feeling helpless not only slows down my progress but it also pains me to see others who end up in similar situations. For this reason, I’ve been motivated to find answers or resources to remedy many common social questions and needs that people experienced as a result of being exposed to a new setting. Whether they are recent refugees, family, friends, undergraduate, or graduate students, everyone needs specialized help or guidance at some point in their lives.

What else do you do with your time?

I keep myself busy with social issues in the Laotian American community. I’m currently the Chair of the Laotian American National Alliance (www.lana-usa.org) and Chair of the Center for Lao Studies (www.laostudies.org). My friends and I are working on a Southeast Asian library, Lao artifact preservation project with colleagues in Luang Prabang, Laos (www.laoheritagefoundation.org/puangChampa/v), and the International Lao New Year in San Francisco for 2009. I also do a lot of community work locally in the San Francisco bay area with several community-based organizations.

A version of this article is featured in Lao Roots Magazine issue#4 (2008).

Kinnaly and the Lao Hertiage Foundation

“Bring an umbrella!” were the first words off most everyone’s lips when I mentioned Seattle was my vacation destination. While it never rains in southern California, I opted to take my chance with notoriously overcast northwestern Washington instead. As luck would have it, Puget Sound welcomed me with plenty of sunshine and an even brighter evening. To my pleasant surprise my visit happened to coincide with an enthusiastic and jovial cultural show titled “Forte” organized by the Lao Heritage Foundation and the Kinnaly Dance Troup to showcase talented young stars in music, dance and composition.

Now don’t get me wrong. I have seen my fare share of Laotian ethnic programs and costume exhibitions, with earnest parents obligating their children to play dress-up and do things they would be too embarassed to talk about the next day in school. Take my word. I’ve been there. Admit it. We all have. But, Forte had something different. As soon as I arrived I was warmly greated by friendly young people. None of the ushers or organizers could have been more than 35. Even the venue was impressive. A modern community theater, complete with proper stage lighting and comfortable seating. Different indeed.

The Lao Heritage Foundation (LHF) is a non profit national organization based out of Washington D.C., established in 2004 by a group of young Lao American professionals and artists across the US who wanted to learn more about their culture and to share that knowledge with other Lao Americans and the world. The mission of the Lao Heritage Foundation is to preserve and promote Lao culture through the arts, and transmit it to future generations.

LHF representative Pom Outama Khampradith, explains that because Laos is deeply rooted in the traditions of oral transmission, very little has been recorded, and as a result there are even fewer resources on Lao arts and culture in the English language that the younger Lao American generation can access. LHF has begun the tedious work of recording, in the form of audio and video, traditional music masters, including Bounseung Sinanonh from Fresno, California, one of the world’s best “kaen” players, and Thongtanh Souvannaphanh, one of the last traditional “saw” masters from Washington D.C. They are also documenting their music in the form of tablature and western notation. In addition, LHF provides and support the apprenticeship of traditional music that spans three generations: from the masters training the teacher who in turn transcribes the sounds onto music notes, in order to teach it to Lao American youth. The project is currently underway in the cities of Seattle, Washington, and Providence, Rhode Island.

In fine arts, LHF partners with Tiao Nithakhong Somsanith, who documents and showcases the many treasures of Laos through his uniquely exquisite paintings and the royal art of gold thread embroidery. In literature, they provide support for the work of a very talented artist/animator from Chicago, Illinois, Nor Sanavongsay, whose project is to give life to a witty fable character Xieng Mieng. In performing arts, they are proud to sponsor Kinnaly – Lao Traditional Music and Dance Troupe from Seattle, Washington, whose members meet once a week all year round to learn, preserve, promote, and share the arts of Lao traditional music and dance.

Students of Kinnaly were invited to showcase their “Forte” and share the stage to express who they are as Lao Americans. Acknowledging that Lao traditional music and dance is not for everyone, the group strongly believes that arts in general is life enriching and well worth encouraging in the youth. The American born generation of students each came up with their own unique concept of bridging the cultural gap, resulting in a fresh blend of the old and the new. Performances ranged from traditional music and dance, to classical piano recital, rap, singing, comedy, and hip hop.

The keenly supportive audience also reflected the wide diversity of the local Laotian communty. Restless younger siblings, proper older aunties, cousins in baggy jeans, sisters in two piece suits. Not everyone got the Brady Bunch jokes, some swayed with the guitar solos, others nodded with the urban beats. But, everyone had muted giggles when a 5 year old performer fell out of step and the young saw player forgot his place. Piano solos and the Khaen choir were received with impressive cheers. When the traditional dancers did a double take, exchanging their silk dresses for jeans and short skirts to angst out Alexz Johnson’s “Who Am I Fooling” and the Laotian Pop song “Don’t Care If You Don’t Love Me”, the excited response was inspiring. If I where a decade younger, I would have felt encouraged climb on stage myself. With the overwhelmingly positive feedback, LHF plans to host “Forte” every year in the spring.

According to the 2000 census, there are over 9,000 Lao in the state of Washington with over 6,000 living in the Seattle area, and a little over 6,000 Lao in the state of Oregon. The Seattle Lao community is very vibrant and active, with three Lao temples, about a dozen associations and organizations, several Lao restaurants, grocery stores and other successful Lao businesses. Most of the cultural activities revolve around Buddhist celebrations at the temples, fundraising events, concerts by Lao artists, private “soukhouane”, and weddings.

If you are interested in Lao Heritage Foundation programs and would like to start and/or collaborate with LHF to implement them in your community, please don’t hesitate to contact them. “We also welcome comments and guided recommendations,” says Pom Outama, “It is with everyone’s help and support that we can preserve, promote, and transmit our culture through the arts. We believe that it is through alliance and partnership that we can move our community forward.” For more information and details about their programs and upcoming projects, please visit their website at www.laoheritagefoundation.org.

A version of this article appears in Lao Roots Magazine issue #5 (2008).

Aluna/ALUNA

It is not my usual morning routine to get up at daybreak, so you can be certain it was very special occasion that I made the exception. 6am California time translates to 8pm Vientiane time, and the only time Aluna Thavonsouk had available in her busy schedule that week to talk with me on the phone about her exciting dual-career: cool pop-idol by night, dynamic businesswoman by day.

First, the music. If you have not already heard, Day 3 of “Where in the World is Matt Lauer” took NBC’s Today Show to the footsteps of the That Luang stupa in Vientiane, Laos. In addition to history, culture and cusine, the Today Show featured an introduction to modern Laotian music — a fusion of traditional instruments and contemporary beats. The Today Show singled out 29 year old Vientiane born singer Aluna as one of the artists in the forefront of the post-modern revolution in Laotian music.

Aluna’s self-titled first album, released in January 2005, included her playing the guiar, piano, keyboard even the harmonica. Aluna lent her talents to several national advertising campaigns for major telecommunication companies, including TIGO and Tango. Her voice is featured on the tracks of many well-known Laotian hip-hop and pop artists: L.O.G., Modern Dance, Kimmy, Nalin. Aluna did concert-tours throughout northern and southern Laos. She has traveled to the United States to perform concerts for the Laotian communities in Seattle, Chicago and Minneapolis/St Paul, and was a special guest at a charity concert in Los Angeles. She has been a cultural ambassador, performing in Pan-Asian concerts in Japan and throughout Southeast Asia. In her visits to Laotian people living in France, Australia, the U.S., Canada and in England, Aluna says, “I can still receive the warm welcome of Lao people in the Lao way/the Lao culture.”

Three years after the success of her first album, Aluna has embarked on the release of her latest work, simply titled “ALUNA Part II.” She dutifully thanks her family for her success. She learned to play instruments and compose music from her father and uncles at an early age and her family continues to be supportive of her career. In many ways, she is no different than any young woman growing up in the west, listenings to all kinds of music — Pop, Rock, Country, Blues, Jazz, Hiphop and R&B, Justin Timberlake, the Beatles, Maria Carey, Alicia Keys. She is also a proud fan of Morlum Lao. Laotian Artists that inspire her include Boungen Saphouvong, William Voradeth.

Aluna admits that being surrounded by the music and soap operas of neighboring Thailand since her teens, it is difficult to not be unconsciously influenced by it. But, she recalls that a certain point, when the Laotian government opened the door more to talented younger artists, both in song writing and singing. Laotians began to support unique Laotian music more and more. “That is everything to us, to me as an artist (a singer and a song

writer),” says Aluna, “and I believe that most of us are willing to improve our work to impress the Lao fans both in the country and outside of Laos.” Aluna’s goal is to take Laotian music to an international level and is actively looking for new sounds to represent a distinctive Laotian style.

On the delicate topic of politics in Laos, Aluna explains “I am quite happy at what we have here in terms of the censorship. I do not feel uncomfortable in expressing my thoughts and feelings in writing and singing songs at all. I am pretty sure that we have more than one way to say exactly what we mean to say.”

Aluna grew up in Laos and lived with her family in Vientiane most of her life. She excelled in academics and was awarded a scholarship to study in Australia, and received a Bachelor’s Degree from Deakin University in Melbourne. Her major in E-Commerce and Marketing has been instrumental in her second career. When not touring or performing live, Aluna helps with the daily management of her family’s business, Thavonsouk Hotels & Resorts in Vang Vieng. Formerly a quiet stop over between Vientiane and Luang Prabang, the small town of Vang Vieng has in recent years transformed into a bustling eco-travel destination. Tourists come from all over Europe and the world to experience the raging rapids, limestone hills, caves and caverns.

Aluna relates that “of course tourism brings in a lot of income to Laos … tourism has opened up Laos in terms of the culture, traditions and lifestyle,” but she adds that “with the interest and attention, tourism can also bring negative things.” Many fear that with the rapid growth in tourism, Laos may suffer the woes of Thailand’s tourism industry: prostitution, drugs and crime. “In my opnion,” says Aluna,”it really depends on how well we can manage, control and monitor the certain behaviors and characters of some tourists. If the rules, terms and conditions are well preserved and strictly followed, of course tourism will bring more positive impact than the negative things to Laos.”

When asked about her dual roles as performer and manager, Aluna explains the two different roles are not that different. “Both roles,” she explains, “are to make people happy; just in the different ways.” However, she admits that she does sometimes feels “weird” about it all. Although it has been three years since she started being recognized in public, she still can’t entirely cope with the fame, especially when customers come to the front desk to ask, “are you Aluna the singer?” She prefers to say it’s her little sister. She says that lately, her name appears on one of the well know guide books, exposing her job as the resort manager and and pop singer. “It is so weird when people are checking in and asking is Aluna here?” She finds her self wanting to just be a manager when she is at the resort, and just playing one role at a time. Aluna sounds exhausted when she decribes her workday:”There are situations that I have to run around serving from table to table, making sure that my customers get their food in time as well as checking if the tap water in their toilet is fixed. This is my role when I am at my resort. It is a long hour-working day from 6am to 10pm. Most of the make up I wear seems to fade away by half of the day and I can’t be bothered to put it on again … then I just become the typical Aluna, the manager. Some people have expectations, especially your fans. Most of them will prefer to see the image of you.”

Well, my impression of of Aluna is that she is an especially humble and funloving person. Despite my inability to stay wide awake for our the early morning chat, Aluna stayed in good spirits and jokingly hinted at interviewing herself. Such an overchiever.

It was by chance that the Today Show was in Laos at the pace where Aluna was releasing her second album, ALUNA Part II. Her first single, “Khaum HooSuek Bork” came up number 1 on most of the radio and TV charts in Laos. It also topped the charts of a Lao Music Program on a hit station in Thailand. The Today Show crew followed her to her live concert at the Mekong Deck, a modern restaurant and beer garden in Vientiane, just three days before the live show at the That Luang Stupa.

This summer Aluna adds televsion producer to her resume. She is traveling south with a camera crew to cover the “Malaysia Truely Asia” tourism campaign. Her show will be highlighting the “Rainforest World Music Festival.” Although she is excited about the fabulous opportunity to attend the event, she regrets that Laos was a bit late to join in with the performance and hopes that maybe next year she can show-off her ability on the Khene. You go girl!

Don’t be shy. Visit Aluna’s official fan site at http://alunafanclub.com. The next time you visit Laos, you can also stop in at her family’s Thavonsouk Resort http://www.thavonsouk.com/. Don’t forget to be nice, you never know …

A version of this article appears in Lao Roots Magazine issue #5 (2008).

Ketsana promotes Jonny Olsen

Although she is quick to brush off similarities of any kind, Ketsana will always live in my memory as the original “Lao Madonna.” In my youth, growing up in my parents Laotian grocery store, I would stare at her concert photos and replay songs from her tape (yes, audio tape!) on the PA system. She sang in perfect English. A poster promoting her late 1980s tour with the Laotian band “Nirvana” always impressed me — a young Laotian woman, dressed fashionably hip and as poised as a rockstar. My mother and her friends, on the other hand, pointed to the same poster and indicated it was a perfect example of what a proper Laotian woman should not be. Of course, this only fueled my rebellious young mind to think, “Oh, how cool!” As they say, well behaved women rarely make history…

Ketsana was born in Savannakhet Laos, to parents Samane and Vong Vilailack. She and five siblings left the country with their mother after the new government came into power, while their father remained in Laos. Although still a very young child, she vividly remembers her mother crying while they stayed in the refugee camp in Ubon, Thailand. Coming to America was definitely a culture shock for her family. They arrived in Algonquin, Illinois where the population was 2,300 and they were the only Asian family. Things were rough in the begining, but they began to changed when Ketsana took the stage for the first time on her 12th birthday. The audience fell in love with her voice. She performed with local rock bands, occasionally doing covers of Holiday, Borderline, Lucky Star and before long was unwittingly dubbed “Lao Madonna.” She would go on to tour the United States, Canada, Europe and Asia. Her discography between 1991-2007 totals nearly a dozen albums (including Time, Colour of Love, Forget Laos Not, Earth & Sky, and recent single I Hunger).

As the 90s came to a close, Ketsana was very happy with the success she achieved as an immigrant in America. Still, she longed to return to Laos and get back in touch with her heritage in some way. An opportunity presented itself and she packed up and crossed the Pacific Ocean. She landed a publishing deal with Warner Chappell Music in Thailand (then a Time Warner company) and lived in Bangkok writing music. She recorded an English album there for Warner Music, set to release in Asia, but after AOL and Time Warner merged in 2000, things changed and her project fell through. “Oh well, not my luck at the time,” she explained.

Despite the initial setback, Ketsana remained in Southeast Asia, living in Vientiane and touring from the south to the north of Laos. She was also very involved with the Lao entertainment industry in Vientiane. She admits it was very hard work, but in the end she was glad to have had the opportunity to speak up and be a supportive voice for the talents there. She weathered many ups and downs, but Ketsana is grateful to have made valuable industry contacts in Laos and Thailand. Ketsana returned to the United States in 2003, then in 2005 was invited back by the U.S. Embassy in Laos to produce and perform in their celebration commemorating of the 50th Anniversary of Diplomatic Relations between the United States and Laos. In 2006 Ketsana returned to Laos to record new tracks and shoot music videos on location.

Presently based in Nashville, Tennessee, Ketsana continues to be involved in the Laotian entertainment community. She is currently managing and promoting 27 year old Jonathan Olsen (known simply as “Jonny”), who has already achieved a degree of notoriety in Southeast Asian communities on both sides of the Pacific. Jonny, as Ketsana puts it, is now ready to be fully heard and seen. “This is definitely a twist of ‘what the f%ck’ in the Lao music industry,” exclaims Ketsana, ” an all-American California Valley-boy and former rock musician turned Khaen player and Morlum singer – hmmm? And he can play khaen while skateboarding! Now tell me that’s been done before?”

Jonny explains that he started out playing in a rock band, met a girl, fell in love and moved to the Big Apple. Unfortunately things did not turn out as hoped, and he returned to southern California heartbroken and homeless. With the help of a friend, Jonny found a job working in a Thai restaurant in Los Angeles. It was there that he met Thongdee, a man from Northeastern Thailand, who taught him the Thai Issan (ethnically Laotian) language. Jonny would sing Thai and Lao songs with Thongdee, and receive wonderful reactions. The crowd was often suprised to hear a “Farang” (foreigner) singing in their native language, which piqued Jonny’s interest even further. He talked about someday becoming a Khaen player and Morlum singer, but was nicknamed “Fun Pai Gon” meaning “Daydreamer.” Jonny responded by saying “Fun Ti Pen Jing!” — declaring his dream would someday come true.

Jonny distinctly remembers his first encounter with the khaen. It was during his first trip to Thailand he purchased the instrument as a souvenir. Although he did not know what it was, he wanted to know how it sounded. He took the reed pipe into a private room, making sure that there was no one else around, so only the sound of the instrument could be heard. He gave it a blow and was immediately amazed by the sound it produced. Jonny instantly connected with what he describes as the “beautiful mellifluous melodies” of the khaen and could not keep his hands off of it. Jonny arranged to stay in Thongdee’s village in Buriram, Thailand and learned how to play khaen by ear from two local masters. He remembers humming the different melodies of the khaen and Lao folk music all day and even in his sleep.

Jonny went on to study with the famous morlum master in Khon Kaen by the name of Ratree Sivilai. Together they performed at different villages, made his first album “Farang Yak Pen Morlum” (Foreigner Wants to be a Morlum Singer), appeared on Thai television and even traveled to Sweden and Taiwan. In 2005 Jonny became the first foreigner to win the khaen contest at the Silk Festival in Khon Kaen. After returning to America, Jonny was featured on satellite TV and was invited to perform with Lao and Thai singers at several restaurants and temples. In September of 2007 Jonny was invited to play in Thailand with the comedy group Ponglang Sa-On in Bangkok at the Impact Arena. Jonny felt he didn’t really fit into the group. It was shortly after this experience that he met Ketsana on the internet.

Ketsana and Jonny discussed the possibility of exploring the origins of the khene and morlum traditions from the other side of the Mekong, in Laos. Ketsana reached out to her friends and former colleagues in Laos, and quickly arranged for Jonny to travel to Laos to meet with them. For four months Jonny lived in the homes of producer Mee of Mega Studios and renowned singer Daraphet’s family, where he practiced his Laotian songs diligently everyday. Mee and Jonny worked with morlum experts to write authentic Laotian music, drawn from distinct regional styles. Mee also creatively infused eastern-meets-western elements into their work to reflect Jonny’s own unique personality. Their efforts resulted in 10 richly crafted songs that make up the album “Jonny Yak Pen Kon Lao” or “Jonny Wants to be Lao.”

Ketsana has been invited by the Ministry of Information and Culture to return once more in 2009, to perform in English to international audiences at the opening and closing of the 25th SEA (SoutheastAsia) Games 2009, to be hosted by Laos.

For more information about Ketsana and Jonny, please visit their websites:
Ketsana – www.ketsana.com or  www.myspace.com/ketsanamusic
Jonny – www.myspace.com/jonnyplayskhaen

A version of this article appears in Lao Roots Magazine issue #4 (2008).

Nerakhoon: The Betrayal

Thavisouk Phrasavath (Thavi for short) came to the United States as a refugee of the Vietnam War like most Laotian Americans. His father, an officer in the Royal Lao Army, was sent to “seminar” (re-education prison camp) by the new communist government. Because of their close connection to the failed regime, Thavi’s family had no choice but to leave Laos. He swam across the Mekong River to reach the refugee camps in Thailand, first staying at Napo, then Ubon. Thavi’s mother and remaining siblings followed two years later, only to meet with a misfortune that would take them over a decade to rectify. Offered just one opportunity to leave, Thavi’s mother had very little time to gather together what remained of her family and quickly flee. Two daughters, ages 14 and 2, were not at home and could not be immediately found…

“Nerakhoon” is the documentary story of the Phrasavath family’s experience leaving home, coming to a new country and relating to what they left behind. Collaborating with experienced cinematographer-director Ellen Kuras (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Blow, Summer of Sam), Thavi wears many hats: film subject, co-director and main editor. This January I traveled to Park City, Utah to join Thavi, his family and the documentary team for the film’s premier at the 2008 Sundance Film Festival. It was Thavi’s desire to share with Lao Roots Magazine a first hand experience of the renowned independent film festival because, he insists, “I don’t want to be the first and only — I know that if I can get this far, the younger generation of Laotian American’s can go much further.”

The completion of the documentary has been a long journey, with nearly 23 years in the making. At the pre-screening party a mixture of excitement and relief filled the restaurant. When asked how he felt about finally reaching the finish, Thavi compared the process to raising a child, nurturing and grooming it, and now letting it out into the world, stating: “We have worked very hard for a long time and I hope that our offspring will be well received.” Unrelenting producer and attorney Wilder Knight continued working through the celebration lunch, reviewing agreements and meticulously analyzing the fine print for the film’s debut. Tickets to the premier were entirely sold out weeks in advance.

On the day of the screening I waited in the theater “green room” while the co-directors and producers anxiously paced in and out, alternating phone calls with last minute press photographs. Nervous tension seemed to be at an all time high, but apart from minor concerns over sound quality, the team remained confident. Due to the epic nature of the project, spanning over two decades, individual clips were shot with different cameras and various film types over time. The final product was ultimately pulled together in premium high definition format. Musical advisors included respected Laotian artists Voradeth Ditthavong and Phone Phoumithone. The highly experienced documentary team hailed from as far as Argentina and Switzerland. Producer Flora Fernandez-Marengo was up late the night before going over final administrative details and was ready to finish the last leg of what seemed like a marathon. For sound engineer Benny Mouthon (who has mixed numerous TV shows, documentaries, commercials and films) his 15 year journey with the team was worth every moment and he was excited to finally showcase their efforts.

Sundance organizers ushered a capacity crowd into the 448 seats of the classic Library Center Theater. After a brief introduction the lights dimmed and the audience was immediately transported more than 30 years back in time. Juxtaposing never before seen historic clips with candid personal interviews and poetic narratives, the richly crafted film drew a full range of emotions from the crowd.

Although the film was shot throughout both the United States and Laos, the images of traditional religious ceremonies and heavy metal hairdos of the 1980s were immediately familiar to fellow Laotian American and Utah resident Nikki Khonesavanh. “I connected with the film on an intimate level,” said Nikki, “I cried because I understood the struggle, I smiled when I saw our culture and customs in motion and in the end I was filled with joy that the story of our people were told.”

Thavi was born in the town of Thakhek in Khammouane province, but later moved with his family to Pakse to be near his father’s military post in the province of Attapeu. While young Americans were enjoying the Summer of Love, the CIA was funding an intense bombing campaign in the hills of southeastern Laos, the main artery of the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Although no official war was declared, tens of thousands of Laotian soldiers were directly funded by the U.S. to deter the advance of the North Vietnamese communists into the south. After the American withdrawal from region and the fall of Saigon, the communist forces in Laos swept into power and forced their former rivals out. The resulting exodus resulted in nearly a 10 percent total population loss, and by some estimates 90 percent of the country’s educated elite. Thavi points out that his family’s story is just one of many similar Laotian stories. In the face of the tremendous political changes, there were few choices left.

“Nerakhoon,” Thavi explains, “is when someone has done a good deed and you have forgotten.” The documentary focuses on betrayal on several levels: between family members, between countries, between an individual and his heritage. Also underlying the story is a philosophical world view which Thavi discovered in a long forgotten Laotian prophesy — a prophesy which, as he points out, has many similarities to those of other cultures. Although the film is a personal narrative, Thavi feels that it can serve as a universal one as well. Ellen’s brother, Jeffrey Kuras explained to me why the project was so important to the director: “Our family immigrated from Poland before World War I and went through a difficult period of transition. None of my grandparents ever returned, even for a visit, partially because of the difficulties caused by the Iron Curtain. My father’s father in particular always wanted to move back. Letters were exchanged between our family in America and the relatives back in Europe up until the 1950′s, but they were all destroyed. Ellen deeply regretted not having a record of our family history, and she observed the persistent sadness of my grandfather.”

Despite amount of work he has put into the making of the documentary, Thavi points out that he came upon the project by pure chance. Thavi and his family found themselves in Brooklyn, New York in 1982. They had been sponsored by a church group that he says essentially “ripped them off.” His family was left to share a run-down apartment with several other refugee families and almost no support, financial or otherwise. Help eventually came in the form of welfare checks and foodstamps. Thavi eventually finished high school and went on to study engineering. It was two years after his arrival in the U.S. that his cousin approached him about teaching Laotian to a woman who was interested in interviewing elderly lowland Lao to learn their history. Ellen Kuras was working on a script about a Laotian Family in Rochester, New York and ultimately asked Thavi to assist with the project. After about two months into the project, the main subject no longer wanted to participate and Ellen then turned to Thavi.

Thavi describes his early years in America as bad, going on worse. He recalls the frustrations he felt being called a “chink”. He found himself trying to fit it by dressing and trying to be like the “homeboys” in order to “camouflage” his identity, but soon realized it did not make a difference. It is this experience of prejudice that continues to motivate his work. “Laotians in America,” he laments, “are almost mythical, as if we don’t even exist.” Like so many refugees, Thavi wants people in America to know that he did not come here to steal jobs. “We did not leave our homes willingly to come here,” he argues, “we were forced to leave and had no choice.” Reflecting on the countless unexploded ordnances that still dot the open fields in Laos, he also wants Americans to know what role this country has played. Thavi explains that his interest in film and media in general is its power to educate and inform. He is confident that mass media is the best means of overcoming prejudice and wants Laotians to have a voice in the media. In an interview with BBC World, Thavi shared his hope that his work could send a message of both political awareness and compassion.

“I’m 1500% Buddhist,” declares Thavi. Beginning his immigrant life in America translating for the Laotian Community, Thavi helped diverse Laotian ethnic groups obtain social services and became a representative Laotian speaker in New York City. He has consulted for the Board of Education and city social events. He is not certain how people in Laos will receive the film. He points out that as an artist, he wants to present his authentic experience. Although he did not set out to make a political film, it is impossible separate politics from to the spirit of the times. Yet, karma seems to have come full circle. The film’s Sundance premier received a roaring applause and standing ovation from the audience, with almost everybody remaining for the enthusiastic post-screening question and answer session. There are plans for a national theater release and PBS/POV has already secured rights to broadcast the documentary in over 500 channels. With the amount of enthusiasm surrounding the film, Thavi is hoping an Academy Award nomination may be even been on the horizon and exclaims, “I am very proud of this opportunity to represent the Laotian people.”

As I was leaving the Sundance Film Festival, Thavi called to wish me a safe flight home and share some heartfelt words: “You guys at Lao Roots Magazine are doing a great job. It’s important for our community to share important events with one another, to inspire each other, and show that with hard work and persistence we can achieve our dreams.”

Find more about Nerakhoon at http://www.thebetrayalmovie.com/.

A version of this article appears in Lao Roots Magazine issue #4 (2008).

I traveled to Laos to find something I thought I had lost…

I spent nearly two years focused primarily on one thing: to travel to Laos for the first time. When I finally went this February, I felt like the whole of my life had built up to that moment. I don’t know how I can describe the enormity of the experience with only words, but I want to try.

In the months prior to my travel to Laos I became very interested in current events there. I did a great deal of informal online research and listened to Lao language radio broadcasts. I grew up in a very close-knit Laotian community in California and fell in love with the big parties and great music, so in preparation for the trip I also researched modern Laotian music. Thanks to You Tube I was able to watch endless videos clips. Over the years I read and acquired several books on Laos, but a compact travel guide and a Lao-English English-Lao Dictionary were the only ones I finally packed.

My meticulous preparation and self discipline was in many ways an attempt to minimize the most significant event in my life until that point — my mother’s passing about two years ago. Her absence left a gaping hole inside of me and I felt I needed to find her. I needed to find who she was before I knew her, and I needed to know what she felt each time she returned to Laos. Prior to that point, I never felt quite ready to go. I always felt an enormous need to be accomplished in some way. Time was not waiting for me to feel ready.

My first impression of Laos was Luang Prabang. The people of Luang Prabang speak with a different accent than people from southern Laos, where both sides of my family are from. Nonetheless, they recognized my every word and I felt immediately at ease with theirs. Luang Prabang has a very important place in the history of Laos, and the entire city was appropriately designated a World Heritage Site. Luang Prabang is home to the former Royal Palace (now National Museum), amazing Buddhist architecture, and is surrounded by lush mountains, rivers and waterfalls. Luang Prabang is also a city experiencing rapid growth. New construction projects are everywhere. Visitors hail from all over the world. At the night market village vendors and tourists pack the streets. I enjoyed the historic sites and natural beauty, as well as meeting genuinely friendly people. I noticed many young people working in various positions throughout the city. They were all very welcoming and helpful, often referring to me as “older sister” — a familiar term of respect that really touched me.

Growing up in America and being old enough to recall the cold war, anti-communist sentiments were firmly imprinted in my mind. As a student of history I came to Laos with all the baggage of the Vietnam War. Although my parents traveled back to Laos many times before, I felt that my western education put me in a position of responsibility to help make progressive change happen. I was very moved when a taxi-cab driver said how important it was for people like me to come back to visit Laos. He reassured me that I was doing the right thing.

In Vientiane I met up with my cousin and his fiancée who were working and studying in there. My boyfriend and I received a tour of the capital city on the backs of their motor-scooters, shooting through traffic, circling government buildings, temples and historic monuments. That Luang was much larger that I had imagined from the pictures. In fact the entire city felt larger and more real than any of the countless pictures I had seen or books I had read. When a family friend joined us one evening and the conversation veered into current events and politics, I started to feel tremendously self-conscious. We talked about the recent military coup in Thailand and the role of their King. She pointed out that Laos was a more true democracy of the people. I could have mentioned the hypocrisy of their single party dictatorship and the need for a multi-party system in a true democracy. Yet, at that moment I could not find the words to counter her. In contrast with Thailand’s troubles, Laos did seem more level.

My final destination in Laos was a few hours outside of Pakse. I was to visit with my paternal grandmother, who lived with my family in the U.S. briefly, but chose not to stay. Her return to Laos had always puzzled me, until now. As we traveled south, my Anglo-American traveling companion became sort of a celebrity for the day. Women and children looked on with gentle curiosity as we crossed the Mekong River by ferry and traveled on dirt roads. I had stressed out over how my relatives would receive my unmarried status and American manners. There was so much I wanted to explain. There was so much I wanted to tell them. However, seeing my grandmother again only brought a flood of tears from both our eyes. None of the other business mattered. There was nothing I needed to clarify. I was just coming home.

Even though it was a home that I had never been to, I was welcomed at every corner by familiar faces. Everyone in town seemed to know each other well. Coffee was served with complementary tea. Rice wine was served with almost every evening meal. Shopkeepers delivered packages to homes without address details. Postal mail did not even require a last name. While plumbing and electricity was not always reliable, almost everyone had access to satellite TV. I was caught by surprise one night when Global Warming became a casual late night debate. I started to mention the burning of trash and forests in less developed countries, but my relatives quickly reminded me of the industrial pollution caused by U.S. corporations. As I listened to my aunts concerns about America’s intrusive military presence in Iraq and other parts of the world, I soon lost the heart to advocate any sort of western model of so-called progress.

It was not that I was discouraged from wanting things to be better in Laos, politically and economically. It just became apparent to me that change in Laos was already happening, with the impetus coming from within. Rapid exposure to international media and interaction with people visiting from abroad effected enlightened discussions in all parts of the country. The Laotian people I encountered were all well informed, open minded, and far from naive. I realized that my responsibility was not to help them understand the outside world, rather it was to help myself understand their world. I always envied Thais, Europeans and others who traveled to their ancestral homelands without fear of persecution or attack. Now it was finally my turn. Traveling to Laos this time was just the beginning.

I traveled to Laos to find something I thought I had lost. What I discovered was an expansive place where people shared my culture and heritage. The cabbie had it right. I do need to go back, even if just to proudly speak mother’s language in my father’s country once again.

Originally featured in Things Asian 8/17/2007.  A version of this article was also featured in Lao Roots Magazine issue #3 (2007).