Alain Boussac | pbase.com
I traveled to Lauwat Prabang, finally, and was amazed the place had new paved roads. Then I went up a little ever-narrowing river,
smaller and smaller canoes sometimes scraping the rocky bottom.
Got way off the tourist trail,
traveling with a guitar, pidgin Lao/Thai, and a plastic bottle full of lao lao
opium/ swallowed/ rubbed on cigarettes/joints/ or smoked out of a pipe, when there were cool old people Lao around with proper gear and technique.
One village kidnapped me, trying to marry me off
to all the women. All the men had gone to Bangkok,
to work and never been seen again.
High as a monkey
Babbling broken phrases
And singing songs
Offering drink
Where was I north?
East. I had no accurate map.
Alcoholic tribes men passed me around like a plaything, showing me off to their girls, speaking their French
We pretended to communicate to impress the women
And I wound up in Pongsali, where I could go no further north and it was pretty grim,
Smoking with the one leg patet Lao
And heading south by truck, those horrible hard overcrowded trucks, that gave you sores on your bum, from jolting over washed out dirt roads baked clay and broken stone.
Cashed up in Muang Sing.
Selling a lot – there was a rocket festival and there were a lot of tourists
But the local Akha people knew there was something up with me
So I was getting nervous, I needed the cash to get out of there
And get back to work
So I was eating more, pretending it was a party
And hanging out with despicable foreigners to sell.
I ate a big one for the last truck ride, and hopefully I’d wake up and we’d be there.
A speedboat to Huey Xia, then back into Thailand North of Chang Rai.
Shaken awake
A yellow flip flop – small brown foot
Olive trouser leg
Worn leather belt, rusty revolver
Olive shirt, whistle on a lanyard pocket
Some insignia
Caps, there were two of them.
The truck was stopped, just me and the police, a third policeman climbed on the truck, no hat.
They pointed me out,
No problem. I’m on the way out, just sleepy, I went to pick up my bag. No problem.
Yellow flip flop on top of the bag –No! The bag stays we are conducting a search.
He doesn’t have to tell me.
– No problem, I say casual, groggy, scratching my cheek.
– You speak Lao can, one says.
– A little, I say, thank you. Thank you very very.
Uber casual, but inside I’m shitting myself, the shit’s in the top pocket of my blue bag, right under the yellow cop-flop
An entire croquet ball of the shit.
But I’m so heavily sedated, I fish out
My body a cigarette,
Doesn’t feel the fear at all, its all find a roach in the pack,
Mental flick it to the ditch.
Hard buzzing of insects
I stand by my self Four young Japanese with towels, stretching and doing calisthenics
The Lao squat in the shade of the truck.
It looks like a forest fire has recently gone through the area.
I rehearse in my head,
What I’m going to say to my dad on the phone.
“I’m in prison in Laos,” I’ll say, “I’m sorry.
The cops roll two huge rice bags off the truck, and take away a couple of Lao dudes.
Amphetamine – Ya Ba – crazy medicine.
Back on the truck, one Lao guy says to another:
–They’re probably Burmese
– Who can tell around here, says the other.
* * *
–Look for Lao, Part V, next week–
* * *
Lao Police Image : http://www.flickr.com/photos/puppydogbites/2311096163/
