Showing posts with label lao. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lao. Show all posts

Monday, February 27, 2017

Legacies of War Exhibition: Tinney Contemporary Gallery, February 25 - March 25


This weekend the Legacies of War exhibition by Sisavanh Phouthavong opened up in Tennessee at the Tinney Contempoary Gallery. Sisavanh Phouthavong is one of the first professional Lao American visual artists and educators of her generation. The opening reception will be held on March 4th.

I did a profile on her work previously, having been deeply impressed with her art since I first encountered it several years ago. We recently met face to face for the first time at the National Lao American Writers Summit in San Diego.


This new body of work is inspired by the organization Legacies of War (legaciesofwar.org). Their mission statement: "is to raise awareness about the history of the Vietnam War-era bombing in Laos and advocate for the clearance of unexploded bombs, to provide a space for healing the wounds of war, and to create greater hope for a future of peace."

Over 5,400 Lao refugees resettled in Kansas in the aftermath of the Laotian Civil War that ended in 1975. Through her powerful acrylic work, she confronts the challenges of bicultural memory and documentation. She considers notions of the abstract and the concrete for those who must remember both their inner and external histories in a diaspora framed by secrecy and loss. Her work probes what is shared, what is felt, and what must remain deeply personal among the lessons passed on to the next generation as it heals and rebuilds.


The Tinney Contemporary Gallery is located at 237 5th Avenue North, Nashville, Tennessee 37219. They specialize in collectable modern art by established local, regional, national, and international artists. They present a series of rotating exhibitions throughout the year and participate in the First Saturday Art Crawl on the first Saturday of each month.


Friday, February 12, 2016

[Poem] Narrative of the Naga's Heirs at Uncanny Magazine


My new poem "Narrative of the Naga's Heirs" in Uncanny Magazine debuted in Uncanny Magazine this January, and it is now available online as free content. Be sure to check it out, and as always, thank you for supporting diverse voices in poetry and speculative literature! Quick Sip Reviews also did a nice review of my poem and the other works in this issue of Uncanny Magazine which really added to the larger discussions we've been having on speculative literature lately. Be sure to check it out.


Monday, October 26, 2015

[Folktale] Nang Phom Hom


Preface: Nang Phom Hom, “The Perfume-haired Girl” is a classic folktale in Lao tradition, and relatively easy to tell once you understand the basics of the story. The biggest challenge is that the ending is a bit gruesome. 

Under modern Lao values, one could argue the punishment of the villain seems way out of proportion (The prince seems to escape direct karmic consequence by ordering his servants to do the dirty deed, but that’s a debate for another time.) I imagine most Lao would interpret the villain’s fate as a warning not to mess around with magic because undoing the mess magic causes often carries a very high price.

This is far from a final version, but I wanted to retell Nang Phom Hom in a way that had greater internal consistency and gave Nang Phom Hom greater agency and personality than what’s found in the current translations available so far. Hopefully, it also will provide future generations enough of a chance to add to the “Untold Adventures of Nang Phom Hom” later.

Nang Phom Hom

Once, before Laos was even a dream, there was an old widow who was searching for food in the jungle. She became thirsty, and spotted a giant elephant’s footprint filled with water. She drank from the footprint and returned to her village. To her surprise, she became pregnant, and soon gave birth to a girl with beautiful smelling hair. She named the girl Nang Phom Hom.

It was not an easy childhood for the young girl. The other village children constantly teased Nang Phom Hom, calling her the “Daughter of an Elephant,” and ruder names, but she never understood why, and her mother never told her. When Nang Phom Hom was nine years old, her mother at last told her with her the whole strange story with her very last breath. Her mother’s story deeply confused Nang Phom Hom. Few attended her mother’s funeral, and when it was finished, Nang Pham Hom set out to find her father and her true destiny.

Her journey took her across many lands over many years, including the Realm of Bandits, the Realm of Spiders, the Realm of Laughing Monkeys, the Realm of Ugly Giants, the Realm of Blackbirds, the Realm of Ancient Serpents, the Realm of Riddling Tigers, and the Realm of Giant Catfish. Finally, when she was twelve, she arrived at the edge of the Realm of Elephants, and told her story to the guardians at the border.

The guardians laughed at her story, for how could she be the daughter of the King of Elephants? But they agreed to take her to their master to let him decide her fate, noting it was forbidden for humans to enter the Realm of Elephants.

The King of Elephants was doubtful of her story but offered her a challenge. “If you are truly my daughter, you will be able to walk on my tusks without falling off. But if you are not, I will crush you flat with my foot for lying to me, and no one will ever remember you.”

Nang Phom Hom agreed to the challenge, and boldly climbed onto the King of Elephants tusk, certain of her roots. Step by step, one foot after the other, to the astonishment of everyone assembled, she walked the entire length of his left tusk, and then his right tusk, and never once fell off. The King of Elephants smiled joyously and acknowledged her as his true daughter. He ordered a palace built for her and decreed that no one was to enter but her. At last, Nang Phom Hom was home and happy.

She spent many years with her father, who spent his time with her teaching her the ways of the elephants and showing her the secrets and mysteries of his kingdom. But one day, the King of Elephants told her that he and his court needed to travel to his brother in a distant land, and she needed to stay in the palace, where she would be safe. The King’s journey would take several years. Although saddened by her father’s departure, she agreed to stay, and wished them well.

Over the years while everyone was away, she grew into an elegant woman. One night, she had a strange dream that she met a man who would fall in love with her, and they would marry. When she woke up, she cut off a lock of her hair, and put it into a box that she set adrift in the river. She made a wish that whoever found the box would come to find her and marry her.

Many months later, a prince found the box and was so enchanted by the fragrance of the hair inside that he mounted a search far and wide for the owner. After many adventures, he finally found Nang Phom Hom. Just as Nang Phom Hom had wished, they fell in love and he asked her to marry him. They soon had two children and were happy.

They lived this way for several years when news arrived that the King of Elephants was at last returning. Knowing that her father had forbidden anyone, especially humans, to come into his realm and especially her palace, she hid her family.

When the King of Elephants arrived, she welcomed her father warmly. Sensing something was strange, he asked her if anyone had come to visit her. She told her father no, and he believed her. This continued for almost a month, but finally it became too frightening for her, so she and the prince built a raft together to voyage to her husband’s homeland.

The King of the Elephants came out of the jungle to see Nang Phom Hom and her family floating down the river. They were almost completely out of sight when he fell to the ground and called out to her. “My daughter, my daughter Nang Phom Hom, come back! Don’t be afraid. I forgive everything. But come back, I just want to see you one last time before I die.”

With tears, Nang Phom Hom leapt off the boat and swam back to her beloved father. As he lay dying, he smiled at his daughter and said, “I have always loved you, my daughter. When I have breathed my last, take my tusks and throw them into the river. Do as I ask, please.” The King of Elephants closed his eyes one final time and left the world. Weeping, Nang Phom Hom did as she was asked. First one tusk, then the next, each perfect and magnificent. When she was done, something magical happened and the tusks transformed into a splendid boat of gold.

Nang Phom Hom called her husband and children back, and together they boarded the golden boat to return to her husband’s people. It would be a journey of many months, and they saw many strange things along the way.

Alas, one night they stopped ashore near the hut of a horrid witch who decided she wanted the prince all for her own. Just before everyone was about to depart, the witch disguised herself as a perfect white lotus near the boat. Nang Phom Hom was delighted by the flower and reached down to pick it up to show her family.

Instead, she was transformed into a monkey, while the witch took the form of Nang Phom Hom. She tried to tell her husband, frantically waving her arms, but the witch chased the monkey into the forest, then climbed aboard the golden boat with a smile. The prince was none the wiser, although his children suspected something was wrong. As a monkey, Nang Phom Hom could do nothing but try to follow the river and her family.

Nang Phom Hom’s family finally arrived at the palace of the prince, who welcomed them with open arms. But the children knew more than ever that this was not their true mother. One night, they snuck out into the nearby forest and found their mother, who wept at the sight of them. But Nang Phom Hom knew they had to be careful, or the witch might kill everyone before the truth could be told.

One afternoon, while the witch was sleeping, dreaming of what she would do with all of the wealth of the prince’s kingdom, the children asked their father to come with them. They led him to the forest, and to the monkey who was Nang Phom Hom. When the prince caught scent of the monkey’s fragrant hair, he realized at last this was his true love. But he did not know what to do to help his wife, or how to deal with the witch in his palace.

A wandering forest hermit came by, and saw the prince and his dilemma. The hermit pondered the problem. After deep consideration, he told the prince that the only way to turn Nang Phom Hom back into a human would be for her to bathe in the blood of the witch who cast the spell. The prince agreed.

When he returned to the palace, he instructed his servants to go walking with the witch in the woods, and when they traveled far enough that no one could see them, they were to kill her and collect the blood. The servants did as they were told, and the prince brought the blood to Nang Phom Hom, who was transformed back into a human.

Although there were many adventures afterwards, for the most part, Nang Phom Hom and her family lived happily afterwards.

Saturday, October 24, 2015

San Diego Lao Boat Racing Festival coming Oct. 31


On Saturday, October 31st in San Diego, I'll be joining Sahtu Press at the Lao Boat Racing Festival at Tecolote Shores North, Mission Bay Park from 9AM to 4PM.


This is the second year the community in San Diego has organized the event. In addition to Dragonboat racing, they'll have Lao food and craft vendors, cultural performances including traditional Lao dance and music, and a parade. There are approximately 7,000 Lao estimated to reside in San Diego. For more information you can visit the organizers' facebook page at: MekongBoatRacing Club.


The other Sahtu Press authors will be there, too, including Nor Sanavongsay, author of "A Sticky Mess" and Krysada Panusith Phounsiri, the author of "Dance Among Elephants". Nor Sanavongsay have had a busy month with recent appearances at ZAPPCON in Fresno and ConVolution in San Francisco. Krysada Panusith Phounsiri also had a successful gallery show for his Snap Pilots photography team in San Diego in addition to his extensive traveling across the country. His book just finished selling out its most recent printing, but a fresh printing is arriving just in time for the Lao Boat Racing Festival.


We'll have copies of Soul Vang's first book of poetry To Live Here, Sunny Chanthanouvong & David Zander's folktale collection The Wolf and the Moon, and Kev Minh Allen's debut poetry collection My Proud Sacrifice.


I'll have copies of Tanon Sai Jai and Demonstra on sale for $20 each at the festival, although we'll also have discounted bundles available throughout the day.

In the Sahtu Press reissue of my 2009 poetry collection, I address the complicated twists and turns of the Lao diaspora in one of my more intimate and personal collections to date. Composed of 56 poems and a photo essay, I contemplate what it means to be Lao and Lao American.

Is there a difference? How do we reconcile with memory, and how do we share a future? Tanon Sai Jai probes many of the familiar symbols and everyday objects of Lao life and pays tribute to many of the artists, writers and community builders I met along the way. Sometimes deep, soften humorous and humane, Tanon Sai Jai gives readers many things to think about on the Path of the Heart.


DEMONSTRA is my 2013 award-winning book. It received the Science Fiction Poetry Association Elgin Award for Book of the Year. As my publisher, Innsmouth Press described it: "In the depths, half-hidden under still waters, await strange and vicious creatures …. Cthulhu, Godzilla and nagas mingle in DEMONSTRA, a speculative poem collection which assembles 20 years of work. DEMONSTRA is a book of things glimpsed out of the corner of the eye. It is about a reality that can never fully be demonstrated, authenticated, dissected, for certain visions always remain in shadows."


As an interesting bit of history, dragonboat racing originated in China, but many other nations observe it to recognize aspects of our shared heritage.

One version of the tale maintains that there was a wise and loyal minister and poet named Qu Yuan who served the Zhou Emperor. His book, the Chu Ci is widely regarded as one of the two greatest books of ancient Chinese verse. He was much beloved by the common people for his constant fight against corruption in the emperor's court. However, Qu Yuan finally became so despondent at the corruption of his colleagues he threw himself into the Milou River.


The community rushed out in long boats hoping to rescue him, but they were too late. They beat drums to scare the fish away, and threw dumplings into the water to feed the fish so they would not eat Qu Yuan's body. It is said that late one night, Qu Yuan's ghost appeared before his friends and told them his fate, asking them to wrap their rice into three-cornered silk packages to ward off a dragon in the river.



Dragonboat races have since been held to commemorate Qu Yuan’s death, typically celebrated on the fifth day of the fifth month of the lunar calendar. Many communities now convene dragonboat races year-round.

My poem "Zongzi" was written in part because of this legend, although it never really found a home in other journals. So it goes.

Zongzi

How can a person be free
If they do not grow?
Will all of the poets die
If Tomorrow finally arrives?

How hard did the home winds blow
On the bleak isle of sharp-beaked Harpies?
Will Qu Yuan ever bob to the surface
And touch my humble dragon's bow?

Can burnt flags really feed trees
better than spilled blood?
If I don't pretend I'm here
Atop my staircase now,
Where do I go tomorrow?

After a good meal on University Avenue,
You might dream of unwrapping
A forlorn writer's last words
Secretly scratched onto a bamboo leaf,
Thrown to the wind for passing schoolchildren
From an attic of dried flowers and dust
And ask, "When do electric elephants dream,
If all of their time is spent remembering?"

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

[Poem] Tempus Fugit (Spanish translation)

Caroline Arroyo of Madrid did a fine translation of my poem Tempus Fugit, which originally appeared in my collection BARROW in 2008:

Tempus Fugit

El tiempo vuela, pero va en círculos también,
Un hula hoop celestial
Como los juguetes más pequeños de un Dios bailarín
Clavado en órbitas confusas.

               Todo cambia, todo es la misma opción

Corriendo a toda velocidad como un caballero español
En la ruta de los molinos, al otro lado de la línea inicial
¡Moliendo el dorado grano bajo sus enormes pies!

¿Quien lanzó este disco al aire en un principio?
El sol una pistola de fogueo, la luna un cronómetro
Nuestros ojos testigos imperfectos

               Consistentemente parpadeando antes de que la meta haya sido cruzada.





Tempus Fugit

Time flies, but it is going in circles too,
A celestial hula hoop
For a shimmying deity’s tiniest toys
Pinned to obscure orbits.

Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose,

Racing at full tilt like an old Spanish cavalier
On a windmill course to the other end of the start line
Grinding golden grain beneath her giant feet!

Who threw this disc into the air in the first place?
The sun a starter pistol, the moon a stopwatch,
Our eyes an imperfect witness

       Consistently blinking before the finish line is crossed.

Monday, October 12, 2015

[Poem] Haikilling


Some people will have
Less than even a haiku
To mark their passing

Who will remember
This man, this woman, their lives
With at least one word?

Forgotten by all?
Nothing worth a lasting note?
This fate, quite common.

Elders and parents.
Refugees from old countries.
Veterans and priests.

Students stare at me.
“This does not apply to me.”
They take some selfies.

Victims on the news?
Abstractions, like their mentors.
What is there to say?

How futile it seems,
To battle for tomorrow,
Odd posterity.

Haiku or whisper,
This poem is a ghost. Haunts.
You will recall this.

But not who it was
Written for in the first place.
Even if it’s you.

[Poem] Charms