Transition: A Journey in Laos

By Sanva Saephan

The year was 1994

Somewhere in Bokeo, a tiny province in Laos, a seven-year old boy and his family were about to start building their new lives after being stateless for years, displaced by the civil conflict that ravaged the country for decades.

Continuing from “Stateless: Dairy of a Spirited Boy at Napho Camp”, “Transition” chronicles Sanva’s new life in Laos after leaving Napho Camp in Thailand.

Sanva’s vivid recollection of his childhood adventures in Bokeo offers the readers a glimpse into the realities of life for a boy growing up in Laos at a time when the country was just opening up to the rest of the world. Amidst the many struggles and growing pains, his family members never failed to provide him with much needed wisdom and grounding.

When the opportunity came for Sanva to continue his education in Vientiane, the capital of Laos, he found himself faced with one of his most difficult decisions yet: to obey his father and stay on in Bokeo or defy him and leave Bokeo for an education in Vientiane, and perhaps to forge for himself a life in places yet unknown.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sanva Saephan
• Release date: Jun 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9789810909635

Sanva Saephan

Sanva was born in a refugee camp in Thailand. He then migrated to Bokeo, Laos, at the age of seven where he and his family were given Lao citizenships. At the age of fourteen, he was given the Lao-Kumamoto scholarship to live and study in Vientiane High School in the capital of Laos. Shortly after, he was given the ASEAN scholarship at the age of sixteen to study in Singapore. Sanva published his first book titled: “Stateless: Diary of a Spirited Boy at Napho Camp” in July 2013. He raised about USD 45,000 from the sale of his book to construct a much-needed primary school in Bokeo, Laos. Because of this cause, he was featured on Straits Times, Radio Free Asia, Credit-Suisse One-Employee Magazine of Private Banking & Wealth Management and SMU Encore eNewsletter, and was invited to be the Guest of Honour to grace Xinmin Secondary School’s 69th Speech cum Homecoming Day in 2014. Again, the proceeds of this book titled: “Transition: A Journey in Laos” will go towards renovating vocational training facilities for the Lao Women’s Union Center in Vientiane, Laos.

Book preview

First published in June 2014

Copyright © Sanva Saephan 2014

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher and the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

To contact the author, please write to: [e-mail]

ISBN: 978-981-07-9258-9

Cover Design by Ong Yu Xin

Cover Picture by Teo Swee Leng and Therese

Printed and bound in Singapore by C.O.S. Printers Pte Ltd

Grandpa, Dad, Mom, Kao, Kae, Mei and Sou

for all the love and trust

~~~~~***~~~~~

Transition: A Journey in Laos

Sanva Saephan

Foreword

~~~~~***~~~~~

This is a man with, and on, a mission. Yes. It is rare these days to come across a writer, especially a young writer, who seems bent upon communicating what he has been through in order to make several critical points. These points can be appreciated by anyone who has half a conscience. For our author’s story is the tale of a young man growing up in hard times in a country where tomorrow was both predictable and unpredictable. Anything could take place depending on the whims – and often the fancies – of those who were in power. Laos, it is clear from reading our author’s poignant narrative, was going through a period of traumatic change – a period in its convoluted history which neither the French who had ruled it for quite some time, nor the many different tribes that made up its varied and diverse population, were prepared for. In the midst of the turmoil and the uncertainty our hero tracked a journey which was to prove meaningful in its larger significance as well as demonstrate what tenacity can produce in trying circumstances.

In his first book, STATELESS, San, as our author is called by relatives and friends, clearly shows how he survived in terrible conditions in a refugee camp in Thailand while his family escaped the gruesome massacre carried out by the Pathet Lao. San belongs to a minor tribe called the Mienh and it was just sheer luck that his family was able to survive the onslaught which the Pathet Lao was inflicting. When some semblance of stability was restored and the Laotian refugees from different camps were being brought back to Laos, there had been a moment when San’s father had seriously thought of going to the USA – an opportunity given to a few who had close relatives, friends or sponsors who were American citizens. But his family had decided NO – they wanted to return to their simple village from where they had been forced to flee.

And so this current book begins with life in the village, a life so full of varied events, circumstances, personalities, rituals and proscribed ways of conduct that as readers we marvel at San’s retelling. The life as presented by San is nothing short of being a portrayal of rural existence with all its ups and downs, its joys and its sorrows, its good and not-so-good features. What comes through, again and again, is the sheer vitality of a life lived by people for whom fundamentals mattered more than anything. This is a kind of bildungsroman, a remembering of growing up, maturing, from a young boy to a young man. San writes without being bashful, without being self-conscious, without manifesting the anxieties which many young writers face when trying to be both truthful and also persuasive. For San such a problem does not exist. For he writes from the heart, with a clear, sharp, detailed eye that renders his sensitive tale gripping and convincing. There is an adolescent innocence so moving in its acceptance of the way things are that we are awed by the dignity of trust which this clearly reveals. Most of us cannot begin to even imagine the force of being in a community where secrets are kept precisely because everyone knows what everyone else is doing! Such, such are the paradoxes which San so deftly captures and conveys through basic language. At times one senses a playfulness which helps to underline the gravity of a community’s angst, the constant fear of being displaced, of losing what one seems to have been given. We often think that societies where technological interventions are few and far between lack the capabilities of quick action and swift decision-making; forgetting the fact that these societies have developed a sophisticated system of information flow as well as appropriate action. We are humbled by the knowledge that despite all the obstacles confronted by San’s family as members of a small tribe, there is an elementary grammar of living side by side with numerous others of different backgrounds and temperaments. Perhaps there are many lessons we can derive from knowing just how these villagers armed with little but the most simple facts about human existence plough through life bracing both fortune and misfortune. I came from one such village myself, living in Ipoh during the period known as the Malayan Emergency and I am amazed just how similar was my own experience: while we always remained nervous about what tomorrow might bring, we engaged with life and with one another on the basis of simple, mutual trust of taking and giving.

There are too many examples of events, activities, moments which in the hands of a less confident writer would invite embarrassment or even self-ridicule. For San all that he experienced was just part of the natural order of things. Whether it is he asking his mother at age twelve what an underwear is or whether it is his teachers and friends rejoicing at the news that San had won a Scholarship to study in Vientiane or whether it is his father advising him to be careful of city-dwellers, we are struck by the ease of narration as well as San’s ability to hold us as if spellbound. Such is the power of the writing. There is a kind of magic at work here –and it is, I am convinced, our author’s capacity to weave words in so extraordinary a manner that our disbelief is suspended completely as we move from page to page. My son Christopher, who is ten, could not put STATELESS down and read the book page-to-page in one sitting. This new book has the same compelling sense of reader-engagement and I am certain that readers will find it hard to do anything else but finish reading this endearing narrative as quickly as they can. San’s easy style makes sure of this!

So when we reach the book’s end we are surprised. Enthralled as we are having gone through our hero’s experiences as if they were ours, we now realise that our author has done the inevitable very cleverly, without our detecting the subtle strategies used to entice us, San has brought us to a new understanding, an awakening where our sensibilities inform us that the worlds we are familiar with, blessed with safety and material goods, is but a mere glimpse to those who, like San, have lived through a multitude of life-endangering experiences and emerged wiser; far, far wiser than the majority of us for whom living has been relatively easy.

Many of us know the term filial piety and many of us may, indeed, be trying to instil this in our children. One of this book’s great achievements is that for San filial piety is lived, every single moment, by a genuine honouring of the parents. Repeatedly, San tells us just how hard his mother and father worked to make sure that he and his siblings had enough to eat, clothes to wear and an education by which to earn a living. Throughout this fast-paced but values-packed autobiography lies a deep and abiding faith in the goodness of human nature to master discipline and courage in the face if real odds and to come through pain and sorrow without being overly scarred.

San is still a very young man and already he has done so much to remind us that our essential humanity resides in our ability to overcome pitfalls, pick ourselves up and strive for success. Here, in this beautifully told story, lie gems for us to take away and make ours. Here is a book which reaffirms that a life richly lived inspires through sharing. Here, in plain language but dense allusions, is learning at its finest.

A journey is epitomised by the travelling rather than the arrival. And it is this travelling, both inwards and outwards, that ultimately lingers long after the arrival has taken place. San’s journey is a blessing to us all – critically so at a time when we take so much for granted.

-Dr Kirpal Singh

Director, Wee Kim Wee Centre

Singapore Management University

June 2014.

Let the journey begin…

Arrival

~~~~~***~~~~~

I was still in a state of denial. I could not believe that I was on a bus leaving Napho Camp, a place I had called home all my young life. After a long and tiring overnight bus ride, my family and other refugees finally arrived at Chiang Khong, a small border town between Thailand and Laos, in the afternoon of 20 November 1994. The entire place was crowded with buses and countless displaced people. Some buses were so dilapidated that they looked on the verge of falling apart at any time. To seek respite from the scorching afternoon sun, the refugees flocked towards any patch of shade that they could find. A deafening hubbub filled the air as the refugees talked to one another and waited anxiously to retrieve their belongings from the buses.

That afternoon, I could not feel a single gust of the November breeze that used to fan the Napho Camp all throughout the November and December months. The insufficient sleep on the uncomfortable bus ride had already caused many of us to feel exhausted and out of sorts. And now, we were standing under the glaring sun, inhaling all the dust and suffering from the incessant din of hundreds of people milling around, organizers shouting instructions and scores of ancient vehicles with their engines rattling noisily, belching exhaust. Many of the refugees were complaining about the searing weather. Some of the complaints were simply not pleasant to hear but made many of us burst into laughter.

Dad, where are we now? I queried, feeling enervated by the heat and fatigue.

We are almost reaching Laos, my father replied, pointing across a river.

Do you see the other side of the Mekong River? That is where we will be later.

Dad, this is the Mekong River? I asked in surprise as I had always heard adults talking about it all the time. I could not believe that I was now seeing the mighty Mekong with my own eyes. Suddenly, the excitement of seeing the river boosted my flagging spirits.

Yes, it is, my father reaffirmed.

It is so much bigger than the river in Napho Camp, Dad, I commented enthusiastically, feeling more excited than ever upon seeing the river and hearing that we were almost reaching our destination.

All of a sudden, a long and shrill scream of a whistle pierced the air. The hubbub quietened as the refugees turned to look for the source of the sound. It was from an officer, smartly attired in what appeared to be a policeman’s uniform. He called all of us to get organized and ready to get our belongings down from the buses and the cargo trucks. When the command was given by the officer, the refugees rushed into different vehicles to identify their belongings, gunny sacks and boxes. They were shouting and squeezing onto the buses as they scrambled madly