Udom Xai
Makha dung. The third full moon of the year.
At dawn, the women in their thirty-one, scarf slung
climbed the steps leading to the vat. Under the porch of the temple,
they are already a quarantine, kneeling. They are waiting their turn to file a shelf
offerings before one of the novices. Rice.
food daily. Money. Orange candles. And, standing on a piece of
page exercise book, the name of a deceased person who is dear to them.
must wait its turn. It is a place that by this rite.
advancing on all fours, pushing the tray in front of you. Light the candles
small. The novice, on his knees too, serious and serene, unfolding the paper, reads the name and then chant
long, softly, in a hubbub of excited crowd
and plastic bags. The woman leans forward to be more
below him, hands clasped in front of the face. Then she receives three times the floor, palms flat
. The novice and pay at the same time
water in a bowl. The woman pushes the plate toward the novice. That curves for
thanks. In the next. Some will then
near the stupa shake a bamboo tube that contains
numbered sticks. They derive a dig and a corresponding paper record
: a sentence, like a horoscope.
Some good news, some not - the novice who explains it all in
draws one at random for me " Do good and everything will be fine. "Good.
it would have been worse.
After all that, if we want, we can offer money to the vat. Simply drag
few tickets in an urn. One can also climb the stupa, after having
barefoot, to file incense, flowers, candles and rice. Kneeling in
rank onion, hands in prayer in the face, we continue to
whisper and laugh.
Bus Udom Xai and Luang Nam Tha
During the feast of Makha dung, Ray and me side by side, looking at him
understand, which explain myself seeking to feel, to capture with my microphone
the collective energy of the moment. And suddenly we felt the desire
been itching to get back on the road. We decide to pack up
immediately. Let
bloodstained sheets in the Chinese pension without regret
not even a smile or a goodbye to me when I leave, after five nights
in bed falling apart, amid the sounds of spitting, shouting,
Waterfalls line ...
Ray decided to go to Muang Khoua rafting on the Nam Ou.
I'd have good company, but ... there is one but I really do not know
origin. Fear, no doubt, attachment to be as slippery
and disinterested by the link. We crossed one last time at the station
road. He shows me a small statue purchased in China. Two rats, side by side in
a coil of rope. "It has to do with boats, travel. "He loves
this object, he says, then he shows me.
I arrived early enough to get a good seat on the bus.
Waiting for departure. Ray, on the bus next door, never look in my direction
. What is past is past. His journey is a permanent future. A white sits
beside me. His wife, who is stuck on a seat
isolated over the wheel, took badly. She starts talking to him
dryly and very strong. But why do we Westerners are we so
unable to contain us? The guy really does not listen and started
in a sudoku that fills a pencil.
- You prefer to sit in my place? I asked his wife.
Indeed, it would suit me: I feel that Sudoku will want to make
conversation, while I enjoy the journey to write. She,
pinch:
- No, no, I do not care. And I'm so small that only
me who can go on such a seat.
Indeed, it is not great, but most of Laos are much smaller
it.
The bus is already full, but one does not. To care, people
eat green papayas. Hints of fermented fish. A nice little bundle
cock in a tube that covers the middle of her body and immobilizes it, a kind of trap
braided to keep a prisoner. Deposited between
feet of its owner.
for Thought Thong village in the Lolo secret I never know,
thought for all those strangers to meet. Thought for Claire. For the smooth
Christoph watching over my twenty-seven square meters of territory
Marseille. The absence of lights, sometimes. A gap of light
in thunderclouds.
A group of men up a scooter on the bus, which installs
in the narrow aisle. Sudoku and I are staying locked together for
five hours to come - enough to delight his wife. A man sits on the scooter and
it starts.
Hi, Ray! Travel is creating ties that defeated right away, because
habits.
En route, ride the bus women whose dresses are mid-way between
tricorn hat and Smurf - black, embroidered and adorned with tassels
yellow chick. It zigzags at full speed between
men sitting here and there that repair the road. In rice fields dry, the rice granaries
- crude huts on stilts - make you want to
nap. Forest freshly eradicated. Bare mountains. I guess
here too, they are willing to plant rubber trees, in serried ranks. In ten years they will produce sap
elastic and white good for export to China. It
explained it dozens of times. Ah, yes. But where will China
in ten years?
I knew I could not write alone. Sudoku is
engineer in the oil. He explains how the Earth is not a wheel of Emmental
, despite the billions of barrels extracted from it. He also speaks
these deserted towns in Canada, where I could buy a house for almost nothing
. A desert in summer 35 ° and -20 in winter.
Meanwhile, I think the rubber plantations. The earth will be so poor
after that the forest will not grow.
The driver was traveling at breakneck speed. And consequently, we also
, whether we like it or not.
The bus stopped in front of a bamboo fence painted white and red stripes
. This is not a toll but
compulsory disinfection of vehicle wheels that come from Luang Nam Tha, where said Sudoku
we found some recent cases of avian flu. He read in the Vientiane Times
.
ate grilled chicken with Ray back from our made me walk
up in the middle of the night to shit a greenish paste rather disturbing.
Light anxiety that makes me smile. How the district authorities
can they claim to control the movement of chicken manure, when
they are even unable to identify the human population
mountains?
Travel is also not see what we may never see again. Between
Phongsali and Udom Xai, on the side, the villagers had built the portico
spectacular weapons which hung in a carved wooden furniture
.
- It for the celebrations. Prohibited from entering or leaving the village as long as
the ceremony. It may kill buffaloes, pigs
surely.
was my driver told me that Lao Loum
this. He was wrong.
Arrival in Luang Nam Tha. On leaving the bus, the woman exclaims Sudoku
bitterly
- Oh, but your bag is even smaller than mine!
This woman appears to have placed all his pride in the smallness. While I
looking for something not too sarcastic reply Sudoku
unpacks his GPS to ensure that we are where we are.
It's time I choose to go.
Evening
Sweetness in the air. People wash in the river. Children on a bamboo raft
. Cold noodles seasoned with a slightly sweet pie.
Mhhm.
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