Pool and its Role in Asian Communism

by Colin Cotterill

  "They say that's the only one they got any real respect for. That's the Red Prince, the royal that's fighting with the commies."

  "So, they took it down?"

  "They say they got it in a place of honor. You wanna see?"

  The lady took Nit out to the yard to pluck some papaya from the tree. The man led Saifon and Waldo out to a back door that was locked. It was only a little box room with hardly enough space to kneel in front of the altar they'd built. There was tall skinny incense sticks smoking away on it and pretty Christmas tree lights, and scale model Buddhas, and toy animals and paper Lao flags on sticks poking out of jam jars. There was even a rice and banana snack on there in case them gods got hungry.

  And looking down at the whole show from a nail on the wall, was the quiet guy, Soup.

  46

  Two days later, Waldo was still grinning from ear to ear. The old guy hadn’t stopped grinning since he saw the Red Prince on that wall. Man that was a kick.

  The house in Bangkok belonged to one of old Red's brothers, Prince Phetsarath, who was likely related to the pretty old lady, Porn. So that technically made her a princess. There'd he been, simple old common guy Waldo hand in hand with a princess, locked in serious conversation about the rules of pool with a live prince. His life had suddenly took on a whole new flavor.

  And that old house in Bangkok was just as special as the people in it. It was there the Free Lao Movement was born and planned all its campaigns to kick out the French, then the Japs, then the French again. And it was there, when there weren't such a clear line between royalty and anarchy, that the PL took shape.

  Old Red used to spend a lot of time at the house plotting and scheming while one of his other brothers, Souvana Phouma was playing at being prime minister. But he'd gotten frustrated by all the sitting around they was doing there and he rolled up his sleeves and got into the serious business of agitating. You wouldn't know it now, but he used to be a hell of a lot more agitated. Now he just went to the house from time to time to shake off the dust and relax when he got tired of the caves.

  Them brothers was friends one minute, enemies the next. This, what they call, sibling rivalry ain't so hard to understand when you consider their daddy, the viceroy, had eleven wives and twenty three kids. Anyone who's had teenagers of their own knows one or two of 'em can tend to get rebellious. One out of twenty three ain't so bad, I guess.

  47

  When Mr. Kamphone come out of his house one Sunday morning, he found the rubber groundsheet was off his car and this big old black guy was standing staring at the yella Citroen like he hadn't never seen one before. Khampone stood staring at Waldo. Waldo stood staring at the car.

  It was uncanny. The only car him and Aretha'd ever owned was a yella Citroen. It was a hunk of shit but it was the only car they could afford. It took 'em three years to drive it to its grave but they did get a hell of a lot of good times out of it in them three years.

  It being the size it was, and them being the sizes they was, they couldn't never sit together in the front seat. So Waldo sat in the front and Aretha sat in the back with her arms around his neck. Off they'd go in that little yella box of French rust, never knowing how far they was gonna get before the thing overheated. It always overheated.

  That's why they called their Sunday car rides their 'adventure trips'. Wherever it was the car started to give off smoke signals, that's where they'd stop and have their picnic. It sounds kinda crazy but with the car playing such a big part in their adventures, it was like it was helping plan the trips. It was like it enjoyed 'em as much as they did.

  Aretha stayed up most of Saturday nights putting the hamper together. Of course they didn’t always end up in some scenic spot. There was times they'd wind up having a picnic under a billboard on the highway, or in the parking lot of a diner. But that was the fun of it. They never knew.

  They called the car Old Lemon, seeing as Citroen was almost French for lemon and that's what it was. And here it was. Not the same Old Lemon of course, but a passing copy. Waldo had saw it peeking out from under the rubber sheet and he couldn't resist having a look. All them happy days come flooding over him and he couldn't tear himself away.

  Mr. Kamphone didn't know why this big guy was crying at the sight of his car and he couldn't ask him. For all their years of colonizing the country, the French didn't actually leave much of a legacy. They weren't much for roads and water systems and schools, and stuff like that. They left a lot of buildings that didn't match the local style at all, and wouldn't last long, and they taught a few maids how to cook frogs. But they sure left a lot of rusty old car bodies. Laos was a cemetery of dead French cars and them queer little mopeds.

  Kamphone inherited this heap from his old boss. The man had fled the country when there was a chance he might get shot by the communists for making money from the down-trodden Lao peasants. He took with him the company parole and Kamphone's first wife. It was a fair swap in Kamphone's book and he looked after the car better than he ever looked after his wife. He couldn't afford to put gas in it no more so he kept it oiled and polished and free from dust under a rubber groundsheet.

  It impressed him that this foreigner was so moved by his car. As he couldn't find out why, he went inside and come out with the key, and handed it over to Waldo. Waldo come over all mushy, and said a bunch of stuff. Then he hugged the poor little guy. That was more thanks than he needed and he started to wonder whether he'd just given his car away.

  But Waldo pointed to his watch, hugged Kamphone again, and opened the car door real delicate-like. Kamphone hadn't never seen a man so happy to be having so much trouble getting in a car. When he was all in, he filled up the whole driver's side and half the passenger seat. The steering wheel was someplace under his left arm. It was like he was wearing the car.

  But he sure knew where everything was and started it first time. Citroens sound like something cruel's going on under the hood even when they're new. But the screech was like music to Waldo. Him and Aretha used to cheer whenever Old Lemon was kind enough to start. So he cheered and found a suitable gear and edged gently out of Kamphone's yard. The Lao fella signaled to the gas tank and Waldo put up his thumb and away he went.

  Kamphone wasn't too sure what he'd just done, or why. But the big guy sure did seem happy, and there wasn't that many happy looking people around in Laos in them days.

  -o-

  Nit and Pop was sitting out front of the auberge when this little yella car pulled up beside 'em and a sweating Waldo winded down the window. He smiled at 'em and said something in that language o' his and clicked open the back door. Every day with Waldo was a mystery. He called 'em in and in they got.

  The kids was mighty impressed with the way old Waldo slid his way through the gears and glided smooth as syrup down the main street of Savannakhet. They didn't know where they was going and they didn't care much. If there'd been someone around who spoke English, and if he'd bothered to ask, that someone probably would of advised against his taking the road up to the north east of town. They probably would of told him there was a lot of trouble with PL up there and that it was the last place they'd send an American in a French car.

  But there weren't no one around to give that advice, so Waldo drove north east. He spent most of the trip looking down the holes that appeared in front of them and trying to get around 'em. But when he did have a couple of yards of flat road, he took in the sights and the sounds and the smells.

  I guess Waldo was expecting the car to overheat, cause he just kept on going. With the state of the road they hadn't gone more than ten miles in the first hour. But that was far enough to get 'em to the new administration zone that was controlled by the PL; the same PL that was shooting down American planes and sabotaging American concerns around the country.

  Waldo was singing; 'Row, Row Row your Boat,' and the kids'd heard it so many times, they was singing it too. But they couldn't understand why he kept stopping and starting again in the wrong places. So they kept stopp
ing and starting too. Waldo seemed to think this was real hilarious so they kept doing it. They loved to watch him laugh. It was the first time Nit really come out of her shell. They was all in a great mood when they reached the road block and the AK47's come poking in through the windows.

  Waldo wasn't too worried about the war. He figured as he was living with PL and he was a close friend of the CIA, he had both sides covered. But them young soldiers in their new uniforms, they didn't know nothing about Waldo's contacts. They was fresh off the propaganda farm. They'd spent the last six months with a wise Vietnamese corporal who taught 'em just how cruel, sneaky and two-faced the American imperialists was.

  They'd seen actual photographs of what the American imperialist lackeys was capable of doing. They'd seen entire red Indian tribes wiped out and scalped. They'd seen poor people froze to death on the streets of New York, and slaves hung by the neck from trees like apples in an orchard. They'd seen television pornography that even young children could watch while they was having dinner. They'd seen this guy John Wayne butcher a whole regiment of Asians while people in the cinema cheered and whistled.

  And here at their barricade, terror had stepped out of the classroom and confronted them on their first day of active duty. Not one thing the American imperialist lackey said could be believed. Nothing he appeared to be could be trusted.

  What evil trick was them Americans playing here?

  They couldn't work out why he was being so cool about having a machine gun in his nose. The kids in the back seat figured Waldo knew something they didn't, so they relaxed too.

  The young guards was wired but they still played it by the book. No. 1. Get the enemy out of his vehicle. No. 2. Disarm and incapacitate the enemy. Now in the book that was OK. But in real life Waldo had swelled up some since they took off from Savannaket. There didn’t seem no way they was gonna get him out. They got them other two imperial lackey collaborators out and was searching them. But they didn't seem too concerned about things, neither.

  The guards decided if they couldn't get the big guy out, they'd just have to go in and search him where he sat. But there was one last trick in his box of mind warfare. They didn’t know it, but Waldo had been ticklish since he was a littlun. He couldn't stand no one touching him. So when the young PL guys started prodding and poking him, he pee'd himself laughing. That got the kids in a giggle-fit no one could stop.

  The guards kinda stood back and watched. They was scratching their brains and looking at each other blank as suet. This weren't what they imagined conflict to be like. This was much worse.

  They huddled together.

  "What do we do?"

  "They're technically prisoners of war. We should take 'em to the commander."

  "Right."

  "You think he …?"

  "What?"

  "You think he might be pissed that we didn't follow instructions?"

  The kids was back in the Citroen having a fit. The car was vibrating like a spin drier.

  "You mean …?"

  "I mean, No. 2. Disarm and incapacitate the enemy. No. 3. Extract

  basic information. No. 4. Shoot if they resist.

  "You think we should?"

  "Should?"

  "Shoot 'em."

  "Look, I …"

  "Go on. Say it."

  "Nothing they taught us at orientation covered this. I think we have

  to use our initiative."

  "I don’t know. That doesn't sound very …"

  "Very what?"

  "Very communistic."

  "Right. You're right. What would Ho Chi Min do?"

  "Good point. What would Brother Ho do?"

  "In this situation?"

  "Yeah."

  "No fucking idea."

  "Me neither."

  The old yella car was rocking and rolling around like some ride at a fun fair. All three of the invading army inside was laughing so bad it really hurt. Nit thought she was gonna burst open.

  "Or we could …"

  "Let 'em go."

  "Pretend we never saw 'em."

  "It'd make our lives easier."

  "I ain't too sure I'm cut out for this work."

  -o-

  Three hours later, Nit Pop, Waldo and the funny wagon arrived back in Savannakhet. They'd stopped at some scenic spots, caught toads, and fixed a flat tire. The kids was sure they'd never have so much fun again in their lives.

  Waldo filled up the tank with premium, and got the tire fixed before he took the car back to Mr. Kamphone. He seemed surprised to see it. Waldo give him $20 rental. Kamphone give it back. He figured he'd made up enough good karma that day already he didn't want to get greedy. He had a feeling it was his day. On an urge, he took the last ferry across the river, met a woman, and, as far as we know, lived a happy life. Weird how life works out, ain't it?

  48

  Wilbur looked shell-shocked when he turned up at the auberge and that was cause he was shell-shocked. He'd been exploded next to.

  "You have a bad day at the war, honey?" Saifon asked him. He could see her lips move but he was still deaf as a plank from the blast. He yelled back at her.

  "Sorry. Can't hear you, or myself. Mortar. I guess I bruised my eardrums. They hurt like hell. Am I shouting?" They could of heard him in Manchester, England. Saifon got a pad and a pencil and started writing down her questions.

  "Will your hearing come back?"

  "Oh, yeah." He yelled. "It only happened a couple of hours ago. But I wanted to come over straight away. I've got some top secret information for you."

  It didn't seem right to be shouting top secret information on a balcony overlooking the street so they took him to Waldo's room and locked the door. Wilbur couldn't settle on nothing between a yell and a whisper, so he decided to write everything down too.

  "I checked out the background of the truck driver. He used to be a heavy for the local mayor. The latter was involved in a lot of illegal stuff while the French were still here. His trucking company was doing very nicely out of Hmong opium harvests. The French weren't doing too badly out of it either.

  When the RLA grew in influence, they took over a lot of the trafficking trade. The mayor started losing business to them, so he did what any good businessman would do. He bought himself a commission in the RLA. Once we started pumping money in, he found he could steal it a lot easier by being in uniform. He's a captain now, in charge of quartermaster's stores. He's exactly the type of person your PL friends want to get rid of."

  Saifon and Waldo looked at each other like they'd been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. How the heck did he know about their PL friends? Maybe he was a better spy than he made out. They started to protest but he couldn't hear 'em. He just kept on writing.

  "His dad was mayor fifteen years ago so it's quite possible he was involved in your abduction, Saifon.

  Our people in Mukdahan monitor the traffic across the Mekhong. Your truck crosses over once a month. Technically it goes over empty and comes back with supplies. It went over a week ago so it's possible there were some kids on board. No one checks. But there's one that wasn't aboard."

  He looked at Nit doing her Lao homework. Her and Saifon was learning to write together. They got some books from the market. Nit was doing better at it.

  "I've got a list of places the truck picks up from. We're checking on them. I have to go throw up."

  They was amused he'd bothered to write that last part cause he barely made it to the bathroom. While he was chucking, Saifon and Waldo thought things through. They come to the conclusion they'd have to wait three weeks for the next delivery, else they wouldn't have no evidence. When Wilbur come back he wasn't buzzing so bad and he agreed. But he told 'em they'd have to do the job right. They'd have to track the kids all the way. Maybe even to the States if they wanted to catch the masterminds behind it all.

  That's when Saifon and Waldo realized how far out of their league they was. Saifon hadn't thought that much beyond doing what Nit had done. But
Wilbur was right. The guys running this business wasn't gonna sit back and let it be shut down without a fight. He said he'd call on some Thai favors and see what he could fix up at home. When he'd gone, Saifon and Waldo sat either side of Nit. They didn’t have to say nothing. They was both scared out'a their wits.

  -o-

  But they dug in. The RLA officers used to hang out at a café down by the river. By day it looked like the kind of place baby Jesus might of gotten borne in. Waldo called it 'the manger'. But by night with its pretty lights and painted serving girls, it was Time Square.

  With so many uniforms and so much booze, there was fights guaranteed every night. At least one killing a month. The police, what there was of 'em, didn’t have no control over the army, so the army did what it wanted. What they wanted could pretty much be found at the manger café.

  You can imagine, Waldo wasn't delighted when Saifon announced she'd gotten herself a job singing there. It weren't just cause he didn't think much of her singing. Even if she had a decent voice it was still a dangerous place for a girl to be at night. He wouldn't be able to chaperone, neither. He'd stand out there like an iceberg in a corn patch, and there ain't nothing like beer for reminding a guy how grieved he is about his politics.

  But Waldo had more chance getting a job in the national ballet than he did talking that girl out'a something she set her mind to. She told him there was the chance of getting to know this captain mayor and gather some evidence before the next shipment. The girls there knew him and said he was there often.

  He hoped they'd listen to her singing the first night and fire her ass. She didn't know no Lao songs, and what she knew in English, she knew in keys the writers never imagined them getting sung in. But when she didn't come back early that first night, he knew she'd managed to bluff her way in.