Dtook. It was obvious she came from an affluent family as she always dressed in the most brilliant white shirts and spectacular phasin skirts that were probably made from antique cloth. The woman’s father, Bounlan recalled, had held a senior position in government at some stage, although the family’s surname escaped her. She had no idea why the woman had chosen a career in teaching. They weren’t the closest of friends. In fact Dtook had kept herself very much to herself.
Phosy wondered about the woman’s age. Bounlan pointed out that Dtook had always looked haggard but that she was probably no older than forty at the time they met. She wasn’t an attractive woman. She always had that up-all-night-studying look. That’s why the other women had been so surprised that she’d found herself such a prize husband. She’d even brought him along to the course graduation. A tall, strapping officer in the Royal Lao Army to boot.
The graduation party, Bounlan told them, was the last time she’d seen Dtook. She had no idea what had become of her. None of her classmates heard from her. Bounlan, on the contrary, was very involved in organizing reunions with the women who’d taken the course. She knew the current teachers – the ajans – very well. Only one who had taught the class of ‘64 was still on the faculty. He had been a lecturer and home teacher and he was currently the vice director of languages in the new progressive, socialist Dong Dok. His name was Ajan Ming and Bounlan was certain he would be the best bet for following up on Dtook’s whereabouts. The group thanked her and noted her address in case they had any further questions.
Before Dtui and Phosy had left for the institute that morning, two peculiar items of news had come their way. The first was in the form of a note they found pinned to the morgue door. It was written in the peculiar Hmong script. Its jumbled roman characters always reminded Dtui of junior Scrabble tiles before they’re arranged into real words. She couldn’t make head or tail of them. They sent Geung off to find Kou, the Hmong orderly, who translated it for them.
Yeh Ming – fortunately, Dtui knew who this referred to, and so, apparently, did Kou – is alive and safe and will come back to you before the end of Hmong New Year. He is helping us. Do not worry. He is great . It was signed The Hmong .
Why they had believed the note, neither Dtui nor Phosy could say. Perhaps it was the smile and knowing nods of the translator that made them feel at ease. Perhaps if the second note, this one from Manivone at the Justice Department, had arrived first, they might have been less inclined to be placated by it. If there had been no Hmong note at all they would have been frantic with worry and probably cancelled their trip to Dong Dok. The second note read:
Dtui ,
We’ve just learned that Dr Siri and Judge Haeng have been abducted by Hmong insurgents in Xiang Khouang. I will let you know if we get any more information. We’re all praying for Dr Siri’s safe return. Manivone
If she hadn’t read the Hmong note first, Dtui wouldn’t have noticed the omission of Judge Haeng in the Justice Department prayers. As it was, both she and Phosy were still chuckling about it when they left. They could think of no reason why the Hmong would bother to deliver the note unless it was true. The mission to Dong Dok was still on.
They’d tried to phone ahead several times but as the Lao said, passing a live turtle up one nostril and down the other was easier than trying to make a local telephone call beyond the city. It was only ten kilometres to Dong Dok but it might as well have been in another solar system. Civilai hadn’t wanted Dtui and Phosy to venture there. He wanted them somewhere safe until the Lizard had been caught but of course they would have none of it. Their armed guards accompanied them to the edge of town, but once they were certain they weren’t being followed,
Phosy wondered about the woman’s age. Bounlan pointed out that Dtook had always looked haggard but that she was probably no older than forty at the time they met. She wasn’t an attractive woman. She always had that up-all-night-studying look. That’s why the other women had been so surprised that she’d found herself such a prize husband. She’d even brought him along to the course graduation. A tall, strapping officer in the Royal Lao Army to boot.
The graduation party, Bounlan told them, was the last time she’d seen Dtook. She had no idea what had become of her. None of her classmates heard from her. Bounlan, on the contrary, was very involved in organizing reunions with the women who’d taken the course. She knew the current teachers – the ajans – very well. Only one who had taught the class of ‘64 was still on the faculty. He had been a lecturer and home teacher and he was currently the vice director of languages in the new progressive, socialist Dong Dok. His name was Ajan Ming and Bounlan was certain he would be the best bet for following up on Dtook’s whereabouts. The group thanked her and noted her address in case they had any further questions.
Before Dtui and Phosy had left for the institute that morning, two peculiar items of news had come their way. The first was in the form of a note they found pinned to the morgue door. It was written in the peculiar Hmong script. Its jumbled roman characters always reminded Dtui of junior Scrabble tiles before they’re arranged into real words. She couldn’t make head or tail of them. They sent Geung off to find Kou, the Hmong orderly, who translated it for them.
Yeh Ming – fortunately, Dtui knew who this referred to, and so, apparently, did Kou – is alive and safe and will come back to you before the end of Hmong New Year. He is helping us. Do not worry. He is great . It was signed The Hmong .
Why they had believed the note, neither Dtui nor Phosy could say. Perhaps it was the smile and knowing nods of the translator that made them feel at ease. Perhaps if the second note, this one from Manivone at the Justice Department, had arrived first, they might have been less inclined to be placated by it. If there had been no Hmong note at all they would have been frantic with worry and probably cancelled their trip to Dong Dok. The second note read:
Dtui ,
We’ve just learned that Dr Siri and Judge Haeng have been abducted by Hmong insurgents in Xiang Khouang. I will let you know if we get any more information. We’re all praying for Dr Siri’s safe return. Manivone
If she hadn’t read the Hmong note first, Dtui wouldn’t have noticed the omission of Judge Haeng in the Justice Department prayers. As it was, both she and Phosy were still chuckling about it when they left. They could think of no reason why the Hmong would bother to deliver the note unless it was true. The mission to Dong Dok was still on.
They’d tried to phone ahead several times but as the Lao said, passing a live turtle up one nostril and down the other was easier than trying to make a local telephone call beyond the city. It was only ten kilometres to Dong Dok but it might as well have been in another solar system. Civilai hadn’t wanted Dtui and Phosy to venture there. He wanted them somewhere safe until the Lizard had been caught but of course they would have none of it. Their armed guards accompanied them to the edge of town, but once they were certain they weren’t being followed,
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