Laos Human Rights Conference
Room 122 Canon House Office Building.
US. Capitol, Washington, DC USA
——————–

Bounsang KHAMKEO’s Statement on the 10th Anniversary of the “Lao Student Movement of 26 October” Room 122 Canon House Office Building, Capitol Hill, Washington, DC.

Honorable Senators and Congressmen
Dr. Richard V. Saisomorn,

Ladies and Gentlemen:

I want to make a plea to everyone here to no longer be silent. Let us never forget on Monday, 26 October, 1999, a peaceful demonstration for human rights, including students, teachers, trade men, workers, and Lao ordinary people, took place in Vientiane. The demonstration was repressed violently, immediately, by the government’s police forces. As a result, five student leaders were arrested and put in prison. One died and four are still in prison. They are Thongsouk Keuakoun, Keochay, Bouavanh Chanmanivong, and Sengaroun Thengphanh.

The free world expressed its disgust for this brutal, unjust, and monstrous incarceration by the Lao communist government. No rational person can look upon this irresponsible act with anything but contempt.

Since that memorable day, the demonstration is deemed a symbol of peaceful struggle for installation of freedom and of the rule of law for Lao citizens who still have no voice and no basic human rights.

As a former political prisoner of the Lao communist government from 1981 to 1988 in the northern part of the country close to Vietnam, I know the prison conditions are very, very harsh. U.S. Congress and the European Parliament, and human rights organizations worldwide condemned Lao government’s violation of human rights. That is why I call on them to again come up with concrete measures to put pressure on Vientiane for immediate release of the four leaders of the movement, and address the human rights violations issues in Laos.

Vientiane has often brushed off criticisms, and there is little reason to believe it will clean-up its bad record of human rights unless human rights groups show that this time they means business.

Sincerely,

Bounsang Khamkeo, Ph. D.
Author of “I Little Slave: A Prison Memoir from Communist Laos”

October 28, 2009

For Immediate Release

For additional information:

Barbara Kerr, APR
Executive Director of
Communications and Marketing Telephone:  360-992-2921

E-mail: bkerr@clark.edu

GAMBLING AND ADDICTIONS –AN ASIAN PERSPECTIVE –COMING TO CLARK’S MENTAL HEALTH MONDAYS SERIES

The college will welcome author and educator Dr. Bounsang Khamkeo on Monday, Nov. 16

VANCOUVER, Wash. – According to the Los Angeles Times, in a 1999 survey in San Francisco’s Chinatown, which was commissioned by a social service agency, 70% of those responding cited gambling as the top problem in their community.

According to the Web site www.asian-nation.org, the UCLA Gambling Studies Program planned to conduct an Asian gambling study.  The Web site noted, “In Chinese, Vietnamese, Filipino, Korean and Cambodian communities, social workers and leaders are pressuring gaming officials and state legislators to recognize a hidden epidemic.”

On Monday, Nov. 16, an Asian perspective on gambling and addictions will be the focus of Clark College’s “Mental Health Mondays” presentation.  The discussion will be led by Bounsang Khamkeo, PhD, a behavioral health counselor at the OHSU Avel Gordly Center for Healing.  Dr. Khamkeo is an addictions treatment expert and offers behavioral health counseling in Chinese (Mandarin, Cantonese, Haka), Vietnamese, Thai, Laotian, French and English.

Dr. Khamkeo grew up in Laos but left at the age of 17 to study in France. Thirteen years later, in 1973, he returned to his homeland and was imprisoned. “I Little Slave” is an account of his seven-year struggle in prison to stay alive and keep sane in spite of harsh physical privation and endless psychological abuse. Dr. Bounsang Khamkeo is a human rights advocate who frequently speaks to students in political science, history, and psychology programs as well as residents who are pursuing psychiatry studies.

The event, which is free and open to the public, will take place on Monday, Nov. 16 from noon to 1 p.m. in the Penguin Student Lounge, located in the college’s Penguin Union Building.  Clark College’s main campus is located at 1933 Fort Vancouver Way, Vancouver.  Maps and parking directions are available at www.clark.edu/maps.

Two additional “Mental Health Mondays” events will be held in November.  On Nov. 23, Kathleen Waldron, M.Ed., LPC, NCC, will discuss eating disorders. Waldron is a licensed professional counselor with more than 20 years of community college experience.

On Nov. 30, Judy VanPatten, LMHC will focus on “Coping with the Holidays.” VanPatten is a Licensed Mental Health Counselor and a professor at Clark College.

The “Mental Health Mondays” sessions are sponsored by the Clark College Counseling Center.  For additional information, call 360-992-2902.

####

Laos: Khamkeo’s Hope

Bounsang Khamkeo is a strikingly strong man. His small frame and gentle nature is not to be confused with physical strength. It is his character, forged from years of suffering under a brutal regime and prison sentence, that tempered his prowess to push forward his dream for a free and democratic Laos.

By Sherry Harbert, Foreign Interest

There is an exceptional calm that emanates from Bounsang Khamkeo, author of I Little Slave: A Prison Memoir from Communist Laos. For the hundreds of frustrated, angry and emotionally-charged individuals he sees in his work as a behavioral health counselor, Khamkeo’s warm voice is a sanctuary. His voice reaches out to others in many languages. He can speak Chinese (Mandarin, Cantonese and Hakka), along with Vietnamese, Thai, Laotian, French, and English. The languages are the tools he uses to convey wisdom and guidance to his clients for healing and recovery. Khamkeo’s clients do not know of the physical and psychological tortures he endured in Laos’s slow death camps, a country with one political communist party and a long history of intolerance toward dissident. There are no noticeable indications that point to his past suffering. His clients only see a dedicated, gentle man.

Khamkeo’s focus is on his clients’ well-being. He offers an environment where their lives are paramount. In many cases, it is the only such place for the individuals who walk through his door. In his counseling sessions with his clients, Khamkeo understands the pain and thinking that hinder healing. He explains how their experiences and problems are not karma or retribution. He offers them a new way of thinking with a way toward recovery.

Khamkeo specializes with immigrant and refugee clients from Asia at the Avel Gordly Center for Healing with the Oregon Health and Science University (OHSU) in Portland, Ore., who suffer from substance addictions. The causes and effects are numerous.  Unemployment, loss of family members, a lack of English language skills, trauma, cultural adaptation and depression are some of the precursors of their addictions. Khamkeo patiently guides them through a personal journey to find peace within themselves. His talents and skills bridge many worlds for individuals who would otherwise find it difficult to communicate both linguistically and culturally with others. It is an unlikely occupation for a Laotian who studied in France and received a doctorate in political science at the University of Toulouse.

Khamkeo returned to his country in 1973 to witness its plunge into political chaos after the signature of the Paris Peace Accord to end the Vietnam War. He worked for the coalition Laotian government until the Lao People’s Democratic Republic or Pathet Lao (Laos) communists took over the country in 1975.  Khamkeo was appointed to the office of Executive Secretary of the Laotian Mekong Committee in 1978. At that time Laos, Thailand, and Vietnam established the Interim Mekong Committee to promote the development of agriculture and fish farming, improve navigation routes along rivers and construct hydroelectric dams along the Mekong River. It was a high level position. Khamkeo said he was surprised to be promoted to such a responsibility because he was not pro-communist. However, Khamkeo accepted the role and the duties it required. In his position, Khamkeo worked to get financial help from the outside world. The country was in economic ruin after the war. Any alliance that would facilitate an influx of capital was considered important by the government, even if it meant working with capitalists. The Mekong Committee was an inter-governmental regional organization that worked with UN Development Program (UNDP), regional international organizations, and donor countries. International investments and support were nearly nonexistent in the post-war era of the nation, so international ties were deemed necessary to carry on the government’s development objectives.

Khamkeo’s role involved many duties that would confuse Westerners. Service to the government meant performing all duties required by the Party. Laos was a country where no one dare question the authority of the communist Party. As a high-ranking government official, Khamkeo had to clean his office building, sweep the street and work at his office’s vegetable garden to prove he was not a “bourgeois or a reactionary.” It was normal to conduct oneself under such dual parameters. Before the regime change, Laotian society was built upon politeness which deferred to the higher position with the phrase, “I Little Slave” instead of “I.” Khamkeo would soon discover the consequences of that traditional ideal when he was put in prison by his new communist masters.

Ripping Away Time

On June 1, 1981, Khamkeo entered Red Cliff Reeducation Camp after running afoul of an ambitious boss. It was one of the most brutal prisons set up in Laos to punish people who dared to stand up to the Party. The Party referred to its prisons as seminar centers or reeducation camps. Khamkeo would not participate in the corruption that ran rampant throughout the government. It was actually a natural reaction on his part. Khamkeo wasn’t a whistle-blower who opened up public scrutiny on government corruption. There was little to no opportunity to achieve such grand actions. He plainly would not defer to his boss’s demand of cronyism. His simple defiance was cause enough to send him away to prison in the jungle. In 1981, such a single act was considered a crime. The expectation to serve the Party was absolute. It still pervades Laotian society today. Even with some recent improvements, Laos continues to place near the bottom of Transparency International’s list of worst corrupt states in the world.

That day, Khamkeo lost everything except his humanity and dignity. Time had stopped. There was no future to contemplate, only the present moment in which to survive. Khamkeo recalled gazing at his young daughter, Vilaihak, in her crib hours before he was taken and vowed to survive for his family. His vow would mean suffering inhumane circumstances with little hope of ever escaping. He vowed to live despite what he would face. It was a commitment that reached beyond any obligation the Party had demanded. It was the only human act in Khamkeo’s control. It carried more weight than any policy or ideal. But that one act and the commitment to not “confess a sin” for the Party meant seven years and four months of brutal consequences.

Walking into Death

There was little known of what happened inside Laos’s prisons in the 1980s. It was kept secret and for good reason. The abuse, torture and abject violation of every human right would have enlisted an international outcry. The system just disappeared those entering into its dark abyss. It was a conscientious effort of the Party in a physical and psychological level. It used both to destroy those inside its walls.

“They [the prison guards] tortured me,” Khamkeo told a riveted audience of his medical peers at OHSU’s monthly forum in August. “I was in handcuffs for one and a half years and could not take a shower. It was not allowed. There was no medical care. I had several serious sicknesses. I am lucky to be alive.” Khamkeo described how the psychological effects added to his pain. “There was no contact with family,” he said. “They prevented me from sleeping for several nights.” He told how the guards had tied a rope around his neck and attached it to the handle of the door of his solitary cell so they could pull on it and choke him if he nodded off to sleep. “They would pull on the rope and ask, ‘Are you still there?’ all the time.” Khamkeo recalled Nazis who used this torture technique to disturb their prisoners from sleep before interrogating them.

The vivid accounts of his time inside the Laotian prison system are vividly documented in his book. Khamkeo published the book in 2006 years after he arrived in the U.S., and after a translation from the original French to English. The book is a culmination of his efforts to personally heal and offer help to others.

One of his colleagues questioned if the book could be used to help people with post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Khamkeo replied, “Yes, I have a few former military clients from the Vietnam War era in counseling. I teach them how suffering can make them strong. They have a choice about how they want see the world and build a new life for themselves out of their pain and hurt.” Another question asked if he believed there was just plain evil in the world. Khamkeo told the audience that in the Chinese philosophy of yin and yang, there is good and bad together, but he believed in good people. It was a short answer to a profound question, but Khamkeo answered much more in detail by being in front of the podium with no embedded hate or anger. If anything, he proved there is also just plain simple goodness.

During an interview inside a Starbucks at Pioneer Square in downtown Portland, Khamkeo expressed his hope for what the book can do for many others. He chose Portland’s most popular public space as it is always bustling with lots of people. He wanted his photo taken with Portland’s iconic statue, “Allow Me,” a life-sized bronze man with an umbrella created by Seward Johnson. His book is not only about his own suffering but also about universal suffering. Khamkeo said inside the coffee shop, “We know that war and torture have existed for thousand years on earth. The human condition is suffering, nothing is new under the sun. Today we see the same suffering in many countries where war takes place. Tomorrow we will see suffering again, only the form of suffering maybe different.” After a pause, he added, “But we should try to stop violence.”  Khamkeo described feeling his own suffering mingle and fuse with that of the whole world when he realized how destructive suffering continues to be for the world.

At Red Cliff, Khamkeo was forced to move rock, cut trees, and carry wood from one mountain to another for the first several years of his incarceration. He said the grueling work was made even worse by the lack of food and medical care. “I did not have enough food to eat for the entire time of my detention,” he said. “Communist Laotians don’t kill their prisoners, but starve them slowly to death. They are more cruel than the Khmer Rouge who got rid of their prisoners right away.”

Khamkeo was constantly harassed to provide a confession that he was an “enemy of the Socialist state.”  He explained, “It was very dangerous. They want it in writing. If I said ‘yes,’ they would kill me. If I said ‘no,’ they would keep me forever.” Khamkeo said he determined he would be honest to himself, so he refused to comply with the order.

Life in the camp was a vicious cycle of abuse for each prisoner. Khamkeo described how he witnessed death continuously. “They often pulled prisoners out to shoot them,” he said. “I never knew if I would be pulled out next.” He thought about death and suicide for many years. The silent killers at the camp were the mosquitoes that carried malaria and the harsh winters with no protection or warmth. Khamkeo survived several near-death illnesses.

Finding Life in Death

Khamkeo’s life-changing moment came through a sequence of events one day during the rainy season at Red Cliff. He read a certain section of his book to illustrate the moment. The words were carefully and eloquently chosen. He did not wish to risk the story being told any other way. The passage is not located at the end of the book, but rather in the middle of his most horrific ordeal. The experience helped him reach beyond his ordeal in many ways. It also gave him hope.

On certain days, Khamkeo and the other prisoners were forced to remain in their barracks. The facility amounted to no more than straw and tin, but it was enough to keep them in place. One lonely day they listened to a man singing some songs. He had proudly created a makeshift guitar out of a candy box and wire. The first song was a song dedicated to the glory of the Party, which drew criticism from one of the inmates. He then changed to a rendition of “Jail House Rock” with his makeshift stringed instrument. Some prisoners joyfully joined in the song. The “Master Chanthone the Cruel,” a name well-deserved according to Khamkeo, unleashed his anger over such an act, yelling it was forbidden to sing an “imperialist” song and to have fun in prison. He threatened to shoot whoever had the instrument and the frightened owner of the instrument confessed. The prison guard smashed the makeshift guitar as a storm erupted overhead. The prisoner only lost his instrument that day.

During the storm, the prisoners talked of life, or rather the agony of life. Khamkeo listened to the voices along with the raindrops that crashed onto the roof and trees. In a sudden moment, the clouds broke and a full rainbow appeared. Khamkeo still remembers the vivid colors and sense of awe he felt staring at it. For the first time since he entered the camp, he felt human and confident in life. The beauty of the rainbow and sounds of the crickets and frogs around him illuminated his existence far beyond the caged walls. It was the first time since his captivity that he experienced such serenity. He vowed again to live, this time to be more than a survivor even though he was still handcuffed with little hope of release or life. Khamkeo was going to be a winner. “I survived because I wanted to be a witness,” he said. “I saw so many wrongdoings done by the communists. As an intellectual, I cannot close my eyes and close my conscience.”

A Vow to be a Witness

Khamkeo’s present demeanor is not a covering of the pain, but a genuine freedom from it. He hopes his book and his public story will help open the doors to freedom in his country and heal the pain of so many who have experienced oppression and fear.

“The book is about the human condition, it is a philosophy, a message for the world,” Khamkeo explained. He sees it as a goal. “Many Americans and readers around the world email me,” he said. “Some offer me their home if I can visit them. I’m very touched by their gesture and grateful for their hospitality.”

Khamkeo takes this mission with absolute sincerity. “Suffering has no color, no nationality, no race, and no frontier,” he declared. “We are all human beings. I want to educate people about the human condition, that it is all the same.” It is a message Khamkeo repeats wherever he goes. He sees the book and his existence as a vehicle for bringing change to Laos. He hopes it will bring human rights to the people he left behind. “I have thought about my mission since prison,” Khamkeo said. “I have traveled across America and Europe. I travel with the book to promote democracy and human rights. All my readers say this book is beautiful, moving, powerful, and inspiring.”

From Slave to Master

One day at Red Cliff, a voice came over the loud speaker announcing the date. Time was not measured by days at Red Cliff so any acknowledgment of a date was an ominous warning. The deputy prison chief told the prisoners it was September 26, 1984. They were all told that trials would be held, and they would be freed. The voice said to pack their bags, but only what they could carry.

Like everything in the prison camps and system that ran them, Khamkeo knew the announcement was a ruse to get the prisoners to voluntarily assemble themselves for what was coming next. It was not freedom. “There are no lawyers, no appeals. In a communist country citizens don’t need lawyers because it is a classless society,” Khamkeo said in a sarcastic tone that was required to recite again and again in Laos. He said once someone was sent to prison there was no way out, otherwise it would look like the Party was wrong and the Party could not commit wrongdoing. He shuddered when his name was called. He packed.

Sop Hao prison made even the most hardy prisoner at Red Cliff cringe. It is an amalgamation of slave labor and death camp for Laos’s detention system. Located between the Nam Ma River and the border of Vietnam, its isolation guarantees the prisoners are far removed from any civilization. The Party wanted no reminders of them. Khamkeo and 59 others discovered what that meant when they arrived at Sop Hao prison. Upon their arrival, they watched an emaciated man beg a guard to kill him. Khamkeo recalls what the guard said, “I don’t need to kill you. You can die here all on your own, slowly.” It was a pervasive tactic of policies that stripped away human rights and dignity. It offered the Party an excuse that it was not directly responsible for the deaths in such places. Khamkeo experienced how cruel such conditions were for those suffering within its grip. The man who had studied the world’s political systems would never give way to communism again. He vowed to tell the truth to the world if he survived.

After more than three years at Sop Hao prison where a great number of prisoners died from execution, overwork, disease, and starvation, Khamkeo managed to survive. When Khamkeo first learned of his release in September, 1988, he was not prepared to be a witness. All he wanted was to see his family. He traded his shirt for some pears, a symbol of hope to present to his family. He said the reunion was a poignant reminder that love can work through any hardship. His wife, Vieng, who struggled to raise four children in his absence, though his two sons Vannasack and Aloun eventually fled to a Thai refugee camp, greeted him with the deep love that she held onto each day he was gone. It was a most victorious and happy reunion for Khamkeo. He had conquered all of the government’s attempts to break him.

The perestroika policies of the former Soviet Union unleashed a rush of change across the borders of many countries in the communist bloc. Laos’ leaders decided to free some of its political prisoners in a show of mutual agreement. Khamkeo’s release certificate was stamped on September 6, 1988, with no charges against him. He used the official document as a cover for his book. It serves as a poignant reminder to Khamkeo of a system with no logic or rights.

His surprise release was welcomed, but he was still in Laos with little hope of a future.  Khamkeo’s sudden release from Laotian Goulag did not guarantee him a safe life at home. His ambitious former boss continued to harass him. His life was becoming more unstable for him outside the prison walls. He and Vieng determined it was wise to escape before he was drawn into another false accusation. He would have to leave behind family, friends, and his bitterness. He was going to start a new life. “Time to forget the past,” he said. “It is time to think ahead.” Khamkeo details in his book how his two sons left first for California from Thailand. He, his wife and two daughters, Palavi and Vilaihak, arrived in the U.S. in May, 1989, to settle in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. His wife’s niece and her husband sponsored the family. One month later, he and his wife were able to fly to California to pick up their sons.

The first year was a new beginning for the family, but Khamkeo could not find a job. He decided to begin writing his memories of prison experience so he would not forget any detail. He naturally wrote in French, as he knew little English at that time. He completed the manuscript, then moved to Maryland to look for work. He was still unable to find a employment.  Fortunately, a Laotian friend in Vancouver, Washington, invited the couple to the city for a possible job. The couple arrived, liked the region and sent back for their children. Their friend helped Khamkeo land a job as teacher’s aid for English as Second Language (ESL) students at Fort Vancouver High School.

After several months, another local Laotian heard of Khamkeo’s manuscript and wanted to read it. He did, then gave it to Laurie Moore, a doctor at OHSU. She worked with the Indochinese Psychiatric Program. Moore was so taken by the story that she offered to help translate it for Khamkeo. Her duties at the clinic proved too much to complete the task, but she offered something better, a job using Khamkeo’s manuscript for his resume. Khamkeo recalls that Moore determined that his experience and education could qualify him as a behavioral health counselor. He was offered the position after some training. It was the first time in many years that Khamkeo made a decision about his life that was not tied to survival. He decided that he wanted to help and serve his community, so he accepted.

Khamkeo said he discovered something important about his book. “Since this country gave me a place to live, I needed to give back to America by publishing this book here,” said Khamkeo. Then he took English classes to prepare to rewrite the manuscript. His academic colleagues at Fort Vancouver, Dorothy Parkin and Suzanne Mayr, helped him complete the manuscript.

Looking to Help Others

Khamkeo’s life would not be complete without looking back to Laos. “I love Laos and its people,” he said. “In Laos people have no basic human rights. That’s why I want to fight  for freedom and democracy.” He hopes the U.S. government shares his views in promoting democracy and human rights, “My book is my weapon. I will live up to my commitment by peaceful means for an open society in Laos.”

Khamkeo believes education and work in politics affords him an insight of where best to place diplomatic efforts. His dream is to see a multi-party system in Laos someday He thinks the U.S. has an important role to play. He pointed to Laos helping the U.S. against Hanoi during the Vietnam War. “Laos and U.S. had a close relationship. The relationship involved CIA advisers assisting the Royal Laotian army with plain-clothes military pilots flying secret missions inside its borders to counter North Vietnamese troops during the Vietnam War.” The U.S. re-established full diplomatic relations with Laos and granted it Normal Trade Relations status in 2004. Khamkeo feels it is dangerous to support economic growth without pushing for human rights. “On the surface, Laotian people can travel freely and do private business. In reality, no criticizing the Party line is allowed,” he said. “So how can Laos be a free country?” President Barack Obama recently lifted Laos from the U.S. trade blacklist citing “Laos is no longer a Marxist-Leninist nation.” The country remains one of the few lasting Communist countries.

Human rights are first on Khamkeo’s list of changes that need to happen in his homeland. “Human rights issues are a priority,” he said. “First, the Laotian government must free all political prisoners.” He hopes that freedom of religion, press and association will come soon as well. Khamkeo addressed the human rights issues of Laos before the Belgium Parliament in May at the International Committee for Democracy in Laos meeting. He articulated the need for supporting human rights and democracy in the country with international pressures.

Khamkeo said that American embassy in Vientiane has done a good job to push government to have more freedom, but it is not enough. He was positive that exiled Laotians could help promote human rights in Laos, “but before going there, the two sides should meet, sit together, and talk. To achieve this, the U.S. government or the U.N. should back this process by a written document.” He added, “We just cannot go there without a written document that protects our safety, otherwise the government might arrest us.”

Khamkeo believes no change can come if Vietnam retains its influence over the Laotian government. The Vietnamese government announced construction of a security office in Vientiane in August. The Vietnamese minister of public security, Le Hong Anh, credited the facility as part of the special relations between the two nations and police forces. The terminology reverts back to the 1977 when the two nations signed their first 25-year Treaty of Friendship and Cooperation. Khamkeo fears such alliances will further destroy any chance of independence for Laos.

He hopes the younger educated generation will begin create the changes, but fears that government control will stifle any popular movement. “The younger educated generation wants change. It sees the world through the internet. Party always praises its way of governing is democratic, but the younger generation sees it differently, and it is afraid to say anything.” When asked what scares them the most, Khamkeo immediately responded, “The secret police go after the entire family. They go in to check the entire family. Even exiled Laotians who come back to visit, they are afraid to voice their opinions that would be cause for arrest. Everyone is watched. Their phone calls and letters are monitored. Their internet viewing is tracked and disrupted. The media is strictly controlled. “We can call family from America and friends in Laos, but we all know someone is listening.” Now they can listen in with Laos’ first 3G generation of mobile technology.

Khamkeo believes political change in his homeland must happen first before development. He hopes the U.S. will put pressure on the government to become more transparent and allow more rights to the Laotian citizens. He suggested that the U.S. Congress pass another resolution demanding more freedom, democracy, human rights and free elections with multiple parties. Khamkeo finds his new adopted country complex. “I am surprised sometimes how the U.S. government says one thing and does something different,” he said. “Now is the time for America to match words with actions to push for a dialogue between Vientiane and exiled political groups.”

For Khamkeo there is always hope. He said, “Everything that we undertake is directly linked to what we believe; we are the authors of our reality.” After a pause, he added, “I feel change for a free and democratic Laos is beginning to move.”

October 12, 2009

When I received my undergraduate course catalog the summer before my freshman year at Yale University, the one class that I knew for certain I needed to take was on the history of the Vietnam War. It was the closest thing I could find to help me understand why family came to the United States. I was certain that one of the most esteemed History departments in the country must have the answers to validate my family’s struggles. When I finally arrived in New Haven, I sat in the front of the lecture hall, determined not to miss a single detail of what I felt would be the most important course in my education up to that point. The teaching assistant began the class by handing out the syllabus, which I hastily ripped through as if I were opening a Christmas present. There it was, an entire lecture devoted to Laos, the Secret War and the Ho Chi Minh Trail. With excitement, I told the professor that I was Laotian and eager to learn as much as possible from his course. Although the professor actually apologized for not allocating more time to Laos, I remained enthusiastic. The course reading list included works by Grant Evans, Stanley Karnow, Neil Sheehan and other highly regarded researchers, who each devoted several chapters exclusively to the role that Laos played in recent history. I felt like a thirsty long distance runner being handed a large cup of ice water, at last. This was 1995.

While I was happy with my general education in Southeast Asian history, I was never entirely satisfied with what I learned about Laos. I continued to keep an interest in developments in Laos through family and various news media outlets. It was just before my first trip to Laos in 2007 that I learned of a memoir detailing one man’s personal experience inside communist Laos. I originally thought to bring the book with me to read on the trip, but later realized I was better off not doing so. If my course at Yale was like a cup of water, Bounsang Khamkeo’s book, “I Little Slave” should be compared to a waterfall. Written in a true refugee voice, it is the sort of book that would have caused the Lao PDR border officials to think twice about letting me through. Bounsang Khamkeo’s “I Little Slave” is important for several reasons. Firstly, he presents to a wide English-reading audience a rare first hand account of what really happened inside the enigmatic Lao government in the 1970s and 1980s. Secondly, his intellectual training enables him to significantly place his personal experiences in a broader historical context. Finally, his survival and continued optimism serves as inspiration to future generations to carry on the work for justice, democracy, dignity, and human rights in Laos.

Bounsang was born in Laos and spent most of his youth growing up in the southern city of Pakse. His parents were fortunate to have the means to educate him in French schools, including sending him to France for higher education. He returned to Laos with a Ph.D. in Political Science from the University of Toulouse and, like many proud young students of his generation, was eager to put his education to work in the service of the country of his birth. He joined the ranks of the Laotian civil service in the country’s capital of Vientiane, quickly rising through the ranks – praised and promoted for his intelligence and abilities.

To the outside world, Laos was a neutral country working out its political differences through coalitions and negotiated agreements. Bounsang worked for important political figures, who assured him this was the case. However, he did not need classified clearance to figure out that, internally, Laos was a country in the middle of a bloody civil war. While the Royal Lao government maintained control of the city centers, it only took a short trip into the outlying provinces to discover that the communist Pathet Lao forces were quickly seizing control of the countryside and waiting for the optimal time to take complete control of the country. Fearing the worst, Bounsang’s father began to sell his property and prepared to leave the county, desperately urging Bounsang to follow him. When the dominoes fell in South Vietnam in 1975, the Pathet Lao took over Vientiane and refugees poured over the border into neighboring Thailand. Bounsang chose to remain behind, reluctant to abandon the homeland to which he only recently returned. With an educational background in political history, he understood that the country’s royal legacy was obsolete and he deeply desired to make a contribution to the country’s new goals for a democratic society.

Almost overnight, symbols of the now obsolete monarchy were seized and destroyed. The three headed elephant was banned from all government stationary and references to the royal family was shunned. No longer would there be distinction between rank and class. The traditional hierarchical term for “Ka-Noi” (literally “Little Slave”) meaning “I” would be eliminated because there would no longer be masters and subservients. All people would be equals, referring to one another by the egalitarian “Sa-Hai” (Comrade) or “Ai / Nong” (Brother). Bounsang was encouraged by the new leaders to continue his work: representing government interests to foreign diplomats, working closely with socialist countries and even traveling overseas to promote development programs. Although the ideological transition had some initial setbacks, Bounsang felt confident that, overall, the country would change some day in the future.

As with all tightly woven illusions, the seams of the ideal people’s revolution eventually began to reveal itself. Bounsang soon became acutely aware of the hypocrisy surrounding him. It did not take much effort for him to lift the veil of democracy which masked the injustice commited by the bureaucratic elite. He witnessed poverty and destitution among the common people which were brought on by failed agrarian policies instituted by incompetent party cadres who earned their positions through following the party line and arranging personal favors. He saw high ranking generals and government leaders indulging in foreign goods and luxuries, which were unattainable by ordinary people because the leaders themselves had outlawed them. When the inequities became too apparent to conceal, dissenters were swiftly ushered away to be “re-educated”. For failing to comply with the orders of his corrupt superior, Bounsang was arrested and sent to so called “re-education” which would take him seven years and four months to complete.

One of the most important aspects of “I Little Slave” is Bounsang’s vivid depiction of his experience in the prison camps, which was officially referred to by the deceptive euphemism “Seminar”. Family and friends were denied access to the prison camps. Bounsang relates that, “the prison authorities instructed the prisoners that in communist Laos prisoners had the party as their father and the government as their mother to take care of them, so prisoners did not need family!” Food, clothing and even letters intended for detainees were permanently seized by officials. They were not only robbed of their rights, but also stripped of the very dignity that the revolution so boldly promised. Placed in shackles and forced to kneel, Bounsang was to refer to himself again as “Ka-Noi” to the prison guard Masters. Concealed from the rest of the country and ignored by the outside world, Bounsang and hundreds of other Laotian prisoners of conscience struggled under destitute conditions, lingering for years without civil procedure or a just trial.

Detainees were required to commit to communist ideologies to memory, do hard labor with little food and sleep on damp wooden planks. Young and uneducated prison guards were relentless in their maltreatment of the jailed men, often scolding and caning them for minor offenses at whim. Not even the King of Laos and his immediate family, with all of their inheritance and influence, were spared the cruelty of inhumane confinement. An untold number of people died from torture, starvation, cold, disease and neglect in the remote Pha Deng and Sop Hao prison camps in Hoa Phanh Province. Three years into his captivity, Bounsang was resolved to not only survive, but document their dreadful experience and expose to the world the injustices brought upon them. He said, “I want to be witness to inhuman treatment of citizens under communist regime.”

Growing up in America and having never gone a day without a wholesome meal or a comfortable place to rest, it was a truly humbling experience to speak to Bounsang, who is now in his 60s and lives in Washington State. He admits that there are still lingering physical pains and discomforts resulting from his hard prison life, but he reassured me that from his routine annual check-ups his doctors say he is doing fine. Most importantly he is surrounded by his loving and devoted wife, grown children and multiple grandchildren. First and foremost he thanked me for my interest in his work and dedicates his book to the younger generation of Laotians, with hopes that we continue to stay interested and involved in Laos. When asked about the possibility of political change in Laos and the means to achieve it, he says “I respect all exile movements that struggle for regime change in Laos, but we need coordination for things to be done efficiently.” Despite his years of suffering, he maintains a positive view that change in Laos must come by peaceful means. Even with regards to his former superior, who originally caused him to imprisoned, Dr. Bounsang has expressed forgiveness and does not wish ill upon him. “Being born a human being,” he says, “we should do not seek to bring harm upon fellow human beings.” He believes that it is the responsibility of the younger generation to bring forth these changes. He is especially concerned that the current Lao economy depends too heavily on foreign aid and the detrimental export of natural resources such as timber, precious minerals and hydroelectric power as repayment for such aid. As it stands, he laments, Laos has accepted nearly $3 billion worth of loans from foreign countries, yet the profits from government enterprises are hoarded by a select few and siphoned out of the country, to pay for homes in Thailand, France, the United States and Switzerland, leaving the country as a whole in a state of poverty, perpetuating its status as a nation of paupers. He warns that “there will be dire consequences for Laos if the present system of corruption and exploitation continues. The opportunity for peaceful change is in the hand of the this new generation of revolutionaries.”

Bounsang offers a solution to the grim prospects: “There is no denying that there is an intellectual vacuum in Laos. The present leadership lacks real technical training and as a result is unable to make sound policies. Laos must make peace with its past and welcome back all Laotian people spread out all over the world, even those from opposing political parties, to pool the resources available inside and outside of the country, in order to build a better future together.” He does not idealize the past and remains opposed to the return of the monarchy. He does not feel that any individual should be granted power to rule over another by virtue of their birth. However, he strongly opposes what he describes as “the corruption, exploitation and incompetence of the present communist way of governing.”

He points out that, while many Laotians have been encouraged to returned from exile abroad, too many have been deceived into investing in fraudulent schemes or fall victim to extortion by government officials at all levels. Real change is needed, he insists: “Laos must be a true democracy with free and fair elections, with participation of other parties. The currently leadership must allow patriotic individuals who are morally principled, appropriately qualified and suitably educated the opportunity to make desperately needed reforms.” With increased foreign influence and tourism in Laos, it is becoming increasingly important for the political climate to change in order for the country to retain its sovereign character. It is no doubt a heavy burden that he places on the shoulders of our generation, but it is hopefully a bearable load when compared to the weight of the past.

Dr. Bounsang Khamkeo originally drafted “I Little Slave” in French and intended to publish it in France soon after its completion, then later decided to have it translated into English. He explained that, “This country [USA] has given my family and I a place to live in peace, so I want to give back to America.” English was a new language to him when he arrived in the United States, but with the help of English as Second Language teachers, he was able to learn the language quickly. He is presently a university lecturer and travels throughout the country to share his story. In April he presented and discussed his book at Harvard University. “I Little Slave” is available from Amazon.com, Barnes & Nobles and several bookstores online. The book is currently rated five stars by Amazon members, which is not only an honor for Dr. Bounsang, but a great source of pride for many Laotians. He also reads his book out loud in Lao, in weekly broadcasts on Radio Free Asia. The book is being translated into written Lao by a fellow refugee for potential distribution worldwide, with hopes of reaching out to the people who may not have a full picture of their country’s past and who cannot read English.