Colin Cotterill - Thirty-Three Teeth

“He what?”

“Thirty-three teeth. It’s almost unheard of. The Lord Buddha also had thirty-three, and although he never mentioned it, the dental records showed that my uncle had thirty-three teeth as well. It’s a sign, an indication that you’ve been born as a bridge to the spirit world.”

“And you believe all this?” Siri asked as he began to use his tongue to count the teeth in his own mouth.

“There’s been too much evidence to doubt it.” Siri noticed for the first time that a cricket had come to rest on the old king’s shoulder. “Do you recall that your Viet Minh friends tried to invade Luang Prabang in the early fifties?”

“Yes.” Siri lost count of his teeth.

“What reason did they give for their failure?”

“Hmm, let me think. Something about the place being heavily fortified and manned with well-armed French militia.”

“Ha. So I thought. The French didn’t get here in time. All we

had was a handful of old retainers with rusty hunting rifles. A crochet society could have invaded us. The advisers told my father we were doomed and that he should flee.

“But he stayed. That night, he gathered the shamans, and they called on the spirits to protect the capital. The following dav, the Viet Minh were advancing upon us. They were so cocksure, they were already divvying up the spoils as they marched. But suddenly they began to fall.”

“In what way?”

“Just drop. A number were taken by some mysterious palsy. They lost all their strength. Their eyes rolled in their sockets and they couldn’t speak. More and more fell to this mysterious disease, until the commanders called a halt to the advance. They had to drag the stricken men back on bamboo travoises.

“Their medics couldn’t fathom what ailment had struck them down or how to treat them. But the next day, they awoke, right as rain. So they came at us again. And the same thing happened.”

“I admit, I didn’t hear that version. I would have remembered it if I had.”

“You don’t believe it?”

“Over the last six months, I’ve started to believe almost everything.”

“In my uncle’s case, I saw it for myself. We would spend a day with him in Luang Prabang, then someone would arrive from Vientiane and tell you he’d spent the same day with him there. He could be at two or three places at once. On one occasion, I saw him rise from the ground. He just levitated.”

“Ah, so this isn’t the first time you’ve tried my sister-in-law’s homemade rice whiskey?”

They both laughed.

“But, Dr. Siri, I don’t have any of these gifts. When I was born, the shamans predicted that the kwun would leave the royal line along with me, that I wouldn’t live out my reign. When my father died, I knew I didn’t have the power to hold on to the magic that had helped us survive for so many centuries.”

Siri shook his head. “No. This is history, my friend. A revolution has nothing to do with appeasing the spirits. You’re a victim of politics, not destiny.”

“I agree that there are semantics involved. Even from the practical point of view, I have little leverage. My supporters have all fled. I have two confidants that I would trust with my life, but most of the entourage gave us lip service until they knew our fate. If my father were here, the kwun would show him the way to overcome your politics. It hasn’t shown me. I’m told it’s getting weaker day by day. When they move us from Luang Prabang, the connection will be severed. Our will cannot survive a move.”

“Ah. Don’t be so cheerful. They’ll just put you up in a camp for a few months, give you some Marxist propaganda to memorize, then bring you back a new improved born-again commie royal. They’ll hold you up as an example for the masses.”

“There will be no coming back.”

“Now, why do you have to talk like that?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Let’s speak of more delightful things-to counteract the bitter agony of this paint thinner we’re drinking.”

“Thank God for that. I was starting to think you were actually enjoying the stuff.”

“May I ask how your revolution’s going?”

“Revolutions always go more smoothly around a campfire in the jungle than they do in real life.”

“You’ll forgive me if I say you don’t come across as a hardened socialist.”

“It’s a bit of an anticlimax.”

“I understand. I heard your prime minister’s inspirational speech on the radio. I think the expression he used was ‘no major achievements in the first year of office.’ I was sure he could have found one little thing to boast about.”

“I think the takeover took us all by surprise. It happened so suddenly.”

“Twenty years is hardly sudden,” remarked the king.

“Ah, but that’s just it. All the sitting around tends to make you stodgy and lethargic. You get to wonder whether your revolutionary dream will ever come true. Then-poof-there you are running a country. The pl was swept into power in Laos on the back of the angry North Vietnamese dragon.”

“You’ve always held on to its tail.”

“That’s true. But I believe we’re a more gentle version.”

“The hundred thousand people that fled across the river didn’t appear to think so.”

“They were running away from the unknown rather than the reality. We’re quite sweet, really.”

The king sipped at the whiskey and turned the natural grimace it produced into a wry smile. “So you haven’t been sending officials from the old regime to concentration camps?”

“I think the Party refers to them as re-education camps. They’re like holiday camps with barbed wire and hard labor. Look, I know what you’re saying. I share some of your concerns. I don’t like locking people up for their beliefs. But I also understand that-at least in these early days-there’s a need for stability. The lprp can’t afford to have vocal dissent stirring up anti-government feeling. They’ve got enough problems without that.”

“But-”

“And you have to admit that your old government officials and military and police weren’t exactly angels of purity. The Security Council’s been uncovering evidence of unbelievable corruption all the way up the ladder.”

“I’m sure it won’t take your new officials long to master the fine art of graft. Greed is sadly inherent in the soul of man.”

“Again, I agree. But we do have a lot of good people. They really have the well-being of Laos at heart. You don’t spend half your adult life in caves if your intention is to make yourself wealthy. They may not be popular in the towns, but let’s not forget that eighty-five percent of the population works the land. With all due respect, the old regime pretty much let them get on with it. You bought their products at a fraction of market value and didn’t do a thing to help them through droughts and epidemics.”

“And your communist brothers and sisters will.”

“I think they’ll try.”

“Then let us thank the Lord Buddha for that.”

Even while his words were still floating there in the air, Siri wondered whether he really believed what he’d just said. So many of those jungle dreams seemed to evaporate when exposed to reality. Once the cadres moved into the cities, the shoes of the old regime began to fit them quite well. There was already a rumor that officials at the Agricultural Ministry were taking kickbacks and rerouting seed stocks.

When he was at the temple in Savanaketh, Siri had read a translation of Animal Farm as a French primer. He had thought it was a story about animals on a farm. It wasn’t until it was condemned by the Communist Party in Paris as capitalist propaganda that he read it again as a political statement. He was starting to recognize some of the beasts.