I inhale the aroma of fawm
prepared the way Hmongs prefer:
Thin noodles in steaming clear broth
with beef, chicken, shrimp,
and slices of crispy pork
spiced with green onions and cilantro.
I look out the window and I don’t see
Kings Canyon Boulevard, nor the Ferris wheel
and colorful lights of the carnival
from the Big Fresno Fair across the street.
Rather, my senses turn inward
and I remember the first time
I had eaten Fawm Looj Ceeb
at the original Long Cheng Café
a block from General Vang Pao’s compound.
It is a special treat from my mother,
for I have come to visit from the relative
peace of the country village
where I have been left with an uncle
to continue my schooling, away
from the artillery shelling that interrupts
the daily lives of Long Cheng.
Mother and I sit in the Long Cheng Café
and watch the throng
crowding the way that wends
through roadside shops
and foods stands serving busy housewives
and swaggering Hmong pilots
who have just found the power
and prestige of being able to fly
like gods. Children escape the clutches
of their mothers and chase one another
among soldiers, gawking American pilots
and military advisors...
Army jeeps splash through the wet, winding road
paved with crushed karst rocks
shining like diamonds in the afternoon sun.
Soul Vang’s poetry has appeared in Tilting the Continent, How Much Earth, Bamboo Among the Oaks, and Central California Poetry Journal. He was born in Laos, came to the U.S. as a refugee child, and has served in the U.S. Army. He lives in Fresno, California where he is a member of the Hmong American Writers’ Circle.