Bryan Thao Worra on coffee, poetry, and being an open book

From writing about the futuristic myths of Lan Xang to haikus about UXOs dropped in Laos, Bryan Thao Worra has written hundreds of works from books including On The Other Side Of The Eye, Touching Detonations, Winter Ink, Barrow and The Tuk Tuk Diaries: My Dinner With Cluster Bombs. Now, let’s get a quick glimpse into the life of zany writer, Bryan Thao Worra.

1. So, Bryan Thao Worra. Such an honorable sounding name. Care to tell
us how Thao Bryan came to be the Worra?

My life’s a bit of an open book. The roots go back to the beginning of
the cosmos depending on how you want to read it, but more recently, in
1973 I’d been adopted by an American pilot and his family whose
grandparents had come to the US from Norway. One of the many sons of
Ole, the family was renamed at Ellis Island as Worra, a
transliteration of a small village they’re said to have come from,
although I’ve yet to find it on a map.

Interestingly, you can find the city of Worra in Nigeria in the
Nassarawa province, and another city called Worra in Burma. But then
again, Worra was also the leader of the flying monkeys in the Russian
translation of the Wizard of Oz and the name of womp rat in Star Wars.
So, make of that what you will.

2. You’re an award-winning writer with over 20 years of experience in
this field. What keeps you ticking and what keeps your pen from dying
out of creativity?

Coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. Not as much as Balzac who was
slinging away fifty cups a days (which had its consequences, but go
figure) Some say a picture is worth a thousand words, and others a
word is worth a thousand pictures, but in either case, a human should
have lots of pictures to paint. Lao tradition suggests we’ll be coming
around many more times again in the future, but just in case you
don’t, you should say what you have to say in this lifetime, and try
to say it well. Or if not well, interestingly. And barring that, in a
funny voice. If you can keep a smile and a good laugh throughout much
of your lifetime, you’ll be ahead of the pack.

3. How does being Lao American play into your craft? Good, bad, indifferent?

There are many different mysteries about how it should play into one’s
life. It’s a key axis to understanding much of my work. It’s not
something a Lao American writer can escape. It’s more of a question of
varying degrees of overtness in any given piece.

I often think we need to take a cue from Langston Hughe’s ‘The Negro
Artist and the Racial Mountain’ where he writes “One of the most
promising of the young Negro poets said to me once, “I want to be a
poet–not a Negro poet,” meaning, I believe, “I want to write like a
white poet”; meaning subconsciously, “I would like to be a white
poet”; meaning behind that, “I would like to be white.” And I was
sorry the young man said that, for no great poet has ever been afraid
of being himself. And I doubted then that, with his desire to run away
spiritually from his race, this boy would ever be a great poet.”

Over time, I hope many others find that there are in fact many
different ways to be Lao and that a strength of our community is our
ability to embrace many different and diverse ways of thinking and
approaching the world yet still identifying as Lao without lockstep
dogma. Many folks are discussing the Dawin quote of late “It is not
the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent
that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change.”
And while Social Darwinism is an odious thing, there is wisdom in the
idea that for us to embrace adaptability is to gain strength.

I would contend that the great golden age of the Lao has not yet been
reached, nor is it here, but with concentrated effort and good
intention, we all can usher that era in, wherein we might become a
people capable of reaching the stars, transforming souls and worlds,
and hopefully for the better, more often than not.

4. Which mantra do you believe in: art for art’s sake or art for life’s sake?

Life for art’s sake.

5. If you had 1 minute to convince a room full of Lao Americans the
benefits of writing, what would you say?

If you cannot express your world, you cannot change your world. If you
cannot express a future, you will have no future. If you cannot
express your past, you will have nothing to pass on to your children,
and they will be taught by strangers who have no stake in preserving
any memory of who you are, who you were, and who you might become. For
over 600 years, the children of Lan Xang and Laos thought there was
something worth passing forward from one generation to the next, a
dream of being a people of common customs and worthy values. Many even
thought highly enough of that dream to die for it. You don’t have to
write everything, but every word you write for good is a chance for
change, and an expression of the best part of what we might become. If
you use that voice for evil, selfishness, or do not use it at all, you
squander the true treasure, the true legacy of the Lao and all who
journeyed on our roads with us.

You can find out more about Bryan Thao Worra at
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bryan_Thao_Worra or visit his blog at
http://thaoworra.blogspot.com

 

-Chanida Phaengdara Potter

Cool Jerk: The Other Carnal Pleasure

My Cool Jerk arrived in four amazing flavors: Original, Sweet & Spicy, Lemongrass, and Native Lao Hot. For Lao folks, beef jerky and sticky rice go together like peanut butter and jelly. It’s good for any time of day to satisfy hunger at breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

This past weekend I decided to throw a Cool Jerk Party. It was simple enough: sticky rice (kao niew), hot pepper paste (jeow bong), mashed mushrooms and peppers sauce (jeow het), and my four flavors of Cool Jerk. Now, I would have added papaya or cucumber salad, but the pantry was sadly empty. I had a couple of Lao friends with me (the best judges of beef jerky, of course) and lunchtime was just around the corner.

I had cut the jerky into bite-size pieces, noted each flavor with labels, dished out my pepper and mushroom sauces, and opened the sticky rice basket. A steam let out and I grabbed a handful of rice. I reached out first for the Native Lao Hot jerky, hoping for sharp stinging sensations, but nothing. My tolerance for hot and spicy food must be native Lao (it is in my blood). I moved on to the Sweet & Spicy, a nice mixture of both flavors, again, not too spicy. Next was the Lemongrass Flavor, a unique seasoning of full-on lemongrass with a hint of sugary sweetness. Of course there was the Original Flavor that I knew too well, a sweetness freckled with sesame seeds—the other carnal pleasure. That day lunch was served.

Across the board, our votes were unanimous. The first place prize went to Lemongrass Flavor for its unique taste. We gave the second place prize to Original Flavor, that which we knew and loved. The third and fourth place prizes were given to Sweet & Spicy and Native Lao Hot, respectively. We’ll definitely be having more Cool Jerk soon.

Cool Jerk is made right here on the prairie in Minnesota. It makes a cool gift and while you’re online also check out the Cool Jerk t-shirts. You haven’t had beef jerky until you’ve had Cool Jerk. Make your next party a Cool Jerk Party. Visit www.cooljerk.net and get your jerky on.

~Danny

Lao Haiku of the Week: Presidents Day Edition

So, it’s Presidents Day this weekend and many of us are asking, how soon will it be before we see a Lao American president. Will we see one from our generation? What would it be like? Would the Lamvong become a national dance craze? Would jaew become the official condiment? Hot dogs replaced with Lao sausage or beef jerky? The first lady wears a sinh? (Or the first man, if the first Lao American president is a lady…) So many possibilities. But in the meantime, here’s this week’s Lao Haiku of the Week:

 

Whether apple pies, mae,
Cherry trees,  log cabins, or moon shots:
OUR STORIES CHANGE US.