One lazy afternoon

Yesterday afternoon, some of my friends and my family went to an annual Crawfish Festival in Old Town Spring, Texas. It was a very beautiful late afternoon, the temperature was about 78 degree Fahrenheit and the sun was just bright enough to enjoy the lazy day such as it was.

Bands were blasting their music from different stages: Cajun music, country, and rock and rolls. People danced to their favorite music and sang to tunes they knew. Booths were set up advertising their specialties: authentic Cajun crawfish boil, crawfish pies, crawfish etoufee, jambalaya, gator gumbo, rattlesnake gumbo, etc.

As we strolled passed throngs of crawfish enthusiasts, we settled into one booth that offered jumbo crawfish with gator tail on the side. We were getting hungry and after sucking a few crawfish heads, I realized that my wife should have set up a booth here for as I know her crawfish is a lot better than all of these booths combined. I kid you not, I have never tasted a better crawfish. Period. My 3 year-old concurred.

After downing a dozen coronas and 20 pounds of the critters, we decided it was time to go listening to some Cajun music.

Then the sun went away and down came the rain. We sought shelter under a tent that read “Voodoo Arts.” As we waited out the rain, I could not help but notice that I did not see a single piece of trash on the street! And we are talking about thousands of people who must have used tons of paper napkins. Trash bins were everywhere and people actually use them.

I do not know why a simple thing like this captured my attention, but then I thought back to the time when I was in Kien Svay picnic area. There were trash bins too, but no one bothered to use them, as if depositing their own trash in a bin degrades their dignity or something. Trashes were everywhere and I thought why couldn’t they just learn one simple act: putting trashes where they belongs – in the trash bin and not on the street.

The rain never let up so we had to leave the festival. As I drove home, I took my wife’s hand and told her “Honey, there is no crawfish boiled in the world that can be compared to yours.” She thought I went loco, but I meant it. I do appreciate her and her patience with me. Other thoughts came to my mind too that has not gone away yet and that is: why on earth can’t we keep our Kampuchea clean? Perhaps we need to educate our people the simple act of trash depositing before we teach them anything else. Small things matter.