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The Dinner Guests

The Dinner Guests P U T S A T A R E A N G Every year, when my family finds reason to gather--for a holiday, birthday, graduation, and sometimes just because--when the coconut curry is cooked and smoke swirls heaven-bound from burning incense, the ghosts come home to feed. Before any guests are allowed to eat, my mother prepares a tray of food, her best dishes--sticky rice, glass noodles fried with banana buds, steamed pork buns--and my father lights a handful of incense sticks. Setting these on an altar, we pray to the spirits of our dead relatives and invite them to the feast. These spirits are the ghosts of my grandfather, Khan Reang, a rice farmer; my uncle, Sao Kim Yan, a math professor; my aunt, Koh Kenor, a housewife who was married to a businessman; and so many others who died during the war in our homeland. They are the restless ones who cross oceans and continents to find my family, now safe and comfortable in America. They are the ones who did not make it while they were living. Whether by luck or by fate, the rest of my family made it. When war tore through Cambodia http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Manoa University of Hawai'I Press

The Dinner Guests

Manoa , Volume 16 (1)

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Publisher
University of Hawai'I Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2004 University of Hawai'i Press.
ISSN
1527-943x
Publisher site
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Abstract

P U T S A T A R E A N G Every year, when my family finds reason to gather--for a holiday, birthday, graduation, and sometimes just because--when the coconut curry is cooked and smoke swirls heaven-bound from burning incense, the ghosts come home to feed. Before any guests are allowed to eat, my mother prepares a tray of food, her best dishes--sticky rice, glass noodles fried with banana buds, steamed pork buns--and my father lights a handful of incense sticks. Setting these on an altar, we pray to the spirits of our dead relatives and invite them to the feast. These spirits are the ghosts of my grandfather, Khan Reang, a rice farmer; my uncle, Sao Kim Yan, a math professor; my aunt, Koh Kenor, a housewife who was married to a businessman; and so many others who died during the war in our homeland. They are the restless ones who cross oceans and continents to find my family, now safe and comfortable in America. They are the ones who did not make it while they were living. Whether by luck or by fate, the rest of my family made it. When war tore through Cambodia

Journal

ManoaUniversity of Hawai'I Press

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