Mr. Xylophone Man

But war tore apart his country, and in 1975, when Chum was in his early twenties, Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge came into power. That bloody reign ended when the Vietnamese army invaded. "Around 1979 the Vietnamese came and everyone migrated," says his daughter.

Chum left behind most of his family and his instruments. He and his wife, Vorn, went to three different refugee camps, the first on the Thailand border called Kaho-I-Dang.

There they found new families, but also ways to keep the old music.

"I didn't have any instruments with me. I would make the instruments myself in the camp and then would make some to sell to people. The bamboo, I made the instruments from the bamboo, was taken from the houses," he says. Before the war, the xylophone was made from teak or bamboo. He made the treble xylophone, the roneat aik -- the instrument on which he is considered the best.

After a year he was sent to another camp, Galang, in Indonesia, where his daughter was born in 1982. He was recognized as an essential teacher, bringing music to the camp, and accompanying dancers who were also refugees. "I taught music the same as at the other camp," he says. A refugee organization assigned some of the dancers to Wheaton, Md., and Chum followed, mainly to be around people he knew. Pecore, who has taken classes with Chum, fills in one detail: "The group wanted you to come here because of the music. He is being modest. They needed him so they could dance."

In agreement, Chum allows a soft-spoken yes. But he offers another reason for the choice of resettlement. "I waited until my daughter was born," and also for his name to be picked in a lottery, he explains. The family also includes a son, Sovann, 24, and Chum has brought his mother and several of his siblings to the area. He's been back home twice.

In his new life, Chum toured with the dancers to concerts, festivals and weddings. He began to attract some students and his teaching career was reborn. "I started at home, private lessons at first," says Chum, who works as a truck driver, delivery person and stock clerk for a fabric store. By the mid-1990s he was teaching at the local temples. After he finishes his classes in Silver Spring, he teaches again at the Cambodian-American Heritage community center in Arlington.

The music made all the passages from the old to the new, and back to the ancient, tolerable.

"The traditions started with music at the temple, also played for the dancers and then for the royalty in the kingdom," he says. He explains the epic of Reamke, a 2,000-year-old tale about the prince who is tested as he roams the world. "When the action happens in the story, the musicians have to play," he says. The heart of the music is the xylophone, which establishes the tempo and the melody, and leads the rest of the instruments, and the two-faced drum which regulates the beat.

The folk songs celebrate the history of Cambodia, the richness of the land, the beauty of the countryside. Some are tributes to the royal and religious figures. Each performance opens with an offering to former teachers, called Sathukar. "It is a happy song, like an opening and calling the teachers to help," he says.

And being a teacher is important to him. "When I see the students are able to play that instrument it makes me happy," Chum says. In the fall his musicianship will be easier to pass on when he releases a CD of his interpretations of pin peat.

One of the many things that keep him aware of the world he left behind is age. He thinks hard when asked his age. Because of the differences between Cambodia's lunar year calendar and the Western calendar, it's not an easy question. "Here I'm 51, back home I'm already 52."