A Day to Float the Bahnar Boat

By now, the Bahnar definitely had our sympathy.

Could they make it to the Folklife Festival in time? Yes, but only if they split up.

With each group accompanied by two English-speaking Vietnamese, half the Bahnar flew to Chicago; half spent the night in Los Angeles, booked on a morning flight. Thuy was with the L.A. group: "We slept on the floor. It was very cold. The Bahnar are not used to air-conditioning."

Leaving Los Angeles, the group was split again. Thuy's charges flew to Denver en route to Washington. The Bahnar dancers, led by Tang, were routed through Seattle. They arrived at 5 a.m. yesterday -- just hours before reporting time for the festival opening.

"Except for the airplanes, everything was pretty smooth," Tang observes with no discernible fatigue. "I think everyone is very happy to be abroad for the first time. Everyone was very happy to see the Vietnamese food tent."

When the rain calms and the festival reopens, the Bahnar get back to work. The oldest member of the entourage, 77-year-old A Bek, has his ax out and is chopping at the poplar. It usually takes four men about a week to complete a canoe, leaving little time to spare before the end of the festival on July 8. The poplar is different from the wood in the forests of Vietnam, a little too hard. It might take extra time.

The canoemakers are chopping. The basketmakers are weaving. Bang and Thuy are translating. The dancers, after a night of almost no sleep, change into their costumes and go to perform.

"We told them to stop," Tang says. "They said, 'No, we need to keep everything on schedule. We will rest later.' " Tang shrugs. "The dancers are young guys. They came here to share their culture."