The Other Side of the Mekong River

So many times this past year I woke up thinking "one of these mornings I'm going to wake up in my own bed in Canada and my time in Laos will be reduced to memories". At the time those thoughts drove me to live fully in the present moment and appreciate the gift that was each now day in Laos. Last Sunday, however, I woke up to the sound of silence. No chickens, no dogs, no crying babies, no gongs calling the monks to rise and go about their morning collection of offerings. I knew then that I was no longer in Laos. I am no longer in Laos. Not only am I beyond the Mekong River, I'm beyond the Pacific ocean too, with a continent or two in between me and the place I called home for one short year.

I've been in Canada for four days now and while so much of what I experienced in this year will always be a part of me, already Laos is beginning to feel as hazy in my mind as the mist that seeped through my window on cool mornings. Will my adventures continue? Most definitely. Particularly the kind of adventures that include trudging through knee deep snow on the way to classes at the University of Waterloo. Will this blog continue? Stay tuned to find out.

Empowering Lao Peacebuilders

MCC Laos' young peacebuilding team is excited to learn about the world of social justice and conflict transformation and to share their knowledge with their communities, but first they've got to get out of this knot!

Lately I’ve tried to take a supporting role wherever possible with our peace group, rather than being a leader or trainer, but with my sister Leah visiting as a new graduate in Peace and Conflict Studies and with a free afternoon on our group’s schedule, I agreed to help lead another peace training. We were given no direction as far as a topic was concerned and so as we sat in the shade of a mango tree on the pleasant grounds of a city temple, we wracked our brains for inspiration. What was the most important peace message we could portray to a group of Lao young adults in the span of a three hour workshop? The answer, we both agreed, was not to lecture as experts (which we aren’t), but rather to give the group some basic tools that could empower them to learn from each other. If we wanted to effectively encourage this energy of positive change, then we must give empower our Lao peacebuilding friends. And so, on the given Sunday afternoon, we briefly explained the difference between direct, structural, cultural and environmental violence and then handed the floor over to the participants with the question “how do you see each of these types of violence in Laos?”

A small group at the training prepares to make a presentation about where they see direct violence in Laos

I came to Laos on a field studies placement for my Peace and Conflict Studies degree, but when it comes down to it, I thought I was taking a year off from the world of PACS. It turns out I was wrong as wrong could be. As soon as I arrived in Laos and the MCC staff hear learned that I had a background in teaching peace to children and a degree in progress in PACS, I was put to work helping MCC’s fledgling peace group, and now, as my time in Laos wraps up, a Lao translation of the peace curriculum that I helped to develop for the Ontarion Mennonite Camping Association is underway. As I was writing that curriculum over a year ago, I could not begin to predict that it would someday be used to teach Lao children and youth, let alone novice monks. Now, our peace group has been asked to lead a training for 300 novice monks at a monastery next week, based on my curriculum. It looks as though I ran towards the world of PACS, not away from it. It may be cheesy to say this, but for me this has been much more of a "year on" than it has been a "year off", and I've learned every bit as much about peace from spending time with MCC's young Lao peacebuilders than I did sitting in a classroom back in Canada.

What would a gathering of young peacebuilders be without a little music? We begin and end each peace training with a song or two.

Summer Camp Lao Style

I may not be heading back to work at summer camp this year, as per usual, but teaching English at Ponsinuane Child and Youth Development Center's summer program is helping to curb my camp craving.
On International Children's Day, all the kids from the center gathered together for some wild and crazy games. This one involved digging an elastic band out of a bowl of flour using a straw held between your teeth, and then passing the elastic band from straw to straw down a long line of teammates.
Small class sizes at the summer program means that I can be that much more creative in my lesson planning. This week we learned about food and then set up a pretend restaurant to try out the new vocabulary. "What would you like to eat?"

To fill time one day I taught the kids "The Macerena'. It was an instant hit but I'm afraid the children are now under the impression that "the Macerena" is some sort of Canadian traditional dance!

Sticky Rice, Superman and Saying Goodbye

Dear family, friends and readers of all sorts,

I'm afraid I have no tear jerking stories or exotic pictures for you this time around but I do want to update you all on what's going on in my life these days. Here's a rough overview:

At home (with my host family), my sister Mina is teaching me to cook all of my favourite Lao foods, filling my belly with sticky rice and stir fry as we talk about everything under the sun in our personalized blend of Lao and English. Five year old Isaac lives to swim. "Jessie, can we go swimming today?" he asks me when I wake him up ,while not to be out done , 2 year old Inam loves to show off his newest phrases: "Superman!" and "Jessie, I don't know!". And, with the constant coming and going of foster sisters (currently there are three 15 year olds living with us) life is never boring in our household.

My work continues to be varied and interesting. Teaching English each weekday morning to a small class of summer school students remains the constant, while the rest of the work week can include anything from construction work on our school's new library for peace, to interviews with cluster bomb victims, to leading training in conflict resolution to report writing at the MCC office. Someone once asked me how I keep track of all these different parts of my job and, after a few moments thought, I realized my brain handles it similarly to how I deal with taking many different courses at school.

As my final month in Laos begins in just a week's time I'm trying to balance feelings of anticipation about going home and, in the words of a fellow MCCer's dad, "seizing the day". After wading through a seemingly endless river of firsts for nearly a year now, I'm about to dive into an ocean of lasts. I think all I can do is take the plunge head first and try not to stand cowering on the edge for too long. Yes, my time here is nearly over, and true I never know when I am seeing someone or experiencing something for the last time but one month is plenty of time to deepen relationships and simply enjoy the "Laoness" of this place while I still can.

To keep you all up to date, here's what my schedule looks like until I come home in late July:

June 10th- July 3rd -Business as usual
July 4th- July 12th -I'll be travelling to Bangladesh to visit Steve
July 13th-18th-One last week of goodbyes in Laos
July 19th-21st -Flying to Akron P.A. via Bangkok, via Hongkong, via L.A., via Philadelphia
July 22nd-24th -MCC SALT re-entry retreat in Akron
July 25th -I'll be home in Ontario!

I hope this letter finds you all well and once again thank you for your continued thoughts and prayers.

Blessings,

Jessica

A Miracle at the Golden Stupa

When Leah visited me here in Vientiane several weeks ago I dutifully carted her around to all of the city's main tourist attraction. Over the span of her three week visit I can safely say that she saw more Buddhist stupas, shrines and temples than she had in the entire 22 years of her life up to that point. But, when it came time to visit the country's most sacred site, we got more than the Buddha images, insence and gold paint that we'd bargained for. We chose to see the entire afternoon as a minor miracle.

For as we approached the Golden Stupa (said to house a fragment of Buddha's breastbone) I felt a tug on my arm and I turned around to find the familiar faces of three of my English students beaming up at me. As it turned out, their house backs on to the stupa grounds. And so, for the rest of the afternoon we benefitted from the company of three oh so adorable tour guides, eager to tell us everything they knew about the sacred site, a place where their ancestors had been worshipping for generations and where, even on this informal occasion, they knelt to leave on offering of flowers and prayers before running off to play.

As for the other tourists at the site, I think we must have given them quite the shock as we marched around with these barefoot children, singing "If You're Happy and You Know It" and dancing the Macarena. My heart could not have been more full than it was on that lovely afternoon. I think Laos is turning me into a very sentimental person...

*To the best of my memory, Leah can take the credit for all of these pictures.

“Many Have Died, Many Have Been Injured and Many Have Been Disabled”

Poma was 14 years old when her life changed forever. The year was 1971 and the Lao government required that every family in Poma’s village in rural Xieng Kuang province send one able bodied laborer to help with the construction of the village’s first ever road. As her family’s representative, Poma worked on the road each day, along with dozens of fellow villagers. One day, at about 2 o’clock in the afternoon, an American plane flew overhead and dropped a cluster bomb on the crowded work site. Poma’s leg was badly injured in the blast and she has never been able to walk properly since, but Poma was relatively lucky; four of her close friends were killed that day.

After the bombing, Poma continued to live the life of a rural rice farmer, but each day was a struggle. Due to her disability she could not walk far or do heavy work and so she was very reliant on her family to meet her daily needs.

Then in 2002, Poma’s life changed dramatically again, but this time it was for the better. A representative from the Lao Disabled People’s Association in her home province heard about Poma’s situation and suggested that she apply to receive training at the Lao Disabled Women’s Development Center in Vientiane. After having completed a six month training session, Poma now works at the center as a weaver, making handicrafts that are sold in Laos and also shipped to buyers all around the world.

Life still isn’t easy for Poma (in her words, “when I am at the center I miss my home in Xieng Kuang province, but when I am home I miss the center!”), but she now enjoys the privilege of being able to support herself rather than being dependent on her family or on the manual labor that is so difficult for her. As for cluster bombs, Poma is very clear that they should stop being manufactured. The American bombing of Laos may have ended 30 years ago, but as Poma says, “many have died, many have been injured and many have been disabled” since that time, as unexploded ordinance (UXO) is detonated again and again by unsuspecting farmers.

*this interview was commissioned by Titus Peachey Of Mennonite Central Committee to be used as part of a DVD and study guide for cluster bomb education and advocacy in the United States. Negotiations are currently under way for a world wide ban on cluster bombs. For more information visit www.mcc.org/cluster bombs.

Muang Sing Market

"They" say that Muang Sing Market is one of the most fascinating in all of Laos;
"they" are right. There is much more to this market than neat piles of vegetables,
a riot of colour calmed by the early morning's mist.

We slurp our breakfast noodles quickly despite the chopsticks grasped awkwardly in our unskilled hands, while next to us an Akka couple breakfasts silently. She holds her head up high underneath her crown of ancient Piastres, strings of beads, jingling bells and next to her he seems nearly invisible in his simple cotton shirt and pants, dyed black with precious indigo. “Ethnic Restaurant” the sign proudly proclaims. Perfect. Because this town is known to have more ethnic diversity than anywhere else in Laos and for the last two days we’ve searched the streets, combed the rice fields for ethnic people. Ethnic.
By which we mean people that look very different from ourselves, exotic creatures in brilliant costumes. Ethnic. As if one must be “other” to have an ethnicity. As if our own ethnicity is the control group by which all else is measured. Ethnic.

So as we eat we also feast our eyes on the beautifully dressed women from a multitude of ethnic groups. The lone foreigners in this fascinating place, we feel that we are at a fashion show. Or a zoo. I try to brush that thought away quickly but it keeps popping back into my mind. In my defense, we receive as many stares as we give. "Look, the foreigners are working Lao skirts!" they whisper. "Listen, that one speaks Lao!".

We bargain and buy trinkets of cotton and silver more for an excuse to take photographs of the market women in their intricate outfits than anything else. "The Muang Sing Zoo", I think again. But suddenly a kind hearted woman in a brilliantly coloured headdress is talking to me in the broken Lao that is her second language. Soon we are joking and laughing together as friends and before I know it she is wrapping my head in a matching headdress of bright red and green embroidery backed by black cotton. "Take a picture!" she orders. "Now you belong to the Thai Dam ethnic group like me." And with this simple interaction everything changes in my mind. Each woman at the market, no matter how elaborate or unusual her style of dress may be, ceases to be a spectacle and instead becomes my sister, my mother, my grandmother.

Where are the Women?

While in Luang Nam Tha province, in northern Laos, Leah and I decided to try our hands at "eco-tourism" and so we marched into the first trekking operator we saw and signed ourselves up for a one day adventure in the Lao countryside. We followed our trusty guide Ong over hilly upland rice fields, across rivers and into tiny Akka ethnic group villages, so different from the Lao ethnic group villages that I am used to visiting that I might as well have been in a separate country.

For one thing, the language of the Akka people has a different rhythm and flow altogether from the Lao language which is becoming familiar to me and it was disorienting to once again be unable to communicate. And, while I have always admired Lao women for wearing their traditional clothing on many occasions, the Akka women take this one step further by wearing their unique traditional clothing at all times, even while going about household chores or working in the rice paddy. In addition to their reputation for going topless (I have never seen so many exposed breasts in all my life), Akka women are distinguishable by their elaborate woven headdresses dripping with silver pendants, charms and even colonial French Piastres.

The real story I want to tell, however, though it took place in an Akka village, could just have easily happened in any village in Laos it seems to me. As we leave our last village of the day, passing by the spirit gate which is said to keep out all things evil, we come across all the men in the village lounging in a clearing under the trees. They have butchered a pig to offer to the spirits in return for the health of a sick villager and now they are talking, smoking and drinking away the afternoon. "But where are the women?" I ask Ong. "Working in the fields", our guide explains, "women is working hard more than men". "And what do the men normally do?" I question further. "Drinking!" is Ong's concise and chuckling reply.

And it's very true that as you walk around a village in rural Laos, you are much more likely to see a women toiling in the fields or carrying heavy loads of firewood than you are to see a man doing equally labour intensive work. It's hard to know why that is. Beyond the obvious injustice, it might have to do with the fact that as the jungles (where men traditionally spent a lot of time hunting) disappear, so does traditional "men's work". I have no answers I'm afraid, and in fact as I learn to know this country a little bit better every day what I am left with is more and more questions.

Burma to the West, China to the East

Last week Leah and I found ourselves wandering the dusty streets of a frontier town. In northern Luang Nam Tha province, Chinese tractors tinged with rust and a generation of dirt rattle along beside Burmese hill tribe women, whose elaborate head dresses jingle as they carry their wares to market. There we were, 13 kilometres from China to the east and 80 kilometres from Burma to the west with Laos cradled snuggly in between, but the strange thing was, as those two countries faced disaster beyond our wildest imaginings, the town of Luang Nam Tha remained as sleepy as ever, with hardly a murmer from the outside world.

I want to state very clearly that this in no way reflects on the callousness of the hearts of Lao people but rather on the isolation that rural Lao farmers face. As death and dispair hit their neighbours hard, these farmers had no choice but to focus on their harvest of rice and on the survival of their family. All that to say that despite my proximity, I likely know much less about what is happening in my neighbouring countries than you in North America do. Still, I know that the disasters in both countries have effected farmers very much like the ones that I meet here in Laos and it hits much closer to home (both literally and figuratively). I want to ask for your continued prayers for the people of China and of Burma as they mourn the loss of loved ones and begin to rebuild their lives.

*visit www.mcc.org if your interested in learning how you can support disaster relief work in Burma, China and around the world.

Smiles for Peace

" Smiling is very important. If we are not able to smile, then the world will not have peace. It is not by going out for a demonstration against nuclear missiles that we can bring about peace. It is with our capacity of smiling, breathing, and being peace that we can make peace. "
-Thich Nhat Hanh-


At our recent MCC Southeast Asia retreat, we spent time learning and dialoguing about the Buddhist faith, in particular the peacemaking aspects of Buddhism. Very often in our peace and justice work, as a part of the Mennonite Church, we hear about Christians who are working for peace, but it can be easy to forget that there are Muslims, Hindus and Buddhists who are also seeking to solve conflicts in nonviolent ways and to build a just and peaceful world. Realizing that peace is not just a Christian and not just a western concept is very humbling for me. My Lao I.D. card may read "foreign expert" but when it comes to peacebuilding, I have so much to learn!


I particularly like the above quote from Buddhist monk and peacebuilder Thich Nhat Hanh. Though written first in Vietnamese, there is something about these words that rings very true in Laos as well. Here a smile is the key ingredient in every interaction. Forget plastered on half smiles, Lao people know the secret to deep true smiles (or "eye smiles"as we foreigners sometimes call them) and they know the impact that a good smile can have on themselves and on others. To me these smiles symbolize, in a small way, a gift that Buddhist peacemakers bring to the world. They understand the value that being at peace and joyful can bring to their peacemaking work. I feel that in the west we tend to put so much of an emphasis on ending injustice and we harbour so much "righteous anger" that we often skip that crucial first step of harbouring peace within ourselves. As Thich Nhat Hanh says, it is only by living a life of peace and truly "being peace" that we can make peace in the world.

*Here are a few more of my favourite smiles!

The Peace Prayer of St. Frances

Lord,
make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.

O Master,
grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled, as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying
that we are born to eternal life.


*I came across this very famous prayer several months ago, and I've found that it really encompasses how I want to live my life. It's been so meaningful to me lately that I wanted to share it with any of you who have never heard it or refresh the memories of those of you who have.

In Peace and Love,
Jess

Luang Prabang, Laos

Laos is a tiny country in terms of both size and population, but their are many beautiful and intriguing places to visit. One such place is the ancient capital of Laos, Luang Prabang. Situated in Northern Laos, on a point between two rivers, the streets of this charming town are interspersed with French colonial houses, a royal palace and more than 50 Buddhist temples! From the outside these temples are glittering displays of gold and deepest red with curved rooves and elaborately carved doors and windows, while on the inside, they boast Buddha images of every possible size and style along with wall paintings that tell the stories of the people who once lived in this place.

If you venture outside of the town limits (by elephant or by car) you'll find breathtaking waterfalls and tiny villages, home to dozens of different ethnic groups, each group with their own language, food and traditional dress. At night the villagers come to town to sell their handicrafts at the brilliantly lit night market. It's not too late to book your plane tickets to Laos..

When Steve was visiting from Bangladesh several weeks ago we had the opportunity to travel to this very special place, as did my parents when they visited in January. These are some of the pictures we took.

Generosity

It seems that so many of many stories this year revolve around motorcycles. Here's another to add to the collection.

I hadn't gone 10 metres past my gate when my motorcycle came to a sputtering halt. The gas tank was empty. I fumed inwardly for a moment, trying to imagine how my gas had been used up seeing as I had left it full the last time I had driven, but before I had time to do too much sulking a couple from one of the tiny rental rooms across the street came to my rescue. "Don't worry!" the young man called out to me, "We'll share the gas from our tank". Before I fully realized what was happening, he had pulled my motorcycle up beside theirs and was using a small piece of plastic tubing and a water bottle to remove some of the gas from their tank and then syphon it with his mouth into mine. I fumbled around in my bag and pulled out a few tattered bills but my two Samaritans merely smiled and waved my hand away. "We don't want the money," the young woman said, and after they had refused my offer two more times I thanked them both profusely and drove away.

When I looked down at the gas metre I realized that they had given me not just enough gas to get me to the nearest gas station but enough to take me all the way to work and back. Generosity. I can't remember the last time I was that generous to a stranger. As I turned the corner I called back to my two new friends over my shoulder "If you ever need help you know where to find me!".

Sabaidee Pi Mai! (Happy New Year!)

As I approach the school I am swarmed by a flock of my primary school English students wielding water pistols and dripping buckets, bottles and bowls of all sorts. "Big sister!" they call to me with the look of ravenous dogs in their eyes, "can we get you wet?" "Go ahead!" is my laughing reply, and before the words are even out of my mouth I am under fire. What ensues is the most intense water fight of my life; just me against 50 overexcited children, each one eager to ensure that their English teacher is as wet as wet can be. After I surrender, the children surround me once more but this time to offer me their water guns and old Pepsi bottles so that I can symbolically pour water on each of them in turn.

The water offers more than just relief from the sweltering heat; it is the beginning of the Lao New Year celebration and the water represents the blessings that the people hope to receive in the coming year. For the next week, the daily goings in of the country will grind to a halt as Lao people return to their natal homes to feast, pay homage at the neighbourhood temple, and of course, play with water. In the temples the devout sprinkle perfumed water on the Buddha images and the monks, while teenagers with buckets line the streets waiting for an unsuspecting passerby to douse with brilliantly dyed liquid.


Back at the school, my fellow teachers call to me to join them at their shaded picnic spot. We dine on spicy papaya salad, fried rice, barbecued beef and tiny, live "dancing shrimp" that do indeed squirm and squiggle all the way down my throat. (One problem with refusing the constant offers of rice whiskey is that I then feel compelled to overcome this rude gesture by eating anything and everything that is offered to me as food...) After our meal the teachers take it in turn to tie bits of string to each others wrists accompanied by their blessings for the new year. When it is my turn I am wished health happiness and a very rich husband in the year to come. This traditional bassie ceremony is common to Thai and Lao people and is held at every possible special occasion.

It's a special day for me too. Not only is it my 20th birthday, but today marks 8 months since I left Canada to start on this big adventure "Beyond the Mekong River". It's hard to believe that before 4 more months have past I will be home on the farm once again.

Beauty

“Ugly,” she says. “Jessie you are ugly now. You were beautiful when you came but now your skin is dark like ours. You are ugly.” I laugh first at the irony of the situation. I think of all my peers back in chilly Canada who pay hundreds of dollars each year to artificially acquire the tanned skin that eight months of tropical sun have given me. When I describe tanning beds to my Lao friends their mouths gape open in disbelief and disgust. Forget J-Lo and Angelina Jolie, Lao girls crave nothing more than to look like the pale skinned, rail thin, delicately featured, silky haired Thai pop stars they see on TV.

But later that night, when the conversation runs through my head again, I’ll admit, I start to cry. No, my host sister’s comments have not offended me (such matter of fact statements about appearance are an every day occurrence here), but it suddenly hits me hard that our world has taken the concept of beauty and twisted and contorted it until it has become an instrument of torture. Why is it that young Lao girls smear bleach based whitening creams on their faces and hide behind thick layers of clothing every time they step out into the sunshine? And likewise why am I tempted to suffer severe sunburn and skin damage in the hopes of maintaining a golden glow? (Tempted dad, only tempted.)

When I begin to compare and contrast the characteristics of beautiful people across cultures, it’s easy to see what a social construction the whole concept is. Somehow, beauty has evolved over time away from the appreciation of the exquisitely, intricately and uniquely Created beings that we are and into a Platonic Form (represented by the “beautiful” people we see in our society’s media) of which we will always fall short. We will never be light enough, dark enough, thin enough, fat enough, tall enough or short enough to be beautiful, so why not love our bodies just as they are right now?

I should make a confession: it’s easy for me to say these things in writing, but somehow this Form of beauty seems to be stamped into my brain in permanent ink. Even here in Laos, when I should be worrying about the very real issues of injustice rather than wasting mental energy fretting about my appearance, there are still days when I wake up feeling that my zits are too big or my hair too frizzy. I’ve come a long way in the last few years in the journey towards loving myself but I’ve still got a long way to go.

As I walk alongside young people in this country (and in Canada), on our shared path towards a more peaceful world, I realize that we will be able to do very little to build peace with the people around us until we gain the sort of confidence and inner peace that comes from accepting and loving the person we are, frizzy hair and all.

Building Peace One Brick at a Time

On the grounds of the little primary school where I teach, there is a friendly and intriguing mud brick building. Known to all as "the Mud House", this little building is the center of operations for Ponsinuane Volunteer Group (PVG). It all started in 2002 when some visionary local youth decided to get involved in their community by organizing clean up days, neighourhood festivals and much more. As time went on, more and more young people got involved. Here was a way in which they could help the community around them while also being part of a strong social network. By 2006 PVG had grown so large that the tiny space from which they functioned in the village chief's office was no longer enough. With the community's blessing, the PVG worked together to build their Earth friendly Mud House one brick at a time.

And with the Mud House as their base, the PVG has only continued to flourish. Volunteers run after school programs at the primary school each day ranging from traditional dance, to gardening, to "inventions" made out of recycled materials. The volunteers themselves continue to do community outreach as well as participating in personal development activities.

Now, two years after the completion of the first mud building, it's time for the PVG to grow again. The Mud House is no longer big enough to house an ever expanding library as well as the PVG's office and meeting space. It's time to start making a new batch of mud bricks! This new building, however, will be more than just a library, it will also be Laos' first ever center for peace education. The PVG never did like to dream small. And it's not just about the end result. Through this building project "the volunteers are learning to be confident leaders," says PVG Program Coordinator Somsack Souvannalath. "They are learning how to live and work as a group and how to adapt to new or uncomfortable situations".

So, if you happen to be in the neighbourhood on a Saturday this spring, stop by Ponsinuane Primary School and lend a hand... or a foot. Who knew that the catch phrase "peacebuilding" could ever be taken so literally?

The Brickmaking Process

After digging a large pit, we fill it with water as well as special soil taken from the Mekong River.

Mixing the mud with our feet is our team's favourite part of the job. It's 40 degrees celcius by midday but volunteers put up with the heat of their jackets in an effort to keep their skin pale. A visitor from Bangladesh (A.K.A Steve) adds interest to the long day's work.

After the mud is properly mixed we scoop it out of the pit with our hands and pour it into a mold.

Next we remove the mold and leave the bricks to sun dry for one week. Rain rain stay away!

By 4 o'clock we're exhausted but we've made close to 200 bricks. We'll need thousands more before we can start building and the goal is to finish by the time rainy season starts in June.

After we've all cleaned up a little, enjoying a traditional Lao meal together is a good way to relax and celebrate our achievement.

Hope Kits for Lao Children

I’d almost lost faith in the value of material aid. Despite having spent the better part of last summer encouraging Canadian kids to collect school supplies for MCC to send overseas as part of the peace program I led at summer camp, I had become rather cynical about the whole idea. Does collecting these items simple appease the guilt of North Americans while shortchanging those in need? Is it really worth the financial and environmental cost to ship school kits, AIDS kits, health kits and all the rest, as MCC has been doing for decades? It’s certainly much cheaper to buy such things in country.

Then, yesterday, I met two little girls who gave me a new perspective. We got to talking and when they found out I was Canadian they simply shrieked with joy. “Canada!” they squealed, “Some kids from Canada gave us pencils and notebooks so that we could go to school this year. They put them in beautiful little bags. The kids from Canada sewed those bags themselves. We know that in Canada they love Lao people.” And with that those two little school girls wiped the cynical smirk right off my face. Who can put a price tag on hope and interconnection?

I Am Canadian

I'm a Canadian with a very big soft spot for the people of Laos. Wherever I go in the world, I can't run from the fact that I'm a Canadian and Canada will always be my home. And, I should mention, that I don't want to run away from those things! I deeply love my family and friends in North America and I realize now that even the culture is something that I identify with on a deep level. But, after being here in Laos for seven months, my thoughts and prayers have, for the time being, turned towards the people that I encounter each day. Lately even my dreams have been filled with their faces and with the melodic phrases of the Lao language.

On the last day of our joint SALT/ IVEP orientation in Akron, the Interim Executive Director of MCC expressed his opinion that had George W. Bush and Osama Bin Laden lived for a year truly immersed in each other’s cultures when they were young, the “War on Terrorism” might never have come to be. I couldn’t agree more. How could I ever agree to drop bombs on this country where my students dance joyfully in the rain and my host family shares sticky rice, spicy green papaya salad and gossip on hot and lazy afternoons? What’s more, having experienced first hand that the people of this tiny country on the other side of the world feel love and joy, pain and sorrow just as we do in North America, helps me to truly take to heart the obvious fact that all people everywhere experience these same sensations. Recognizing our shared humanity is where peace begins.

Mina's New Restaurant

I mentioned that my host sister Mina recently opened up a small restaurant and so I decided to take a few pictures to show all of you and also to send to Mina's husband in America. I could just as easily have titled this blog "My New Kitchen" because all the cooking now happens at the restaurant. I woke up one day to find that our kitchen table had disappeared and a few weeks later the fridge was gone too, along with most of our dishes! Though the new restaurant makes life a little more hectic in our household, I enjoy spending time there, talking to customers and watching my host sister cook. Hopefully someday soon she will have the time to teach me more about Lao cooking so I can whip up some tasty dishes for all of you when I get back. I hope you like hot chili peppers!

Pictured here is my host sister Mina and her son Isaac.

Lao P.D.R. -Please Don't Rush

Palm trees and chopsticks and waking up to the sound of crowing roosters all feel as normal to me now as trudging through snow on on my way to class once did, but every once in a while I'm given a vivid reminder that I'm not in Canada anymore. Take the drive home yesterday for example. As I waited to turn left at a busy intersection in the height of rush hour, I watched as a large pile of lumber slowly slid off the back of a very tiny truck and on to the road. The road was impassable. The light turned green, but there we were, stopped cold. As I watched the man climb out of the truck and reload his vehicle, I waited for horns to honk and tempers to flare (as surely would have happened in Canada) but nothing of the sort took place. In an act of extreme patience, dozens of drivers simply waited for 10 whole minutes until the road was clear and they could go on their way.

As I waited at that intersection yesterday, I remembered a joke that our MCC country representatives' teenaged son had made when we first arrived. "You know why the country is called Lao P.D.R. right?" Eric asked one evening over dinner, "It's the Lao motto: 'please don't rush'". Meaningless at the time, this joke is now infused with meaning on many levels. In this case, the stereotypes are true; most Lao people are calm, patient and easy going most of the time. Notorious for the high levels of anxiety I carry around with me back home, I hope and pray that I can pack a little of that Lao style patience in my suitcase for the trip home.

An Update on My Daily Life

Dear family, friends and readers,

It's hard to believe that six months have come and gone since I arrived in Laos! Sometimes I shake my head with astonishment at this realization and other times it seems that I have lived here for years and years. I realize that I have become so accostomed to my life here that I forget to share with all of you about the simple but beautiful things that fill my life here.

As the months pass, my days become fuller and fuller. At work in the MCC office, I am busy writing stories to be sent to the MCC communications department, working on the research concept paper for our conflict resolution project, as well as writing funding proposals for a new library and peace information center which will be built at the school where I teach English. In February I also got to assist in hosting an MCC group which was visiting from North America as well as doing some travelling to MCC project sites (as I mentioned in my past entry).

At Ponsinuane Primary School, in the afternoons, I am teaching English in full swing. After months of practice I'm finally beginning to feel confident and effective in my teaching. I fill my classes with games, songs and stories, in an effort to provide stimulation to children who have spent the day sitting on a hard wooden bench and staring straight ahead. In the past little while I have been teaching about colours, verbs in the present continuous tense and animals. After school, I've been enjoying playing a supportive role while the teachers lead games, storytelling, singing and traditional dance sessions. On Saturdays, young adult volunteers came to the school to help make mud bricks for the new library and peace information center that we are building. It's hard and dirty work but it's also lots of fun!

By the time I make the half hour commute home each day, it's after five and I'm generally exhausted. Luckily, a few hugs from my little brothers give me a fresh burst of energy for the evening. At 5 years old, Isaac is quite a mischievious little guy. He loves to play outside and ride his bike when he gets home from his English kindergarten. 1 year old Joshua is blurting out more words each day (in English and Lao). Recent phrases include "one, two, free, four, five kicks" and "Jedjee, love you!". I also love spending time with 15 year old foster girls Kai and Gai who are eager to learn as much English as possible. My host sister Mina has just opened a tiny new restaurant, so things around our house have gotten even busier. We now spend a lot of time and eat a lot of meals at the restaurant.

Somehow I keep finding the time to spend a few hours every week at Lao language school and I really love studying Lao! I'm far from fluent, but I'm beginning to feel confident in the language of daily life. My spelling is attrocious but learning to read and write in Lao has been really exciting and I can see the progress that I'm making each week. Studying Lao is also a good way to make friends, as children from my school, family and community love to help me with my homework.

To keep myself grounded and focused (and to have fun), it's wonderful to have a group of other young MCCers to spend time with, as well as spending time running, reading, writing and singing.

So, there is an overview of how my life is looking these days. If it sounds overly optimistic then I guess that reflects the way of been feeling lately. Yes there are times when I'm homesick or lonely, yes there are times when my English classes flop, yes there are times when the Lao language leaves me confused and bewildered or the baby won't stop crying, but for the most part, I am happy to be exactly where I am. I hope that this letter finds you all well and thanks to all of you for your continued prayers!

In Peace,

Jessica

Images from Sangthong District

Last week I had the opportunity to travel into “real Laos” once again. Far off the beaten track in rural villages in Sangthong District, MCC encourages some of the poorest children to go to school by providing them with school uniforms and other essential school supplies. I tagged along with the project’s manager in order to take pictures and write stories for a newsletter, which is sent twice annually to the project’s supporters back in North America. We visited the schools and talked to many children, but for me, the most meaningful part of the trip was the time spent visiting the homes of some of the students. We sat in their homes (or more often underneath their homes) and talked about their current living situation, their families and their histories. Many of the poorest families had recently moved to the area in hopes of fertile rice paddies and a better life. They are still waiting for both these things.

On the way back from one of the villages, our vehicle got a flat tire. As we waited for it to be changed, I met a little boy making a kite. I followed him down a little path into a dry rice paddy, where he joined four other boys, all flying their kites in the late afternoon sun. It was a beautiful site.

Motorcycle Mishap

I went to an internet cafe after work one day last week. When I had finished and paid, I rummaged through my purse for my keys, but for some inexplicable reason, they weren't there! After half an hour of crawling around on the floor searching (with the help of the man running the front desk) and repeatedly dumping out the contents of my purse, I determined that they really had disappeared.

By this time, it was dark and I was late and I really had no idea what I was going to do. But, it just so happened that the friendly front desk man knew a think or two about motorcycles. "I know a way to make your motorcycle start without any key," he said to me. Seeing as I didn't have very many options, I told him to go ahead. And so I sat inside the shop and watched through the window as he carefully unscrewed the front piece with a screwdriver and hotwired my motorcycle! The turn signals didn't work, nor could I see the speedometre, etc. but the it got me safe to the MCC office, which was the important thing.

Anyways, I realized that night that I really have grown accustomed to life in Laos. Had the same situation happened a few months ago I probably would have been close to tears. Instead I stayed calm and patient and I could even see the humour in the situation at the time. Nonetheless, it was a relief when I finally did arrive home safely that night.

The next morning a man came from the key shop with a box full of keys, and he simply tried a few out until he found one that worked. No wonder so many bikes got stolen here!

Small Miracles

1. Driving home from work yesterday, I realized that every pothole along a long strip of treacherous road had been filled in. There are many more potholes in other places, and driving practices in this city still leave something to be desired, but from now on in, on this one strip of road, it will be smooth sailing.
   
2. Every time I walk into the room, baby Joshua now greets me a heart melting smile and a questioning “Jejee?!”.
   
3. After months of dry weather, these last few days have been filled with tropical rain. They say they are “the mango rains” because they help to ripen the green mangos on the tree.
   

The Story of Agnes and Joanne: A Lao-Canadian Tale

Some things in life come full circle. Gathered in the office of a run down school in the outskirts of Vientiane, I heard this story for the first time:

In the fall of 2006, Agnes and Joanne (ages 8 and 10) were preparing for their first ever trip Laos. Though their parents had both grown up in Laos, Canada was the only home the two girls had ever known. To prepare for the trip, they decided to do what anyone of this computer savvy generation would do. They searched the Internet. And it was here that they learned about a community, located right next to a dump, which had been surviving for three generations by digging through the garbage and selling whatever could be salvaged. After reading this, the girls couldn't sleep. They lay awake at night thinking about the people, the children just like them, who had to grow up in such a place.

And so Agnes and Joanne talked to their teachers at school and got permission to organize a clothing drive so that they would have something to bring with them and give to the community’s school when they visited Laos. But little did they know that they would collect more than a tonne of clothes, far more than they could fit in their suitcases, and also over $100 in cash donations. The girls visited the school and met with the teachers and students to drop off their donations in November of 2006, at which time, the schools officials asked if it would be possible for the girls to raise enough money to build a washroom facility for the school as well as a place for the children to shower when they came to school after working in the dump. Back home in Canada, the girl’s church community at the Lao Canadian Evangelical Mennonite Church (LCEMC) swung into action. They raised the $2000 necessary to build the washroom and shower facility by selling thousands of spring rolls and chocolates.

Here’s where I come into the story. Many of you were present at the corn roast and concert held on my farm this summer in order to raise funds for my year in Laos and also to support the project of the LCEMC at the dump community in Laos. I must admit, I knew little about the project when I decided to support it, and I had no idea at all that it came to be because of two little girls. Anyways, my fundraiser was a distant memory when I received a phone call last week from Agnes and Joanne’s father and other friends from the LCEMC. They were back in Laos to visit the community once more and to give a donation of some sports equipment, and this time I could go with them and see the school with my own eyes.

And so, sitting in the office of that very school last Friday, it came to be that I heard the story of two compassionate Lao-Canadian girls, Agnes and Joanne, for the first time.

Speaking Lao

Lately I've been getting a taste of what it must be like for the thousands of refugees and new immigrants who come to Canada each year and must learn a brand new language, our language. I've reached a place in my study of the Lao language where I can understand other people well and I even have quite a wide vocabulary myself. The problem comes when I open my mouth. I know I'm saying the right words (at least most of the time) but I also know that I'm saying many of them incorrectly. My accent looms thick and heavy over me and it can be embarrassing to talk sometimes, particularly if it involves long and detailed explanation.

I mentioned this to Happy at the primary school this afternoon, how frustrating it's been lately to know that I'm saying things wrong and yet have to go on speaking as best I can anyways. What must everyone else be thinking of me! "That's why the children and volunteers are shy about speaking to you in English," he told me. "They're afraid of making mistakes. And they're embarrassed by their accents. But if they don't practice they will never learn! And Jessie it was harder for me when I was an IVEPer in B.C., because I had to speak English, there was no other choice!".

I thought back to a comment an MCC colleague of mine made at a recent international NGO conference, "why is it that your language is known all over the world and no one knows mine?". Yes we are very lucky as native English speakers to be born into a language that others all over the world spend endless time and money to acquire.

So maybe I will never truly experience the language frustrations that new immigrants go through when they come to Canada, but here in Laos, I'm getting a little taste of humble pie.

The Art of Peacemaking

Progress with our volunteer peacemaker team is happening. Slowly. As we look into the coming year and begin to implement our visions, we are realizing more and more what a challenge it is to work as a team towards the goal of peace, but we’re also discovering just how necessary it is to work together. We all have valuable things to offer, but no one person has what it takes to carry out the team’s vision alone. Unlike many of the volunteers, I have had some formal training and job experience in the field of peacemaking, however, unlike all of the other volunteers, my knowledge of the Lao cultural context and language are extremely limited. I’m learning to bite my tongue and simply listen during those times when, as a foreigner to this country, I truly can’t add anything valuable to the discussion. And so we move forward in tiny steps through a process of constant dialogue.

Dialogue: an essential tool in such an unscientific domain as peace and conflict studies. Through our groups many trainings and interchange sessions, we are learning that even within the small community of conflict resolution scholars, for example, there is a broad array of methods, not all of which are complimentary. The techniques taught by a visiting professor from Canadian Mennonite University may be very different than those taught at a special training in the Philippines or, for that matter, from the traditional Lao conflict resolution methods. And much to the dismay of some of my Lao friends, there is no one right conflict resolution strategy for every situation. In the art of peacemaking, the mediums are endless.

Historic Temples in Downtown Vientiane

Sometimes it takes a visitor to make a person be a tourist in their own city. All you Torontonians out there, for example, when is the last time you have actually been inside the CN Tower? The same is true for me here in Vientiane. The arrival of Rita, a former MCCer who now lives in Thailand, was a much needed excuse to get out and explore some of the sites here in this city. Rita, by the way was wonderful company. One benefit to living in a place like Laos is that you meet fascinating people on a regular basis!

Anyhow, here are some pictures from that afternoon of visiting temples. I was wearing a traditional Lao skirt that day (as always) and for some reason that made me a tourist attraction in my own right. More than one family of Thai tourists asked to have their picture taken with me and later on a group of young monks started a conversation with me, under the assumption that anyone wearing a Lao skirt must speak Lao. After Rita took a picture of me talking to the monks, another tourist stopped and asked if I could arrange to have his picture taken with the monks as well!

Monks, you see are a source of fascination for tourists and all other newcomers to this country. With their closely shaved heads and brilliant robes they do seem pious and mysterious. But after spending some time here you learn that nearly every Buddhist man will be a monk at one point in his life or another. Poor families send their boys to live at monasteries and receive a free education and many young men will join the monk hood for several weeks or months prior to their wedding or after the death of a loved one. As you might expect, monks are abundant here. Still it was a rare opportunity for me to be able to have a real conversation with these young monks.

Being a tourist was fun for a change and with the arrival of my parents tomorrow for a two week visit, I look forward to many more opportunities to explore this city.