“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