Beyond the Mekong River: A Year in Laos

The Other Side of the Mekong River

2008-07-30T11:26:00.001-07:00

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

2008-07-03T00:59:00.000-07:00

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

2008-06-19T21:18:00.000-07:00

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

2008-06-10T02:16:00.000-07:00

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

2008-06-05T00:17:00.000-07:00

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”

2008-05-27T19:51:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-26T21:55:00.000-07:00

"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?

2008-05-26T20:59:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-19T02:01:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-05T21:33:00.000-07:00

" 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

2008-05-04T21:22:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-23T19:34:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-21T19:20:00.000-07:00

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!)

2008-04-11T00:19:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-08T19:18:00.000-07:00

“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

2008-04-01T18:45:00.000-07:00

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

2008-03-31T21:29:00.000-07:00

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

2008-03-18T20:24:00.000-07:00

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

2008-03-17T21:11:00.000-07:00

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

2008-03-14T01:44:00.000-07:00

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

2008-03-03T19:08:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-19T19:32:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-05T18:30:00.000-08:00

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

2008-01-29T19:06:00.000-08:00

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.
Every time I walk into the room, baby Joshua now greets me a heart melting smile and a questioning “Jejee?!”.
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

2008-01-24T22:44:00.000-08:00

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

2008-01-24T02:32:00.000-08:00

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.

2008-01-10T19:24:00.001-08:00

The Art of Peacemaking

2008-01-10T19:20:00.000-08:00

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

2008-01-02T20:06:00.000-08:00

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.

Five Years of Empowering Disabled Women

2008-01-02T18:22:00.000-08:00

One of the best parts about my job here in Laos is that I never know quite what to expect in a day. On this particular Friday afternoon, I was sent to cover the proceedings of the 5th Anniversary Celebration for the Lao Disabled Women's Development Centre. The women who live and work at the center made absolutely radiant hosts. Beaming and dressed in their finest clothes (each one wearing the traditional styles of her village) they welcomed us and directed us to the field behind the center, backing onto the river. I had visited the LDWDC before, but this time the place had been transformed. Tents and a stage had been set up, along with tables overflowing with Lao delicacies and vendors selling handicrafts. The women had been preparing for this event for months, and it showed.

And then the festivities began. Able bodied and disabled people alike marked the occasion through carefully rehearsed Lao traditional Dances interlaced with congratulatory speeches. It was truly inspiring to see how the faces of my mentally and physically disabled friends came alive when the music was turned on and they were given a chance to be in the spotlight for once, rather than being pushed to the farthest edges of society, as per usual. The day ended with more dancing, but this time the impromptu kind. The girls sitting next to me in their wheel chairs persuaded me to put down my camera and we all danced together until exhaustion and laughter overcame us. I have never in my life danced so much as I do here in Laos and I wonder why is it that we have relegated dancing to night clubs and ballet classes back in Canada?

My boss here likes to tease me that I have the most enviable job in the organization, and on days like this, I have to agree.

Ponsinuane Primary School

2007-12-17T17:43:00.000-08:00

I wish you all could meet the wonderful children I spend my afternoons with at Ponsinuane Primary School! This local public school has only 90 children and 4 small classrooms, but the spirit of the place is anything but tiny. Since 2002, youth from the community have been serving as volunteers with the village children, and one year later, they began to introduce after school activities into the primary school including: storytelling, reading, drama, games, music, garbage dividing, recycling and composting. The Ponsinuane Volunteer Group (PVG) now has its own building at the school and operates after school programs each afternoon, as well as volunteer taught English classes as a part of the regular school day. MCC supports a part time staff person (who is himself a young adult from the community) to help with the implementation of PVG's activities as well as sending me as a half time volunteer to teach English and help with the after school program. It is very special for these children to have the undivided time and attention that the volunteers give each day and for our part it's very meaningful to build relationships with the children!

World Views Make a Difference Towards Global Transformation

2007-12-05T18:24:00.000-08:00

The 3rd International Conference on “Gross National Happiness”
Nongkai/ Bangkok, Thailand

I admit, I was more than a little skeptical when I was first told that I would be joining a delegation from our volunteer peacemaker team to attend a conference in Thailand on “Gross National Happiness” (GNH). What purpose could it possibly serve to hold an international conference on the hazy theme of happiness? And aren’t there more important things to be worrying about these days? My skepticism quickly faded, however, when the conference began and I learned what the concept of GNH was all about. You see, the king of Bhutan initiated the first GNH conference in 2004 because he was tired of the way the world judged the success of a country based solely on their Gross Domestic Product. He decided that in this age of environmental degradation, rampant globalization, cultural decline and scarce resources, it was time to work together towards a new paradigm of success. At the first international conference in Bhutan, the four pillars that “GNH” works towards were created. They are as follows:
· Good Governance
· Sufficiency Economy
· Sustainable Environment
· Cultural Recovery

This year’s conference had two unique parts. Firstly, we, representatives from Bhutan, Laos, Thailand, Cambodia, South Korea, Japan, Thailand, Fiji, Burma, Sri Lanka, Tibet, New Zealand, Brazil, Canada, U.S., England, Russia and Serbia gathered in a forest temple for three days in Nongkhai, Thailand. Monks, nuns and spiritual leaders from various religious backgrounds deeply enriched the experience. It was a meaningful time of religious and cultural dialogue, relationship building and discussions on such topics as “engaged spirituality”, “local wisdom”, “the urban/rural gap”, “right relationships with the environment”, “peace building” and much more.

After this informal, preliminary part of the conference, we traveled 12 hours by bus to Chulalonghorn University in Bangkok. It felt good to be back on the familiar ground of a university campus. In Bangkok, academics and representatives from governmental and non-governmental organizations from all over the world presented papers, held workshops and premiered films, all surrounding one or more of the four pillars of GNH. The Prime Ministers of both Thailand and Bhutan even made an appearance to offer their support at the opening ceremonies.

Highlights for me from this portion of the conference included a paper presented about conflict resolution used to help transform conflict between Buddhist and Muslim youth in a juvenile detention centre, a workshop about the storyteller’s role in society, a film By Helena Norberg-Hodge called “The Economics of Happiness”, a concert by a famous Sri Lankan musical ensemble and a conversation I had on a bus with an American woman who started an eco-village in Brazil 30 years ago. I don't know that I have ever been in the presence of such an eclectic mix of people before.

*If you want to learn more about the GNH paradigm, visit www.gnh-movement.org

Gross National Happiness Conference, Thailand

2007-12-04T19:50:00.000-08:00

A version of the festival I talked about in my entry "Light in the Darkness" is held 1 month later in Thailand, so I got to participate in it again! Pictured here are my friends Kalia and Nic from MCC's peacebuilding team.

We marchedthrough the streets in a festive parade with banners bearing the four pillars of "GNH": Good Governance, Sufficiency Economy, Sustainable Environment and Cultural Recovery.

In a village close to Nongkhai, villagers organized a feast for all three hundred of us, complete with music and dancing! This group blended traditional Thai instruments with drums, a violin and an electric guitar.

Conference banners guided us through the forest at this Theravada Buddhist temple compound in NongKhai, Thailand.

Heart Dance

2007-12-03T20:48:00.000-08:00

In the cool of the night
in rhythm with the ancient drums,
my heart pounds like love.
Love of a planet.

I’m afraid to look down at this page,
for already each second is speeding away
like the paper lantern we have flung into the heavens,
a new star
a new vision.
A vision of happiness for this continent
and for the planet it calls home.

Gathered from the far reaches of Asia
and beyond
we dance feverishly,
as though the fate of each sentient being rests in our spiraling arms,
no telling what may happen if we fall still.
still.
still as the monks in our midst,
wrapped warmly in their fire coloured robes.
Deep red for Bhutan, brilliant orange for Thailand.

And if I close my eyes and squint a little
every pounding heart will rise
into the night like so many paper lanterns.

*I wrote this poem during a particularly meaningful evening of the "Third International Conference on Gross National Happiness" held in Thailand. I will post some pictures and highlights of the conference very soon!

2007-11-20T19:39:00.000-08:00

In a strange Lao style mix up, my fellow SALTers and I were signed up to run the 10k race instead of the 5K we had been training for. It worked out well in the end though and somehow all three of found it within ourselves to finish. My time came in at just under an hour, but don't get too excited; the route was suspiciously short. Our best guess is that we ran 8 or 9K. Larry, another MCCer who signed up to run the 21K had the opposite problem. The turn around sign was somehow knocked down and he (along with dozens of other runners) wound up running close to 30K! I'm excited to keep running in the mornings here and hopefully find opportunities to run a few more races, if not in Laos then when I return to Canada.

Disabled Women Join in International Friendship Half Marathon Event

2007-11-20T19:12:00.000-08:00

Photo by Kaylie Tiessen

In the early hours of Saturday, November 17, 2007, the streets of downtown Vientiane were strangely empty of their usual fleet of motorcycles, tuk-tuks and cars, but the Lao National Stadium and the surrounding streets were a hub of activity none the less. Runners and walkers of many ages and nationalities showed off their physical abilities in Vientiane’s 10th Annual International Friendship Half Marathon. And while athletic types, the stereotypical participants in such an event, were present in abundance, they did not hold a monopoly on attendance. Also present were nearly forty women from the Lao Disabled Women’s Development Centre (LDWDC), all in matching light blue t-shirts, some in wheel chairs, others supported by crutches or friends, who overcame the obstacles of their disabilities to participate in this athletic event.

Some of the more able bodied women and their able bodied supporters took part in the 5,10 and (in one instance) even the 21 kilometre races, while the majority of the group stayed inside the National Stadium and completed three symbolic laps of the track. Though this may seem an easy task for an able bodied person, it was a feat accomplished only through great determination by these strong-spirited disabled women, who wanted to raise awareness of the challenges that disabled people face everyday, as well as draw attention to their many abilities. Ms. Kinnilone, herself a disabled woman and long time employee of the LDWDC had a clear message to get across on race day. “I want to say to all disabled people in Laos, and especially the women, be sure to pay attention to your work and education. Be confident! Remember that you are still a valuable part of this society and don’t let yourself become depressed by your physical disabilities.”

And how do the women feel about this special day? “They [were] very happy to attend,” says LDWDC director Ms. Chanhpheng Sivila. “The women come from many provinces, and they heard about International Friendship Half Marathon in Vientiane, but never before had the opportunity to participate. This event is about friendship and the women are happy to join in with able bodied people.” Each woman was awarded a special certificate for her efforts as she crossed the finish line. It is certainly an accomplishment that each one can be proud of for a long time to come.

As for the Lao Disabled Women’s Development Centre, the race to raise awareness and support for disabled women didn’t stop at the finish line. Today, the centre draws disabled women (and a few men) from all parts of the country, who are given a chance to learn a practical skill. The LDWDC offers vocational training and employment to these individuals in sewing, paper making, weaving or basic computer literacy as well as introductory English language instruction. Upon completion of their training, participants are able to return to their home communities with a new level of self worth and dignity, as they are now able to use their newly acquired skills to contribute to the family livelihood.

In addition to benefiting the individuals who pass through the centre, LDWDC acts as a valuable resource to the wider community, by demonstrating the abilities and potential of people living with disabilities and by building awareness within the general public of the needs and aspirations of disabled people in the Lao P.D.R.

*The LDWDC is supported in part by MCC Laos. For those of you who know Jane Snider and Larry Nafziger, they have worked with the centre for the past three years.

Light in the Darkness

2007-11-12T18:28:00.000-08:00

When I step outside, under the full moon, I find Nalene, Isaac and Meh Jenah carefully lighting dozens of tiny candles and melting their bottoms to secure them to our front gate. Strangers are welcomed tonight. The children play with sparklers and firecrackers in wild abandonment. It is the night before the Buddhist “Boat Festival”, and everywhere I look, the world is lit up in celebration. Just when I think the beauty of the night has reached its pinnacle, relatives from next door, a young couple and their eight year old daughter pull up in their truck and open the door to me. This is my invitation to the riverside festivities.

We park as close to the river as we can and then, pushing through throngs of people, we stop to purchase little arrangements of candles on top of banana leaf rafts, one for each of us. And then it’s time to slide and scramble, down the slippery bank. My friend firmly takes hold of one hand so I don’t get lost in the crowd, and with our other hands we hold our candles high above our heads. As we reach the water’s edge, I cannot help but gasp audibly. Drifting southward down the river are thousands of tiny candles. So many prayers light up the darkness. Across the river in Thailand are many more flickering candles, backed by a sky full of fireworks. We are not alone.

But we don’t send our candles to float on the river just yet. Instead, I find myself pulled into a tiny boat. And suddenly we are out on the river, speeding among these luminous prayers, a cool breeze playing with our hair. Just as suddenly we reach a barge in the middle of the river, lit up with flickering green and orange lights, perfectly synchronized to look like a boat and its rowers. We clamber up the side of the barge (which reaches past my shoulders when I stand up in our wobbling little boat), to find a feast spread out before us, behind the curtain of festive lights. Here we are far from the crowds, with only a handful of people seated here, gathered to eat, drink and celebrate. Our laughter too adds to the brilliance of this night.

When we’ve eaten our fill and basked in the glow the moonlight and candlelight long enough, we go to the edge of the barge, slide onto our stomachs and reach far, far down to the water below, to release our newly lit candles. This festival is held in honour of a religion not my own, but its beauty has moved me. As I watch my candle float around the barge and out of sight, I pray passionately to the Creator God I know, thankful for and inspired by the radiance of this night.

It’s after midnight when we arrive home and for once I am the one who must call through the window of the sleeping house for the door to be opened.

Judging Poverty

2007-11-08T19:09:00.000-08:00

How do I pull together the pieces of my week in the heart of the Lao countryside? When I sleep the glow of verdant rice paddies is still emblazoned in my mind and the aroma of steaming sticky rice, freshly harvested. But so too are the tired eyes of mothers, young women wrinkled and work hardened well before their time in an effort to keep their little ones full of rice. We travel to village after village, attend meeting after meeting, all full of disadvantaged people. We’re here to assess their level of poverty, their need of our assistance. “How many months in a year do you lack enough rice to eat?” and “Do you have any livestock?” and “What do you do when your children get sick?” Judging poverty.

Then we’re on to another village. By now it’s nearly dark but the children crowd around me and speak to me in quiet voices and I take picture after picture just to show them their face, maybe for the first time. These children are hungry. Their hair is tinged with orange and their bellies are swollen. I carefully record each of their ages in my notebook, sometimes doubling the age I initially guessed. “Who are you?” they say. “I am from Canada,” I say, but I’m met with blank expressions. “It’s close to America,” I say “have you ever heard of America?” The children shake their heads, “no”. By now their parents have gathered too and the meeting has started. The black night is lit by a candle, a bamboo torch, a fire. “Where do you get your water?” and “What do you eat when you run out of rice?” and “How do you irrigate your rice paddies.” Judging poverty.

I want to stay in each village for a week, a year, but as quickly as we come, we’re off again, flying over potholes into the depth of night. My head rings with the answers to our questions.

“We walk 30 minutes to the river to get our drinking water and to bathe and to fish, but the river’s running dry.”

“We have no water to irrigate our fields.”

“We collect food from the forest and sell rattan from the forest too,
but the forest is disappearing.”

“We can’t afford to take our children to the hospital
unless we think they’re going to die.”

“There are more people now than before.”

“There is less food now than before.”

They are poor. With enough time and resources, we could find work in each and every village we visit. As it is, we must judge the depth of their poverty and be selective.

Tha Thom District, Central Laos

2007-11-08T01:25:00.000-08:00

UXO in Laos: Generating Pain and Hindering Development, 30 years after the Vietnam War

2007-11-06T22:04:00.000-08:00

Photo by Maryanne Mutch

To reach the village of Yam Cha Yeum Xay, we must venture down the river in a shallow wooden boat, the noise of the engine causing the water buffalos to look up from their contemplative cud chewing as we pass by. Our vista of tree covered mountains, topped in mist, and the dense jungle whose ancient trees reach skyward and whose vines and runners reach down to graze our shoulders, lets me cling to a fantasy that we intrepid explorers are the first to ever experience this beauty. But when we step onto solid ground again and cross a rickety bamboo bridge, we find a village full of people, well established in this place. They wash their clothes on these banks. The water buffalos grazing on the shore belong to them. They eat the fish of these waters everyday. This place is their own.

We are here to ask questions about agriculture, sanitation and nutrition in order to find out whether this village would be a good location for a new MCC food security project. But development in this place has more than the usual obstacles. Bombies (as the Lao call the bomblets of cluster bombs) and other unexploded ordnance (UXO) which have remained hidden in the earth since the time of the Vietnam war (or as it is called here “The American War”), are ready to maim or kill the unsuspecting farmer who strikes it with his hoe or the curious child who is fascinated by this strange new toy.

Here in the village of Yam Cha Yeum Xay, we are sent to visit one such child in his home. Twelve year old Lampan Vanmasane was excited to have a break from school last April for Lao New Year. He spent the day fishing in the river with a friend. As the boys started for home, Lampan realized that he had forgotten his shoes on the bank and so he sent his friend on ahead while he ran bank to collect them. But as Lampan bent down to slip on his shoes, he saw something shining in the water. “I thought it was a flashlight,” he recounts now, as we sit cross legged in the only room of his family’s bamboo home, set high off the ground on stilts.

Lampan was disappointed with what he found, however, for when he reached down to pull this “flashlight” out of the water. What he held in his small hand was only an old, rusty tube of metal. But as he threw his discarded treasure back into the river, the impact triggered an explosion, sending tiny shards of metal shooting out in all directions, including one small piece, which lodged itself in Lampan’s side. Though he still feels sharp pains in his side six months later, Lampan was lucky. Not only did the water keep the debris from traveling further, but the scrap of metal in his body did not pierce any internal organs.

The noise from the explosion set the village into action. Lampan was quickly laid into a boat and taken to the nearest road, where he traveled first by military jeep and later by bus, through most of the night. Finally, at 3 a.m. he reached the hospital. The cost of transportation and two weeks in the hospital set Lampan’s family back over $300 U.S., more money than most Lao families see in a year. Three of the family’s precious cows were sold to pay the debt. “I am happy that we were able to take care of my boy,” Lampan’s father tells us. The security of owning livestock is a luxury beyond the means of many of his friends and neighbours.

And so, if we decide to work with food security in this place, we must first cover the expense of having the rice paddies and river in this area cleared of UXO. The situation is filled with irony. It was North Americans who left behind these deadly souvenirs and now, as a North American relief and development agency we must deal with the consequences. But it is the Lao people who pay the true cost, year after year, in the loss and injury of their animals, friends and families, stretching on into the unseen future.

Hello, my name is Jessica and I am an awkward falang!

2007-10-27T22:57:00.000-07:00

During our first weeks in this new country, we four young women who were new to Laos became an informal support group for each other, a safe place to vent about our cultural blunders and questions. Though we are still very much falangs (foreigners) we are no longer feeling quite so awkward, nor do we so each other all that often.
Occasionally, however, I do find myself slipping back into the awkward category. I am now that strange, white girl who jogs around my neighbourhood at dawn. As it turns out, although running here in Laos is perfectly culturally appropriate, it’s still extremely rare to see. But as I dodge chickens and potholes, speeding up to avoid mangy dogs and slowing down to let a herd of cattle pass, I catch glimpses of my neighbours lives as well.
I call out “Sa bai dee!” and I press my palms together and bow a little as I run by and they call out whichever word or two of English they happen to know, looking up from their cooking fires to grin at me. Their smiles widen as I call back in my increasingly less broken Lao. These 10 second encounters often set the tone of my day. And there is more. In the middle of November the “Lao Disabled Women’s Development Centre”, an MCC assisted project, is sponsoring a half marathon, a 10K and a 5K run to raise awareness of disability issues in Laos. I’m not quite up for that half marathon just yet, but we SALTers have made a pact to run that 5K.
There is one small obstacle. I have never really been a runner before, at least not since my 10 minutes of track and field fame in elementary school. But I look at the whole situation like this: two months ago I couldn’t read or write Lao and now, in the simplest sense of the words, I can. In comparison to that, how difficult can running be? I think it’s a challenge I’m ready to take on.

A Day in My Life

2007-10-24T20:51:00.000-07:00

After my lengthy series of disconnected stories, have you ever wondered what it is I actually do in a day? Every day is quite different, but yesterday, my day looked something like this.

6:00 a.m. –I drag myself out of bed and then out into the cool air for my morning run.

6:40 a.m.-My chore for the morning is to sweep and mop the floor.

7:15 a.m.-After my first bucket bath of the day and some serious ironing, I’m neatly dressed, coiffed and sitting down to a breakfast of stir fried tofu and leafy greens over rice.

8:05 a.m. –I pull into the MCC office compound, only slightly late, after weaving my way through an army of motorcycles, bicycle drawn carts and a few luxury SUVs. Today’s projects include working on a newsletter for MCC’s ethnic minority teacher education program and reorganizing the office library.

12:00 p.m.-I eat lunch with my Lao colleagues at “MCC Restaurant” (so called because one of MCC’s long term employees has eaten there every day for the last seventeen years). In this open air, road side shop, our rice noodle and beef soup (feuh) is cooked over an open fire and then topped with green onions, bean sprouts, lime and mint.

2:00 p.m.-After a long Lao style lunch break, My English classes begin at Ponsinuane Primary School. My co-teacher, Happy, recently spent a year in British Columbia volunteering with MCC and so we teach Canadian English.

3:00p.m.-While the other children run and shout and play, it is the grade 3’s turn to visit the school’s little library. A group of girls crowds around, and we take turns reading aloud from Lao story books. When it’s my turn they shriek with laughter and call out the corrections to my frequent mistakes, fully enjoying the opportunity to correct a teacher.

5:00p.m.-After the adventure of my drive home, it’s time for bucket shower number two. I’m on babysitting duty today, and so I scoop up baby Joshua, and Isaac runs ahead excitedly, and we head outside for a walk. We’ve soon collected a small crowd of curious children and even the adults can’t help but stare at the foreigner and her Lao children as they pass.

7:00p.m.-Supper tonight is spicy, green papaya salad, bits of grilled pork and sticky rice, all eaten with our hands of course. Dragon fruit makes a nice dessert. I practice my Lao with my sisters as we clean up together and we laugh so hard that the aunt next door comes over to see what’s wrong.

8:30p.m.-I study Lao and help my sister with her English homework while endless Thai soap operas play in the background. The children come and go, as do a steady stream of neighbours and relatives who stop by to chat or drop off a bunch of sweet bananas.

10:00p.m. Following bucket bath number three, my lights are out and I’m soon fast asleep.

Dressed for Work

2007-10-22T23:17:00.000-07:00

If "MCC worker" is synonymous with a get up of birkenstocks and wrinkled cotton skirts, think again. In Laos everyone is expected to be extremely well dressed in most every setting. To work each day I wear a traditional Lao skirt (or sin) and a neatly ironed collared shirt. The large pleat at the waist makes the sin the clothing of choice for driving a motorcycle or sitting on the floor. Sins come in many beautiful colours and patterns, but the decorative strip (or tinsin) at the bottom of the skirt is what makes people take notice.

Peace in Translation

2007-10-22T20:40:00.000-07:00

In an unexpected addition to my job description, I am now becoming highly involved in MCC LAOS’ team of young peace educators. This is a brand new initiative and so progress is slow, both in terms of waiting for funding to come through and in terms of defining who we are as a team, and what it is we’re setting out to accomplish. “What is peace?” is a question we wrestled with at a recent meeting. Language barriers aside, peace is a very flexible word and it must be put into context if it is to have any meaning at all. And so I launched into an explanation of “Negative Peace” as the absence of war and direct violence, and “Positive Peace” as the presence of justice and over all well being.

“Ahhh,” said the soft spoken young woman on my left, “then we must not tell the children that this is about peace, for in Lao we have only the word ‘Santiphab’, which means the absence of war. We must tell the children that this about happiness.” This idea made me anxious right away.

“Oh no!” I warned, in my calmest and most culturally appropriate tone of voice, “Happiness is not the same as peace. A person can be very happy themselves even though everyone around them is suffering!” Around the table eyebrows raised and people quickly looked away to hide their amused smiles. Someone reached out gently to touch my arm.

“To Buddhist people, it is not possible to be happy while others suffer needlessly. No one who is selfish can also be happy. The children will understand.”

I learned an important lesson about peace building across cultures that day. I also began to wonder: when did the idea (so prevalent in North America culture) come about, that one can be happy so long as their personal needs are met? Here in Laos, on the other side of the world, I am working for peace, but the need for peace builders back home is just as strong.

Souk's Story

2007-10-17T20:15:00.000-07:00

Sixteen year old, Souk Khonmannee (a member of the Pho Noi ethnic group) has just started out on a very large adventure. Along with seven other young people of ethnic minority background, she has been sponsored by MCC to participate in a three year teacher training program, located in the town of Luang Nam Ta. Drawing students from all over the country, the training school is a two day journey from Souk's home in a small village.

Living so far away from everyone and everything she knows will certainly be difficult, but Souk knows what it means to persevere in the face of a challenge. When she was just nine years old, Souk’s mother passed away and her father remarried. Rejected by her stepmother, Souk was fortunate enough to be adopted by an uncle.

Though she speaks Lao, Pho Noi and Khmu (along with some very basic English) and is studying hard to become a teacher, Souk does not come from a highly literate family. While her father can read a little, her mother could not read at all.

It is Souk’s vision to work to counteract the low literacy rates, particularly among the ethnic minority groups. Unlike many young people in Laos today who flock to city centers, Souk dreams of becoming a teacher in a ban nok (remote village) because often times in such places, “there are no teachers”.

Issues of Ethnicity in Laos

2007-10-17T20:12:00.000-07:00

Though South East Asia has a rich and ancient history, the country borders which appear on official maps are a relatively new creation. Many of these border lines were put in place by European colonizers, and they do not accurately reflect the people who live in this region. Millions of those who belong to the Lao ethnic group reside across the border in Thailand, and likewise Laos is home to many people who do not identify with the Lao ethnic group.

For this reason, when we talk of “Lao” culture and tradition, we are speaking only of the customs of approximately half of Laos’ population, those who identify with the Lao ethnic group. As for the other half of the population, they belong to well over a hundred different ethnic groups, which vary greatly in terms their diets, language, religion, traditional clothing, etc. The Hmong and the Khamu are two of the more populous ethnic minority groups.

As citizens of one of the world’s most impoverished countries, young people in Laos are faced with many challenges as they work their way through the education system and find a place for themselves in the working world. For those young people who belong to one of Laos’ many ethnic minority groups, issues of language, culture and discrimination are added to the usual obstacles. In an effort to reduce some of these obstacles, MCC has chosen to assist in the training of ethnic minority teachers in Laos. Having teachers who belong to the same ethnic minority group as their student will not only allow for the education of non-native Lao speakers, it will also increase the likelihood that the teachers stay on in their placements long term, thus providing stability for their students.

The Ride Home from Sangthong

2007-10-08T21:22:00.000-07:00

As Katelin and I pile into the back of a very crowded pick up truck, we can hardly believe that this is our mode of transportation all the way back to the city. We sit on the middle bench of the three wobbling wooden benches and so the journey home is a balancing act, clinging to the makeshift roof with one hand and our backpacks with the other. In this public “bus” the many rules of Lao social etiquette seem to be thrown out the window. We bump along, occasionally ending up in each others laps after a particularly large pothole.

After four solid days of rain (our portion of Vietnam’s typhoon), the road is a mess, sometimes washed out completely. We plow on, weaving our way along the Mekong River (to the right) at the base of jungle covered mountains (to the left). Mercifully, despite the fresh duck’s blood and other strange delicacies I have recently eaten, the combination of medicinal ginger and fresh air keeps my nausea at bay. Sometimes we pass through tiny villages, mere collections of rice paddies and huts, but more often the road dirt road is the only sign that any member of the human race has ever set foot in this place.

The woman sitting across from me is beautiful. Her posture is as elegant as her hair, swept into a sleek spool on top of her head. Her facial features and the weave of her traditional skirt tell me that she is not Lao in the fullest sense of the word, but rather a member of one of Laos’ many ethnic minority groups. A small child sleeps, strapped to her front and another sits beside her. The man next to this tiny girl has a gun strapped to his backpack. No one seems concerned and so, after 20 minutes of “Hotel Rwanda” like scenarios running through my head, I come to accept this as just another reality of life in Laos and I relax. On we fly, red mud splashing up at every dip and turn.

First Impressions of Lao Rural Life

2007-10-08T21:20:00.000-07:00

The Laos I am experiencing here in Sangthong district does indeed feel like another world. Just when I thought I was grasping the language and lifestyles of the people of Laos, I visited this not so far off village, and discovered that the only culture I am really learning is that of Vientiane. Life in Sangthong works differently.

For one thing I know that the people in this district do not have nearly as many resources as my friends in Vientiane. Heidi and Micah (the MCC workers I am visiting here) are introducing me to this new Laos. This is a place where 80% of the population does not have access to electricity. This is a place where wealth is measured in rice. This is a place where meals consist of whatever can be foraged in the woods after the rice crop has been sold off to pay a medical bill. Most families are one expensive illness away from lifelong debt. Or starvation.

I’ve often wondered since my arrival in Laos why I haven’t yet experienced extreme culture shock. I know now that if I lived in Sangthong as Heidi and Micah do, I most definitely would experience that shock and confusion. It’s easy to romanticize the lives of this genuine and passionate MCC couple in their rustic bamboo house on stilts, but I don’t envy them the challenging cultural issues they must confront on a daily basis, as the only foreigners in the entire district. What should we feed the 10 children in our house so that we can eat or breakfast without being rude? Which neighbour did we offend by forgetting to invite them to our little girl’s birthday party? I’ve realized my journey in learning about Laos has just barely begun.

The Freedoms and Limitations of Youth

2007-10-07T22:02:00.000-07:00

I’ve made the acquaintance of a very distinguished woman tonight. Meh Tuu (great grandmother to Isaac and Joshua) is the latest addition to this very full house. Even as I begin to write about her just now, she comes and sits down beside me on my bed, flipping through my little photo album and commenting duly on my young looking mother and handsome boyfriend. When I put down my pen she takes the opportunity to have a (mostly one sided) conversation.

Being in the presence of Meh Tuu is refreshing. As an 80 year old woman in a country where 45% of the population is under the age of 15, Meh Tuu has far surpassed an age where she is expected to conform to the many rules and social niceties of Lao culture. While most Lao woman sit primly on the floor with their legs positioned modestly beneath and their traditional skirts ever so carefully tucked around them, Meh Tuu can sit however she like, wear whatever she finds comfortable, and is not afraid to speak her mind. Through it all she somehow maintains inexplicable dignity and poise. There’s a mischievous twinkle in her eye which causes children to flock to her, climbing her like a tree and beckoning forth her gutsy, unbridled laughter. Despite the language barrier, Meh Tuu’s openness makes her a fascinating person to talk to.

As I began to reflect on the significance of age and more specifically on the freedoms and limitations which accompany various ages, I realized some interesting things about how my age impacts my life here and now. As most of you know, I am 19 years old. That, I know is very young, and for a long time I have seen my youth as only a limitation. I often feel that the world is full of things that I could or should be doing, if only I was older or more experienced. More over, whichever stage I happen to be at in life, I know I spend an excessive amount of time planning and anticipating (or more often worrying) about which ever stage I feel should come next. Since arriving in Laos, I am slowly beginning to see that these thought patterns are neither accurate nor healthy.

Firstly, although, unlike Meh Tuu, I am expected to comply with the many aspects of social etiquette common to all young women in Laos, I realize now that my youth also gives me some incredible advantages. My youth allows me to live as a part of a Lao family here and be seen as their daughter. My youth allows me to visit people in their homes without seeming intimidating or threatening. My youth allows me to work as one member of a larger team rather than always being expected to lead, teach and advise. I really believe that because I am young and lacking in power and status, I am allowed to experience many aspects of life in Laos, that would otherwise be kept hidden from me, and for that I am truly thankful.

Furthermore, living with a “what’s next?” mindset did not allow me to fully appreciate or experience moments as they unfolded. Living in the here and now is essential in Laos. Things are rarely planned in advance at all nor can I begin to predict what sort of unplanned events might occur, and so anticipation of the sort I dwell in at home is futile. It’s good to remind myself that I can’t measure time or productivity here in ways that are familiar to me. I am not all convinced that the time I take to complete the stack of paperwork on my desk is more "productive" than the time I spend sitting beside Meh Tuu, eating roasted yams as she stirs a bubbling pot of bamboo soup.

Gapgo

2007-10-07T21:44:00.000-07:00

The appearance of a large lizard (or gapgo) in our outdoor kitchen added some life to after dinner cleanup this evening. If any of you are conjuring up images of the teaspoon sized geckos that frequent the walls of many tropical abodes, I invite you to make space for a new image. Pale green, spiky and the size of my forearm, this creature was every bit a full fledged lizard. As we crept close enough to snap a few photos, my sisters told me tales of leaping lizards (yes, the figure of speech is based on a reality). The only solid advice I could pry out of them on how to deal with a lizard which has attached itself to your arm was to scream run and peel off your clothing as fat as you could. I think I’ll work on the prevention side of things and try to avoid such scenarios altogether.

Every library book I so eagerly absorbed this spring before coming to Laos was filled with descriptions of Laos’ incredible eco-diversity. Everything from giant catfish to rare white tigers can supposedly be found in this country, but so far the only exotic creatures I have encountered are this lizard, some overgrown cockroaches and an excessive amount of geckos and ants. From all accounts, Vientiane (the capital of Laos and my home) seems a world apart from the rest of the country in many respects. Vientiane certainly does a good job of presenting an appealing face to the outside world, but I am excited to begin my travels into the countryside. The other world.

Tuk-Tuks and Temples

2007-10-04T01:58:00.000-07:00

Tuk-Tuks (tiny colourful taxis) and Buddhist temples abound here in Vientiane. Tuk-Tuks are abundant and cheap but not particularily reliable. I learned the hard way that just because the driever agrees to take you some where, does not mean that they know where they are going! Although I was very late for my meeting, I did get a neat tour of the city.

Temples are a green and peaceful haven within the city, and are among the very few public gathering spaces. They often serve as schools, orphanages, funeral homes, fairgrounds and community centres as well as worship spaces. Their ornate architecture and rich colours stand in stark contrast to the surrounding neighbourhood.

My Life in Pictures

2007-09-28T22:08:00.000-07:00

At four years old, Isaac, my host brother is every bit as mischievous as he appears. He is also the second best English speaker in the house and we've bonded over the fact that we miss our dad's who are far away in North America.
My host sister Goong is an excellent cook. Here she is with dinner for the two of us. When the whole family is home we eat at the table, but when there are just a few, we eat on the ground as is traditonal for the Lao people.

The other side of my bedroom, as well as a look at my very high quality, if not so stylish by Lao standards, helmet. I received some concerned comments the first time I posted a picture of myself riding a motorcycle with no helmet! Don't worry, I never got out of the parking lot that day.
Though I live in a well off family, some food just tastes better when cooked in the back yard!
This is Joshua, my 1 year old host brother. Don't be deceived by his relaxed pose here, he's always on the go! It's been a really interesting learning experience to observe the differences between North American and Lao parenting techniques. For my first month living with the host family, caring for Joshua and doing my own laundry were my only chores. As it turns out, neither one is considered to be a "real" chore here in Laos. This week I will start cooking "foreigner food" for dinner at least once a week, as well as learning the Lao ways of cooking and cleaning. I'm actually really excited to have more household chores to do as this will help me to feel more like a real member of the family, and less like a spoiled foreign guest.
*My apologies for the sideways photos! If anyone knows how to rotate pictures on blogspot, your help would be much appreciated.

The Colour of My Skin

2007-09-21T21:36:00.000-07:00

In a tiny open air bus this morning, a perfect stranger stroked my arm and praised the whiteness of my skin. It still feels very odd to me to live in a place where my paleness is so openly coveted. Back in North America, the media has been tempting me all my life to crave just the opposite look. No tanning beds here, every advertisement speaks of miracle formulas to whiten your face, arms, armpits. They seem mostly to be a mixture of bleach and sunscreen. It doesn't stop there. In the full heat of the sweltering sun, one can expect that most people commuting by motercycle will be wearing some sort of heavy sweater or jacket to protect themselves from the sun. The more image consious might go so far as to carry an umbrella with one hand and drive with the other and today I even saw a pair of mittens.

It's hard to know how to react to all of this. I know that I had no control over my skin colour or any other characteristic that I just so happened to be born with. Every day I strive to deepen my relationships with my Lao family and friends, push my interactions past appearances and stereotypes. But even as I learn to communicate more and more each day, I am also becoming very aware that I will always be white, I will always be a foreigner and no matter how much I strive to walk in solidarity with the people of Laos, I do not share their history and circumstance.

Water

2007-09-21T21:20:00.000-07:00

So many of my cultural mishaps and adventures here seem to revolve around water. Too much water, not enough water, not the right kind of water. I've slowly learned that my Lao friends do not consider a person to be truly clean unless they've had at least three bucket showers that day, I've learned how to use the minimum amount of water possible to wash dishes and clothes, but as is evident in this next little incident, old habits die hard.

"Ao nam baw?" I ask. "Would you like some water?" My family could not contain their laughter and cries of astonishment as I filled their water glasses after one particular meal. Let me elaborate. It is the custom of the Lao people to wait until after a meal is complete to drink water. Despite living with two toddlers, it is me who feels like a baby most of the time, wide eyed and helpless, and so I try to offer help in whatever little ways I can. The tap water with which I filled their glasses, however, may as well have been gasoline from the looks they gave me. Tap water here is almost as potent. How naive and lucky I am to have been brought up in a country where it seems like the most natural thing in the world to turn on the tap when thirsty!

Transformation

2007-09-13T23:17:00.000-07:00

In an open air warehouse across the street from the MCC office yesterday afternoon, I manoevered my motercyle with great concentration around a chalked in figure eight. When the afternoon's downpour subsided, fireworks signalled the start of a cremation at the nearby wat (Buddhist temple). If you had read me this excerpt from my life a year ago, I'm sorry to say that I would have laughed in your face! Asia is truly the last place on Earth that I expected to end up, and I'm not really sure that I knew that Laos existed. Furthermore, those of you who know me well know that I have not always had the most positive relationship with motorized vehicles. Once upon a time, I was convinced that I would never learn to drive a car, let alone a motorcycle. People change; God works in unexpected ways.

So what's changed? Physically my hands are a little raw from doing all my laundry by hand, my muscles are growing from lifting baby Joshua and I have a new freckle two. Emotionally and spiritually, this year is already stretching me in more ways than I can count. I can feel myself exuding a new confidence. Yes I can drive a motorcycle in a city that is becoming less foreign to me everyday. Yes I can eat whatever unidentified substance you have just piled on my plate.
Familiarizing myself with this place is, as a class mate put it earlier today, "like coming out of a thick fog". The squiggles on roadside signs burst into clarity, jumbled conversations spring into order and baffling cultural practices repeat themselves predictibly. I wish I could say that the sun has come out and everything from now on will be bright and sunny, but for now, I'm happy living in the humidity of a Lao afternoon in rainy season.

The Buddha Caves

2007-09-11T23:20:00.000-07:00

During my first weekend in Laos, I was lucky enough to participate in an MCC retreat 7 hours South of Vientiane. We piled into a very narrow, very shallow boat, climbed some very steep stairs built against the side of a cliff and entered a cave filled with Buddha images. It was discovered by a fisherman several years ago, but most of the carvings are thought to come from the 1300s!

Lao Language School

2007-09-11T23:12:00.000-07:00

Here (left to right) are Emily, myself, Katelyn and Kaylie in front of Candlelight Language School. Kaylie is here on a three year MCC term, and the rest of us are here with MCC's one year Serve and Learn Together program. We are all enjoying the three hours of language classes we have each day. Suddenly, the little squiggles and bumps on the page make sense. We can read! We still don't know most of what we are reading, but our vocabularies are growing each day. It's hard to believe we've only been here three weeks!

Odawan

2007-09-09T23:35:00.000-07:00

I have a new name; Odawan. Last night the extended family gathered on a straw mat in the living room around steaming pots of fish, noodles and greens. After the usual discussion about the food, and laughter at my broken Lao, the elder of the group decided that it was high time to give me a Lao name. "Jessie is just too hard for us to say!" it was explained to me. After some questioning as to the meaning of the name Jessica, I was given the name Odawan. In Lao it means "wealthy and honoured one". I have never connected much meaning to my English name before, nor did I find it particularly fitting in my North American context, but here in Laos I certainly do feel both wealthy and honoured. I think often of a favourite reminder of my grandpa's: "to whom much has been given, much is required". I wonder now, in the early stages of my stay here in Laos, what will be required of me this year? As I wait, I laugh at myself for the myriads of cultural mistakes I make each day, I learn to speak a few syllables at a time and I grow to love my host family. There is beauty in this waiting too.

I was asked in an email just now whether we get any rain here these days. I couldn't help but laugh out loud! Each morning I wake up early to the study pounding of rain on the roof, the lashing f wind against my window. This morning it rained harder than I have ever seen it rain before. Riding to school this morning on the back of Goong's motorcycle, we came across a road that was completely washed out! We stopped to push the motorcycle back the way we came, but it was no use, there was just to much water in that engine. And so the two of us pushed that bike through thigh deep water all the way to a little repair shop a few kilometres away. When I finally got to language school, I was very late and very wet. Yes, we do get a little rain here!

One last thought. I recently got an email from my sister asking me why I didn't update my blog more often. I responded that nothing very interesting was happening these days, and no one wanted to hear what I had for breakfast for goodness sakes! I'm not so sure about that anymore. On Friday I woke up to a lovely bowl of rice soup abounding in shrimp, squid and two personal sized octopus. "Saep baw?" (Delicious, no?).

My New Family

2007-09-04T00:04:00.000-07:00

I moved yesterday into the home of my host family which is quite a ways out of town. It feels good to be more independent and also it forces me to speak a lot more Lao. I live with euay (sister) Meena who is young and spunky and her little boys, Joshua ( a walking talking 1 year old) and Isaac (4) . It's a busy house! My Lao vocubulary for phrases like "Take that out of your mouth!" and "Colour on the paper, not on the wall!" and "Please put your brother down!" is expanding rapidly. There are also two girls named Goong and Kai (17 and 13) who live in the house as temporary foster daughters. Everyone in the house is trying to learn English and they are eager for me to teach them and also to tech me Lao. Here, my new family calls me "Jedsee", because in the Lao language you cannot end sylable with an "s". Being a small, white falang (foreigner) in Laos is good for the self esteem. Yesterday Nalene (my 8 year old host niece who lives next door) pressed her tiny hand in to mine and called me "Euay Ngam" (beautiful sister).

Vientiane Afternoon

2007-08-28T05:56:00.000-07:00

It is quiet and peaceful here on the guest house porch. The Wonderland "Guest House" across the street has turned off its blaring music, and for the moment, no is belting Lao karaoke from the bar further down. Sound is now reduced to the neighbours ping pong game, a few motercycles on the street, our water pump, and the calls of various birds and insects. Here in the shade I don't feel the intense heat, but it is still very humid. There has been no rain so far today. Laos is not like other tropical places I have known where the rain is predictable. Here it may start raining any time of day, and the rain may last for a week or be gone in an hour.

This afternoon, Phylis (one of the country representatives for MCC) walked us around the neighbourhood. We learned that Vientian is made of many villages ("Ban" in Lao) each made up of 100 houses. Every village has its own temple. Needless to say, there are countless temples in Laos, each with their intricate golden pillars, serenely smiling Buddhas, steeply sloping red tile roofs and orange garbed monks. We enter one temple, slipping off our shoes at he door. Inside a gathering of people are blessing a new motorcycle. The bike is tied to a string which leads through a window into the temple. Further along is a large alter featuring a giant stone pillar and a number of Buddha statues in varying sizes. Everything is decked out with colourful, flashing Christmas lights.

There is much legend surrounding this particular temple ("wat" in Lao). So the story goes, in ancient times the people had a vision that before the temple could be built, someone must sacrifice their life for the good fortune of the city. And so they dug a large pit and waited for a willing volunteer. Finally, a pregnant girl jumped into the pit. The stone pillar was brought down on top of her and the temple was ready for construction. To this day, residents of Vientiane claim to see this girl in the form of clouds overhead.

In front of the alter, people pray for miracles. When they feel that they have received one, they bring offerings of bananas, coconuts wax flowers and incense. All this can be purchased from the row of stalls across the street.

First Impressions

2007-08-28T05:40:00.000-07:00

Our small Lao Airlines plane features two propellors and an inflight snack of lychee fruit and flat pop. Laos spreads before us in fleeting images through heavy for as we circle in for landing. What we see is an intricate quilt pattern of rolling hills, dense jungle, and neatly measured squares of brilliant green race paddies and bownish blue fishing ponds. The Mekong river rips through the landscape, powerful and brown as coffee. This lush scene is brightened by the red tile roofs of houses and temples, matched closely by the red dirt roads.
We are met by a heavy downpour as we leave the airport, along with three MCC trucks. Following closely alongside the frothy Mekong, we finally reach the MCC guest house, and wade through ankle deep water to reach the door. Although holding our eyes open is a chore, we are hungry for our first Lao meal. Spaghetti, to the best of my knowledge, is not traditional Lao food, but after three days of airplane food, it is comforting.

Exchange

2007-08-15T05:29:00.000-07:00

Khamla from Laos sleeps in the room next door to mine. She speaks English well and is eager to tell me all she can about her country. She tears pages out of her journal and fills them with maps to places that I must visit and the names of her friends and family that I must greet. On Monday we SALTers going to Laos stayed up late talking to Khamla about what to expect, what foods we must try and what to avoid if at all possible. From all accounts, Laos sounds like a fascinating and beautiful country. We tried as best we could to tell Khamla what to expect from her conservative Mennonite family in Ohio. That, I feel, will be a cross cultural experience within a cross cultural experience.

Harmony

2007-08-13T05:16:00.000-07:00

These first few days of my MCC orientation have been some of the most meaningful and enriching of my life. Sharing the orientation with us, the North American SALTers are the International Voluntary Exchange Program (IVEP) participants. These charismatic young adults come from countries all across the globe, and their presence is adding so much to our week here at MCC headquarters.

It will be a long time before I forget the powerful music we created in an impromptu choir practice during our first night here. There I was, gathered around a piano, played by Renata from Paraguay, with Bridgette from South Africa belting out a strong lead to "What a Friend We have in Jesus". Desi from Indonesia, Janah from Zambia, Amy from the U.S.A, Leonard from Switzerland and myself all harmonizing in our mother tongues. This struck me as peace building in a more concrete way than anything I have studied out of a text book in my peace and conflict studies classes.

2007-08-09T20:39:00.000-07:00

Leaving

2007-08-08T06:26:00.000-07:00

It's coming. As of Saturday I'll have left home, left behind my family and friends, left the country. There's a strange irony in all my talk of leaving lately. I seem to be forgetting the place to which I'm arriving. Neither the piles of clothing and the half empty suitcases on my bed or the 2 or 3 good byes I say each day, are enough to make me truly believe that in two short weeks, I'll be stepping out of a tiny plane, onto the banks of the Mekong river in Laos.