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Published: December 11th 2010
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Champhet: The Mekong gondola
We crossed the Mekong from Luang Prabang in these tiny little boats to get to Champhet Okay, so it’s been a week since I’ve arrived, and now I totally get my job in a way that I couldn’t have grasped it before. A month ago, I thought Pencils of Promise was underestimating the speed at which I can do my work. But being here, I understand. The pace of life is just… different. And you have to roll with it, because bopenyung. No problem. C’est la vie, Pura vida, or whatever local colloquialism you can find to just say ‘whatevs.’
Let me just take a step back.
Pencils of Promise is a non-profit involved in education in Laos, Nicaragua, and soon Guatemala. We focus our impact on two things: 1) building schools, and 2) sustaining them through continuous community education (on things like health, sanitation, nutrition, clean environment, and cultural identity and tolerance). Beyond impact on the ground, we also focus a lot of our energy on sponsoring the ‘youth movement’ – in other words, we believe in empowering the (generally first-world) youth to do social good. Check out our website at pencilsofpromise.org. Seriously do – because it’s amazing.
Pencils of Promise has hired me to help them measure the impact we’re having on
Champhet: Creative locks
On the door of one of the huts that housed a handful of students, I saw this bicycle gear used as a lock. the ground in Laos. In other words, take my consultant-y skillset and apply it to the developing world. I’ve got five months living in Luang Prabang to come up with the right interview questions to quantify the short- and long-term impact PoP has on the communities it works with (already 15+ in Laos). This is easier said than done, given the completely different cultural context (not to mention language barrier) I’m facing. However, it’s a challenge I feel more than up to, so… diving right in!
To date, I’ve visited three of our communities – Champhet (right across the Mekong from Luang Prabang), XiengLohm (just take a right past the elephant trails), and Phayong (a jarring 4 hours in the bed of a truck).
Champhet: The road to Champhet is essentially in my backyard. You hop on a little Mekong gondola, pay 25 cents (oh wait, white girl? 50 cents.), and a 20 minute dusty walk later, you come across a high school campus. About 800 students live there for the majority of the year, and their living quarters are about 5′x10′. Coming from Manhattan, my first thought was “Ha – I’ve seen rooms this size in NY!”.
Champhet: A little bocce fun
The Lao love bocce ball, in particular if they have a beerlao in hand. I got to watch some of a bocce competition with the villagers. But wait, New Yorkers don’t share a room that size with 2-3 roommates (bedmates, really), as well as use the same space for open-fire cooking. But these 13-18 year olds seem to be faring pretty well. I mean, they must love school, because many of them hike for hours to get there on time for Monday class. This was my first introduction to ‘Lao time’ – the school director was 1.5 hours late to meeting me for an interview. However, it gave me time to walk amongst the shacks and meet the kids, who were all extremely proud to share with me the little English they had. Because I failed at my picture-snapping duties (sorry mom and pop), if you want to see more of Champhet, take a look at PoP’s page on Champhet.
Xieng Lohm: It was on the way to Xieng Lohm that I finally realized why everyone who’s passed through SE Asia insists that Laos is the most beautiful country in the area. Lush mountains and clear air awaited me just 25 minutes outside of Luang Prabang. Along with that came beautiful children and a friendly school director. Like in Champhet, I asked them questions about
the access and availability of water for students. They were more than happy to talk with us (me + Yae, my translator) while the kids peeked out of their classroom windows at the strangers.
Phayong: And then there’s my favorite village – so far. Phayong is in a very remote, hilly area of Laos, four hours from LPB. I spent the night out there to see the PoP school and get to know the families and children, who are a mix of minority ethnic groups (namely, the Khmu “Kamu” and Hmong “Mung”). They fed me wonderful food, provided me toilet paper (yayyyy), a couldn’t stop smiling and waving at me. I generated a group of followers, which one of my fellow travelers called my ‘daisy chain of little girls.’ They fought to hold my hand, even in narrow strips of dry land as I toured the rice fields. They sat on my lap as I taught them to sing with me. They convinced a dozen children to circle around me as they, in unison, all taught me to count from 1-100 in Lao. They chanted “Nam Peung, Nam Peung, Nam Peung” as we marched along around their land (this
Phayong: Khmu houses - distinct because... they're on stilts
Hmong houses tend to be on the ground, while the Khmu section of tiny Phayong is perched on little beams of wood may have been their attempt to correct my pronunciation of my name… but don’t you think that since it’s my name, I should be able to pronounce it how I like, and they should have to conform to ME?). Their parents are lucky I didn’t take some home with me, because I love them.
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