Last Day in Lao I woke up late, around 7AM, then started to read the news from the Tea Party News Network and Fox News.. I can see the Mekong out the sliding windows. I slept with the doors open and could smell breakfast on the sidewalk one floor down. I drank all the in-room coffee, which is never enough, and headed downstairs. There was an Asian woman on her computer and I sat at the table near her to order breakfast. I asked if she was from China. A European might say, I am from Germany or England. She said, “I am Japanese,’ with the emphasis you expect. I think I say, I am from America. As I told my son on our first trip to Asia together over 10 years ago, every one has a story and it is fun to get them to tell it. You wont even ask if you judge first. Her name is Miki. Its easy to remember as it is written on her shirt. Miki is a professor at a university in Japan and on a trip with about 15 students who raised money to build a school in a Hmong village in Lao. They raised $9000 in their village in Japan. Miki is also doing research and publishing a paper about the Hmong. “Are you researching how they helped the CIA during the Vietnam War?” “Yes, of course.” I could tell she took a new interest in me. I said that I knew the Hmong were a tribe without a country. No one claimed them. They have their own language and wander between Lao, Northern Thailand and Burma, often crossing the border to escape whomever is after them at the time. They know the jungle better than anyone. They are also desperately poor. For a few dollars, the CIA was able to hire many of them to help find the travelers on the Ho Chi Min Trail in regions we claim we never were in Cambodia and Lao. When the CIA left, it did not go well for the Hmong. I asked Miki what her husband did. I forgot...I didnt really care, only wanting to know if she was married. Miki said she was going to the village where the school had been built after breakfast. “Can I go?’ “There are only enough seats in the van for the people we have, but one girl is sick and might not be able to go.” The poor Hmong had offered her food, and she ate it rather than refuse. Her bad luck was good news for me. She was not getting out of bed. Off we went, for one of the best days I have had in a long time. I was outside my own head, grateful for who I am and all I have seen, and what I have. I learned a lot from these poor Hmong, and the Japanese who were kind enough to bring me along. I will write about it when I get the battery charged.
Posted on: Wed, 13 Aug 2014 09:32:43 +0000
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