I was lucky enough to have one of the most memorable, interesting chance meetings in my life when I was in Laos earlier this year. It's an incident that has stayed with me very strongly since then, and it will probably stay with me for many years to come.
I was in the northern Lao town of Louang Prabang - a place I had wanted to visit ever since first reading about it books and seeing on travel shows on TV. It's every bit as good as I had imagined - the cool fresh whitewash of the colonial-era buildings against their timber frames and lintels, the full golden and crimson tints of temple pagodas at sunset, the tropical heat reflecting off the Mekong River, the lush greenery, the riverside garden plots enclosed with thin bamboo sticks, the buffaloes wading and immobile in the river shallows, the surrounding hills and mountains, the glint of the monks' saffron robes as they move very quickly past white shops and whiter hotels, a glimpse of young women practising Lao dancing in the sun-dappled courtyard of a private home, their wrists and knees supple while their fingers are rigidly convex.
Stopping at one temple at sunset, I listened outside in the twilight to the monks chanting. The temple grounds were tidy but the buildings were not in the finest state - roof tiles missing, peeling whitewash - and the chanting sounded half hearted and tired, but it was pleasant to sit there and listen and feel the slow stately town turn quiet and dark around me. Soon the chanting stopped, and the monks came out of the temple to return to their dormitories. Two monks returned with straw brooms and started to sweep the cobblestones of the temple yard. It was a simple task which they took pleasure in doing well, slowly and deliberately. I took a couple of photos.
One of the monks noticed me taking the photos and approached me. He showed an interest in the digital camera, but refused my offer of allowing him to take a photo of whatever he wanted. He explained that this would constitute a distraction, a 'game', something strictly forbidden to a monk. He introduced himself as La. His English was broken but he could easily take part in a slow conversation, so we sat for an hour discussing his daily life as a monk. He also asked questions about my life, friends and family in Australia. He was an interesting, thoughtful person, full of curiosity, modesty and tact.
He told me his story. He was from a small, very remote village in far North Eastern Laos. His family was poor, an illiterate farming family surviving on the absolute basic necessities and the charity of their local community. It was in fact the local villagers who contributed enough money to La's education fund at the temple, otherwise his would never have been able to afford the costs. His father was a hard working father with affections to match, while his mother had recently passed away, owing to a prolonged illness which she had submitted to silently until the very last possible moment. There was also a younger brother whom La felt very protective of, and very guilty that he had left behind. There is no doubt that La would have had to continue in his father's way of life if he had not chosen to be a novice. For an intelligent person like La in his situation, becoming a monk in order to obtain an education was the only was out of the cycle of poverty that held onto his family. It's very common for Lao boys to become a monk for several years so as to obtain a cheap education; being ordained at that age is only temporary. It was a devastating choice for La to make, especially since his brother would be alone with an abusive father and was so young, but it was the only one to make if he ever wanted to follow his dream of going to university and eventually finding a job in the capital Vientiane.
I went back to the temple every day for the rest of my stay in Luang Prabang. La told me all his story and shared many of his opinions on Buddhism, theology, philosophy, his daily routines, Lao history. He was very gentle and softly spoken, as all Lao are, however whenever he spoke to his friends in the temple as they performed the menial chores of sweeping and cleaning etc, his natural liveliness and mischief came through, even when speaking Lao.
I hope he will obtain his dreams one day. With the quiet determination he has, and the clear presence of mind and natural intelligence, i am sure he will succeed. I can easily imagine him do very well at the temple school, graduate, move to Vientiane and attend university there, bring his brother down to the city with him, and eventually he finds the type of job and life he always dreamed of there.
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