The Land of Smiles II

I wring my hands when I see beautiful old buildings torn down, but try to check my romanticism about “slow development”. I'm not much of a capitalist or a consumer, but that's really no excuse for criticizing other who think otherwise.

Nonetheless, I haven’t met anyone really enamored by the progress here in Vientiane. Thanks to a Singaporean consortium, the old morning market will soon be walls of curved glass. Last night my friend Tee trashed it. “Why tear something down that’s only 15 years old. How long will this new one last before it’s torn down? It’s not like our country has money to burn.”

He told me about irrigation systems. Most of them have been built around the capital city, but farmers around Vientiane have found they can make more money selling their land than tilling it. People then buy the property, fill in the fields and build houses. Now the system irrigates housing projects. Rural areas are still stuck with one crop a year if they’re lucky.

He said that we have to remember that everything has a limit. It’s just a matter of time before everything will be used up. I thought he was talking about ethics and asked if it came from Buddhism. He said, “Are you kidding? It’s a fact of life!”

He’s one of several young talented and dispirited men I have met recently. Last night I talked to someone who works at the Ministry of Industrial Development. He said he is busy and bored. He didn’t mince his words when talking about c****ption.

He asked what my research is about. Hell if I can say “metacognitive functions” in Lao. It came out sounding like I was researching creative thinking among rural kids. He said, “You have to feed them first. You have to take care of their health.”

He complained of the lack of coordination among development agencies. “They send medicine to be stored in refrigerators that don’t work. In the end, it gets thrown out. He said it’s the same problem with everything. They get new machines, but no spare parts, new technologies, but no technicians so everything ends up in the dump pile. He was quite agitated at this point.

I mentioned that I had noticed stress on people’s faces. He misunderstood me, thinking I was saying how everyone looked so “sabai” and laid back since that’s how Laos is marketed. “Don’t be deceived by the surface”, he says. “Underneath, lots of people are distressed.”

It makes sense. Coffee goes from 2 to 3,000 kip. Noodles up to 10,000. That’s a big jump when wages stay at 300,000 kip a month. If you drink coffee every morning, that’s 10% less of your wage. New roads and shopping centers and gigantic SUV’s on the road. I just figured it was a sign of prosperity. Well, not really. I could see it on the faces.

This guy said that 7% of the urban population is profiting from doing some kind of private business, but the rest will have to do without coffee. He said most families get by because they stick together. His older brother is in LA working and sending money. Older brother complains because it’s not any easier on that side either.

Bee said that as a part of development, Laos needs to feed its people, develop human resources and improve services. Services generally mean services for tourists. Bee says that Thai people know how to serve tourists. She says that they know how to smile all the time and Lao people should do the same. Dee disagrees. He says it’s not necessary for people to learn how to smile insincerely.

Spring 2005 In Laos

He’s drawn from a temple mural of Portuguese traders. The true picture of a farang. Pointy chin. Pointy nose.

He gets out of a dusty Toyota pickup, crosses the street toward us. We are sitting clustered at an outdoor coffee stall finishing breakfast - cold coffee, the 9 o’clock rush hour of Vientiane has faded. A crazy woman targets a regular, talking in a loud voice about everything.

When he gets closer we can see his T-shirt. Some international organization, some logo with hands clasped, some slogan “Laos – working together.” He can’t spit or slap his children. Everyone is watching.

He is together with his Lao wife. Or so we all assume. They have two children, one a little beauty and the other still wrapped in his mother’s arms. The wife looks rural. Green plastic slippers, Lao skirt frayed at the edges, dangling gold earrings and a face of beauty so exquisite that we are convinced she was picked out as the most beautiful woman in the village or district or province or the entire country of Laos for that matter.

We try to look little closer. They are a husband-wife, right? The child looks more Lao than farang. She has her mother’s eyes, but then it could be her father’s eyes too.

There’s a hush among us. I can see that the woman ordering iced coffee has her eyes fixed on them. A man waiting on a motorbike doesn’t realize he’s staring.

Not staring in the rude way of a voyeur, but eyes helplessly transfixed. There is something odd, something that strikes awe and stirs up confusion. When Lao meets foreigner beyond the simple exchanges of a tourist, is this what it looks like?

Is she a Cinderella? Is this is her prince charming? What kind of man is he? There’s just the rattle of tuk tuk taxis and the squeal of breaks, no pumpkin carriage or glass slipper.

If he works for an international org. he has the credentials of being supposedly humanitarian. He looks that way. But what motivated him to cross that wide gap, to commit himself to a life in Laos, to step away from where he came from?

You meet all types. Among the tourists, there are those who follow the herds, still carrying Frankfurt or Fargo in their enormous backpacks. Others want to blend in with the local dust. Some want to create a world different from the one they come from.

In a rustic guesthouse I’m told not to disturb the European woman next door. “She’s can’t hear”, they say. Later I hear her talking to the cat in French.

An American couple talks about Laos. She is impressed with the quaintness of Vientiane. “Where else in the world can you find dirt roads in the capital city?” She doesn’t know that it’s a new sewer system under construction. Her man reminds her of her romanticism and seems eager to go home. She’s trying to persuade him that they must continue on.

A woman from Beijing says she’s a car designer. I comment that she’s more of an anthropologist. She’s enthralled with the ancient customs of Laos and shows off her ceremonial baci strings, wrapped thick around her wrist. She has it all recorded on video to prove it. She’s had an authentic experience.

So maybe Mr. Farang has the most authentic of all experiences. Those who want to boast of their travel experiences are humbled in his presence, but would we want his life? How about Cinderella? Is she the envy of her village or do her new glass slippers hurt?

We ogle and wonder, but don’t even know what we think. I wonder too what will become of me, in Laos.

Beginning at the End of the Road (MA thesis excerpt) Chapter 7

OASIS OF LEARNING: TEMPLE LEARNING


In the morning, if you are up early enough, you will see silent barefoot processions of novices and monks collecting alms from the laypeople. In the evening, you will see the same processions of novices heading to private schools. This time the novices are in sandals and carrying book bags rather than alms bowls. In the morning they collect food, in the evening, knowledge.


7.1 Learning provisions

Boys and young men from throughout the rural north go to Luang Prabang to be initiated in one of the 32 temples, sometimes on their own accord, sometimes sent by their parents. If their first choice is full, they must look for another. Many prefer the centrally located temples over the quiet mountain ones as many boys are more interested in getting an education than meditating in the forest.
Being ordained as a novice or monk is a major option for boys of poor rural backgrounds. Their food, board and education are all free. There are special monk schools for elementary and secondary school students and they can finish with equivalent qualifications. The curriculum is the same as the secular schools except for the addition of Pali-Sanskrit and Dharma teaching and the omission of physical education and sometimes biology.
Not only are basic provisions provided for, there is also greater access to books and native English speakers. Sop temple has a library and several other temples have small collections. Novices are free to leave the temple grounds to go to private schools, use the libraries and Internet shops. Luang Prabang is full of tourists and chances to converse in English. Xieng Thong temple, the Grace Cathedral of Luang Prabang, attracts a steady stream of foreign visitors.
Even at a lesser temple, visitors are soon greeted by English-speaking novices. Others will soon join and by the time the conversation ends, there will be a small crowd. Those with more English skills and confidence dominate the inner circle, shyer ones listen from the periphery and the youngest novices play in the back. Most conversations are a mix of serious stories and playful joking. The languorous social atmosphere reminds me of chatting in a small village.
The novices and monks in Luang Prabang and Vientiane are well known for their language skills. Many laypeople say that they have benefited from studying with them. A highly proficient female English speaker credits her ability to the teaching skills of the novices and monks. In three temples in central Luang Prabang, I talk to three novices who are quite fluent. In fact, they are satisfied with their English ability and are ready to start learning Japanese. They know who the other skilful speakers are in the neighbouring temples and the general estimate is that a temple of 13 novices has at least one or two proficient speakers. Those who don't speak well yet are young or recently ordained.
Novice B (16) is one of the top speakers. He is entertaining and likes to joke, complaining to me that dictionaries don't list the dirty words. Regardless of his small dictionary, his standard vocabulary is wide, his sense of structure strong and his pronunciation and intonation natural. He is ethnic Khamu and comes from a village of 200 households. He explains that he learned English after just one year of studying in a private school. He says he teaches himself, gets help from foreigners and reads a lot. Mostly self-taught, he focuses on structure, grammar and vocabulary by using English books, newspapers and dictionaries borrowed from the temple library.


7.2 Reasons for proficiency

Novices study at monk schools, but the highly proficient speakers all give other reasons for their proficiency. They have free time, exposure to native-English, a supportive learning community, free choice, access to resources and a monastic life that is based on self-regulated, ethical and communal principles.
Time: When asked directly why their level is high, most novices answer that they have a lot of time and study hard. They rise early for prayers, gather alms, clean and eat breakfast, but other than classes and evening prayers, much of the time is their own. The average TTC student will say that they don't have much time, but they also don't get up at four in the morning. I live near some TTC students, observe their daily routines and conclude that they are not terribly busy. I ask a novice to compare, but he declines to make a judgment by saying that it depends on the person. “Everyone has different skills and different reasons to study”.
Foreigners: Most novices come from provincial villages or towns such as T Town and likewise come with very little educational preparation. Nonetheless, after a few years, most speak far better than the best speaker in T Town. Their English reflects knowledge of grammar and structure that is very different from the pidgin of market/tourist English developed when working in guesthouses. They have a better foundation supported by solid instruction and the availability of resources. Their spoken English tends to be more polite and appropriate for their status as novices and monks. An ex-novice who is a successful guide explains that he knows the importance of using proper manners and respecting cultural differences when communicating with foreigners. Many novices can learn important social and communicative skills by observing senior novices. Novice B may be interested in dirty words, but in the meantime, he has learned proper and respectful English.
Chanting and rote learning: One ex-novice suspects that learning Pali chants in the temple helps when learning English because of the similarities in verb conjugation between these languages. If this is true, it discounts theories that rote learning is not effective. In a 1973 study, Wilder found that rural peasants were more highly literate than expected and that rote learning in temples was successful in raising these literacy rates (1973:20).
Monastic motivation: The majority of novices come from poor rural families and many say that this is a reason why they study so hard. Another observation made by an ex-monk is that boys who like to study gravitate toward monastic life. There is a combination of reasons, but it is clear that temple life centres around learning. I understand that Buddhist meditation cultivates a clear mind and ask a novice if it helps. Meditation is not required, but one who is practised in meditation admits that it helps with his concentration. “We have to consider in the heart. Nobody can make your heart peaceful”.
A self-regulated life: Life in the temple is regulated more by Buddhist precepts than by a watchful abbot. The presence of the abbot is minimal and though individual characters differ from temple to temple, it is rare to hear of one who is a tyrant. Because of the regulations, novices are protected to some extent from the primary distractions of adolescent life. If they are interested in sex, drugs and rock-and-roll, Buddhist non-attachment is encouraged through the discipline of meditation. If a novice feels bored with the restrictions of monastic life, he only has the choice to study. Supported by peers and the community, many seem willing to do so.
Free time, a supportive learning environment and the freedom of choice enables novices and monks to regulate their learning. They are less constrained by class schedules, work and social obligations. Self-regulated learning is a part of Buddhist philosophy. Through meditation, people learn to observe, monitor and control their emotions. A mind free from the domination of ego and emotion enables one to discern between truth and illusion. A novice or monk's vow to monastic life is basically a commitment to a life of study, of mental and spiritual cultivation and self-regulation.
What is clear in principal does not always translate into reality and there is no clear empirical evidence that Buddhist philosophy translates into skilful second language learning. Yet, laypeople readily agree that many of the best English speakers are novices.
Communal learning and community integration: Though empirical correlations are difficult to make, there is evidence that communal ethics cultivated in the temple can contribute to positive learning, especially when resources are scarce. Learning English is not a requirement when learning the Dharma. Novices choose to do so themselves. When they are motivated more by personal goals than by grades, they are less inclined to cheat. They are more likely to share their knowledge. Personal and informal learning facilitates a means of scaffolding.
Older novices and monks often laugh and call the younger novices naughty. Essentially, they replace the older brothers or even fathers that the young novices have been separated from. They provide emotional support and life counselling. The younger novices, in turn, learn much from observing their seniors. They can learn social and communication skills. The aggressive student in T Town, on the other hand, lacked these skills and is reputed to have chased tourists away.
A key is still needed to keep track of the books in the library, but a deposit is not required. Good books are coveted, but life is intimately communal and there is less of a strategic scramble over resources than in T Town. Knowledgeable novices and monks can offer education services to the general public and sometimes receive financial support from donors and sponsors in return. Principles of co-operation are similar to those in a village and the novices, mostly country boys themselves, are familiar with this social system.
An ethical education: Communal ethics are not restricted to the cloistered world of the temple, but can be integrated into the secular world. Many employers favour ex-monks or novices because of their discipline and honesty. Even after disrobing, Novice A claims that he will keep Buddha in his heart. A tour guide in Vientiane says that he is often praised for his gentle manners and says that he will never be corrupt. Another ex-monk who works in a five-star hotel in Luang Prabang credits his experience in the temple for being able to control his temper with customers. A man in Vientiane guides his business activities on ethical principles, establishing weaving co-operatives for villages, designing electric cars and training graphic designers. Ethics are not sacrificed for profit and he complains lightly that he will never be a rich businessman.
Integrated into society, practical learning is promoted rather than compromised by ethical and communal principles and defies the assumptions that competition in institutions is the best way to promote learning.


7.3 Not in it for life

Most novices do not commit their whole life to the temple. Being ordained is part of a larger plan. There is no Buddhist university in Laos, so Novice A says that he may need to disrobe to continue his studies. By returning to the secular system in the last years, he can also qualify for scholarships. Most novices disrobe before reaching the age of 20 when they would automatically become a monk, a point at which the number of precepts increase dramatically from 10 to 227.
The ceremony of disrobing is done without fanfare, far different from the celebratory ordination. Leaving the temple only means shedding robes, not the Buddhist teaching. As students would not be expected to stay in high school forever, many novices know when it is time to move on. In any case, they are solely responsible for making this important decision.
Girls, however, do not have the chance to make this decision. There is no equivalent community for nuns and no other systematic system to provide safe housing for rural girls. Ethnic minority boys who follow animism rather than Buddhism must convert and though there are many cases of Khamu novices, Hmong student R claims that the Hmong ordain only when they have exhausted all other options.


7.4 Temple learning: Looking back

Though institutional learning in the monk schools provides a strong foundation, most novices and monks admit that their language learning has come from outside sources and inside self-regulation. The supportive community, the resources, the instruction and the free time contribute to effective learning. The temple environments are rare examples in which a balance between motivation, resources and learning spaces is achieved.
Temple learning in Laos is also significant in the way it is integrated into social systems, both within the temple and in the wider community. They offer important options for poor rural boys and provide a means for them to return something to the community. This community, however, is based in Lowland Lao culture and though not institutionally exclusionary, offers fewer options for girls and some ethnic minorities. In this culture, boys are expected to ordain at some point in the life to make merit for their mothers and though there are some older nuns in temples, I have never heard of a young woman becoming a nun. Temples will accept other ethnic minorities if they wish to ordain and there are many cases of midland Lao novices. For highland Lao, however, the cultural and social traditions are more distant and it is uncommon for them to ordain.

Beginning at the End of the Road (MA thesis excerpt) Chapter 6

MISSING RUNGS: LUANG PRABANG


Golden spires dot the hills of Luang Prabang. For many students, reaching the city is the realisation of long held dreams. Many, however, are distracted by other things that glitter and end up returning to their homes without the skills and knowledge they had originally sought.


6.1 City life for teenagers

Luang Prabang offers a range of diversions. There are food shops, bars, discos, a bowling alley and countless Internet shops. In the evenings, there is even a stretch of road that serves as a drag strip, though most kids are on bicycles. Late at night, I am told you can see young men sitting in the rain playing guitars. They are high on amphetamines.
A student at Teachers Training College says that 30-40% of the students are intent on studying and the rest are “nak laeng” - little gangsters or delinquents. This saga is played out in popular Thai karaoke videos. The poor parents toil in the fields, fuelled by the hopes that their daughter is studying hard in the city, but she ends up coming home pregnant and with a louse of a husband in tow. Some families in Laos don't have a field to toil in because they sell it to pay for their children's education. If studying in Luang Prabang is the dream of so many students, why don't they study?


6.2 Demotivation

Students in Luang Prabang do not necessarily represent the most motivated. Many of the poor rural students cannot afford the costs. 3.5 million kip or $350 US is needed for an entrance fee at Teachers Training College (TTC). The 7 million kip or $700 fee for Souphanouvong University effectively closes the gate to those who are not wealthy, connected or qualified for scholarships. Even those on scholarships can be easily spoiled by an all-expense paid life.
Academic standards at Teachers Training College (TTC) are not rigourous and everyone can graduate. Failing a class means spending three extra weekends of review. Grades and passing marks can be bought. After two years, students have the credentials to teach in a primary school and three years is enough to teach as a secondary school teacher.
There is no outright disrespect, but students are quick to point out their teachers’ lack of knowledge and experience. Students lose the incentive to study when they discover that their teachers are making too many mistakes. Furthermore, the miniscule job market does not offer much incentive to study. Many graduates teach in rural postings because of the scholarship agreements and many are eager to leave after their three-year stint. Unmotivated and unqualified teachers in the countryside continue to perpetuate the desperate migration of students in search of an education.
For those who never intended to study, there may be no help. Motivated students, however, struggle hard to learn and the exceptional students are not difficult to find.


6.3 The exceptional

Boun T is a female second-year student at TTC from Xaignabouri. She is outgoing and is not shy to speak. She seeks help from novices when she doesn’t understand something and prepares questions beforehand. When she has free time, she goes to temples to speak with foreigners.
We are talking and she jumps up to get some writing that she has done for me to correct. She says that she is happy when the paper is covered with red marks because she can use it as a reference. She comments that her Lao teachers only make random corrections and general comments.
When I first meet Boun R, he is reading Faulkner. He checks books out from the Sop temple library and claims to read three books a day. Coming from a small ethnically mixed village, he grew up with several languages, Khamu being his first. Though talented with languages, he was unable to afford paying the school tuition so he has come to Luang Prabang to work in a restaurant. He saves his money in a bank rather than spending it for school fees.
Boun M is also not in school. He learns languages with tourists at the guesthouse he works at. He goes to the bus station to pick up guests and can use Korean, Hebrew and Dutch as well as English. He is one of the best Japanese speakers in town. He says that he learns from foreigners and from self-study with books. I want to know if he is interested in teaching, but he says that he is stingy, not with money but with knowledge and wants to know a language that nobody else knows.
I am surprised that a Hmong student is not only able to pronounce difficult sounds, but can explain the different tongue positions. Many students complain about their teachers’ inability to teach pronunciation, but this student has learned the sounds by reading the descriptions in a phonetics book. He admits that it helps that he speaks Hmong since it is a language that uses many sounds found in English.
These four examples cannot represent a true cross-section of Lao society, but the cases of male and female lowland Lao and Khamu and Hmong men illustrate the diversity of backgrounds and approaches to learning. What is consistent in these cases is that all use strategies found outside of the classroom. They understand the limitations of institutional learning, but have taken the initiative to find resources on their own.


6.4 The not so exceptional

Many average students say they want to learn, but have trouble making progress. They say English is hard and they don't understand the lessons. Boun F is a student at the Teachers Training College (TTC) and considers himself an average student, but he usually gets C+s. He does best in reading class and worst in comprehension class. When there is a listening test, he says that he might as well just give up.
Without a good foundation, many students quickly fall behind and get lost. Boun L, also a TTC student says that one class is called “learning strategies”, but she is not sure what that is supposed to mean. The teacher never explained and she never asked. When I ask for descriptions of what is done in class, she says that they are learning the phonetic system.
One strategy that Boun W lacks is the ability to analyse word order. He comes from T Town to study at TTC and I want him to study hard so that he can save his town. He works part-time to make ends meet and says that he is often too tired to study. He tries hard to communicate, but lacks structural understanding. This is apparent when we work on some writing. Noun-adjective word order reflects Lao word order and he seems to use “is” randomly. We focus on one sentence pattern and work on a number of examples. He says he has never studied this way before as the teacher usually does rough translations without giving structural explanations. As we study, I have to ask him to shut off his mobile phone.
Porn seems to be convinced that she needs to understand phonetics before proceeding to testing her speaking ability. She works at a guesthouse, but is to shy to speak to guests in English. She sticks to a large book that lists words according to consonant and vowel sounds. She depends on the Thai transliterations which cause more confusion, especially with sounds that cannot be phonetically represented in Thai or Lao. She says that her country school in Sam Neua did not give her a good foundation. She is now struggling to catch up in a private school and must study with students much younger than her.
Each of these students tend to depend more on classroom learning than the exceptional students, but are hindered by missing rungs in the English instruction that they receive. They do not know how to find them. Most cannot explain how they learn and have not experimented with learning strategies on their own. In many cases, they are misguided or have reinforced bad habits and in some cases are on the verge of giving up.
The unexceptional cannot be dismissed as stupid and the achievers as naturally gifted. The sociocultural environments must also be considered. Boun J claims that many of the exceptional students are poor, rural and from ethnic backgrounds and that their hardships make them more determined. The temples are filled mostly with ambitious boys from poor rural backgrounds and the Hmong are known to score at the top of the class in school, but most of the rural girls have not made it as far as Luang Prabang.


6.5 The Hmong

Living with three Hmong brothers, I have been able to observe their study habits over the period of a month and can attest to their disciplined study and intensity of learning. Hmong student G is proud that many students from his hometown have excelled in Luang Prabang. One male student earned the second highest scores in the nation. I ask him why he is so determined to learn and he explains that the Hmong generally come from the most remote areas of Laos and want to prove themselves. He also suspects that he is working against a racial bias. His lowland Lao teacher is so incompetent that he wonders if it is on purpose and is a ploy to keep him from learning.
The younger boys in the family have come to Luang Prabang during their summer break to learn English. The father comes to check every week and the mother counsels when she has the chance. The parents are trying to educate all ten of their children. The oldest daughter is coming to town to enrol in nursing school. Hmong student G explains that the Hmong are becoming assimilated and that traditional values are changing. Girls still tend to be valued more for their labour, but are increasingly being encouraged to study. Any uneducated child is a shame to a family. Once the oldest daughter comes to Luang Prabang, however, she will likely be expected to do the cooking and will thus lose considerable time and energy that could otherwise be spent on studying.


6.6 Where are the girls?

Few female students leave the countryside and continue to study. A family that is strapped for resources is likely to spend money on the boy rather than the girl and when considering safety, many families think twice before sending a young daughter far away from home. In ethnic minority villages, girls often marry at 15 or 16 and domestic responsibilities leave little time for study.
Most girls who continue their studies come from district towns or Luang Prabang where families are more likely to have enough money to educate all their children regardless of gender. If a choice is necessary, the wiser investment is to support the child with intellectual talent. Girls who get good grades can also continue studying on government scholarships. In fact, there are more girls than boys at the university and the dorm is filled to capacity. Private schools are full of girls and women of all ages. Female students have a reputation of being better behaved, more attentive and more respectful of school rules. Boun R, admits as a male student that “boys will be boys” meaning that they are more apt to drink and play cards than study.
At the same time, the girls are not at the top of the 2006 class at TTC. Most of the English-speaking guides are men. Both male and female tourists say that they are approached far more often by English speaking boys than girls and two foreign restaurant employers complain of giggly girls without confidence. The common observation is that girls are too shy to speak out in class. Boun M and N are female 2nd year students at TTC who say that they don't dare to speak out. They are afraid of making mistakes, embarrassing themselves and angering the teacher. They say that this is regardless of the gender ratio in the classroom and the nationality and gender of the teacher. They say that they feel the same way in private schools. Only in small groups do they feel comfortable.
Many of the learning spaces in Luang Prabang are gendered. Males dominate the libraries and computer centres. Boun M says that she is intimidated by the novices and is conscious that it is a Buddhist sin to touch them. In a baci ceremony or in the temple, women must never sit in front of a man. No such explicit custom dictates seating in the classroom, but implicit pressures may inhibit girls from speaking out or asking questions. A female student explains that she loses motivation when the foreign teacher scolds her. In another instance, girls and women may be intimidated by sexual bias of another sort. A male foreign teacher says, “I don’t know what the present perfect is, but she’s coming now.” Sexual harassment goes unchecked and unquestioned when students have so few choices.
Gendered roles are decided in other ways as well. Living with three Hmong male students, I can see how roles are gendered by academic promise. The middle brother has been surpassed by his younger brother and is expected to do the cooking and cleaning while the others study. Not only is time taken away from his own studies, he loses motivation when he is aware that the expectations are lower for him. Most families are large and since someone has to do the work it ends up either being the girls, the youngest or those without academic promise.
The middle brother is nonetheless eager to learn and when I give him individual attention, he is pleased by his own progress. Girls too show equal promise. Many are just as inquisitive and outspoken as the average boy. Teaching in a private school for one month, I have found that many of the girls are even more active and outspoken than the boys, in particular, the novices who tend to be shy.
Social spaces must be contested, but in many ways, private schools offer more room for negotiation and opportunity. In my classes, 12 year-olds, novices, college-age female students and soldiers all study together, crammed two to a desk. Children can test their skills according to adult standards, novices have a chance to interact outside of the cloistered monasteries, girls are freed from their domestic spaces and soldiers are humbled by the difficulties of the future progressive tense. The motivated rural student can sometimes surpass the rich urban student and ethnic minorities who are not confident speaking Lao have a chance to excel in English.
Private schools represent the diversity of Laos. On one hand, there are contested struggles over resources and learning spaces. On the other hand, studying English is one chance for anyone of any background to compete on more equal grounds. If students had books, had teachers that knew English and had a chance to use language beyond the mind-numbing exercises of convoluted grammar, students would most likely bloom beyond expectation.


6.7 Luang Prabang: Looking back

The mix of class and ethnicity in Luang Prabang, fuelled by the greater abundance of money and resources, creates a social and political struggle for learning spaces and resources. I have been approached by the full gamut of learning groups and have listened to all their appeals for assistance. Novices deserve help because they are poor and rural. University students deserve a native-English speaker because they are studying at the top institution. Hmong students ask for assistance because they are discriminated against. Middle-class parents are willing to pay for Japanese lessons because they want the competitive edge. Government officials want help because their career track is narrowed without language skills.
Competition over resources and learning spaces can be translated into motivation. Luang Prabang is without a doubt, the premier centre of learning in the north. All people talk about is studying. The Hmong students from the countryside have no TV, radio or skilled person to play their guitar so they study from morning until night.

Many students have unlimited motivation, but appropriate resources and competent instruction are still infuriatingly scarce.

Beginning at the End of the Road (MA thesis excerpt) Chapter 5

SCRAMBLE OVER RESOURCES: T TOWN


Starved for learning resources, this town has the feeling of a cargo cult in the making. Dropping in unexpectedly, I am targeted as a walking resource and without any effort on my part, am soon told in detail what is missing and what is needed. I have not come to make a shopping list, but to find out how motivated students manage and I soon see that this town is special, not only for its tranquil green views, but also for the earnest and bright-eyed students who yearn for a chance to learn.


5.1 The first day

I find the English teacher sitting at her loom in front of her bamboo slatted home. She doesn't remember me and is mystified by the photo of her, taken more than a year ago. She doesn't remember how she pulled me off the street into a classroom to explain word order to her. I was impressed by her efforts. She had just graduated from Teachers Training College (TTC) and was distraught at her lack of knowledge. She has forgotten that incident now and seems to have lost her enthusiasm. Her English has not improved much either.
Not much has changed for the school either, evident by the information that she gives me about current conditions. Teachers get chalk from the government, but not much else. Two English teachers handle 900 students jammed 70-80 to a class. She copies a textbook on the board for students to copy into their notebooks. She is tired from all her work. She says that only half of the students are motivated and she knows that they don't understand even though they claim to. She gives them homework, but there isn't much they can do without books.
She points out the other English teacher. I greet him, but he denies that he teaches English. His ability is limited. He also graduated from TTC and has been teaching in T Town for around two years, but admits that he doesn't like it here and is just biding his time. Teachers are on probation for several years, but once their job is secured, they cannot be fired and are then free to find another position.
I suggest that I teach for the few days that I am here, but he is interested in a library. The rarity and value of books becomes a central theme throughout my stay. I have brought a photocopied grammar book as a gift for the teacher and the second copy gets a lot of attention. Several requests are made, but I say that it is reserved for another student that I had met on the last trip.


5.2 Big people

I am invited to dinner and enter a room where a group of five middle-aged men are midway through their meal and further into their drinking. Electricity has been shut off in the entire town to save oil, but this house is lit. I am not welcomed like I am used to in Laos. Snide remarks are made about me being single and I am told that I am worthless without a PhD. Only one senior man gives me attention, pouring me drinks and telling me how great and generous the American is that he works with. As he toasts to me, I begin to see dollar signs in his eyes.
The event begins to stitch itself together. The provincial head from Luang Prabang has come to check up on the school. The district head and school principal sit to his left. Next to me is the senior man whose position is not clarified. Apparently, he has status because of his job with the international organisation and I am told later that if I look for his cars, I can find his house.
The others do not seem impressed with the attention he gives me, but after he leaves, they warm up a bit. The provincial head has prepared his three requests: 1) support for a library 2) support for more books 3) support for the upper secondary school. He must have been briefed about me before I stepped into the room, but I can see his shoulders drop when I tell him that I don't have the money.
This welcome party is a prelude to the events to come and it becomes clear how power and self-interest determines who benefits and who does not.


5.3 Mr. Boun B

I think about giving the second copy of the grammar book to Mr. Boun B. In this small district of around 300 households, he is the only private English teacher, charging students 15,000 kip a month or $1.50 US. He keeps his class limited to 4-5 students and has a steady flow of students, though the English he speaks is mainly patched together from self-study and conversations with foreigners. He runs a tiny guesthouse with a two-table restaurant and tracks down tourists for business and English language exposure. He can talk for hours and one of his favourite topics is comparing the past with the present. He thinks it is ironic that in the 70s the poor were sent to study overseas, but now it is only the rich who have the chance. Looking at his clapboard house, it is apparent that opportunity has passed him by.
The female teacher has found me at Mr. Boun B's house and brings up the library as if it is urgent. The library has materialised quickly from its first two-word gestation. I want to know how the books will be managed, but she says that the teachers have time and can take care of them. She tells me that the school head has invited me to stay at his house, but I suspect that this is because they think I have come with a fat chequebook. I gently convince her that the best I can do is to collect information and look for donors.
Soon after she leaves, Mr. Boun B gives me his version of how books are managed. Students must leave a deposit when borrowing books, but it is not always returned. He confirms this later in a conversation with a student. Teachers on a $30 US monthly wage reinterpret “lending” as “renting” and run a bit of a side business. Mr Boun B warns me of the way money flows.
He criticises the European Union (EU) projects because they pay first and check later. In one project, university educated teachers were brought to town to teach for several months. By the end of the program, only three of the initial 200 students were left. The others gave up because the level was too high. Mr. Boun B says that the EU’s conclusion was that Lao students are lazy.
He says that US aid is stingier. Nevertheless, the wages are inflated. A man is hired to boil water for $80 US a month, almost three times that of a teacher. Mr. Boun B is indignant that one senior Lao staff member has kept hold of his position for several years. The job should be rotated and the wealth shared. No name is mentioned, but I assume that the man he is talking about is the one who toasted me the night before.
Mr. Boun B admits that some students are lazy. Others are stupid and then there are the ones who try. Though there are combinations and variants, he thinks that less than 50% of the students are truly earnest about studying. He explains that lazy students want to be policemen or soldiers as policemen can get payoffs and soldiers can enjoy peace in the woods playing cards. Many simply do not know what to do and just follow their friends. Some students who receive government subsidies see the chance to study as a free ticket from farm labour. Mr. Boun B complains that students don't understand the costs they incur. Their homegrown rice they eat is free, but the weekly transportation needed to fetch it is not.
I ask about the girls. Most of his students are boys, but one female student is excellent and is at the top of her class. He says that she is not only smart, but also beautiful and rich. For most of the girls, however, they are more interested in applying makeup and finding a husband. The average marrying age for girls is 17 and 25 for boys, though much lower in the outlying villages. He says that some girls want to become teachers or nurses, but if they study too much, they will forget about marriage and get old. He considers 22 too old.
He tells me to marry a poor woman because she will be dependable, but saying a poor woman is dependable is to say that an uneducated woman is better kept. He threatens his wife and tells her that if she doesn’t behave, he’ll abandon her to the poverty that she came from. His wife doesn't seem to be that impressed with her purported wealth and complains about his bookish ambitions. “Do you think you’re going to be prime minister or something?”
Mr. Boun B continues to speak his mind, even on the sensitive issue of ethnic minorities. He says that Khamu are not as ambitious and many want to become police. He, however, reserves his praise for the Hmong. Though he is lowland Lao himself, he notes how the Hmong students
study hard and ask questions. Three Hmong villages have even collected $50 US and have asked Mr. Boun B to teach them. They want to know that their money will be well spent and have specifically asked him to teach. He turned them down because the commute to the high mountain village would be too exhausting.
He concludes by telling me to take all his information with a grain of salt. “If you really want good information, you’d better talk to as many people as you can,” he tells me.
Within hours, his students are telling me their side of the story. Some say that Mr. Boun B is stingy and always thinking about how to make a profit. They say that he doesn’t share his books and is sometimes too lazy to answer their questions. The students also complain about the school head. They say he spends too much time taking his truck around and trading goods. They feel he has held on to his position for too long and is not proactive enough about hiring good teachers as school heads in other towns are. They claim that this is all common knowledge.


5.4 Hmong students

During the regular term, around 500 students come from neighbouring Khamu and Hmong villages to board at the school. Only the senior students are still in town, preparing for their final tests. I spot Hmong student A running through the rain to duck into an empty classroom. It is hard to study in his makeshift shelter and candles have to be used at night for light. He has bought four books with his own money. Some books can be borrowed from the office, but the selection is limited and does not meet the demand during peak examination times. He considers himself an average student, but quickly names the three star students in town, Boun W, Boun X and Hmong student C.
Hmong student C comes from a Hmong village of around 60 households and goes home every week to get rice that is grown by the family on swidden fields. He knows that life in the village is not easy so he studies hard and tries not to waste money by playing or drinking. He feels that learning many languages will give him access and knowledge to a wider world, but knows that he will not be able to study in Luang Prabang unless he can find the funds. During the conversation, he mentions several times that the Hmong study hard.
Hmong student C says that Lao and Hmong teachers have different methods of teaching. The Hmong teach clearly and give examples while the lowland Lao teachers go too quickly and skip details. Mr. Boun B also agrees that lowland Lao teachers in the school try to cover too much in too little time and pace the class towards the best students rather than the slowest.
I work with Hmong student C for several hours and get a sense of how he approaches learning. He doesn't speak much English, though this is understandable because of the absence of input. He is interested in Japanese so I am given a chance to start fresh with a new language for him. He asks specific questions and seems satisfied with his understanding of the phonetic system. I am asked to translate six sentences from English, which he then uses to compare word order and analyse words functions. He asks for the translation of six basic verbs and then figures out how they are conjugated by referring to the sample sentences. In a short time, we have covered a bit of phonetics, word order, verb conjugation, rules of omission and honorifics. He is interested more in understanding structure than simply memorising words and this approach may come from having already studied two foreign languages.
I later work with two 17 year-old Hmong students. Student D has a small notebook with a hand written verb list, painstakingly copied by his older brother. Most are words that would be found in a doctorate dissertation, but he is quick to pick out the common ones and test his pronunciation. He wants to know how to pronounce the ending “ed”. He warms up and begins making sample sentences, always carefully enunciating the “ed”. His friend observes shyly and an older Hmong man who apparently has had no education is also interested in learning.
It is hard to find food in T Town so I buy tinned fish and join the Hmong students for dinner. The “dorms” for ethnic minority students are behind the school. They have built the simple bamboo structures by themselves though the locked toilet was constructed by a development project. The Hmong and Khamu cluster separately now, but am told that in the past when there were fewer students, there was more interaction and more inter language learning. There is no mention of racial problems or hostility. It is quiet now with only the senior students remaining to take their final tests. I meet 10 Hmong males and one Hmong female.
The Hmong girl is invited by the boys to eat, but she declines because she eats with a female teacher. The next day she comes at breakfast and seems to want to participate in the conversation. I ask about the photocopied document she has brought and she explains that it is a history lesson. It costs 500 kip a page to copy in the nearest town, compared to 250 in Luang Prabang and 110 in Vientiane. It is dense, even at five pages. Student C tells me that it is difficult to understand since they are rushed through 12 different subjects every week. They are curious to know how classes are conducted abroad and ask specifically about class discussion. They seem resigned to the fact that interesting discussion in their classes will not happen when everyone reads the same book.
Student B says said that girls don't try to study and are too shy to ask questions, but I am not convinced that they are given a chance. Student C also says that girls do not study, but admits that if there were schools and teachers in their villages they might have more opportunities. Parents are reluctant to send their daughters away resulting in an unbalanced gender ratio among boarding students. Being the only girl of ten, Student B is socially isolated though she spots the foreigner as a learning opportunity and takes the initiative to join.
Traditional cultural norms limit a Hmong girl’s chance to study. Most get married at an early age as it is believed that those who do not become “lost souls” in the afterlife (Lee 1994-5). Furthermore, women do not maintain the family line and are therefore valued more for their labour. On the other hand, according to Lee, a disciplined daughter will be valued more than an incapable son, and it is not unusual to find exceptions to traditional gender roles.


5.5 Star student: Boun X

Boun X is famous throughout town for his ability to converse in English. He works at a guesthouse and is not shy to approach foreigners. In fact, he is rather aggressive. He doesn't remember me and can’t find me in his address book, though I notice that he has 33 entries of foreign names.
He comes from a village 35 km. from the Vietnamese border and tells me that if I really want to see what rural education is about, I should visit his village. The village is made up of 20% lowland Lao, 60% Khamu and 20% Hmong and has a graduate from Teachers Training College (TTC) teaching in the school. He himself is lowland Lao.
He is critical of his classmates who copy and cheat. He says that the teachers in T Town are not good as they rarely use English when teaching. He criticises his teacher saying, “She grammar no good”. His own English, like Mr. Boun B’s, has been learned through self-study and exposure to tourists. He communicates with confidence, but with little reference to conventional grammar. This is in contrast to Hmong student C who cannot communicate, but understands structure well.
I go through his notebook and have trouble convincing him of the errors. When he tries to write down sentences that I suggest, I can see that what he hears is converted back into his own invented grammar. We do a bit of structural analysis. It is a struggle for him, but he concentrates, makes progress and is grateful for the help. He admits that he has never had anybody teach him in this way. Though his English is imperfect, I am impressed with how much he has accomplished with so little. I suggest some more learning strategies so that he can construct language rather than scavenge for it as he is reputed to chase away tourists with his aggressiveness.


5.6 Running the school

The female teacher thanks me for the book, but admits that she doesn't understand everything. She has no questions and the offer to teach students during this short interim has not taken shape. I am careful because I think I have offended her by correcting her grammar as our conversations have reverted to Lao. Meals and drinking seem to be more important than studying and the teachers seem distressed that I have eaten with the students rather than receive their hospitality. We then proceed to eat and drink for the next eight hours.
The school head joins us. This is the man that the students have criticised for not doing his job. He is pleasant and neatly dressed. He makes social conversation without bringing up the library or doing a hard sell about the lack of resources in T Town.
He tells me that the female teacher is the pride of the town. She is the first female Khamu student to get a scholarship to study outside. He seems to have coached her and had kiddingly warned her that if she didn’t come back to teach, he would “kill” her. He is Hmong and confirms that there is a high desire to learn languages in the outer villages.
Maybe this is just the first course. We move up to the school where a banquet has been prepared. After a few hours of eating and drinking, the female teacher signals to me from a distance that I should try to escape and join her and two other teachers for dinner. There are several chicken dishes and I assume that they don't eat like this every day. I have no idea if all this fanfare is for me or if it is for the male teacher's birthday as he claims. It is quiet without the alcohol and we talk at length. It is probably a relief to them that I don't bring up the topic of education again. They ask many questions about my world though they hardly seem ignorant about it. They talk about Bush, war and developed countries. They ask what I think about T Town and I can flatter them without being insincere. T Town is a quiet and beautiful place. The air is sweet and there are fireflies at night. I like the students and find them earnest and sincere. The teachers are good people and are doing the best with what they have.


5.7 Photo

Teacher A wants a photo of me so that she won't forget me again. I wonder if these great feasts were held so that I would not forget them. They don't bring up the library again, but I am sure it is on their minds. I suspect that they don’t ask for promises because they know they will be broken. Teachers come, but mostly go. Every year, thousands of rural teachers quit because of the low salaries and the problem of not being paid regularly. The social studies teacher and the male English teacher seem ready to leave. Only those who have married seem more settled. One administrator tells me that when teacher training events are held, they hope that a city teacher will fall in love with a rural teacher and move there. Constant comment is made about the female teacher being single and on several occasions I overhear comments that I should cohabit with her. How else could help be secured? Even the international organisations seem to operate more on favouritism and whim than on a systematic policy. T Town has definitely been neglected when compared to other districts. On the last morning she addresses herself as my younger sister, but oddly does not call me teacher or older brother, but “poo bao,” which is usually used for unmarried male teenagers. My true wish is to just call her honoured teacher.
On the way to the bus station, I drop by to say good-bye to Mr. Boun B and find that he has been waiting for me. He is clutching a book and wants me to explain why the answer key does not match the text. It is obviously a misprint as no sentence will ever fit into a crossword puzzle. Sadly, in this remote town, it is unlikely that someone will drop by soon to help him with his questions.


5.8 T Town: Looking back

T Town is green and lush, but when it comes to education, it feels like the town is waiting for falling rain. The verdant green is the persistent desire to learn despite the ongoing drought of resources. The rain is the unpredictable arrival of those needed resources and the promise of better learning opportunities.
The obstacles are heavier for some. Money and power politics favour only the few. Motivated female students must fight through gender bias. Ethnic minority students must make their own shelters and fish for their own food in order to survive. Nonetheless, one of the top students in the class is female and many readily admit that the Khamu and Hmong work the hardest. Success does not necessarily come from institutional learning, but from the efforts of those who keep their motivation, look for resources and devise their own learning strategies.
T Town is another fork in the road in a student's journey. If students want to continue learning, they must leave T Town as they have already exhausted the learning opportunities there. Some give up, others don't have qualifying scores and most do not have the money to leave.

Beginning at the End of the Road (MA thesis excerpt) Chapter 4

LEARNING (NOT) BY THE BOOK: V VILLAGE


This village is not wealthy, but it is a joyful place for children. They can play in the street without worrying about cars. There are no strangers to offer dangerous candies. Babies stay strapped to someone's breast rather than being sent to day care. But children are not read to when they go to bed. A foreign teacher concludes that, “Lao people don't understand the culture of reading”. What she doesn't understand is that in many places, there are no books.


4.1 Arriving

V Village is reached by a small boat and is easy to miss. Only the cluster of tall palm trees indicates that a village is there, hidden beyond the riverbank. Backed by high peaks, the village is peaceful and scenic though blank plots of packed dirt testify that ten families in the past year have abandoned the village to find fortunes in Vientiane. There are few ways to generate revenue in the village. Tourists pass the village as they head upstream, but the foreign currency they hold simply floats by. Without English knowledge, villagers feel that there is no way to convince travellers to stop.
I am stopping here to spend the Lao New Year with Boun A and his family. Boun A is one of two students who have left the village to study in Luang Prabang. They are the exceptions. Most V Village students cannot continue past high school because of the education costs. Tuition for schools in Luang Prabang can exceed 200 dollars a year. Boun A’s parents have little cash flow and he is aware of the sacrifices they are making to pay for his education. They eat the rice they grow and supplement their diet with wild bamboo and fish. There is no irrigation system for a dry season crop so cash is made through selling mandarin oranges, harvested once a year and selling for 15 cents a kilogram.
A proper Lao New Years is celebrated with baci ceremonies. White cotton strings are tied around the wrists symbolising spiritual strength for the soul. The ceremony is especially important when someone travels far from home. Prayers are made for safe journeys and better futures. In some ways Boun A is feted for being the only student to go to Luang Prabang. Most of his friends are already married and have children. In other ways, there may be a prodigal son parable in the making. Boun A admits that his reason for studying is to escape farm labour, but if he returns home without skills, his parents’ investment will have been in vain. The investment is risky and ultimately the results depend on the will and motivation of the child.
He is happy to be home and enjoys chatting and catching up with his friends and neighbours. Nobody appears to treat him with special deference, but coming back from the big city, he dresses in his best clothes and brings back a new suitcase. His CD player gets a lot of attention as does the foreigner in tow. He can demonstrate his English ability, though admits that he won't talk if someone around speaks better. In this village, there is little competition.
When I first ask Boun A what he wants to do after he graduates, he says that he wants to be a guide in Luang Prabang. Everyone seems to want to be a guide, but only those with excellent verbal skills in foreign languages can qualify. Being a guide is simply a dream for most. Later, he says that he wants to be a teacher in his own village, though this may be to just placate me. I later learn that there are two programs at the Teachers Training College and the program he is taking will not grant certification to be a government teacher. Maybe villagers know this because they don't talk about him as their next prized teacher.
With his friends, he can talk about life in Luang Prabang, but cannot easily convince them of the worth of an education. There are no examples in which an education has brought wealth. In fact, there are no visible signs of individual wealth in the village. All houses are uniformly made of strong bamboo except for the village chief's wooden house. There is one TV and a VCR player and they attract a big crowd on movie night. Those who can’t afford the 5 cents entry fee listen from the outside. The village is peaceful with few signs of competition, envy or materialism and seems firmly anchored by the temple, located in the center of the village.


4.2 The heart of learning

The temple was destroyed in the war and is being rebuilt with funds from a Lao relative overseas. Traditionally, the most important functions of the community happened in the temple and that included education. Presently, it still serves as a community centre, but learning has now been secularised and the monks are no longer responsible for children’s education. Formal learning happens in the public elementary school, now located on the outskirts of the village.
In the temple grounds, men and women are standing in large circles. They are having a village meeting led by the three elected village chiefs. These three men do not run for election on their own accord, but are nominated and voted into office by the villagers who know their characters and abilities well. I explain to the village chiefs that I am interested in providing books for ESL study and they are enthusiastic. They are convinced that speaking English can help bring tourist revenue to their village.
The fathers are the most verbally enthusiastic about education. I have a conversation with a 53 year-old man while sitting and watching the young men play takraw. He is a bit drunk, but most people are since it is Lao New Years. He says Americans are bad people. I say that I am American. He points to what looks like a gully and tells me that American bombing hit his village badly. The temple was destroyed. During the worst years from 1966 to 1968 people lived in caves to escape the bombs. I visit one later and see the soot from cooking fires on the ceiling. The air smells of bat droppings and I am told that large poisonous snakes live in holes.
They could hardly grow rice to eat, much less go to school. His generation missed out on an education. Not only is he determined to have his own children educated, he also wants to learn himself. He says that if he had books, he could learn in three days. It seems an ambitious claim, but even a few English phrases could help him approach tourists at the boat dock. Finally, he tells me that if I bring books, I should bring them myself and not entrust them to anyone in Vientiane or even someone downriver. “Bring them here yourself or it'll never reach us”. I ask about aid organisations and he gestures toward his pocket, explaining that by the time everyone takes their share, nothing is left for the village.
Later that evening, Boun A and I are invited to another baci ceremony. A daughter has come home from her job in a garment factory in Vientiane. I am offered Lao alcohol and food served on a spoon. One woman says, “We're about the same age, so we're friends”. Some bawdy jokes are made to more laughter. One middle-aged man tells me, “I want you to know our history. Are you interested?” I tell him that I am all ears. He talks about the war, why he didn't have a chance to study and how much he wants to study now. “We want to learn, but there is nobody to teach us”. This is repeated like a mantra several times.
Four men are talking about the potential of their village as a tourist spot. They mention a cave, a waterfall and an old stupa. One man asks me directly, “What do we need to catch foreign revenue?” I answer as I have heard others say, “You need English”. So then the conversation turns back to the little schoolhouse made of bamboo, the lack of qualified teachers and the scarcity of books. “We need a good teacher here”, they say. “I'd even collect money to pay for one”.
When they talk of a good teacher, they don’t mention their village teachers. There are two male teachers in charge of the 95 elementary school students. The one teacher I talk to is soft-spoken, but he takes time to explain how two teachers manage large classrooms. He tells me that they divide up the students and while he instructs one group, the others do independent work. He calls it “kon kua” which translates as “research”, but I'm not sure what they can research when there are no books. I suggest that if there were books, he could teach English too, but he responds with a wry smile. I interpret this to mean that he doesn't have the confidence. Students in Luang Prabang are quick to criticize their teachers, but the teachers cannot be faulted. They must work with overcrowded classrooms, an outdated or inappropriate curriculum and a lack of teaching tools. Most are still in the process of learning themselves.
I see these men in the truck the next day, but they are not as boisterous. In fact, they don't engage in conversation with me. I wonder if the enthusiasm the night before was simply oiled by the liquor and hopes for assistance. It is just speculation, but there could be a cycle of enthusiasm and resignation. If I feel donor-fatigue, villagers must feel patron-fatigue. Promises to help are broken and life returns to the daily cycles.


4.3 Local wisdom

Part of the daily cycle is to look for fish. Fish are harder to find and it may take a whole day to catch enough for dinner. Two villagers take me out on their boat for the day. They think it is absurd that I offer to row and it is soon apparent to me that fishing is not just about gently floating down a stream. The river rises and falls each day, exposing and hiding rocks and changing the course of the rapids. They have mentally mapped an entire stretch of a river in flux and know how to manoeuvre each dangerous passage. They throw nets standing in small boats that I can hardly keep my balance sitting. The two are in perfect co-ordination, able to unravel a long string net in a current and circle back to collect the fish. We can say that some people are born on skis and these villagers are without a doubt born on the river. Their vast knowledge is taken for granted. It is what is necessary to survive. A father asks me about my university degrees. He says that his knowledge is just a smidgen in comparison and he gestures as if pinching a grain of salt.
In the village, I see communal learning happening everywhere. The New Years celebrations have finished and I am able to observe a regular day in the village. It is still dark, but I can hear the family going about their morning household duties. Today, the women are heading out to collect bamboo shoots. During the day, Boun A's family yard attracts a small crowd, either because I am a curiosity or because the repairs on the water turbine are interesting. People appear idle, but most are not. Preadolescent girls have babies strapped to their chests and are performing full-time childcare duties. Someone is scolded when chickens peck at the rice drying in the sun. Someone's job is to watch. Another child sits idly, but jumps up when his mother comes up the hill with enormous bags of bamboo shoots on her back. Everyone has a job and everyone must learn.
Boun A's mother runs her house like a competent CEO. She doesn't bark orders, but her 11 year-old daughter is always at attention. The whole family operates this way. In constant contact, a wrench is passed, a boiling pot checked or something spilt wiped up. Learning is facilitated by observation and an acute sense of communication. On the river, people talk at great distances and over the roar of rapids without shouting. In the day, when I bring out my camera, news spreads and children converge within minutes. When a domestic spat erupts, a crowd swiftly gathers around the windows to hear the details. In village life, nothing is hidden and everything is observed. Children absorb it all and anybody older must be a good teacher and set a good example.
Parents want to teach their children. They must be frustrated by their inability to pass on book learning. The best they can do is pray at a baci ceremony, pay the tuition and hope for the best as their children drift downstream. One mother tells me, “I wish my daughter were a boy”. She doesn't mean that boys are smarter or work harder. In fact, her 12 year-old daughter is at the top of the class. What she means is that if the child that she is sending far away from home were a boy, she would not have to worry as much.


4.4 The children

The younger children are still at home in the village. Many wander in and out of the house to visit and play. I invite a 12 year-old to write the alphabet and I can see her enthusiasm in the way she is ready to take up the pen as soon as I finish each letter. Then the boys come and take over and she recedes to the back. Observing her do the housework, I can see a mature sense of discipline and responsibility unusual for a girl of twelve, but she is shy to talk about her studies.
I am told that girls are encouraged to study just as boys are and that it is mainly up to the individual, but girls do marry young. There are no arranged marriages, but boys must make a payment to the bride's family. It is around 100 dollars in V Village, but much higher in the city. A village man recently married a Luang Prabang girl for $ 1 300 US. He sold off the family's buffalo. Marrying into a rich family ensures a better future, but it is not necessarily a buyer’s market. A girl can be choosy too.
For young students in V Village, book learning is an abstract concept, being that there are no books. Self-study is impossible under present conditions. but most of the parents I talked to were concerned about their children’s education and searching for ways to support them. The only written material I see in the house is a calendar. The children are not only fascinated with the pictures, but also by the English words. When I teach them the alphabet, they want to write “April”. Children have learned to manoeuvre boats and split up live chickens and show interest in learning languages as well.
One child has no problem mimicking the sounds of English. I use gestures with phrases, “row a boat”, “take a bath”, “go to sleep” , “wake UP!” His pronunciation and intonation are perfect. He has the same attention, receptiveness and clarity that I observe among villagers in general; those who know where underwater rocks are, those who check that a pot doesn't boil over, those who know when they are being called. The village is a university of emotional intelligence and I imagine how it could easily be translated into book or language learning.

4.5 V Village: Looking back

A village without books looks like a place empty of learning, but on closer observation it is clear that communal, socially integrated and independent learning is alive and well in the village. The unique sociocultural condition of the village is acknowledged by a 1998 Asian Development Bank (ADB 1998:5) report which states that in rural Laos the “traditional learning environment is still very active”. The report stresses the need to bridge traditional and formal institutional learning, but does not specify how this can be done. It is possible that students learn more than they should in the schools. Some learn that grades are more important than learning and can be bought by those who can afford them. Some learn that they will never have equal opportunities in society and some girls learn that they are less important than boys.