Perfect Storms

Nam (water) poured from the sky for the last twenty-four hours, as if to say, "It's monsoon season and I'm not done yet!" I did my usual mantra, "It's good for the rice crop," but my host, Po, says it's too late, especially for the land rice. They needed this wetness in April, May and June when it was dry. At least I hope it's good for the mighty Mekong, the source of life and commerce for this landlocked country.

Lao folk are matter of fact about making the most of the hand you're dealt. I've been thinking about this as I talked with Po yesterday as to how we move forward. His wife is very ill, being treated out of country and she needs him. He is going to be with his wife. I don't speak Lao or have an international driver's license, plus my time here is limited. What can I do? I can walk to the Center. I can continue to teach and serve as an positive example of American caring and sharing. Somehow it didn't seem like enough.

Then I thought about this post in Laos, which went vacant for eighteen months at least partly because it's so far away and people were afraid to go. I thought about the students who begin showing up at three pm for a five pm English class. I thought about the three little boys who were walking home under an umbrella and who waved to me and shouted, "Bye!" as I traveled past them in the rain.