-^-for posterity-^-

vangvien, mennonite central committe south east asian retreat 2004.

we drove three and a half hours north of the capital of loas and found ourselves in a slightly mountainous region. the drive was smooth and snaked through paved mountain roads past hills of odd vegetation and orangish-red clay. we passed small villages with people mulling around working and playing. the people of this region have wonderfully distinct faces that seem to have been given the characteristics of the mountains that surround them. their faces are hard, with small lines running through them. they are firm and determined. their eyes are the sky and they stare.

they are like all mountain people i've ever met. people in switzerland who walk up and down stony paths. people in virginia who walk on the trail. everyone who has been shapped by the mountains retains a wonderful quality about them, something peaceful but firm, something worn but sincere.

our bus pulled down a dirty lane and we ended up resting in a tiny slice of heaven. we sleep in small cottages nestled in forests cuddled beside a river that moves slowly and peacefully. there are hills off in the near distance. they are sharp and jagged. they look violent and ready like a knife.

we meet in a group of like minded people. we talk about things and almost always come to a wonderful censuses. we discuss religions and peace and how to work within contexts to achieve sustainable development and growth. none of this involves shoving things down people's throats which is what i appreciate.

we talked about what it meant to be a mennonite, where we came from. i couldn't answer well and said, lamely, that i remembered my great aunt sarah and my great aunt ella. they used to lay out quilts made of old cloth in their sitting room and they they used to prop it all up on an impossibly large contraption and sew it all together. they used to save everything and eat things that didn't look good. they used to garden and hang their clothes out on a long line after they washed it by hand. they line was propped up by a long stick that gripped the ground at an angle and the wind blew all the shirts and dresses and they looked beautiful as if they had their own life. i remember them working in the house canning things. they were all i could think of.

you see, i couldn't say what i thought was mennonite because i was influenced by every part of what a mennonite is ever since i was a child. if i was to pick out a specific part of being a mennonite, i would only be picking out something that i find wonderful inside of myself and it was too much of a selfish venture.

we talked about what was good about being mennonite and i said aunt sarah and aunt ella.

wish they could have come to laos to see the beauty. they would have probably stood next to the peaceful river and stared up at the violent mountains and maybe cracked a slight grin.