Sadjadham presents: Hakuna Matata A La Lao By Somvay Boualouang The night I struggled across the Mekong river, clinging for life to an inflated plastic bag containing my few belonging, I promised myself never to look back at the place I left behind - this once charming little kingdom now turning into an oppressive communist state. But nearly two decades later, my mind is still wandering back to this land I once called home. There is one particular place that I often visit in my dream. Beside the sincerity, hospitality and the graciousness of the welcome displayed by my hosts, what keeps bringing me back to this dreamland is to relive one of the most simplistic lifestyles on earth - the Hakuna Matata a la Lao. This special place happens to be a hamlet tucked away in a small valley deep inside the Laos' jungle. Surrounded by the rice paddies and adorned by the coconut and mango trees, two dozen or so stilt houses with thatched roofs and bamboo walls cluster around a distinctive building - a wat. The day begins with the crow and wing-flapping sounds of the rosters, soon to be followed by the quacking of the ducks and the singing of the birds. Amid the morning fog, women and young girls are the first ones to get up, preparing the basic staple for the day, fetching water, and grinding the rice grain. Men would be up next. With the rice-growing season finally over, it is time to do what they enjoy doing the most: fishing and hunting. With their lunch bags containing the steamed sticky rice and pepper sauce, they head for the forest. Just before the sun comes up, Buddhist monks in their saffron robes makes their routine journey of Bindhabath. In a single file, they pass in front of each house where people standing on their knees carefully put the ball of sticky rice in each of their bronze bowls. Soon after finishing the morning ritual, women and girls too disappear into the surrounding nature. By noon, the village seems almost deserted. Only the very youngs and very olds remain in the village. Old men spend their times making basic tools. Old women babysit and weave under the shade of their stilt house. Young boys can be found on the outskirt of the village, playfully swimming in some cool and pristine pool while tending the water buffaloes which are grazing nearby. Before the sun goes down, people start returning to the village - men with their kills, women with their wild fruits and vegetable, and boys with the water buffaloes. After taking turn to take the bath in the nearby stream, dinner is served. After dark, young bachelors stroll up and down the village singing to the rhythm of the flute and the khen; young bachelorettes weaving and sewing under the lantern's light at home form the invisible audience. Kids sit around the open fire listening to the folklores and jokes told by elders. Laughters and giggles can be heard well into the night. Silence finally takes over this small village only to be interrupted from time to time by the howling of nocturnal creatures roaming in the jungle nearby. This is the place where people coexist peacefully with nature. This is the place where a person has more laught in one day then an average Joe in the so-called civilized world has in one week. This is the land where people are so friendly that the phrase of greeting is *kin khow" leo" bor'?*, meaning "did you eat yet?". And this is the land where people won't mind sharing their meals and their roofs with a complete stranger. Such a wonderful place like this could still exist today, though it might be harder to find, but it will be worth your effort if you want to witness the Hakuna Matata a la Lao. And if you decide to go there, do leave your prejudicial views and credit cards at home. These people could care less about what you think of them, and they don't take the American Express cards.