In Lao language, a village road is hom. That's a bit like a rural route I suppose in North America. Muncipalities are divided into districts and districts are broken down into villages. Villages in Lao language are ban. I live in Ban Phonphanao on Hom 15. I digress only because hom looks a bit like home and that's what this post is about.
A few weeks ago, I taught my students some phrases using the word home. Phrases like:
· Home is where the heart is.
· There’s no place like home.
· A home away from home.
More recently, in an article entitled Hope and Home, Rabih Alammedine describes the sequinned kitchen of a Syrian refugee in Lebanon who tells the writer, “It’s good to have something beautiful to come home to”. And there’s the word home again. I look around my home away from home. Is there beauty even if I don’t have sequins?
· The morning breeze through the open windows because it’s often the only time of the day when I can feel comfortable without running a fan or the air conditioner. From where I sit at the breakfast table, I can look out through the screen door and across the porch to the gate and watch the clusters of frangipani flowers nodding in the gentle gusts of air.
· The blue-hued mandala pattern on my Rajasthan bedspread which I brought with me to Laos from Canada. Pure luck that it fits my bed here perfectly. Since re-arranging the furniture, the bed is the first thing you see when you enter my home.
· In the kitchen, there’s a blue fridge and it turns out I’m very fortunate to have one of these much-sought-after items of culinary kitsch.
· The collection of Lao memorabilia on the shelves: wedding invitations which are too beautiful to throw away; candles and ribbon from a birthday cake my students gave me; two seeds from a jackfruit, almost Ikea-like in their simplicity, remind me of how delicious the fruit is.
· A comfy chair where I can read or watch a Netflix download on my phone.
Creating home is also about feeling like you’re part of the neighbourhood.
· I’m getting adept at dodging the vehicles and motorbikes as I cross the road outside my house. I watched how the dogs do it and noted that they cross in a diagonal direction.
· Speaking of dogs, the village dogs have lost interest in me. A sure sign I'm fitting in.
· The lady who grills and sells bamboo-wrapped breakfast takeaways along the side of my road always greets me with a nop as I head past her on my way to work. The other day she saw me go by, we nopped and 5 minutes later she watched me scurry back home from across the street. Two minutes or so later, we nopped one more time, I shrugged as if to say “what can you do?” and then we both giggled. I wasn’t going to attempt “I forgot to turn off the air conditioner.” in Lao language.
· The vegetable lady at the nearby market smiles as she hands me a basket so I can select the quantities of vegetables I want. I’m still learning their names.
