Student Community Service Project

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This year North by North East was fortunate to partner with Maekok River Village Resort and create a very special program for three schools from Hong Kong (Chinese International, Island School and West Island School). In October and November the schools traveled to a beautiful island in southern Laos to donate money and assist a community rebuild a dilapidated elementary school.

The official school opening ceremony was held on 20 December 2008.

IB Student Travel

The following account together with a series of before and after photos describes the incredible result the students accomplished!

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Concrete jungle a world away
Students travel to Laos to help refurbish an ageing school

by Eileen Jong

Eileen during an impromptu English lesson on Don Daeng

Between the banks of the Mekong where the river widens in southern Laos lies the island of Don Daeng, our base for a week. Life is slow, in stark contrast to the city we have left behind. Before us looms a series of challenges that will force us out of our comfort-zones.

Ai Kham is in charge of running our simple lodge and hires other villagers on a rotational basis to tend to visitors' needs. He is also foreman of the building project, the reason why we are here. Our group of 12 students from Chinese International School will lay the foundations for new classrooms at Ban Hua Elementary School. Concrete, bricks and other necessities were bought with money we raised.

Moves to incorporate intercultural understanding and global awareness are having an impact on school curriculums. Students are being led outside the classroom on projects that connect them with people of different means and unfamiliar cultures.
Jacqueline Lai, 16, chose this trip over 20 other options: "It's rural, remote and challenging," she says. "I think we'll learn a lot about Laos. It's going to be really rewarding at the end knowing we've helped these children a lot."

This project grants our group a hands-on opportunity to contribute the gift of knowledge to future generations on Don Daeng. By the week's end, the project will also foster attachments between children of privilege and those born into rural poverty.

On our first morning we awaken to a landscape bathed in golden sunshine. Our village, Ban Hua, is on the northern tip of the small island that has yet to be connected to the electricity grid. The population of 4,000 is divided among several villages that occupy the flat land, perfect for the island's mainstay crop, sticky rice.

Ban Hua Elementary School serves about 120 children from three villages. We are welcomed with a formal ceremony. Uniformed girls place garlands around our necks and present bouquets of yellow and violet flowers.

Once the speeches are over, we indulge in some schoolyard games to draw out the shy Lao children. Under the intense sun, anarchy soon reigns as we play "Cha". In the role of monster, our students sprint around the yard tagging the younger children, who then link hands with the object of forming greater and greater chains to prey upon others.

With inhibitions laid aside, next comes in a Lao version of London Bridge is Falling Down. Cultures converge as we conclude our morning pursuits with a Hong Kong favourite, Duck, Duck, Goose.

While this goes on, under the shade of trees makeshift carriers are being fashioned to transport bricks from the riverbank 200 metres away. The stretchers, an empty cement sack and two bamboo poles, are a reminder of our more serious purpose.

The school was founded in 1972 with US aid money. Before that the site was home to a temple and monastery, indicative of the interlocking value placed upon faith and education. The original structures have deteriorated.

The initial stages are slow. As we trudge between building site and water's edge, we are accompanied by the village children, many half our height, all mucking in to help reduce our load. The smallest carry a single brick. They are technically on holiday as it is National Teachers' Day, but it seems they would rather join in our efforts than play or carry out chores at home.

"I liked seeing them come up with new ideas to help out," Stephanie Cuvelier, 16, says of the village children. "Some of them were so small but were doing everything they could to help." Two toddlers improvise with a plank, upon which they balanced two bricks at a time. It's debatable whether the wood weighed more than the bricks combined. The brick-hauling continues until dusk. One student exclaims: "I'll never look at a pile of bricks again without thinking of the work to get it there."

The second day is spent digging holes under scorching sun for 18 concrete supports. Others mould and twist wires to brace girders that will add strength to the columns. We learn the basics from the ground up. As our school is responsible for preparing the site and fortifying the foundations, there seems little to show for our efforts.

One digression from our community service provides relief from construction work. With conventional Lao fanfare, we are received by two other village schools, where the visitors attempt to teach basic English. We also present books, pens, clothes, shoes and toys.

Offering a different challenge, the 12 students are forced to think on their feet and take on the role of class teacher. Nubs of chalk skate across boards as they use every means possible to communicate. Rows of attentive pupils endeavour to comprehend their young foreign instructors.

As we had hoped, teaching "heads, shoulders, knees and toes" is a hit - even more so when the classrooms are emptied and the songs and dramatics spill out into the yard.

As we wave our goodbyes, Michelle Valentine, 15, says: "They might not remember everything we taught them but it was such a good way of interacting. We can actually see that we're making a difference."

The end of our work on the construction site sees almost all supporting columns and perimeters complete. We spend the last afternoon shovelling and combining cement with 120 buckets of stones and three oil drums of water before adding the mixture to the horizontal girders. Within the following month, two other schools will take our place and finish off the job. However, we are happy to have laid the foundations for the new schoolhouse as well as the outside world's contact with the villagers of Don Daeng.

What boundaries exist erode as our lodge grounds become a playground for our neighbours' children. Every day they come to bathe in the adjoining waters, initially peering in at a respectful distance from between fence slats. They overcome their intense shyness. We set aside our city ways and bond with them over games of football, frisbee or simply communicating with gestures.

A small village gathering is planned for our last night. It opens with an animist blessing ceremony, the Baci. Tha, the village chief, says: "We don't have anything to give you. We can only give you our blessings." But they have given us far more than can be bought.

Afterwards, food and drink are shared. The convivial atmosphere is mirrored by the village children we have gotten to know. They wait patiently outside clutching single yellow flowers and garlands. They have decided to bestow their own impromptu blessings. As we smile and wave at them across the railings, one girl plucks up courage and races up the steps to offer her garland to Nicholas Yeung. One by one they come, and soon the festivities shift to the lawn as the music starts playing. Aikham has set up all we need for this special evening as the lawn is lit up for dancing as Lao pop and American rock waft across the Mekong.

This simple act brings together our two cultures for a night of fun and laughter. One of the highlights occurs when an elegant Lao woman, who epitomises grace on the dance floor, is cajoled into joining the students for The Macarena and then stays for Y-M-C-A! The evening ends with our tired students sitting amongst a throng of children drawn from the village. Together, they huddle to watch the action on the dance floor, some cuddling younger ones curled up on laps.

Hugs are exchanged, photographs taken. It makes for a truly poignant sight. That moment crystallises what we as educators had wanted to achieve: the breaking down of barriers and bonding that comes through a common understanding that transcends language and culture.

On our last morning, the greeting sai-ba-dee and the laughter of village children echo with our footsteps, the images of gleeful faces imprinted in our minds. We are leaving but those we leave behind cannot. We take for granted our freedom to travel the world and immerse ourselves in other communities, but for many this remains a life-long dream.

Our hope is that through government plans to expand education, a growing economy and better standards of living, these children we have bonded with will have such opportunities.

Asked about what she thought she would remember most, Sophie Wihlborn, 15, responds without hesitation: "The kids. They're so respectful and grateful. They have nothing, yet they're so happy and content. I love them all."

Her words sum up the trip: "It was a really rewarding and memorable experience. It's not something you can describe. You really have to be there yourself. It's something I'll never forget."

Eileen Jong teaches English at Chinese International School