Monk making

4 January 2013

Earlier in the week Khoun had told us that his cousin’s son was to be ordained as a monk and that if we liked we could come to the ceremony at the temple. “When?” I asked. “In a few days’ time”, was the vague answer - and I would need a Lao skirt. The next night, Khone called me and announced that the ceremony was tomorrow and that we would be setting off at 7 in the morning. Too late to do anything about the skirt - I would have to make do with a sarong. It felt a bit like going to a wedding in scruffy garden clothes!

Not to worry. Next morning K&K, Trevann and I drove, bright and early, through town to Khoun’s cousin’s house, picking up Michelle on the way. In the courtyard there were five fold-up garden recliners, laden with orange robes, flowers, money, bowls, food – everything that the young monks would need in the temple. A beautiful display. We were all invited to make hurried offerings and prayers for good fortune, then the recliners were loaded onto a truck, and we paraded through the streets, accompanied by a drum band.

Offerings for the new monk from friends and family.

The young cousin, wearing the white robes of a novice, stolled along, protected by a pink umbrella carried by his uncle Khoun, who was anxiously avoiding poking him in the eye.

The young novice with Khoun, umbrella bearer.

When we got to the temple we perambulated three times around before going in and sitting on the floor – with feet always away from the Buddha. The Abbot and monks gathered at the front of the space, some of the floor was covered with bowls of food, the rest was filled with family and friends who had gathered from as far away as Australia for the occasion.

Perambulating round the temple.

The whole ceremony was remarkably relaxed. Prayers were said; responses heard; chantings happened – but all the while people chatted merrily to each other, while others came and went.

After an hour or so the young man was taken aside and helped into his orange robes. Unfortunately, he was quite a rotund chap and the robes didn’t quite meet at the waist, which caused great hilarity among the old aunties as he walked down the “aisle” and out of the temple carrying a ritual basket and displaying areas of flesh that should’ve been hidden.

Not to worry. There was then a ritual request for admission. He stood at the door while two monks conveyed his request to the abbot. Then when he had been admitted, all the monks went outside to where a square fabric booth had been erected underneath the spout of a naga water serpent. Family members poured water in silver bowls into the tail of the naga above and the new monk showered in the booth. Meanwhile other family members lined and protected his route back into the temple with incense sticks, candles and card fish(?) on sticks.

The new monk takes a shower.

The pathway back to the temple is protected.

All this was conducted with very little reverence or formality. We wondered where the spirituality lay. What had happened to the meditation?

The Buddhism practised in Laos is Theravada Buddhism and although in some ways it pervades all life, in that the people consistently do good/live well in order to gain merit, there is very little evidence of ritual and practice as seen, for example, in India. Alms are given to the monks and offerings made at the temples, but there’s no daily family meditation, for example.

Of course in the villages the hill tribes, such as the Hmong, practise Animism, and this has infiltrated the Buddhism here. Spirit houses – looking a bit like fancy bird feeders - can be seen outside most Lao homes and offerings of food are made to keep the spirits on-side.

Part of the explanation for the peculiar Lao form of Buddhism lies in the politics of the country. When the communist government took over in 1975, at first Buddhism was banned and the monks were sent to work in the fields as agricultural workers. That lasted about a year at most before the monks were allowed back into the temples and the sangha were restored. But the government still controlled the texts used and dictated the form of worship allowed. The form of Buddhism that practised meditation was decreed to be imperialist and anti-revolutionary and so was outlawed.

Nonetheless, it was an honour and a privilege to be invited to attend the ordination. Trevann and I wandered off for a well-deserved breakfast of crepes and milkshakes.

And in other news ...

On New Year’s Day it was Beng’s 12^th birthday so we all had a party in the garden. The boys set up a drum kit and PA and much fun was had belting out a range of numbers in various states of tunefulness. A wandering harmonica player joined in for some numbers.

In the countryside there are worrying signs of Chinese and Korean developments. This bit of prime agricultural river valley here, for example, has been fenced off prior to the building of a huge holiday resort of some sort, funded by Chinalco (presumably Chinese Aluminium Company?).

Chinalco Development to come.

Typical countryside.

We got lost the other day, wandering through the lanes on the other side of the Nam Khan, and came across this girl, sewing embroidery in the doorway of her house. Her brother spoke a little English and explained that each wall hanging took about a month to complete.

Embroidery

Some amazing moths settle on our balcony.

Trevann and the naga.