Sharing is More than Caring

When our Lao friends mentioned a going away gift for Camilo, I was not the least surprised. They love to show their admiration for him and a missing parting gift would be something neither party could endure. But what they pulled from the bag left me near to shock. A thick grey and red winter coat flopped itself into my hands and called to be tried on. In a country like this, Camilo has never needed more than a sweater for the three week winter. So, it felt strange to thrust his arms into the extended holes and zip up the contraption which seemed larger than the toddler inside it. I flipped the hood on and Camilo raced to the mirror where he saw his body disappear underneath the fluffy acquisition except for most of his leg and the curls that lined his face and protruded from the hood. It fit well, his first real winter coat. An overly generous gift from our Lao friends who sought out just what he needed thinking about his return to North America. A gift that showed their love for him and acceptance in his future separate from them. A reminder to me to live more generously as I have seen throughout my whole time in Lao.

Although I was surprised about the gift itself and the thoughtfulness that went into it, I am not surprised by the giving. If you asked for the moon these souls would find a way to give it, despite the limited resources coming to them. Not only is sharing caring, but it is a way of life. As I question how my friends are able to live off of $200-$300 per month, they continue to share what they have with us. They come to visit us with an extra bubble tea or bag full of sticky rice. Birthdays come around and they bring a cake and new t-shirt for Misa or a long flowy skirt for me. Never holding back what they have, although it may be so little.

I can start to feel guilty when my Lao friends give to me since I know they have so little. Most of them sleep on a mat on the ground in a small apartment with three or four others and cook over a concrete pot with charcoal outside. They gather in groups for lunches to share the burden and the time with one another and without exaggerating eat less than my two year old. They cruze around on motorcycles that break down with almost every use and go way too long without seeing their families because of travel costs. So, it can make me want to reject their giving, knowing that they can use it for themselves. But, sharing is just a part of their nature, a way of sharing love or appreciation. 

When I consider the heart to share that just exists within my Lao friends, I am always reminded of my own individualistic attitudes and culture. When I give, my brain always considers the effect it could have on us all. My giving could help someone, but at what cost to me and my family? A typical American, giving out of excess rather than sacrifice. Nothing like my local friends. 

Of course excess is different for every family. Excess might mean what is left over after paying your bills, retirement, insurance, and mortgage. For others, it could mean what they have after paying for the week´s groceries. But our Lao friends don´t give out of excess. They simply see a meal in front of them, someone who needs to eat, and they split it all, potentially sacrificing a full belly for the moment. I have so much to learn from them still.

I´d like to think that I grew as a person, that my heart truly became more sharing like those of my Lao friends. But, I think in most cases I didn’t change internally and instead I merely learned new hacks for self-preservation. I became more alert to ripening fruit on the trees in our yard, making sure we could cut them down before the locals came and cut even the greenest down. Of course I would share, but I still wanted my part. When I would buy snacks for a trip, I became more proficient at choosing options that only seemed appealing to me so I wouldn’t have to watch the whole bag disappear before my chance to partake. This wasn’t too hard to do since my American taste buds seem to be drastically different from those of my Asian counterparts. When we sold our car and bicycles, we also began to hide our fruit from our friends since it would no longer be simple to walk to the market and purchase more. We continued to give and at times generously, but it seemed to be when it felt convenient to us. 

I´ll miss living in such a communal culture that reminds me of how individualistic I am. I will always remain thankful for my friends and a country that probably gave much more to me than I could ever have given.