Laos – Deaf children weave their way to a better future in Luang Prabang

« Tap, tap, tap! » The sound of bags of mushroom soil, filled and piled onto the floor by a merry band of teenage girls, echoes rhythmically in the barn. We are in Luang Prabang, the former royal capital city of Laos, a country landlocked between Thailand, Myanmar, China, Vietnam and Cambodia. It is 6 p.m. in the nuns’ foster home where these fifteen young girls are staying. The air is barely beginning to cool; the rainy season – with extremely high temperatures – is already well established. Sitting in a circle around a large heap of brown earth mixed with rice and sugar, the young girls giggle and laugh and are not afraid to throw a few handfuls of the mix at each other. They surreptitiously glance at the TV in the foster home, which broadcasts their favourite soap opera just a few metres away. The bags of soil will soon be “fertilized” and then carried into a dark, damp room where the mushrooms can grow before being sold. Despite the cheerful mood, no words are exchanged. Most of these young girls are deaf and mute. They communicate through Lao sign language, which they learned in the Luang Prabang Deaf and Mute School, a fifteen-minute bike ride away. Founded by the Sisters of Charity in 2006, it is one of the only three deaf and mute schools in this communist country, where deafness places a real burden on poor families and deprives children of schooling. About sixty pupils, from age 8 onwards, are accommodated in this school and continue their education up to the equivalent of the third class of the middle school. From age 13, the girls live with the Sisters in a foster home and split their time between school, vocational training and the management of a small farm, which allows them to provide for their food almost independently. In a few years time, these young deaf-mute people undergo an incredible psychological and intellectual transformation, which enables them to find their place in Laotian society despite their handicap.

Placing her bag of soil on the ground for a few moments, the young girl confides in her plans for the future. In Laos, it is not uncommon to come across families with several members with a disability. These are often caused by toxic components of ammunition and remnants of explosives that were dumped on the country during the Vietnam War. For nine years from 1964 onwards, a bomb was dropped on Laos every eight minutes… 30% of these bombs have been buried in the ground and to date have still not exploded, which explains the land and water contamination in some areas, in addition to the many accidents.

In the barn, a few dogs taken in by the Sisters stand guard around Noy. Outside, the sun is shining its last rays on the vegetable garden, which separates the girls ‘dormitory from the nuns’ accommodation. In the distance, we can hear the squeals of the little piglets that the sow has just given birth to. “When I finish school, I will go back to my village to weave,” the young girl continues. My mother was a seamstress too. When I was 14, she died from a stomach problem that could not be taken care of because of a lack of money,” she signs, moving her hands with confidence. “At the foster home, we enjoy the benefits of a well-balanced living environment. We have good teachers educating us. I can easily get started once I get home and start a family, ”she says before conscientiously resuming her activity. Between farm work from 5 a.m. to 6:30 a.m., school until 4 p.m., more work until dinner and study in the evening, the days do not leave much room for leisure activities for these teenage girls, who – like all young people of their age – are connected to the world through social media. But they are no less aware of how lucky they are. “I have to finish my studies, it’s essential,” Noy concludes.

In Laos, weaving is a safe profession. There will always be demand for fabric: shirts, scarves, tablecloths, bags, baby carriers, “sinhs” – those traditional silk or cotton skirts worn by women in daily life. At the foster home, the girls make beautiful pieces that they sell to visitors, donors and friends passing by. During this weeklong break, they often get down to work. Facing large wooden frames, the little brown heads patiently intersect the longitudinal threads with the transverse threads, while slowly and steadily pressing down on a pedal as if they were playing the piano. They also learn to weave bamboo baskets, cook and use the computer together with the boys who are trained in mechanics as well. “Learning a profession promotes social integration and resilience, and offers a way to lift one’s family out of poverty all at the same time,” says Marianne, a volunteer-computer teacher. “It goes hand in hand with education. In order to run a business, it is important to know how to read and keep proper accounts, to have an excellent working knowledge of English… “

“I was disappointed when I found out my son was deaf,” Chamsouk, Som’s mother confesses at a dinner table laden with chicken, grilled fish, mushroom, rice and mangoes. The comfortable family home of the meat sellers is found at the end of a little alleyway in the centre of Luang Prabang. “It was the antimalarial treatment I was given while I was pregnant that caused his disability,” she explains. “When Som started school, aged 10, I was relieved. Before, he was often left to his own devices, so he used to wander off. Sometimes, I just didn’t know where he was. It was dangerous. Nowadays, he is conscious of the time, he does his homework and has become sensible. This school has given him both joy and plenty of friendships.”

‘Friendship’ is the first word that the children sign when they are asked about school. “When they arrive at the centre, the children don’t know how to communicate. Sometimes, they haven’t learnt to eat at fixed mealtimes or the basics of personal hygiene. They almost behave like animals,” Sister Sinvongsouk tells us. School provides them with love from friends who understand them and language, a sudden ray of light that opens up the outside world to them. A key step in all types of learning.

“Certain children make exceptional progress” Manon, a young volunteer, opens up to us in front of the empty school buildings. The 22-year-old musician has been teaching English there for a year. “I look after Bec, an 8-year-old boy who stopped speaking when his parents died in a motorcycle accident in 2017. To begin with, he cried a lot and lost his temper. We worked a lot together through art therapy. After a while, he began to talk again, and he told me about the accident. At the end of the year, he was no longer losing his temper.”