life as I know it

When every inch of gnarled floor and battered seat had already been claimed, my friend and I were stuffed into the engine room with 6 other people. We arranged ourselves between bags and gasoline cans, squeezed into vacant dirty corners. The roar of the engine rattled inside my head and chest, as if I had a 9 hour long cough. The fumes from the engine gave us a dull high. We kept rotating spots around the tiny wood framed window, craving a few breaths of clean air. Between gasps, I watched a scene of life unfold along the passing banks. Like watching an old-time filmstrip, everything in slow motion, the picture dulled by evening light. I was jealous of the brown bottomed children jumping naked into the water. I craved the stories to be told by the craggy old men hauling in their day’s catch. I wanted to know the exotic young women scrubbing their clothes. A life I could only imagine. My reflection shattered by a Laos tongue hollering orders in English. I couldn’t grasp every word, but the message was clear. The tide was too low for the boat to go on. I followed a mini parade of backpackers making our way through Laos villages passing out high-fives to the children, along blazed trails and to a beach; also known as our bed for the night. That evening, curious villagers came to finger our clothes and hair, examine our language and actions. We were all studying them too. Everything I had I wanted to give to them. Everything they did I wanted to understand. We experienced each other for the first time and through this two-way observation I became very self aware. It lent me an opportunity to view myself from the perspective of village elders. From the perspective of a 10 year-old girl towing her baby brother in the fabric tied over her shoulder. The way I examined them examining me: breathtaking. We’re all human. What an astounding raw exposure, to look into another’s eyes and see yourself. Perhaps we were watching a filmstrip of each other, characters of our own story.