Out of my Comfort Zone and into The World

Our morning hike through the hill tribes of Sa Pa was almost over. We ventured into the clearing half way down a steep hill, across from us; a steam flowed down the hillside.

As we sat and rested, 5 westerners and our guide, I watched the local children, forging their way across the bridge and up the hill. The boys in westernized clothing carried a simple piece of rope. The girls, dressed in dark blue dresses that wrapped around their waists and fell to their knees, embroidery differentiating their Hmong tribe, vibrant and clear. A woven basket secured to their backs by simple straps.

It was peaceful where I sat watching, but I wondered where these children were going, what they were doing?

Within minutes, I had my answer.

The shrill of a boy’s voice, the sound of shoes sliding on gravel and the joys of laughter echoed down into the valley. Two young boys were racing down the hill. Racing or being pulled, I’m pretty sure it was the later. Tied to the end of their ropes; large logs.

While the boys managed to stay upright and on the path, their logs dangled over the edge and down the side of the hill. Their bodies strained as they fought to control their load. To stay upright; to not lose their footing; to not let go; to get to that point when they would be in front of the log; dragging it and not the other way around.

The girl’s baskets now loaded with fire wood. Not just small pieces, but large splintered off cuts. The older girls with loads as high as they were tall.

To my naïve eye, I saw hard work and danger, but through their eyes I saw fun, excitement, laughter, sharing and a chance to spend time together. It was written all over their faces, in their joy. Yes it was hard work, but it made them smile and they made me smile for the simplicity in which they held in their lives.

As I pondered, the older boy lifted the log above his shoulder and together they all crossed the bridge into the village and become silhouettes in the shadows.