Last week I had the opportunity to attend an opening ceremony in Hat Khang Village for our largest PoP school. The whole day was a conglomeration of celebration, tradition and respect. Other than the official ceremony with the Ministry of Education and later the hours of dancing, eating and drinking, there was the baci ceremony.
The baci (pronounced bah-see) is a ceremony that takes place any time, usually in an instance of celebration such as marriage, birth, welcoming, homecoming, etc. In Lao, the baci is also called “su kwan,” which means “calling of the soul.” Ancient teachings in Lao state that the human being is a union of 32 organs, each with their own soul (kwan). The baci ceremony serves as a way to call all the souls back to the body and re-establish equilibrium and harmony.
At Hat Khang, there were 4 pha kwans set up in a classroom. The pha kwan is an arrangement of flowers, banana leaves and cotton strings all organized in a silver dish or bowl. Whoever the baci is for (in this case PoP) sits in front of the pha kwan and the rest of the participants kneel behind. The ceremony began with one of the village elders, presumably a former monk, reading a Buddhist mantra. (At Hat Khang I’m not positive of this, but traditionally the man who reads the Buddhist script has been a monk at some point in his life). While he does so, everyone is kneeling with their feet away from the pha kwan and their hands together at heart center. Then, he presents us with food, treats and, in this case, a coconut to drink. After, we returned to the pha kwan and put our hands at the base. Everyone needs to be connected so the rest of the observers touched our backs or shoulders as the leader read a bit more from the script. I obviously had no idea of this man’s words, but I’ve been told it serves the purpose of calling the souls back to the body.
Then, all the participants (so in this case everyone who isn’t PoP staff) grabs a handful of white strings hanging from the pha kwan and tie them around our wrists. Individually and sometimes two at a time, Lao elders would grab each wrist and tie around it a white cotton string. While doing so they would speak quietly in Lao wishing me happiness, health, prosperity and good fortune. Sometimes they would rub my wrists or hold my hands at the end, providing a sense of conclusion and totality to the practice.
The entire ceremony is beautiful, but particularly the thread component left me with chills. The villagers’ age, wisdom, experience and strength combined with the practice of well-wishing to an absolute stranger left me speechless. It is extremely humbling to have just driven through this very poor village that morning and then during the ceremony take on the role of the recipient.
After the ceremony, we went outside for a large lunch. The Lao eat family style with a variety of dishes on the table that everyone shares. Usually sticky rice, white rice that is prepared in such a way that it actually sticks together, serves as a utensil to scoop up meat, vegetables or fish. We spent the rest of the afternoon celebrating each other as individuals, Hat Khang, PoP and their new school. With so many kwans under one tent there is certainly enjoyment to be had by all.