From the desk of Mickey Koulabdara, Lam Vong Circle Member and Advocacy Ambassador
Returning to my birthplace, Pakse, Laos, for the first time since I was five years old was a profound and transformative experience. Born in Laos and raised in various parts of the United States before settling in Columbus, Ohio, this trip was initially planned as a vacation. However, it soon became a journey of rediscovery and connection to my roots. Accompanying my sister, Sera Koulabdara, who leads Legacies of War—a group that educates people about unexploded ordnance from the the US wars in SE Asia—I found myself not just vacationing, but also learning about the history and ongoing efforts to clear these remnants of war. This trip was not just about revisiting my birthplace but also about gaining a deeper understanding of my heritage and the significance of the work being done to heal the land. It felt like a full-circle moment, a 180-degree turn, bringing me back to where it all began.
After our visit with PeaceTrees Vietnam, my eyes were opened even further to the ongoing work needed to clear unexploded ordnance. The dedication of various organizations in finding and removing these dangerous remnants was truly inspiring. Meeting with MAG, the Mine Advisory Group, was another powerful experience. We visited a site where they were actively working, and I was honored to detonate an unexploded cluster bomb. That moment changed my life. Even though it was just one bomb, it meant one less danger for the local farmers and children. This experience taught me that every small effort counts, and by raising awareness and supporting these organizations, we can all contribute to clearing these remnants of war.
Traveling through Southeast Asia, I couldn't help but reflect on the stark contrast between the region's history and my present experience. As I stepped on and off airplanes, I was acutely aware of the rush of emotions within me. During the so called “Vietnam War”, these same skies were filled with planes dropping bombs. The legacy of those times lingers in the form of unexploded ordnances. While I now travel freely to explore beautiful places and cultures, the people living there continue to face the hidden dangers left behind. This realization deepened my resolve to support the ongoing efforts to clear these remnants of war. Every contribution matters in alleviating the pain left behind and ensuring a safer future for everyone.
As the plane descended into Laos, my birthplace, I felt a wave of emotions that I hadn’t anticipated. There was an unshakable sense of connection, something deep and almost indescribable, as if the land itself was welcoming me back. Though I had left Laos at such a young age, it felt familiar in a way that surprised me—like a part of me had always stayed behind, waiting for this moment.
After landing, we stayed in Vientiane, the capital city, and it felt like stepping into a vibrant blend of history and modernity. Visiting landmarks like the Victory Tower and Buddha Park was awe-inspiring, but it was That Luang, the famous golden temple, that left the biggest impression on me. Standing before its shimmering beauty, I felt a profound connection to my culture and spirituality. Each site seemed to tell a story of Laos’ resilience and rich heritage, and it deepened my sense of pride in being part of it.
Growing up in the U.S., I’d always identified as American, but being in Laos awakened something deeper in me. The smells of the street food, the hum of tuk-tuks and motorcycles weaving through traffic, and the warmth of the people all felt strangely familiar, even though I hadn’t experienced them since I was a child. It wasn’t just about seeing the culture—it was about feeling it, living it. For the first time, I started to understand a part of myself that had always been there, waiting to be rediscovered.
One of the most magical moments for me was standing by the Mekong River. Its sheer majesty and timeless flow were mesmerizing. The river, winding its way through Southeast Asia, felt like more than just a natural wonder—it felt alive, carrying with it the history, culture, and life of the region. Watching its steady current, I couldn’t help but draw parallels to my own journey. Just like the Mekong flows through borders, connecting lands and people, my travels back to Laos felt like a reconnection to the deeper currents of my life. It reminded me that, like the river, life has a way of flowing where it’s meant to, even when it takes unexpected turns.
After our time in Vientiane, we took a train further into Laos. The ride itself felt like an adventure, as the scenery outside the window unfolded into lush landscapes, rolling hills, and small villages that seemed frozen in time. There was a certain serenity to the journey, the rhythmic sound of the train blending with the beauty of the countryside. It gave me time to reflect on everything I had experienced so far, and with each mile, I felt a deeper connection to the land. It was as if the train was carrying me not just through Laos, but through layers of my own identity and history.
The train took us to Luang Prabang, a place that felt like stepping back in time. Staying in a charming hotel with its old wooden floors and classic architecture, I could feel the history embedded in every creak beneath my feet. It was a beautiful blend of past and present—updated and renovated, yet holding onto its soul. The town itself was stunning, with its serene atmosphere, vibrant markets, and breathtaking temples. Luang Prabang seemed to preserve a timeless charm, reminding me how the old and new can coexist so harmoniously. It felt like a perfect metaphor for my journey—finding my roots while embracing who I’ve become today.
Beyond its beauty and history, Luang Prabang was simply an amazing place to be. I loved exploring its vibrant night markets, tasting the incredible local cuisine, and walking along the quiet streets lined with frangipani trees. There was a sense of peace and joy in every moment, whether I was watching the sun set over the Mekong or chatting with locals who welcomed me with warmth and kindness. It was a place where I felt truly present, soaking in every sight, sound, and flavor. Luang Prabang wasn’t just a destination—it was an experience that filled me with happiness and a sense of belonging.
One of the most unforgettable activities in Luang Prabang was spending time with elephants. Standing beside these gentle giants, feeding them, and watching their graceful movements was such a humbling experience. It was incredible to see them up close and to feel a connection with nature in such a profound way. Afterward, I visited the nearby waterfalls, where the sound of cascading water and the lush greenery around me felt almost surreal. It was a perfect moment of tranquility, surrounded by the natural beauty that makes Laos so special. These experiences reminded me of the importance of preserving both the culture and the environment that make this land so unique.
The final part of my journey took me to Pakse, Laos—the place where I was born. It was an emotional experience beyond words. For the first time since leaving at five years old, I stood at the exact house and location where my life began. Seeing it in person, after all these years, was like stepping into a memory I didn’t know I still carried. Meeting family members I’d never met before—my aunt, uncle, and cousins—added to the overwhelming sense of connection. Their warmth and welcome made it feel like I had never left.
Pakse wasn’t just a place; it was a feeling, a piece of my identity that I had been missing without realizing it. As I walked through the town, everything about it felt familiar, as though it had been waiting for me to return. In that moment, I found home. It wasn’t just about reconnecting with the past—it was about discovering that I had always been a part of something bigger.
While in Pakse, we also took a trip to Champasak, where my mom grew up. It was a deeply personal journey, visiting the old houses where my grandparents once lived. Standing by the Mekong River, I could almost feel the echoes of the past. The river, which had already symbolized so much for me, now felt even more meaningful. It was the same river that had witnessed my family’s history, the same one that had carried their lives forward just as it had carried mine.
Being there, walking through the places where my family’s roots were planted, I felt a profound sense of belonging. It was like the pieces of my story that I hadn’t known were missing were suddenly filled in. Everything felt full circle—the river, the land, and the people who had shaped me, even without me fully understanding it until now. It was a moment of connection that grounded me in ways I never expected.
Reflecting on this journey, I realize how deeply it has shaped my understanding of both my personal identity and the history of Southeast Asia. Returning to Laos, reconnecting with my birthplace, and learning about the ongoing efforts to clear unexploded ordnances have left a lasting impact on me. I am more committed than ever to going back home—to continue exploring my roots and to contribute to the important work of Legacies of War. The millions of undetonated bombs still scattered across the land are a reminder of the unfinished story of the U.S. wars in SE Asia, one that continues to affect communities today.
I want to be part of the solution—advocating, educating, and raising awareness so that these remnants of war no longer pose a threat to the people who call Southeast Asia home. This trip has opened my eyes to the urgency of the situation, and I feel a deep responsibility to help. It’s not just about my heritage; it’s about the future, and the lives that can be saved through collective action. My journey back home is just the beginning, and I am determined to continue doing what I can to make a difference.
