This was a refugee village, and the people were mostly Hmong (at that time we called them ‘Meo’—which is what they called themselves—not knowing this was a pejorative term). Village people generally had no objection to being photographed, but we tried to be as sensitive and considerate as possible. In this village, there was one exception. One Hmong gentleman backed away and ran into his hut, and I was concerned that I had intruded on his dignity. However, he reappeared a minute later… wearing his hat. Then he was quite happy to have his photo taken. Pat’s boy Meo’s family were in this village. They were quite happy that Pat was taking care of him. Meo was the smaller of the two boys, and his leg had been blown off by a cluster bomb. Pat later took him back to Australia so he could go to school.

The Hmong were ‘high mountain’ people (lao sung), and coming down to the lowlands was an ordeal for them. They were much more vulnerable to lowland diseases like malaria and dengue fever. 

​

However poor the Hmong became, the last possessions they would part with were their silver neck rings, not because they were materially valuable, but because they were essential for the well-being of their owners. Babies were given neck rings to keep the soul inside and to show that they belonged to the human world. They were also symbolic of wealth and the essence of a good life. Lock-shaped pendants kept the soul within the body during healing ceremonies.