This generation is helped by an American - the last was bombed
For US war veteran Lee Thorn, a visit to the picturesque Buddhist temple of Udon Kati, in the tranquil setting of rural Laos is to revisit the most anguished period of his own life.
As in many such shrines, the temple walls are covered with depictions of the life of the Buddha.
But interspersed with the drawings are violent images of death and destruction - scenes inspired by Laos' war-torn history over the past 40 years, a period in which he played a part. "Look at this," says Mr Thorn, pointing to one image. "There's brother killing brother, the devastation after a flood or a bomb, everybody in modern dress." He pauses, struggling to hold his emotions in check.
"It's saying : War exists, and its worse than anyone can imagine. It's evil."
Shocked by the war
Lee Thorn's pacifism was inspired by his military service during the Vietnam conflict.
In 1966, aged 21, he was a naval rating based on a US aircraft carrier in the Gulf of Tongking.
"I used to show the bomb assessment films to the pilots after they got back to the carrier," says Mr Thorn. "It was incredible. After some missions, the countryside we'd bombed looked like the surface of the moon."
Personal quest
More than three decades on, he is on a personal mission to heal the wounds left by the war, and build bridges of trust and friendship between the peoples of the United States and Laos.
"I don't feel guilty about what I did; I was a kid, I had no power," says Mr Thorn. "But my work now is about reconciliation."
Bhoun Than - a village not far from Wat Udon Kati - is one place he has begun putting his mission into effect.
The choice was appropriate because the inhabitants of Bhoun Than suffered heavily from American bombing.
Until the early 1970s, the village was located in north-eastern Xiang-Khouang province, one of the most heavily-bombed parts of the country.
After sustaining many losses, the villagers abandoned their homes and fled south, eventually building themselves a new community about two hours' drive north of the capital, Vientiane.
Today, the San Francisco-based Jhai Foundation which Lee Thorn helped found is supporting a weaving project for women and various other self-help initiatives in the village.
"It seems strange," says Ms Chantavong. "Before, the Americans made war against us, now they come to help us. But anyway it's good that they do something - we're happy for that."
Lukewarm relations
At an official level, Washington's relations with Laos' communist government remain cool, partly because of Vientiane's questionable record on human rights.
The US contribution to ongoing efforts to clear the country of unexploded American military ordnance is tiny.
It is not only through aid projects that Mr Thorn is putting his vision of healing into effect.
Jhai Foundation is collaborating with farmers in the coffee plantations of the Bolaven plateau in a scheme which will this year see the first shipments of high-grade Laotian Arabica coffee beans on sale in the US.
"We're paying the farmers the 'fair trade' price for their coffee," explains Mr Thorn. "That's about five times what they were getting before. The growers know its good for them, and they also know its better for America and Laos to do business instead of acting as if nothing has changed."
His regret about past American actions in Laos is matched by his unease over current US military ventures elsewhere in Asia.
"When I see warplanes bombing, it hurts me from the inside out. I know what those bombs do, that they miss a lot of the time, and hit (innocent) people."
As a global superpower, the United States, he argues, has a fundamental choice.
"You can project in the world retribution, revenge, anger. Or you can project something else, which is reconciliation and generosity, all of which American people are. And yet we always seem to be choosing the former rather than the latter."