What lessons would a nation’s leader choose to leave for future generations?
Continued from the last issue

In Letters to My Grandchildren, President Thongloun Sisoulith opens a window into his life through a collection of heartfelt letters written during official journeys abroad between 2014 and 2019. More than a family memoir, the book recounts an extraordinary journey from a humble childhood in a remote village in Huaphan province to the highest office in the Lao PDR.
Through vivid recollections of hardship, perseverance, education, and public service, President Thongloun shares the experiences and values that shaped his character and leadership. Readers will encounter the story of a young boy who crossed rivers to attend school, overcame poverty and adversity, and remained steadfast in his pursuit of knowledge and service to the nation.
Rich with personal reflections and life lessons, Letters to My Grandchildren offers a rare and intimate portrait of the man behind the presidency while providing inspiration for young people, parents, and leaders alike. It is a story not only of one individual’s journey but also of resilience, dedication, and the enduring belief that determination can transform even the most modest beginnings into a life of remarkable achievement.
The book comprises 12 chapters, and the Vientiane Times will present each chapter in the newspaper.
Chapter 3 - The Path Toward Teacher-Training (Primary Level), First Intake of the Lao Patriotic Front
At about five the next morning we started off again toward Xamneua. Around noon we reached Huakhang village; after a while we were still about six or seven kilometers from Xamneua. As we were walking quietly along, gunfire rang out from a hill on the right; bullets struck the curve in the road and sent up puffs of earth. I shouted to my friends: “Down! Roll into the roadside ditch, now!” We all flattened ourselves in the ditch. The shooting kept concentrating on us, so we lay absolutely still. The enemy must have thought they had killed us, because the gunfire died away. Shaken and trembling all over, once we’d gathered our wits—rather than sprinting forward toward Xamneua—we did the opposite: we ran up the mountain, followed a ravine back, crossed streams and forest, went over a ridge to cut back to the main road, and then walked home. It took another two days and one night to reach the village. When I got home and told my parents what had happened, they grew hesitant and didn’t want me to return to Xamneua. But I felt I had to get back in time to sit the entrance exam for the teacher-training school—this was the best opportunity yet: the first school in Houaphanh run by the Lao Patriotic Front (Neo Lao Hak Sat). I was determined that if there was any kind of school in our revolutionary stronghold of Huaphan, I would study there to the end, no matter how hard, how remote, or how life-threatening it might be. In the end my parents agreed to let me try again.
Continued to the next issue

By Times Reporters
 (Latest Update July 15, 2026)