AUSSIE AND THE BOMB

Rice paddies and karst mountains in the remote, beautiful town of Viengxay

Viengxay in Laos, was once just a series of scattered villages, until the war put this place on the target map for US bombers. After it became the underground headquarters for the communist Pathet Lao rebels, it grew to shelter 20,000 soldiers and citizens. Now with the wartime caves emptied, Viengxay is among the larger towns of the remote northeast. 

Today the town looks like any rural Laotian community. Walking dirt streets, I pass traditional wooden Lao houses, with handmade bamboo fences. Local men play petang, a game brought here by French colonials. On the outskirts, farmers tend their rice paddies by hand, as they've done for generations. 

Meanwhile the misty and mysterious karst mountains stand sentinel around Viengxay, ancient guardians of history. I pause to watch them, as passing clouds move between the peaks. Before my eyes, the mists completely obscure entire mountains that were visible only minutes before. 

Meg, only white foreigner living here

Continuing my stroll, I find the local tourist office. Walking in, I meet a worker that I was never expecting to see in this remote place. 

A white woman!

I say hello, and chat with Meg, an Aussie. She’s short with white hair, and appears to be nearing retirement age. She tells me that she used to teach at a university in Australia, and now her kids are all grown. She decided to keep working because she enjoys it, and she heard of a position here in the tourist office. 

“Philosophically, I’m a peacenik,” she explains. I wonder if she protested against Australia’s involvement in the war in Southeast Asia, all those years ago. 

I ask Meg why she came to Viengxay, and she answers, “I liked the challenge.” There’s no mobile phone signal here, and no internet either. When she wants to check her email, Meg has to take a bus to Sam Neua, over an hour away. And there isn’t always a bus to come back either. 

I can tell she's worked in Viengxay for a while, since she walks around the office barefoot! One of her jobs here, was editing text on the historical signs that I’d seen in the caves. For once, most of the tourist signs here were written with correct English grammar, so I can thank Meg for that. 

Meg even worked in Viengxay before, and returned to work again. The warmth of the Laotian people brought her back. “I love the Lao people,” she says. “The Lao people are so optimistic. So much destroyed, and they are still optimistic.”

Men play petang by old cluster bomb casing

As it turns out, Meg was unexpectedly a firsthand witness to some recent destruction. One morning she was walking to work here in the office, just like she did every day. On the way, she heard official announcements blaring from the community loudspeakers. She can’t speak Lao, so she didn’t understand the announcement’s meaning. 

She soon found out. She was arriving in front of the tourism office when it happened. 

B-O-O-O-M!!!!! 

A massive explosion shattered the calm of the quiet morning. This deafening sound was unlike anything Meg had experienced in her life. When the bomb went off around 100 meters away, she was more than just surprised. 

“I was knocked to the ground!“ she told me.  

An explosive ordinance disposal team had just detonated a 500 pound bomb that had been recently found, left over from the war. Rather than trying to remove the dangerous old weapon, they had decided to detonate it where it had been discovered: within town limits. The community loudspeaker announcements that she hadn’t understood, were warning town residents to take shelter for the coming blast. 

“I felt violent nausea,” she said recalling those shocking moments, “and horror.”

I ponder her thoughts on the explosion. This was only from a single 500 pound bomb, and so many of these were dropped on Viengxay nearly every day during the war years. Those caves where they took shelter weren’t comfortable, but they were preferable to living out here in the open, where death rained down from above. 

Caves of Viengxay, where residents and soldiers sheltered during air raids

I bid Meg good bye, and continue on through town. 

Her job certainly is a challenge. Given Viengxay's remote location, trying to attract tourists here is an uphill battle. As I’ve walked around town, I’ve only seen two other visitors all day long. 

Although few journey this far, there are those in high places that still remember Viengxay’s importance. Recently, an impressive caravan of 120 cars rolled into town all the way from Vientiane. It was a government convoy arriving for a commemorative event for this former communist wartime headquarters. It was a grand affair, and the current Minister of Foreign Affairs gave a speech. 

Like many of the others attending the official event, back during the war the Minister had been born here in the caves.

UNDERGROUND CITY OF THE COMMUNISTS

This ought to be a jail cell. There are iron bars on the doors, and just above eye level there are more iron bars running along the top of the white wooden walls. Furniture is sparse; there's only a pair of simple beds with a coat rack. Yet this isn’t a jail cell, it’s a bedroom. And during the war, this happened to have been the bedroom of the most powerful communist in all of Laos. 

Secure bedrooms for the leader's family

Central Committee Chairman Kaysone's bedroom

Kaysone Phomvihane slept here, and this iron-barred bedroom is inside what was once a secret underground complex of caves, deep under the towering stone mountains of Viengxay. These caves were the Pathet Lao’s main headquarters during the long war in Laos; the most closely guarded place in the country. Kaysone was not a prisoner here, but at times he certainly lived like one. He spent many days and nights in this cave, hiding from the aerial bombing that rained down from the US and Royal Laotian air forces. 

It was way back in the 1950’s, that the Pathet Lao first gathered their forces in this region. Since it was so remote, and so close to Vietnam, it was out of reach of the Royal Laotian Government. And it stayed quiet here until 1964, when US led aerial bombing began. When the massive American bombing campaign commenced that year over northern Laos, it was dubbed, ‘Operation Barrel Roll’. At the time nobody could have imagined that Laos would be bombed for eight more long and devastating years, making Laos the most heavily bombed country on earth! 

Viengxay - once littered with bomb craters, it's now a beautiful town

With American aircraft ruling the skies, the Pathet Lao leadership quickly moved into these caves that same year. The continued bombing forced most of Viengxay’s residents to live underground, like troglodytes. So Viengxay became a city of caves. In these tunnels deep within the mountains, there were sleeping quarters, offices, workshops, a hospital, even an underground market. One thing not kept below ground, were the anti-aircraft guns used to shoot at attacking aircraft. An informational sign outside explains those difficult and dangerous years. 

“On Watch Night and Day - On 17 May 1964, the first US plane, a T28, attacked the Viengxay area. During the years of bombardment until 1973, this area was hardly ever quiet in the daytime. Warning sirens were set off at the sight of approaching planes, and explosions would echo around the hills and valleys. There was a complete blackout at night and during raids all cooking had to be done inside the caves. The area was defended by anti-aircraft guns placed on top of many of the mountains that you can see from here. Because of the danger of bomb damage and rocks falling from the mountains, it was said to be safer to be on top of the mountains if you could not shelter in caves. A gun emplacement at what is now the post office was hit by a bomb, causing several deaths.”

Door to chemical attack shelter

The sign fails to mention that the T28’s were not flown by Americans. Although donated by the US, these slower propeller planes were flown by Laotian pilots of the Royal Government. 

Steps away from Kaysone’s bedroom, I approach another secret hideout. The sign overhead reads, ‘THE EMERGENCY ROOM’, and the door and its frame are made of thick steel. Four large corner handles enabled Kaysone to lock the door airtight from the inside. I enter, and suddenly, I feel very much like I'm back in the days of the cold war. A lone bulb above illuminates this inner room, carved completely out of bedrock. This was Kaysone’s last bunker refuge. Besides another bed and a pair of wooden chairs, a blue pump in the corner reveals the real reason for this room. This hand operated pump, connected to the cave wall wasn’t for water. It was to pump filtered air, in case of chemical attack.

With the long war raging in Southeast Asia, Kaysone was worried that the US Air Force would drop chemical weapons on Viengxay. Although aerial bombings went on for years, the caves were never attacked with chemical weapons. 

I ask my local guide Kale how long Kaysone lived in this cave hideout. 

“Nine years,” he answers.

An air pump is inside this shelter in case of chemical weapon attack

That’s the stock party answer, but it’s an exaggeration. This may have been Kaysone’s 'official' wartime home, but the old party boss also spent much of his time across the border with his patrons in North Vietnam. As the crow flies, it’s only 10 miles to the Vietnamese border, source of the aid that kept his rebellion going. Although bombings were a constant threat, Viengxay was never seriously threatened on the ground. If Kaysone and his cronies ever had been threatened by advancing government troops, (and they weren’t) they would have easily fled across the border to North Vietnam in minutes. 

As I make my way through the damp caves, I’m impressed at the height and width of many of the spacious rooms. This is a much more comfortable underground experience, than when I had to crawl through the pitch black tunnels of Cu Chi in Vietnam. In most places here I can walk fully erect, as I explore the darkened passageways of these historical caves. 

Connecting cave in the labyrinth

Beneath a nearby overhanging rock ledge, is an elevated platform. Two cement blocks the size of feet give away how this spot was used. This was an Asian style squatty potty; Communist Party Chairman Kaysone’s toilet! Since this subterranean world lacked plumbing, there were no sitdown toilets down here. With caves carved out of solid rock, it was impossible to create a pit latrine without stinking up the limestone labyrinth. It seems that Kaysone, and anyone else who sheltered in here during air raids, had to relieve themselves into buckets. These waste filled containers were later carried away by hand, and emptied outside the caves. That had to be one of the least glorious of jobs; disposing of the Great Leader’s excrement. 

My guide Kale leads me down another damp, dimly lit tunnel. Passing through a doorway, it opens up into a large room. Like most communist meeting rooms, it’s austere and basic, although a small opening at the end gives this room better ventilation and lighting. Simple cloth covered tables are surrounded by seven wooden chairs. Old maps hang from the walls. 

A blue sign gives the rooms significance: “MEETING ROOM OF THE CENTRAL COMMITTEE POLITBUREAU OF THE ” Strangely, the sign ends there. Of the what? The Communist Party? It appears that whoever painted the sign, ran out of space to complete the leadership’s full title. 

This well protected cavern, was a nerve center for the Pathet Lao. Here politburo members plotted their revolution, discussing victories and defeats during their long war of rebellion. 

For an added historical touch, standing on the table in front of each seat, is a framed photo of each of the politburo’s members. Unlike certain members of the Vietnamese Politburo that gained international fame and notoriety, most of these men remained practically anonymous to the western world. I wonder if any of them are still alive today. 

The 'politburo' for the Laotian communist party held their meetings here

In an adjoining room, six simple bedframes are lined up in a row. This was the ‘resting room’, for the communist leaders. This was also needed due to the air raids. When the politburo would meet, apparently there were occasional attacks that prevented them from leaving the cavern when the meetings adjourned. 

I’m disappointed that there aren’t many artifacts to see here. Most of the furnishings, weapons, and everything else that the Pathet Lao stored in these caves are long gone. Since the war ended, this hidden sanctuary has remained quiet. 

I leave Kaysone’s lair, and outside the entrance there are plenty of trees and greenery. There is no grand entrance to the cave, no massive steel door either. Sandbags used to protect the entrances are gone too. The entrance now is a natural stone arch, partly blocked by boulders and brush. Except for a nearby cement stairway, you would never guess that this was once the headquarters of communism in Laos. 

A hidden cave's entrance (at left)

After the war in Laos, as the Cold War continued, these caves remained officially secret. They were closed and guarded for years. The Pathet Lao wanted to keep their caveland refuge safe, just in case they were ever needed again. But they weren't needed. In recent years when Laos opened it’s borders to tourists, soon after they opened these caves as well. As I explore the caverns today, there are no guards anywhere. Not one. Even the entrance gate to Kaysone’s cave was left unmanned. That may be due to lack of tourists, since there are no other visitors here either. It is only my guide and I, exploring this obsolete, subterranean world.  

Close to Kaysone’s cave entrance, is what looks like a strange Swiss chalet. Built after the bombing stopped, Kaysone moved in here after the peace was signed in 1973. Along with other nearby government buildings, it now sits empty. The Pathet Lao built his home near the cave entrances for safety. They wanted to be able to run back into the caves, if the bombings had started all over again. They never did. 

F-111s over Southeast Asia. An F-111 was the last US aircraft to bomb Laos.(Source:USAF)

The last USAF bombing mission over Laos was from an F-111, which dropped its bombs on February 22, 1973. The massive American bombing campaign over Laos was finally over. The US military had learned that victory through air power alone, didn’t work. Much of the Laotian countryside had been destroyed, and many were killed. Yet the communists, like these caves, were still here. 

In the end, the winning side in Laos was decided by the extent of continuing military support. The Royal Laotian government was able to survive, as long as they received massive amounts of military aid, and air support from the US. But without American help, they couldn’t survive for long against the North Vietnamese Army. The support of the nearby North Vietnamese, had outlasted the support of the distant Americans. 

SHOOTINGS AT THE BRIDGE

View through window of the tragic bridge shooting site

I’ve departed Vang Vieng in northern Laos, and Route 13 is taking me due south, into the town of Hinh Heup. Slowing down, we approach another of the roads many river crossings. Unlike others this is no small creek; the Nam Lik River is hundreds of feet wide. 

As we cross the old bridge I hear an unexpectedly loud racket beneath our vehicle. It’s the rude sound of clanking metal. The weight of the bus is coming down on each of the crossing’s heavy modular panels, sided with creaking criss-crossed rails. Rather than the huge modern 'Friendship Bridge' that crosses the Mekong River, this structure is built more from an old military style. 

The way across is only a single lane bridge. This may pass for a highway crossing in Laos, but with only one lane this bridge is prone to congestion, which backs up traffic as vehicles wait their turn to cross. 

In 1975 this bridge was the scene of congestion of a different kind: fleeing refugees! As they descended from the mountains, this narrow bridge became the scene of an atrocity wrought on the minority Hmong people. 

Hmong in traditional dress (Source: Wikipedia)

That year, the Pathet Lao communists and their North Vietnamese allies unleashed a major campaign of violent retribution against the Hmong, as punishment for their siding with the Americans and the Royal Laotian Government during the war. Hungry and fearing for their lives, the survivors were fleeing the fighting to the north. An exodus of more than 20,000 Hmong civilians flooded this road south towards Vientiane. 

As they reached this bridge in Hinh Heup, Pathet Lao soldiers blocked their way. Despite their desperate situation, they would not allow the refugee families to cross the bridge to flee to safer regions! 

The Hmong were ordered to return to their homes in the north. With many of their houses already destroyed, the Hmong didn’t have homes left to return to. Desperate with nowhere to go, and with nothing left to lose, the refugees rushed the bridge on May 29th.

The soldiers opened fire. At least five Hmong civilians were shot dead, and dozens were wounded. Rather than returning north, the survivors scattered. Many fled to Thailand by other routes.

As I listen to the banging of the loose steel panels while we drive across the bridge, I look out across the water. Just a couple hundred yards upriver, I can see work underway on a modern two lane bridge, built by a Japanese construction company. 

We reach the far side of the river, and as we drive on I look back to where we have just passed. There is no memorial here at the old bridge, to mark where the massacre happened. Since a new bridge is being built, this old bridge where this atrocity took place may soon be gone as well. 

The rutted highway through Hinh Heup

There may not be a memorial here, marking the site where the civilians were killed that sad day. 

There may always be official denials by the government of Laos, saying that the shootings here on this bridge never happened. 

But the Hmong will always remember. 

HMONG: OUR FORGOTTEN WARTIME ALLY

Beautiful scenery outside the Hmong village of Phantao

With a new day, I’m on my way outside town. I’m looking to explore the province away from the Vang Vieng tourist trap, and I’m glad that I did. The landscape before me is the most picturesque scenery I’ve seen yet in Laos. The path I’m hiking on is sandwiched between lush green rice paddies, terraced one after the other. Steep karst mountains rise beyond, until their peaks are covered with fluffy clouds. High on the steep green hills, patches of bare rock peek out through blankets of tree cover. 

I’m on my way to a village called Phanthao, home to one of the country’s many minority ethnic groups. This particular village is inhabited by a hill tribe group that suffered greatly in Laos over the past 50 years. They call themselves, 'Hmong'. 

Back in 1961 when the war in Laos was heating up, the Pathet Lao and their North Vietnamese allies were growing in strength. To counter this threat, the Royal Laotian Government and their US supporters needed more soldiers in the north. The Laotian Army wasn’t a dependable fighting force, and bringing in American GI’s wasn’t an option. So the CIA found an excellent ally in the highland Hmong. Sometimes referred to as 'Meo', the Hmong were originally from China. Fleeing conflict there, they migrated to the highlands of Southeast Asia in the 19th century. Traditionally animists, there are Hmong minority communities in Laos, Thailand, Myanmar and Northern Vietnam. 

Bomb craters in the north of Laos (Museum photo)

Known as brave fighters, the Hmong fought French colonials for a few years in the early 20th century. Some later joined the French to take on the Viet Minh. After the French departed and the communists continued encroaching on their land, they were willingly recruited by the CIA. In what became known as the ‘Secret War’, the Hmong became America’s best fighting force during the long war in Laos. Usually fighting against the heavily armed North Vietnamese Army, the Hmong’s tactics were familiar. They used the same guerrilla warfare tactics against the Vietnamese, that the Vietnamese used against the US in Vietnam. Suffering heavy losses, the Hmong were gradually forced out of their homelands. In the decade from 1960 – 1970, an estimated 20% of all Hmong in Laos died due to the war and its effects.

The 1973 Paris peace accords to end the Vietnam War, were supposed to include Laos but it wasn’t to be. The NVA were supposed to withdraw from Laos, but they never left, so the war went on. When the CIA left, the Hmong lost their main supporters, and the communists set out to destroy the Hmong resistance. Fighting escalated in 1975 as Hmong villages were attacked, and thousands of civilians were killed. Homes, crops and livestock were destroyed. Thousands of survivors fled to Thailand. Those that remained hid in remote jungle highlands, where fighting continued. America’s war in Southeast Asia was over, but it was only worsening for the Hmong. 

Hiding in the mountains, the Hmong resistance fought Pathet Lao and Vietnamese troops off and on for years. Tactics were often brutal. Hmong refugees arriving in Thailand somberly told of massacres, including attacks on unarmed women and children. Hmong villages were being hit not only with artillery, but also napalm. Some witnesses even reported that the communists were using chemical weapons, known as ‘Yellow Rain’. Reports of atrocities were difficult to verify, since all the fighting took place behind the bamboo curtain in remote mountains. Some Hmong advocates called it genocide. 

Approaching village of Phantao

Even without hard evidence of these atrocities, nobody doubted the Hmong were paying a heavy price for their past alliance with the US. Their fight for survival continued outside the world’s spotlight, as journalists weren’t allowed anywhere near the conflict in Laos. By 1978 major fighting was over, but sporadic attacks against remote Hmong hideouts continued for decades. 

As I head for the Hmong village along narrow dirt paths between flooded rice paddies, I follow my guide, an ethnic Lao. I would have preferred a Hmong guide, but couldn’t find one in Vang Vieng. That may be by design. The Laotian government would rather have me visit a Hmong village with a government approved guide, so they can keep away foreign human rights activists. This also means that the Hmong I meet won’t trust my Lao guide; their conversation will be guarded. 

Entering Phanthao, I find Hmong children playing on the dirt road. I gets curious looks, since few Americans come here. The village is made of single story homes, but most are just shacks. Before moving here, these families were refugees in Nong Khai, Thailand, near where the 'Friendship Bridge' is now. Phanthao has only existed since 1995, when it was built from scratch.

“Government give (them) land for free”, my guide says. The creation of this new Hmong village was partly due to improved relations between Laos and Thailand in the 1990’s. Burdened with so many refugees, Thailand wanted the Laotian government to take them back. In the first wave, 150 Hmong families relocated here to Phanthao; more came in later repatriations. Now the village has about 500 families total. 

Hmong woman doing traditional embroidery

As I walk through the village, I encounter a group of Hmong women, stitching embroidery in the shade of trees. I’m disappointed that they’re not wearing their traditional dark costumes and head dresses. Most wear western clothing. The colorful embroidery they’re creating is traditional; made for belts and sashes worn on special occasions. Approaching, I marvel at their handiwork. The bright colored threads they weave form fantastic diamond-like shapes. There are various sub-groups among the Hmong, each with their own distinct weaving patterns. 

I start chatting with the weaving women. One says that before the war, her family lived in Xieng Khuang Province in the north, the region also known as the Plain of Jars. I ask why she didn’t remain living there. 

“If we stay there, somebody will kill us,” she said, “so we move away.” Like most of the Hmong in the north, her family fled fighting and escaped to Thailand. Later, her family was repatriated to Phanthao, while other relatives gained asylum overseas. I ask where. 

“In Minnesota, and Texas,” she says. I’m not surprised, since the largest diaspora of Hmong are in America. Taking in Hmong refugees was the least that the US could do, since they had abandoned the Hmong to the communists. More than 150,000 resettled in America.

Turning to the woman’s friend, I learn she is also from Xieng Khuang. But she gives a different reason for moving here. She says her family came here for the better farmland. “There they have some bombs (in the farmland)” she says. “It’s easy to make rice fields here.”

Walking through the village I see Hmong going about their daily tasks, but I notice that one age group is missing. There are very few senior citizens. With so many years of war, and with poor living conditions that continue today, the life expectancy of the Hmong is much lower than that of ethnic Lao. I wasn’t seeing many senior citizens, because most rural Hmong never reached old age. 

Hmong children in Phantao

Although large scale fighting ended decades ago, there were still Hmong fighters resisting in remote areas of the mountains, even in recent years. Scattered attacks and clashes between government troops and hold outs continued. Living in primitive hide-outs, and chronically malnourished, it’s amazing that these hardy groups of Hmong were able to survive at all. Some Hmong had lived their entire lives on the run. 

Finally, a recent government amnesty program brought many of them out of the hills. In 2004 more than 700 Hmong, including fighters and their families, surrendered in four different provinces. In 2005 another 170 women, children and old men turned themselves in. After surrendering their old weapons, they were resettled in more populated areas. In 2006 another 400 surrendered, but the fighting still hadn’t ended. In that same year 26 Hmong were reportedly killed in a single attack; most were women and children. I was beginning to wonder, if Hmong resistance had continued for so long, is it possible that there are some Hmong fighting in the mountains yet today?

Continuing my village stroll I come to an irrigation canal, where a group of Hmong children are splashing and swimming. Their differences in clothing are a total contrast. Some of the youngest boys swim naked, while older boys wear only underwear. On the other hand the swimming teenage girls are fully dressed in street clothes, wearing trousers, and long sleeved shirts. Hmong women are very conservative. 

Yes, this is actually a 'restaurant' in Phantao!

Taking a break from our long walk, I grab a seat at a small restaurant by the canal. Calling it a restaurant is a bit of a stretch though. There's no floor, and the ground partly muddy. A stray dog lies under a table, too lazy to chase a chicken strutting past. A large pot of unknown stew bubbles over an open fire. Despite the Spartan conditions, there are still customers. I start chatting with the owner of this humble establishment, who is also from the northern mountains. He left to escape the conflict and the poverty. 

“(My) family sell (our) land, sell everything,” he said. “We have $6,000. Give to man, he say (he would) take us to Europe, or America.” But the human trafficker only took them as far as Thailand, where he disappeared with all their money. With nowhere to go, they spent years in refugee camps, before they were allowed to come back to this resettlement village. 

Despite their past tragedies, the restaurateur and his family are among the lucky ones, since they received land for a home in Phantao when they were repatriated. Life in this rural community is relatively good for the Hmong families here. They own their land, they have electricity, a school, and access to the nearby highway. Phantao is an exception though, since most other Hmong who return to Laos these days don’t want to come back. Sadly, they are being forced. 

Hmong children swim in an irrigation canal

There are still thousands of Hmong refugees in Thailand, and although human rights groups have been objecting, the Thai government has been deporting many of them. The Thais have been claiming that rather than fleeing fighting, they all fled for financial reasons. Human rights advocates say that these refugees are at risk of persecution when they return to Laos. 

“Some Lao people hate Hmong people,” a young Hmong told me later. Suffering from discrimination, the Hmong remain the most persecuted minority in Laos. 

Although most Hmong communities live peacefully today, on both sides there is still a great deal of resentment that remains just below the surface. 

CORRUPTION, DAMS AND GULAGS

Once dry land, the water level has risen due to a dam

Gazing out our vehicle’s window, palm trees wave in the breeze as we cruise down a narrow rural road. While watching the world pass by, I see an odd looking lake in the hills to the east. Out in the brown waters of a lake, are small hilltop islands close to shore; longtail boats cruise their way between them. On one small island, I spot cattle that have been stranded. They have a confused look about them, as they wait to be rescued. That’s when I realize that that this isn’t a natural lake. These waters come and go, and these islands are only temporary. What the cattle are standing on, is really just a hill that became an island after recent rains. This isn’t a natural lake at all, it’s a vast reservoir for the Nam Ngum Dam, north of Vientiane.  

Built with foreign aid, Nam Ngum was built during the war, opened in 1971 to provide hydroelectric power. After the communists took over, the dam’s reservoir took on an additional function: as a prison. The islands held not loose cattle, but Laotians associated with the old regime. Out on larger islands of the reservoir, two prison camps were built. One island prison was for men, another for women. 

When the Pathet Lao took over in 1975, they rounded up an estimated 20,000 – 40,000 Laotians. These included soldiers, policemen, teachers, Royal Laotian Government officials,  and office workers who had worked for westerners. Just as had been done in Vietnam, the prisoners were sent to remote prison camps for ‘re-education’. Added to these 'enemies of the state', were other undesirables that didn’t fit in with the new ‘communist paradise’. Also sent to the bamboo gulags, were prostitutes and opium addicts from Vientiane. 

Fortunately, with the liberalization of government policies, that dark chapter has for the most part passed. The prisons on the reservoir were closed years ago. 

The Nam Ngum resevoir (Photo: 123 rf)

Nam Ngum Dam is still in operation today, and some of the electricity produced provides power for Vientiane. The rest of the electricity is exported to Thailand, and I remember the power lines across the Mekong that I had seen at Friendship Bridge. As a poor landlocked country, Laos has few prospects for development, and hydropower is being pushed even more these days. As one Laotian government official boasted, “Laos will be the battery of Southeast Asia.”

Hydroelectric dams in Laos are controversial, since there is an ongoing boom of dam construction. There are currently seven dam projects under construction in Laos, and even more are being proposed for the countries many rivers. 

One of the larger dams, called the ‘Nam Theun 2’, is currently being built in central Laos, on the Nakai plateau. Although the project is backed by the World Bank, it’s been running behind schedule. Since the Nam Theun River is a tributary to the Mekong, the project has received a great deal of criticism from environmentalists, and sociologists concerned about affected communities. 6,000 villagers from the area have already been relocated to make room for the reservoir, and nobody knows what the long term effects of the dam will be on the environment. Initially I thought that hydroelectric dams would be good for Laos, but an Australian scientist I spoke with in Vientiane convinced me otherwise. 

“Laos doesn’t need any more dams,” he said knowingly. According to him, it wasn’t need that was driving their creation. “A guy shows up with a suitcase full of money,” he said, “then they get approval to build another dam.” 

Hydropower, as well as increased logging and mining, have been a mixed blessing for Laos. The rise in business has brought in much needed foreign capital, and more villages are receiving electrical power. But the Laotian people are still not the main beneficiaries. With the return to Laos of large scale infrastructure projects as well as mining and logging, the resulting rise in corruption was predictable. Local government officials who had been earning less than $100 a month, soon found fat contracts crossing their desks that were worth millions of dollars. 

The Vientiane Times gave one example of the problem. This rare story condemning corruption by government controlled media, is startlingly frank. 

Laotian power lines. Most hydroelectric power here is sold to neighboring Thailand.

“Prosecutors fail to bring corrupt officials to trial

Prosecutors are still unable to bring to trial government officials who break the law and abuse their position of power because of lack of cooperation from the sectors concerned. The Lao People’s Supreme Prosecutors’ Office has identified a number of criminal cases among government officials, ranging from corruption to helping people illegally sell timber and provide land concessions. 

But prosecutors are unable to pursue these cases and submit the results of their inquiries to the court for subsequent trial and judgement because other government agencies do not provide the necessary cooperation, according to a report from the office. At present, the only stop most state agencies take against offending officials is to ask them to make a commitment not to repeat their wrongdoing. Those who commit a serious crime are removed from office without the case going to court. 

The Supreme Prosecutor urges the government to use its administrative powers to address the isue, saying unless it does so people will lose confidence in the leadership of the Party and government.”

With the lack of accountability, the Laotian judicial system is failing to reduce corruption. It’s no wonder that Transparency International’s 2012 Corruption Perception Index ranked Laos as 160th out of 174 countries in the world. That makes Laos more corrupt than Vietnam. 

Since Laos lacks high tech professionals, it continues to be foreigners supervising the work on these big projects. I recall a dinner in Vientiane, where I met Tatiana, a twenty-something Moscovite who had been here for a year.

“I work for construction company, (they) build dam,” she said from behind her glasses. She told me that even though the dam wasn’t yet finished, the power had already been sold to Thailand. 

Although Tatiana enjoyed her work, she didn’t like Laos. In less than a week, she would go back to Russia for vacation. She missed home, and missed Russian cuisine. But it wasn’t just the food that made Tatiana dislike Laos. She'd been sick lately, home in bed for a week with a bad fever. “I had ra tifis,” she said.

“Excuse me?” I said. “Sorry, I don’t understand.” She repeated herself a few times, and I finally got her meaning. 

“Oh!” I said realizing, “Rat Typhus!!!”

That poor young lady. She came all the way here to work in a foreign country, and ended up with a disease transmitted by vermin. I’m enjoying my time in Laos, but I wouldn't be surprised, if Tatiana never came back from her vacation. 

THE 'WAR AFTER THE WAR' AND THE DRONE

USSR built Kamaz truck, damaged by US cluster bomb attack

A dark green, Soviet made Kamaz 66 truck is in front of me, and it's a battle scarred ruin. Full of countless holes and dents, it was hit in a cluster bomb attack in northern Laos during the war. 

It’s a new day, and once again I’m seeing the effect of cluster bombs. When I went to the COPE center, I saw what cluster bombs did to Laotian civilians.  Here in the 'Lao People’s Army History Museum', I see what a cluster bomb did to a communist vehicle. A laminated caption with bad grammar tells the story: 

“In 1971, Camrade BounLap, a brave driver, of the 3rd Squadron of the 2nd Company of the Battalion 402 drove the truck to deliver ammunitions from Nonghaed District to Combat Operation Command...
in difficulties of the three serious days and nights admist enemy’s bombings, but he bravely broke through and safely arrived the destination even he was hit by US bombies”

Looking over this old Russian beast, there are numerous jagged shrapnel holes throughout the body of the truck. Most of the windows were blown out. With all this damage, I’m seeing visually how exploding 'bombie' shrapnel from cluster bombs could penetrate even thick steel. I doubt the caption’s dubious claim that the driver delivered his cargo of ammunition after the attack. Judging by all the shrapnel holes above the driver’s seat and through the driver’s door, he would have been very lucky to have survived at all. If this truck really had been carrying a cargo of ammunition, the bombies probably would have ignited them and blown the truck sky high. 

So when were General MacArthur & the USS Missouri in landlocked Laos?? (museum photo)

As I wander about and check out the army museum, I find most exhibits are similar to what I’ve seen in museums of Vietnam. Display cases are filled with the US made weapons, captured from Royal Laotian Army troops. There are also propaganda photos of Pathet Lao troops, posing and fighting. Some show real action, but others were obviously staged, presented as authentic. 

A caption beneath one photo is almost laughable. It has the following text: “Japanese fascist troops were defeated in Laos in 1945.” The photo here was not taken in Laos at all, it was taken in Tokyo Harbor. What the photo actually shows, is the Japanese signing their official surrender to the American military on the deck of the USS Missouri! That’s a long way from Laos. 

Vietnamese guerrilla weapons captured in 1989

Making my way upstairs, I learn about a surprising chapter in the history of Laotian and Vietnamese conflict, which occurred long after the Vietnam War was officially over in 1975. 

On display are captured rifles made in the US and USSR, from a little known conflict in southern Laos. The cases are full of captured evidence: binoculars, radios, documents, a canteen and compass. I quickly notice that some of these items are marked with a forbidden insignia: the red and yellow striped flag of the former Republic of Vietnam. These were captured from a rebel group called the 'National United Front for the Liberation of Vietnam', a group well known in Vietnamese expatriate circles.

From 1987 – 1989, this group of anti-communist Vietnamese guerillas from refugee families inflitrated the southern Laotian provinces of Saravanh and Xekong. They hoped to establish safe havens in southern Laos, and then from there infiltrate Vietnam, just as the Viet Cong had done years before. The bold aim of these insurgents was to restore the former government of the Republic of Vietnam. 

Led by a former Navy Admiral from South Vietnam, Hoang Co Minh, the group crossed from Thailand into Laos, where there were a series of attacks and skirmishes. Hoang and as many as 100 of the rebels were killed. Others were caught and given long prison sentences in Vietnam, where some of them still are today. The Vietnamese and Laotian casualties from this hidden campaign aren’t publicly known. 

Other photos and exhibits here highlight the most recent conflicts Laos has had with their old nemesis, Thailand. This battle also happened during the 1980’s, when tensions flared up over small amounts of territory in the northern Laotian province of Xaynabouly. Fighting broke out 

Captured drone from the Thailand - Laos border battles of the late 1980's

in Botene and Paklay, and these weren’t just little border clashes. The casualties from these armed confrontations reached well into the hundreds. 

One caption beneath an old 23 mm anti-aircraft gun here boasts of Laotian success, “In 1987 – 1988 it was used to fight enemy at Botene battlefield which shot down 11 aircrafts of the Thai extreme rightist troops.” In an age of guided missiles, that’s an unlikely number. 

Captured during that time, is something I’ve never seen before: a pilotless drone! We know a great deal about drones today, but in the 1980's they were almost unknown. Used by the Thais, it must have landed somewhere on Laotian territory during the brief border conflict. Much more primitive than a Predator drone, this drone is far smaller. Driven by a propeller, it has a split tail. A camera sticks out of the nose; it was obviously used for reconnaissance. I wonder, who built it?

Statue of Pathet Lao fighters. Apparently some fought with crossbows and spears??

Although the current peace between Thailand and Laos is much improved, there are still occasional incidents from violent groups that are beyond the control of both governments. In 2000, a group of around 60 Laotian rebels crossed over from Thailand at the Chong Mek border crossing, and took over the Laotian border post. They were hoping for a popular uprising, which never materialized. The Laotian Army opened fire and killed five insurgents, while the rest fled back to Thailand. The Laotian government blamed the Thai government, and used the incident to crack down further on local dissent.

After seeing all of the museum, I found some chapters of their military history are missing. There is little information on the long war that the ‘People’s Liberation Army’ waged against one of the country’s own ethnic minority groups, the Hmong. 

I also didn’t find any displays on the thousands of North Vietnamese soldiers who died in Laos, as they fought alongside the Pathet Lao, against the Laotian army and their US supporters. They didn’t give credit where credit is due; the Pathet Lao never would have taken over the country without the help of the North Vietnamese Army. Their only tribute shown to the Vietnamese, is a bust of Ho Chi Minh. 

I wonder if their absence of appreciation shown here, is a reflection of the dislike that many Laotians still feel for Vietnam today. 

MEKONG RIVER AND THE FAILED PEACE

Late afternoon overlooking the Mekong River

It’s late afternoon, and I’ve taken a seat on a wooden platform, high on the riverbank. The river’s waters are calm, and the slow but steady current flows by silently. The sun drops behind a cloud upriver, as it continues its descent toward distant trees.

A few Laotian couples are also present along the riverside, taking in the romantic view, sitting in pairs atop their parked motorbikes. There are no deep kisses in public here; Laotians are too conservative for that. The young lovers cuddle together, talking quietly in the late afternoon.

Soon the sun peeks out from beneath a grey cloud, and heads for the horizon. Before it does, it casts its warm yellow glow across the serene scene. Sunset on the Mekong.

I have a view of the river that's almost horizon to horizon. As always, the Mekong River is impressive. Yet here river traffic is light, with few boats to be seen. I remember the busy floating market I'd seen down in the Mekong Delta

A longboat heads upstream on the Mekong River

in Vietnam, but here there are only three small boats, each with a lone fisherman aboard. The only others out are four fishermen wading the shallows.

As one of the world’s great rivers, the mighty Mekong seems vastly underused, at least here in Vientiane. When the French colonists took over Laos, their explorers marveled at the size of the Mekong, raving at its potential for commerce. Their surveyors believed they had found a new trading route north into China, where the great river originates. That potential was never realized.

Leaving my river side perch, I walk along Quai Fa Ngum, the city’s river front road. A couple blocks on, I come across an imposing, new red roof building constructed with familiar Asian architecture. In a landscaped planter out front, red flowers are carefully arranged to spell, “MRC". These are the offices of the Mekong River Commission.

Formed by Laos, Cambodia, Thailand and Vietnam, the commission was founded in 1995. According to the MRC, they are

Headquarters of Mekong River Commission in Vientiane

working, “for sustainable development”, with a vision for, “an economically prosperous, socially just and environmentally sound Mekong River Basin”. This vision has little resemblance to the current reality in Southeast Asia, especially related to the environment.

With growing populations, these countries that line the Mekong’s river banks need more and more of the great river’s water for agriculture and hydropower. There are 11 proposed dams in the area, an ongoing threat to the environment and wildlife. Given the levels of corruption in Southeast Asia, the future of the Mekong is anybody’s guess. 

World Wildlife Fund reports Irrawaddy Dolphins are at risk of being eliminated from the Mekong River. Less than 80 of these rare animals are left here. The dolphins' immune systems seem to be suffering from river contaminants. I once asked an Australian environmentalist about their chances of survival on the river. “It doesn’t look good,” he said. “The river is just too polluted.”

Decaying ex-offices of International Commission for Supervision and Control (ICSC)

A block past the MRC, the pavement turns to dirt and I find the remnants of another Laotian commission in an abandoned three story building. Back in the day, this was one of the more modern office buildings in town. Now it’s just a crumbling shell, overgrown with weeds. Despite its decrepit present condition, this was once a place of great political importance in Laos.

These were the offices of the International Commission for Supervision and Control. (ICSC) Born out of the 1954 Geneva Agreement that ended the French war in Vietnam, the ICSC was supposed to monitor and verify terms to end the conflict in Laos as well, and keep the country neutral. It was hoped this independent commission would aid with the integration of Pathet Lao rebels into the Royal Laotian Government. 

Since the conflict dragged on for two decades, what was supposed to be a short mission for the ICSC dragged on as well. Like most of the peace attempts in Southeast Asia at the time, there were good intentions, but the ICSC was over politicized, with little means of enforcement. Made up of teams from Canada, India and Poland, their monitors were rarely allowed into rebel areas to verify if the Pathet Lao were following the treaty’s terms. Often, they weren’t. As for dealing with their opposites in Vientiane, the ICSC had to deal with multiple changes in government, due to frequent coups. 

In the end, Laos was unfortunately just a pawn, and it was outside forces that determined the end of the war in Laos. When the Paris Peace Accords ended America’s war in Vietnam in 1973, a cease fire in Laos was signed less than a month later under pressure. After more agreements, communists became part of a coalition government. Soon, Vientiane’s residents woke to the bizarre sight of Pathet Lao troops patrolling the streets jointly with police of the Royal Laotian Government. (RLG)

Pathet Lao Politburo meeting to seize power in 1975 (museum photo)

What should've been a power sharing agreement between the two opposing groups was soon subverted by the Pathet Lao. No longer stuck in the jungle, the communists gradually took over the central government by orchestrating riots and demonstrations. Subverting the government from within, they gradually forced RLG ministers out of their jobs Most fled to exile.

On November 28th of 1975, Prime Minister Souvanna Phouma finally resigned. By then the Pathet Lao had already declared to the populace that Vientiane had been ‘liberated’. The reality was that individual liberties were ending. With their takeover complete and the war over, Laos became the final domino to fall in Southeast Asia.

With the conflict finished the teams of foreign monitors left for home, and the ICSC closed its doors. I look at this hollow derelict, and familiar yellow colonial paint is faded and peeling. Left to the elements and the homeless, even the doors and windows have been looted. Green grass grows on the top balcony. 

Seeing movement near the back, I notice this building isn’t totally empty. Just outside, four construction workers are taking bucket showers in their underwear. Peering up through the windows, I see more signs of life. Laborers are hauling building materials inside. It seems that this old derelict is being reborn, as they prepare to renovate.

Heading back the way I came, I pass the Mekong River Commission on my way home. These ‘Commissions’ didn’t seem to have a very successful record in Laos. The ICSC’s mission failed, and so did the chances for democracy Laos.

I sincerely hope that the Mekong River Commission is far more successful.

BATTLE ZONE REMAINS

How does this guy keep from tipping over?

The Densavan bus station isn’t much by western standards. It's just a dirt lot surrounded by ramshackle restaurants. But this station is my only way out of town. The next rickety bus won't leave for for an hour, so I look for a car to take me deeper into Laos. Finding none, I locate the next best thing: a pickup truck. I agree on a fare with the driver, and his grey haired friend hops into the back to come along for the ride. (I learn more of this mysterious passenger later.) Soon we’re headed west on Highway 9.
 
The greenery scenery is amazing in this part of Laos, with banana and palm trees dotting the landscape. I’d heard this region was rugged, but the topography isn’t very mountainous, its more like rolling hills. Cruising the countryside, we pass five slow moving motorbikes packed with bananas! These banana bikes are so heavily loaded, it seems difficult for them to stay balanced. I’m surprised they don’t blow a tire from all the weight they’re carrying.

After passing an old water filled bomb crater, we slow for road construction. A backhoe is digging into a hill to make a highway drainage ditch. After the earthmover dumps its load, two barefoot boys lurking nearby jump right onto the fresh dirt piles. Each boy carries a primitive metal detector in one hand, and a probe in the other. They sweep the detectors back and forth over the newly disturbed earth, looking for very dangerous buried treasure. 


What they are seeking, is bomb shrapnel from old American air raids. Although this road is now a paved roadway, this stretch of Highway 9 used to be a major transport

Laotian boy searches for bomb shrapnel with a metal detector

route along the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

According to United States Air Force bombing data, there were more than 500,000 bombing missions over Laos during the Vietnam War, and the heaviest concentration of bombing was here in the southeast. That left tons of old bomb shrapnel scattered across the countryside. This region of Laos is so dirt poor, that selling scrap metal from the war became one of the few jobs available here besides farming. Since this is so dangerous, it’s illegal to dig for scrap metal in most parts of Laos, but enforcement is lax. Children like these sometimes find unexploded ordinance as they search for shrapnel, and occasionally the old bombs explode. It’s a very hazardous occupation.

In Laos, scrap metal sells for the equivalent of about US $ 0.12 per pound. A cheap metal detector can be bought for only 100,000 kip (US $11), so some kids get a loan to buy a metal detector, and pay it off with the scrap they find in the first couple of weeks. That is, if they don’t get blown up first.
 
Leaving the diggers we get back up to speed, and I begin seeing local dwellings, along with hill tribe folk wearing dark traditional clothing. Like their breathren

A hill tribe house on stilts

in the Vietnamese highlands, most hill tribe houses are on stilts. Some are little more than shacks, and many poverty stricken villages away from the highway lack electricity. Since Laos is landlocked and mountainous, many primitive Laotian communities remained isolated from the outside world for centuries. With so many ethnic groups and different languages here, the idea of Laos as a country with its present borders didn’t really come about until the French colonists arrived. In some parts of Laos, slavery still existed even into the 20th century. Laos as we know it today is a relatively recent creation.

Like homes in Densavan, rooftops along Highway 9 are corrugated metal, or traditional thatch. Some hill tribe villages still bear evidence from those bombings decades ago. Rooftops can still be seen today, bizarrely decorated with tail fins from old US bombs. Their superstition was that these adornments would protect their homes from aerial attack. Back when the US were bombing the Ho Chi Minh Trail daily, there were few targeting restrictions around here. Technology was not as advanced as they are today, so there were numerous targeting errors. Since North Vietnamese convoys were usually hidden under camouflage, it was sometimes the hill tribe villages out in the open that were targeted. The resulting destruction for the hill tribes was catastrophic.
 

Fire along Highway 9

Continuing down the highway, I see black, billowing smoke ahead. Driving closer, I see a fire burning near the road. Flames shoot 10 feet in the air from a bonfire of burning brush. This is an annual occurrence in southeast Laos, as farmers clear land for agriculture. But this is not without its hazards. As families grow, and new land is cleared for farming, rural farmers occasionally strike buried unexploded bombs with plows or hand tools. When they accidentally strike a live round, the result is injuries or fatalities. This left many hill tribe farmers afraid to clear new fields for agriculture. The presence of buried unexploded ordinance has seriously hindered the post-war recovery of Laos.

We finally reach my destination, the town of Ban Dong. As towns go, it’s not very developed. A large pig wanders down the highway, and a group of goats scatter as my truck passes. Despite the livestock on the loose, this is one of the district's larger towns. Almost everything I see was built after the war’s end. During the bombing years, every building in town was blasted into oblivion. Ban Dong is now reborn as a settlement of single story homes, a mere blip on Highway 9.

My driver pulls into a local café, with a makeshift gas station out front. I chuckle at the primitive gas pump; an old style hand operated pump , much like US gas pumps of the 1920’s. Just across the street, an old vehicle looks even more out of place. Lying just up the hill, is an American made M-41 tank! The rusty old behemoth sits just beyond a fence, near a government building under construction.

Old US made M-41 tank, left in Ban Dong after battle in 1971

The gate isn’t locked, and nobody's around, so my little entourage and I go inside. Approaching the rusty hulk, I carefully climb up on the tank, taking care not to get burned. The tank's steel surface is burning to the touch from sunlight. You could easily cook an egg on the scorching hot metal of this tank. It must have been a very hot, dangerous life for tank crewmen back during the war. Since armored vehicles drew a lot of enemy fire, tank crews had a casualty rate even higher than the infantry.

Looking on the side of the metal monster, I see it wasn’t left here due to mechanical breakdown. This tank took an armor piercing communist round right in the side. One flank of the tank has twisted steel where the treads used to be. This field in the middle of nowhere, was the site of a major battle in Laos back in 1971. The military called this campaign, ‘Operation Lam Son 719’.
 
In 1971 the US military was reducing its ground forces in Vietnam, hoping to make the ARVN (South Vietnam Army) self-sufficient. Trying to maintain pressure on the North Vietnamese, the ARVN crossed from Vietnam into Laos to attack the Ho Chi Minh Trail. ARVN troops and armored columns penetrated deep into Laos, with the US providing air support. The ARVN drove all the way here to Ban Dong, where they quickly built a fire support base. Communist spies may have tipped off the NVA that they were coming, because the plan soon unraveled.

Since the NVA were already here in Laos, they had tanks of their own, plus thousands of ground troops. They attacked the ARVN’s fire support bases, including here in Ban Dong. As happened time and again during the Vietnam War, the ARVN had to be rescued by the US military. They evacuated ARVN troops by air, and bombed the NVA as ARVN units retreated. The surviving ARVN crossed back into Vietnam, where I had crossed into Laos east of here. The invasion failed to route the NVA. From then on, the communists controlled the Ho Chi Minh Trail until the war's end. 

USSR made anti-aircraft gun, with barrels from captured artillery to the right

5,000 ARVN were killed around these hills, and the NVA probably lost more. 200 Americans were dead or missing, plus the US/ARVN side lost many helicopters and armored vehicles. In their hasty retreat, the ARVN left their damaged tanks and jeeps behind in this Band Dong field. Nearly all of them were cut up and sold for scrap by the desperately poor locals after the war. Of all those vehicles left here abandoned, only this gutted tank remains. The hatch covers and tank treads are long gone, along with most of the engine.
 
Hopping off the tank, I approach a pile of metal tubes lying in the field. Drawing closer, I find they aren’t tubes at all, they are the barrels of eight old US made howitzers, all lined up in a row. These were also captured by the NVA when the ARVN troops left their artillery behind.

Nearby an old Soviet made anti-aircraft gun points skyward, never to fire at American aircraft again. An old artillery round is sticking out of the barrel, left by some jokester. At the Russian gun's base, are disarmed US dud bombs. There are

Old US bombs, duds dropped on Laos during the war

literally tons of steel here, 250 lb, 500 lb, and 750 lb bombs lie together, jumbled into a military scrap heap. Green weeds grow between the rusted brown bombs. Yellow butterflies flit about over this now peaceful field.

Leaving this quiet compound, I exit the gate, and head for the the café across the street. I’m joined by the two Laotians who brought me here, and it turns out that the grey haired gent who sat in the flat bed speaks some English. As I drink a soda, I learn his story.

His name is Vanh, and he says he owns a small trading shop. His English is limited, but enthusiastic nonetheless. He practices with me energetically. “Hello! How do you do? Very well, thank you!” Vanh  speaks to me with an intentionally comic energy, and I respond laughing.

In turn, he teaches me some Laotian. “Sabadee!” Vanh says. I’ve already learned that means 'hello'. “Kop Chai!” he says. That means, ‘thank you’. 

As we chat, I'm shocked to learn that

US made weapons in Vientiane museum captured from ARVN troops at battle of Lam Son 719

decades ago, Vanh was also a Pathet Lao soldier! Pathet Lao means, ‘Land of the Lao’, and back during the war years it was the communist insurgent group fighting the Royal Laotian Government, America’s ally at the time. 

Through broken English and sign languge, I gather that back in Vanh’s soldier days, he was based further south in Laos during the war. He wasn’t here in Ban Dong, when the fighting raged in 1971. Since the ARVN and US forces attacked the Ho Chi Minh Trail used by the North Vietnamese Army, the Pathet Lao were happy to let the NVA do the dirty work for them.

Since I already have a driver and I’m not paying Vanh, I’m curious as to why he's tagging along with me today. Since he's an Ex-Pathet Lao, I wonder, was he sent along to spy on me? 

My presence here may have raised some eyebrows. There are few lone foreigners that stop in this remote corner of Laos, and even fewer are American.

We finish our drinks, and climb back into the truck. There isn’t much more to see in this poor rural place, and I leave Ban Dong to continue my journey. There is much more for me to do farther to the north, in the Laotian capital of Vientiane.