SWORDS INTO PLOWSHARES, BOMBS INTO TOOLS

"They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks" - Isaiah 2: 4

These metal posts are made from US made cluster bomb casings dropped during the war

A light rain falls as our 4X4 pulls into Tha Chok, a Hmong farming village in northern Laos. Only the main road through town is paved, the rest are muddy dirt roads. Exiting the SUV, I step around puddles and walk into the village. The homes are humble; I see evidence of rural poverty. Most houses are wooden, with traditional thatch rooftops. Life has been improving here though; six months ago electrical power lines finally arrived. It’s a developmental milestone, though most living here cannot afford to buy appliances.

As we approach a village farmhouse, my guide points to a small wooden shack built on top of stilts. He explains why the shacks are elevated; nobody lives in them, they are for food storage.  “They put rice inside,” he explains. “They keep away the rat.”

Although the elevated storage shacks are wooden, the stilts supporting them are made from far different material; metal. They are remnants of the war; each of the four stilts are made from the split half of a cluster bomb casing! They have been turned up on one end, and buried into the ground. The smooth metal surface ensures that rats can’t climb them to reach the rice! 

This cluster bomb casing has been turned into an elevated onion planter!

Walking to another nearby house, a cluster bomb case has been put to other agricultural use: as a planter! I approach the strange elevated planter, wondering what's growing inside. 

Hmong children eye me curiously as I lean over and take a whiff. Onions! By the looks of them, they’ll be ready for harvesting soon. 

This strange display of former military hardware isn’t over, there’s more down the road. My guide leads me into the yard of another nearby house. One long wall of the home’s fence, is made entirely of cluster bomb casings, sitting on one end, lined up one after another. Incredible! There are more than 20, with varying degrees of rust. The fence leans over from all the weight, appearing as though it may collapse. 

Also in the same yard, a separate cluster bomb casing protrudes from the ground, with a tire around it. Sitting on top of it, teathered by its neck, is a small monkey. This cluster bomb case is the monkey’s jungle gym. My presence seems to excite the unfortunate pet. The monkey climbs up and down his metallic home. This has to be the most bizarre use of war refuse that I’ve seen yet. 

Bomb casing is now monkey's jungle jim

Dropped here during the war by the US Air Force, old cluster bombs are tragically still killing Laotian civilians today. My guide says there used to be more cluster bomb casings here before. But with the village so poor, many were sold for scrap.

As we continue walking around the village, he points out a couple of partially detonated old bombs. Split wide open, they now serve as animal feeding troughs! 

Still there’s more. My guide takes me into a small shack, the neighborhood 'blacksmith' shop. Given the poverty here, there is no giant bellows, no fiery furnace. The Hmong blacksmith working here makes due with a fire on an elevated metal table. He doesn’t have an anvil either, for this he has improvised. He has pounded a post into the ground, and covered the top with a strong metal cap made from a military casing; this is his pounding post. I watch as he works on his creation for today: a long knife. It makes a loud metallic racket, as he pounds away at it with a heavy hammer. 

The raw material for this knife, is metal from unexploded ordinance (UXO)! He fashions many other household tools and farming implements this way. (I recall one of my previous meals on the Plain of Jars. I had soup, with an aluminum spoon that had an odd appearance from being hammered into shape. It had been handmade, fashioned from a crashed US aircraft.)

I’m amazed at the ingenuity of the Hmong in these poor villages. They have taken what were once hazardous bomb materials, and then adapted them to suit their needs. Their inventions are used not just for their homes, but also their livelihoods. There are so many cluster bomb casings around this village, it’s obvious that major fighting took place here. I wonder how much UXO still remains here...

Crude fence of cluster bomb casings. There was heavy fighting here during the war.

A local Hmong walks into the blacksmith shack, and I start up a conversation. He’s a farmer, and lived here even before the war. When the conflict came he fled, hiding out with others in caves, and in the forest. When the war finished, he returned. He now has five children. Working as a farmer, he had found bombs when clearing land. 

“What kind of bombs did you find?” I asked him.

“They were all bombies,”(cluster bomblets) he said.

“How many did you find?”

He thinks for a few moments, and replies, “about 10.”

“What did you do with them?”

“I would take them, put them in a campfire, and then run. Sometimes the bombie would crack open. Sometimes nothing happen. Sometimes they explode. It explode so big, the whole fire go out.”

Rusted remains of 'bombie'

This was his crude method of bomb disposal, and fortunately he didn’t die in the process. It wasn’t just bombies that are a buried threat here. In a nearby village, another farmer was killed while he was out tilling his fields. His died when his plow struck an old mortar round. Who would have thought that farming in Laos would be such a dangerous job?

Shaking the brave farmers hand, I bid him goodbye, and we start walking back through the village. Passing more homes, I spot another thatched roof house, with strangely metallic walls. 

Town blacksmith makes a living reworking war refuse into tools, such as this knife

My guide points, saying, “Look, the walls made with UXO.” Sure enough. Rather than the usual wooden planked walls that the neighbors have, these walls are made of metal. Since they have been hammered out flat and pieced together, it’s difficult to make out what their origin was. Most likely, they were fashioned from cluster bomb containers, or from drop tanks used for surplus jet fuel. 

Passing another simple home, my guide says, “Old man live here, he used to grow opium in his garden, for personal use. He died, so don’t have any more.”

It’s not surprising that the old Hmong that lived here grew opium openly, since Laotian hill tribes had used opium for years in traditional ceremonies. During the war, the US military and CIA were unfairly blamed for the Laotian opium trade. The fact is, opium had been grown and traded in Laos for generations before Americans arrived. When French colonials were here, they encouraged opium production as a cash crop. 

Hmong teenagers in traditional attire

As part of the ‘Golden Triangle’, Laotian opium eventually found its way into western countries in its more refined form: heroin. The opium trade wasn’t even outlawed in Laos until 1971, but it’s still a scourge today, part of the underground economy. 

As we head back towards the main road, we come across a pair of young Hmong women wearing traditional Hmong outfits. They look stunning; it seems I’ve stumbled upon a family photos shoot. Their skirts are multi-colored, and hand woven. A long, belt like garment hangs low from around their waist, highlighted in pink, white and red. Their outfits are topped with a black and white hat that resembles a turban. 

The only thing that is of western style in their outfits, are their low heeled shoes. 

Like many Asians, these Hmong girls are short in stature; each stands well below my shoulder. But size doesn’t matter here, their outfits are reminiscent of royalty. If I didn’t know any better, I would have guessed that they were both princesses. 

This village may not be rich, but the Hmong people still dress up for special occasions. The ethnic Hmong have endured a great deal of hardship over the years, but they are still very proud of their culture. 

DESTRUCTION ON THE ANCIENT 'PLAIN OF JARS'

Plain of Jars Site 1. The purpose of these ancient stone monuments is a mystery.

A light rain falls as I make my way along a soggy path towards a grassy hill. Muddy water from the trail is splashing all over, leaving my shoes cargo pants thoroughly muddied. But I could care less about the stains; I’m excited about what I see ahead of me. 

Reaching the top of the hill, I’m surrounded by signs of an ancient civilization! These remnants are enormous jars, made of solid stone. The jars are magnificent; immense in size. Each ways several tons, and has been carved out of a single giant block of sedimentary rock. A couple are so massive, that they stand taller than me. These giant jars are what gave the ‘Plain of Jars’ its name here in northern Laos. 

These mysterious stone relics are thousands of years old, and running my fingers across them, I can’t help but wonder. How on earth did such primitive people create these? Why were they brought to the top of this hill? What were they used for? The answers to all these questions have been lost to history. 

Large stone jar destroyed during 1964 - 1973 war

The jars are dark in color, spotted with whitish fungi. I peer inside the jars for a look. Whatever their ancient contents were, they are long gone. Now most of them have algae and small plants growing inside, with rain water pooling in the bottom. Some jars have immense stone covers lying next to them, though few of these remain. Curiously, they are shaped much like the covers of modern aluminum garbage cans. 

The people who lived here on the Plain of Jars during ancient times were not ethnic Lao, and they weren’t Hmong either. Nobody knows who they were, where they came from, or where they went. These weighty relics are some of the only remnants left from their lost and ancient culture. 

The location of this anthropological riddle, is known as Site 1, and like other jar sites scattered across the plateau nobody knows for sure what its use was. Most experts agree that the jars had some sort of burial function, since human remains and artifacts have been found beneath some sites. But not everyone agrees with that theory; one local told me that the giant jars were really used to make whiskey! 

Huge crater from bomb that destroyed or damaged many ancient stone jars

For years the jars’ origin was also a mystery, until a quarry with unfinished jars was found recently west of the region. But the quarry’s discovery created another mystery. If the wheel wasn’t in use yet during those ancient times, how is it that they were able to bring these heavy stone jars here from so many miles away?

The rain lightens, and I look out at the open country surrounding the hilltop. Like most of the Plain of Jars, the countryside is rolling hills covered with green grass, dotted with a few trees. More stone jars are situated across a ridge and nearby field. Site 1 has more than 300 of these mysterious jars. 

Walking through wet grass to another side of the hill, I find some jars that were here are gone. In their place, is an immense bomb crater, and the rain runoff has formed a rising puddle in the bottom. The crater is deep enough that if I stood in the bottom, I wouldn’t be able to see above the sides. 

Standing on the crater’s edge, I spot a lone stone jar further down the hill, further away from the rest. Lying on its side, it was probably thrown down there from the blast force that created this crater. Although these jars survived the weather and ravages of nature for millenia, they couldn’t withstand the ravages of war. 

As I walk about the hill I count 10 of the giant jars as undamaged, but most of the rest have been cracked or destroyed. Some have been chopped in two, or blown into many pieces from the heavy aerial attacks. One jar still standing upright, has a telltale hole blown into its side. 

Lower left warning marker, left by deminers. Down path on right are unexploded bombs!

This hill once had religious significance for the ancients, but during the 1964 - 1973 war this high ground drew foot soldiers, who found it a defensible position. Digging trenches into the hillside, fighters shared this hilltop with the 2,000 year old stone jars. When the battle came, it was fierce and powerful. 

As the jars were blown apart, defenders died here alongside them. In the ebb and flow of the 'Secret War', nobody knows how many men died up here.

The Plain of Jars was strategic for holding northern Laos, so the communists coveted it. As it was also a home for thousands of ethnic Hmong, they fought to keep it from the invading North Vietnamese Army (NVA). So control of the Plain of Jars shifted back and forth between the warring sides several times during the war, depending on the season. During the dry season, the NVA and Pathet Lao mounted large scale attacks, gaining ground across the plateau. During the wet season roads turned to mud, much like today. Moving heavy weapons, troops and supplies became difficult for the communists. That’s when the Hmong gained the upper hand, since they were resupplied by air from CIA planes and helicopters. During rainy season, they forced the communists back, and the territory was theirs again for another season. 

Besides bomb damage to the old jars, other evidence of heavy fighting remains. Along another corner of the hillside a trench line is still visible in the deep grass. Much like in the old craters, erosion is taking over, and the earthen fortifications are gradually disappearing. The evidence of war is fading from this archaic site, while the sturdy stone jars continue to stand guard. 

At base of hill, cave was used by communist side to hide weapons from air raids

I’m glad I was able to make it to this site now, because years back, it was too dangerous to even walk up here. As a former battlefield, the hill was literally littered with tons of unexploded bombs. Hoping to lure tourists to the Plain of Jars, the government brought in the non-profit organization known as MAG: the Mines Advisory Group. Specializing in finding and removing landmines and unexploded bombs, MAG worked Site 1 for three months. By the time they left, they had found and cleared 127 unexploded bombs, along with 21,814 pieces of shrapnel! 

Further down the hill from the jars, I spot the dark entrance to a cave. Walking down a path for a look, I notice red and white markers on both sides of the trail. These markers are from the bomb disposal teams. The white sides of the rocks mark safe areas, while the red sides point to the danger zones. Although a great deal of UXO was removed from Site 1, there are still many areas that haven’t been cleared yet. Unexploded bombs remain hidden underneath the thick wet grass. 

Reaching the cave entrance, a young Laotian boy is playing with rocks, while his father looks on. Next to the opening is a small Buddhist ceremonial spirit house, with stubs of incense left in remembrance. 

Buddhist spirit house with incense at cave entrance

Peering into the darkness, I find it’s not a very large cavern, thought it did have an important function during the war years. Used by the Pathet Lao, the cavern made a great air raid shelter, and was a convenient place to safely store ammunition. Apparently American pilots knew this, since a few bomb craters are outside the entrance,  left by pilots that tried to destroy the cave and its contents. 

Since this cave is so close to the stone jars, the ancients probably used it too. My guide tells me he believes they used to burn fires inside the cave to cremate their dead, burying the bones up by the jars afterwards.

Circling past a ridgeline, I pass more of the mysterious jars. Before departing, I look back at the first hill of jars that I climbed earlier. New visitors have arrived, holding umbrellas due to the rain. From a distance, the jars resemble headstones. I’ve seen this scene before. With people under umbrellas, atop a hill with stone monuments around them, it looks just like a cemetery funeral.

Maybe there is something to that old theory after all. 

TOWN FULL OF BOMBS

Old bombs and weapons from the war are piled together in Phonsavan

I’m in the remote northern Laotian province of Xieng Khuang. The previous provincial capital here was bombed heavily during the war in the 60’s – 70’s. It was so completely destroyed, that afterwards the capital was relocated, to the small town of Phonsavan where I’ve just arrived. Most of what I'm seeing has been constructed in recent years. Driving down Phonsavan’s main street, I find most hotels have the most bizarre choice of decorations. Out in front of the various hotels and guesthouses, are old bombs, weapons, and other war refuse! They are displayed outside their front doors, and out in their gardens. 

Later, I will see them inside hotel lobbies, and even mounted on the walls of their restaurants. There are literally, tons and tons of old bombs sitting outside their doorways. They include the deadly little round bombies, grenades, mortar rounds and artillery shells. There is also a whole range of US made aircraft ordinance: 250 pounders, 500 pounders, 750 pounders. There is even a monstrous 1000 pound bomb. Strangely, this is the local way of attracting tourist business. 

Buddhist temple bell, made from old US bomb

Since the Plain of Jars that surrounds this town was the key to controlling northern Laos, the North Vietnamese Army fought the American backed Hmong forces tooth and nail all over this region for years. Control over this plateau changed several times during the course of the long war, and the high plain was heavily bombed from the air. Since not all bombs exploded, it left the landscape here littered with the dangerous refuse of unexploded ordinance, much like the Ho Chi Minh Trail that I had seen earlier. 

There are a number of NGOs and military teams that continue the long process of finding, disarming and disposing of old explosives in Laos. 

But there are also more than a few amateurs. As it turns out, some of the unexploded bombs on display in Laos have not yet been fully disarmed!

Case in point, was a 500 pound bomb that was recently bought by a Buddhist temple to the south. The monks wished to have the metal casing cut and hollowed out, to be refashioned into the temple’s bell. Fortunately, they had the good sense to have a competent disarmament group examine it first. Inside the old bomb, they found 9 pounds of explosive still packed in the nose! 

This example isn’t unique, since I had seen a similar bell in a cave temple near Vang Vieng. Made from a 750 pounder, half of it had been cut away, and red stripes painted across it. It was an odd looking bell, but if nobody had told you, you wouldn’t have guessed that it was once a deadly weapon. 

Two wrecked motorbikes in Phonsavan. Motorbike accidents are all too common in the region.

Well, Laotian monks certainly aren’t rich. It’s much cheaper for them to buy a bell made from an old bomb found locally, than it is for them to import a real bell cast from expensive bronze. 

Looking at all the old ordinance on display, I wonder if any of these old weapons that I see down the street still have explosive inside them. New bombs are being found across Laos all the time. 

As we arrive at my hotel, we come across the remains of a modern hazard, a road accident. Just yards from the hotel entrance, are two motorbikes laying on their sides out in the street. Bits of broken plastic lay scattered around them. It seems that the riders involved in this collision were already taken to the hospital, but the bikes were left where they fell, probably for police to investigate. Like elsewhere in Southeast Asia, there is a high accident rate for motorbikes in Laos. 

I check into my hotel and head upstairs to relax. There’s a great deal for me to see on the historic Plain of Jars. 

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.