BOMBING WHERE THE WAR NEVER ENDED

Bars and restaurants in Vang Vieng. The war is over here. Or is it??

BOOM!  BA-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

It’s after 1am, and I’m sitting in a bar in Vang Vieng, Laos. The explosions I just heard are from far off in the night. There's a lot of background noise in the bar, but there's no mistaking what I just heard. Those blasts weren’t thunder, and they weren’t fireworks. They're from something far more sinister, probably artillery. At least eight explosions went off close together. It sounded like they detonated in the mountains to the east.

I ask the Laotian bartender across the bar from me, “What was that??”

He heard the explosions too, but he’s silent. I saw him speaking English earlier tonight, but now he won’t answer me. 

Old explosives and weapons from fighting by the Hmong against the communists

Not giving up, I press him further, “Is that from problems with the Hmong?” Fighting between the Hmong and the communists began decades ago during the Vietnam War. The outside world hasn't heard about it for years, but there are still rumors of occasional ambushes in the remote mountains of Laos. 

Continuing to hold his tongue, the bartender's face is blank. Then he turns, and walks away. If he knows anything, he’s not about to tell me. 

I manage to see someone else here that's in a more talkative mood. Further down the bar, I approach an expat westerner. He has lived in Vang Vieng for a while now. Mentioning the explosions, I ask him if there is still conflict in the area between the government forces and Hmong fighters.

“Yeah, it still goes on,” he informs me. “It’s never really stopped.”

So it’s true, there is still fighting in the mountains! This is news almost unheard of. Now I've heard bombing myself, and this expat just confirmed that resistance continues. Hmong groups had been surrendering the past few years, but nobody saied that fighting was still going on. Sadly, the communist war against the Hmong people never ended completely. Despite government denials, there are still army attacks against Hmong hold outs in the mountains. For America, the Vietnam War ended in 1973. For America's ally the Hmong, the war never really ended.

“Just a few years ago there were bombings at a couple bars on the island,” the westerner tells me. “The government keeps it very quiet."

There is still sporadic fighting targeting Hmong hold outs in remote northern mountains 

After disclosing this, the expat remembers that he shouldn’t be telling me about the fighting, especially here in a public bar. He has let his guard down to talk about the hidden conflict, but not for long. 

“I’m really drunk, and stoned,” he admits. “I shouldn’t be talking about this.” Then he motions to the Laotian bar staff. “They’ll hear me.” 

He’s afraid someone will tell the police that he’s talking about the unrest. I don't think he would get arrested; he’s no human rights activist. But as a foreigner living in Laos, he’s worried that if he’s caught blabbering, the government will deny his next visa renewal. 

In recent years, a gutsy photo journalist found a group of Hmong guerrillas still fighting the communists near Vang Vieng. The holdout community had survived an attack where 26 of their family members had been massacred. His astounding photo gallery can be viewed here: 
"LAOS: Still a Secret War"

In other parts of Laos between 2000 - 2004, there were also a number of other isolated terrorist bombings. Vientiane and a few other cities were targeted. At least one Lao was killed, with many others injured. Responsibility for the bombings was claimed by a group calling itself, “The Free Democratic Government Committee of the Lao People”. This 'committee' is most likely a separate group of anti-government Lao exiles, that are unconnected to the Hmong. 

There haven’t been any reported bombings in Laos since, and tourism here continues to rise. Still, I can’t help but wonder. If the Laotian government continues on its unbending course of one party rule, and continues to pursue the Hmong hold outs in the mountains, will it be long before there are more violent incidents that spill over into the cities?

CIA AND THE SECRET AIRSTRIPS

CIA built airstrip used during 'Secret War' in Laos from 1960's to 1970's 

Vang Vieng is the number one tourist destination for foreigners visiting Laos, so you would think that it would have an airport. It doesn’t. 

Not that an airport is needed; the capital Vientiane is less than four hours away by road. But those that enter Vang Vieng  on Route 13, are still puzzled to encounter a long, wide runway right next to the highway in the middle of town. 

An airstrip with no terminal and no planes, mean that this runway is a remnant from the war years when American agents were here. Known by the former code name 'Lima Site 27', this empty landing strip was built by the CIA, for the secret war in Laos during the Vietnam War era. 

Since the roads in wartime Laos were abysmal, the CIA needed to find a way to resupply the Royal Laotian Army and the Hmong soldiers, who were both fighting the communists. 

For this reason, numerous runways like this one were built all over the remote highlands of Laos. The logistical problem was solved, and the Americans were able to resupply their allied fighters quickly by air. 

Since the US military was not supposed to be conducting operations in Laos, the task of flying these often dangerous missions went to Air America, a civilian airline. The worst kept secret in Southeast Asia, was that Air America was really just a front company for the CIA. 

Air America plane on covert mountaintop landing site in Laos, 1970 (Photo:Wikipedia)

Wearing civilian clothes, daring American pilots flew helicopters and small cargo planes throughout the countryside. These skilled pilots often landed their unmarked planes onto remote, tiny jungle runways far smaller than this one in Vang Vieng. During the height of the war, Air America had more than 200 planes and 30 helicopters at its disposal, keeping the forces fighting against the communists in Laos resupplied. 

There's no doubt that the real Air America pilots were brave; their planes were sometimes shot down during their dangerous covert missions over Laos. Of those that were captured, very few were ever seen alive again. 

Hollywood even made a movie about those daredevil pilots. The 1990 film 'Air America', starred none other than Mel Gibson, and Robert Downey Jr. in his pre-Ironman days. 

Since 'Lima Site 27' has been left to the elements, the condition of this runway has deteriorated over the years. As I walk across the quiet old airstrip, I find the blacktop that remains is broken and cracked, slowly turning into gravel. 

Long runway in middle of Vang Vieng, is occasionally used by Laotian military

Looking past the north end of the runway, I see that it’s oriented towards the mountains beyond that have the lowest altitude. This made for safer approaches and take-offs for Air America’s aircraft. 

Turning to the other end, I squint trying to see the end of the runway, and I’m unable to do so. Nearly a mile long, the blacktop gradually turns into dirt as the airstrip extends into the next neighborhood. A herd of goats comes walking down the runway,  shepherded along by a local teenager on a motorbike. 

Most evidence of the formerly secret operations that took place here have been carted away. Besides the highway to the east of the strip, the rest of the former airfield is now surrounded by residential houses, tall grass, and a couple of cheap local restaurants. Out of sight only 100 yards away, is the main drag where Vang Vieng's popular bars and discos are located,  catering to the young backpacker crowd. 

The old airstrip isn’t used much nowadays. Locals tell me that on rare occasions, a government plane or helicopter still lands here, perhaps on missions to watch the Hmong communities in the nearby mountains. It may not get much use anymore, but it’s worth noting that the entire runway is now prime real estate in this tourist town. The fact that the government has not sold it or developed it for other uses, means that they probably want to keep it just the way it is. 

Perhaps the runway remains, out of concern that they may need it again. 

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. 

RIVER OF DEBAUCHERY

Downtown Vang Vieng, haven for hard partying backpackers

The sights are familiar to anyone who has attended a western university. Sunburned, college age kids, wearing shorts and bikinis. A long strip of riverside bars, with volleyball nets and cheap drinks. Dance music pounds loudly from amplifiers. Alcohol is imbibed in large quantities. Some young adults here are even taking drugs. This isn’t a wild spring break beach party, and this isn’t ‘The Jersey Shore’ either. 

It’s Laos.

Well, a small part of Laos. Vang Vieng to be exact. In a country where the culture is so conservative, and the government’s hold on power is tight, this is an island of western decadence in East Asia. Since the government is publicly against drugs and western music, I’m astounded this kind of behavior is allowed. Vang Vieng is the exception in Laos; the one place where decadent foreign influences run wild. 

Away from the wild partying river, I take a walk down the streets of Vang Vieng. This town isn’t a tourist trap in the classic sense; there are no families here. Although it has morphed into a playground for adults, it’s nothing like Las Vegas. There are neither casinos, nor fancy hotels. This town is a haven for only one kind of tourist: young western backpackers, looking to party for cheap. Some of the bargain hotels or guest houses here offer a bed for as little as four dollars a night. Just don’t expect any air conditioning. 

With business catering to the cheap backpacker crowd, businesses on the main strip are predictable. Both sides of the main street, are packed with cheap guest houses, open air restaurants, bars, internet cafes, food carts, tour companies and tee shirt shops. 

How things have changed for tourists in Laos. Back in the country’s post-war years, westerners were expelled, and the country became isolated. Foreign tourism here was virtually non-existent. 

Vang Vieng restaurant/bar, where you can watch episodes of 'Friends' for hours on end...

But then the cold war thawed in the 1990’s, and neighboring Vietnam and Cambodia began cashing in on tourism. Soon after, the Laotian government decided to hop onto the tourist bandwagon. Visa restrictions were dropped, and borders were flung open. Now this communist country welcomes foreign visitors, anxious to take their tourist dollars. Better late than never. 

The backpackers here are mostly young adults of university age, from western Europe and Australia. Every afternoon they can be seen lounging inside the main strip’s open air restaurants, watching DVDs of American sitcoms for hours. These run all day long, as many backpackers are recovering from a hang over. Perhaps they come here because their guest houses are too cheap to install TVs in their bedrooms. 

Some young women wear skimpy beach attire, and some young men go shirtless. This is nothing to Americans, but conservative Laotians find this scandalous. Showing so much skin is taboo everywhere else in Laos, but here the massive backpacker presence has overwhelmed local culture. 

These frugal foreign travelers were originally drawn to Vang Vieng for the lovely scenery. There are beautiful mountains, caves to explore, scenic rural villages and Buddhist temples. As the first visitors came, tour companies sprang up, selling trips for hiking, canoeing, kayaking and mountain climbing. But those are really just side shows now. Most backpackers come here for two reasons: the partying, and the tubing. These two intertwined events have made Vang Vieng infamous, and even dangerous. Backpackers anywhere in Southeast Asia, are often seen wearing tank tops bearing the same message: “Tubing on the Vang Vieng”, the number one activity here. 

Like this bridge, more than one drunk backpacker has not survived the Nam Song River

I take an afternoon to check this out for myself, and after paying six dollars, I’m given a large truck inner-tube. Then I pile into the back of a crowded tuk-tuk, and we’re driven a few miles north of town. Arriving upriver, we’re dropped off at the first of many cheap riverside bars. Here I encounter a scene I haven’t seen since college. Throngs of rowdy western college kids are drinking cheap beer at several flimsy bamboo bars on the river bank. Many are dancing and carousing to loud popular music. Some have been here for hours already, and are already heavily drunk. One bar is giving away snake wine and scorpion wine for free; I grab a Beer Lao instead. 

Dotted among the riverside pubs are rope swings, water slides and zip lines for thrill seekers. Several circus style trapezes drop revelers from on high, where they shriek as they fall before splashing into the Nam Song river. There is also volleyball, and a muddy tug of war for those who prefer exercise on land. Feeling energetic, I head into a game of 4 on 4 mud volleyball. I get thoroughly filthy in a losing effort, but enjoy the fun. After the game ends, the players scatter to explore other diversions. I’m anxious to get the mud off my face and hair, so I pick up my inner tube and head into the river. 

My next stop is one of the larger drinking holes on this river of debauchery. It’s called the 'Slide Bar'. It has a fairly modern, elevated water slide lined with bath tiles! I pull in, stow my inner tube, and grab some lunch. Then the rain starts. As this is rainy season, the river's running fast. Coming down lightly at first, it’s soon a monsoon. The fun continues, since all the revelers are already wet from the river. As I eat, I view the surrounding action. 

An Argentine died in one of these area caves

Above me, a young man flies off the end of the high water slide, dropping ten feet into the river. He lands right next to an unsuspecting lady tuber, nearly landing on top of her! Both were lucky, it was a near miss. I soon realize, that the emphasis here is on fun, with little regard for safety. As I watch the water slides, trapeze and rope swings at the bars, I see no safety systems in place, no lifeguards. There's little to keep young drunks from falling off high muddy ladders onto the shore, or to keep rope swingers from falling onto other tubers floating by. Nobody wears lifejackets. Swimming drunk in a murky, fast moving, unfamiliar river could easily turn deadly. I hear later that cuts, concussions, and broken bones are a common occurrence when tubing in Vang Vieng. 

The rain lets up, and grabbing my inner tube I continue down river. The shores grow quieter, and bamboo bars give way to tree lined shores. Finally, I stop at a pub known as ‘Last Bar’. I paddle my tube into an eddy, while a couple Canadians float up behind. Standing in shallow water, one spots a dark lizard attached to an overhanging tree. He captures it by hand, and we climb a long flight of stairs to the dumpy little shack bar high over the river bank. As we grab a bench seat, the Canuck plops the reptile on the table. At a foot and a half long, the lizard looked ill or injured. It was breathing, but barely moving. 

An old Lao woman with blackened teeth approaches the table. Her dark teeth are caused by betel nuts, her drug of choice. (The locally grown nut is chewed as a mild stimulant.) The woman points towards the lizard, and motions with her hands that it makes for good eating. She then opens a little bag. Apparently, she was ready to barbecue the reptile right here and now. The Canadians pondered this offer for a while, but the more they discussed the lizard, the more they got attached to it. They declined her offer to cook their newfound pet. 

7 foreign tourists have died in Vang Vieng, some drowned under the influence of drugs or alcohol

While I order my second and final beer, the Canadians order marijuana. They are soon lighting up, disappointed when I turn down their offer to smoke with them. This pair were hoping to hang out with some heavier partiers. Soon after, they found some. Down by the river where we’d arrived, three more westerners pulled up in their inner tubes. These young men had partied too hard already, and never made it up the steps. 

“Hey! We need help!” One of them shouted, “we have to get to a hospital!” The vocal backpacker’s two friends were very stoned; one was so far gone, he was completely unconscious. Soon one of the Laotian bar staff descended to the river bank, loading the three druggies into his long tail boat. Then they were off downriver, just another backpacker overdose headed for the local band-aid station that they call a hospital. 

It’s quite a racket this bar has going. Not only do they make money by selling drugs to backpackers, but they also make additional money from backpackers by turning their boats into ambulances when they overdose. I noticed the boat driver wouldn’t leave for the hospital, until he saw the cash in hand from the backpacker to pay for the trip. 

I don’t know what particular drug his friend overdosed on, but he’s far from the first foreigner to need medical attention in Vang Vieng. In recent years at least seven foreigners have died in this permissive tourist town. Shortly before I arrived in Vang Vieng, an Argentine tourist died in a caving accident. He had been exploring a local cave alone, never a good idea. Other tourists here died from overdoses, drowning, or from driving drunk on rented motorbikes.

A couple weeks after I left Vang Vieng, there was another death. An Irishman who came to town with his newlywed wife drowned in the river while tubing. His poor widow was left to organize the search for his body on her own. It cost her $1,000 out of her own pocket to pay for the search. They finally found his corpse down river, three days later.

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.