Dec. 2
Today is an official Lao holiday and is the 24th anniversary of National Day of the Lao People's Democratic Republic. In an address to the Diplomatic Core President Khamtay Siphandone expressed, "his sincere thanks and best wishes to the representatives of diplomatic corps and international organizations. The Lao President said that although Laos had been continuously affected by the regional financial and economic crises over the past year, the Lao people made self-sacrifice to overcome those difficulties and maintained political stability and solidarity among people nation-wide. International relations and cooperation have continuously widened in many areas and Laos has made an important contribution to the cause of peace, friendship, cooperation and development of nations in the world." (Vientiane Times, Dec. 3 - 6, 1999)
In a section in the same edition called 'Streetwise,' where they ask people various questions, they asked about the developments in Laos since 1975 and Mr. Phonsasith, 46, headmaster of Phiavat High School said: "December 2 has been celebrated every year since 1975 and I've been a witness to many positive developments during this time. Education has been expanded further as many organizations have been giving scholarships for Laos students. Teaching has been upgraded and many teachers are now being trained at more advanced levels with the aid of international organizations. Students seem more motivated than in the past because there are incentives to achieving excellence, such as a chance to study abroad. This new attitude is shown by our kids whose parents say are doing their homework more than ever before. Some are even hiring special tutors to improve their grades. To mark National Day at our school, we organize communal activities like cleaning the ground, fixing broken desks, painting classrooms and planting flowers. This year we're holding a football match between the students and teachers to boost our school spirit."
When we left Vientiane last Tuesday, November 30, they were already putting up flags on public buildings to celebrate the holiday. I have several photos from Vientiane and here in Luang Prabang, that show groups of flags containing a Lao PDR, "Russian" and several flags of different solid colors. The "Russian" flag is the official Lao PDR party flag, and is usually only flown on a holiday such as this. Here in Luang Prabang, besides the flags and students having a holiday, I really couldn't tell any difference. It actually worked in our favor because Mr. Khampan's uncle, Wan Ping, works for the government and since this day was a holiday he was free to go with us.
Our adventures this day began when Mr. Khampan, our tuk tuk driver picked us up at 6:00 a.m. We first went to the morning market where we bought some kao lam (sticky rice in bamboo) and French bread filled with pate. You might wonder why there is French bread is in Laos, but you have to remember that Laos was colonized by France from the late 1800's to the late 1940's, and one of many legacies of the French is the French bread. The "pate" is actually a mixture of ingredients, and varies from vendor to vendor and province to province, but there are usually slices of cucumber and other vegetables, some sauces, a kind of luncheon meat, chili paste, etc. A twelve inch loaf costs about a quarter and I find them quite tasty, filling and another excellent "bus food."
We then headed up Road 13, which over several days will eventually take you to the China border. This morning it was cool and I was the lucky one because I got to sit in the cramped front cab with Mr. Kamphan, while Chou had to crouch down against the back of the cab to escape the cold rushing air. There was a hazy mist enveloping the countryside that gave me the feeling that we were proceeding into a dream world. Sometimes we caught quick glimpses of the Mekong and as we kept going the mist receded revealing the towering limestone cliffs that are home to the Pak Ou Caves. In about a half an hour we reached the home of Wan Ping where he was outside talking to a relative who was working on a tuk tuk. Mr. Kamphan and Wan Ping started talking and Wan Ping's serious expression didn't seem to bode good tidings. Mr. Kamphan then translated and said that normally tourists weren't permitted into this area and he was a little unsure if we should be going to this village, but he knew that this was a "friendship mission", and quickly they agreed we should go. As we got back into the tuk tuk an old lady came out of the house. Mr. Kamphan told me that it was their "grandmother" who was 120 years old! She looked old, but there was liveliness to her step that belied her age.
We actually now had to backtrack to take the road that would lead up toward the village we were seeking, Ban Phu Leuy. The dirt road was initially misleading in how smooth and graded it was. In a short while we passed a turnoff to a road that led to a gold mine and shortly thereafter the road became much narrower and deeply rutted. This was more a Land Cruiser (one of the more popular 4 x 4 vehicles in Laos) type of road, than the tuk tuk we were driving. Mr. Kamphan had never been up this road, and I think he might not have agreed to go if he knew that the road was so rough. The mountains were looming all around us, and actually to our left they were limestone cliffs dramatically rising above us. As we continued to climb we passed Hmong and Khmu men and women heading down the road, one Hmong man carrying an old flintlock rifle and many of the women hauling heavy loads with their traditional woven baskets. We passed one young Hmong man on a small motorcycle with a 50kg bag of rice on his back and another wedged between his handlebars and front seat!
We eventually came to a small stream with a rocky bottom that looked fordable, but when Mr. Kamphan cautiously drove across we got stuck. A Khmu man crossing the stream heading down the road came and helped us lift/push the tuk tuk out of the streambed. Sandals are the footwear of choice here in Laos, and this was a perfect example of how convenient it is when you can unthinkingly hop out of a tuk tuk into a stream without worrying about one's shoes. The same goes for getting in and out of boats on many of the rivers when plankways aren't possible.
In the shadows of the mountains, parts of the road were still slippery and we again had to hop out and push when the tuk tuk lost traction. This road would be impassable in the rainy season and I was glad we were now traveling in the dry season. After about two hours we finally came to the village of Ban Huey Ot where we parked the tuk tuk. The villagers immediately recognized wan Ping and I was extremely impressed at how he went and greeted various individuals and you could tell he was well respected and equally glad to be here in their village. Almost immediately a woman came up to us and the resemblance to Mai Vang was uncanny, whose mother and relatives we had come to find. She told us she was Mai's aunt and wanted us to videotape a message to Mai Vang. I do pretty well here in Laos considering I know only a little Hmong and Lao, but sometimes I wish I could fully understand what people are saying, especially at emotional times like this.
Mr. Khamphan pointed up the mountain to the west of the village and at the top you could just see a few houses, so finally, after so long, her village was finally within sight! We headed back down the road and then up a trail. By this time it was around ten in the morning and it was starting to get warm. The trail was steep at times, but the trees and shrubby growth provided welcoming shade. I was excited to be so close and the hour hike seemed to go quickly. When we reached the crest of the mountain a small group of children gathered around us. Most of the boys wore the traditional Hmong black pants while the girls all wore Lao sins (wrap-around skirts). Wan Ping led us through the fairly quiet village and up a little ridge where Mai Vang's mother's house was the highest one. No one seemed to be home, at this elevation villagers were still harvesting their rice, and Wan Ping went to see where the village headman was.
I wandered around taking photos and then sat down with Chou and Kamphan. As we were talking an older Hmong woman stepped over the opening in the gate leading to Mai Vang's mother's house and peered over at us. It looked like she couldn't see very well, but there was a determined stare and I knew that finally, after years of hearing about her and my failed attempt of locating her last summer, that our paths had finally crossed. I don't know where she had been when we first came, or if she had come after being told we were here (which I don't think was possible), but she knew who I was. I came up to her and she reached out to grab my arm. She held tight and stared into my face, I'm sure looking for that connection with the daughter she hadn't seen for so many years. Tears came to her eyes and she spoke of how glad she was that I finally came and that she felt her daughter so much closer to her heart now, and then led us into her home.
It was of modest to small size as village Hmong homes go, and as is the Hmong custom she gathered the little round stools for us to sit on. Chou talked to her in Hmong and she told us how much she missed her daughter and was so glad that I had come to her village and that she wanted me to stay and not let me go because I was her closest connection to Mai. I took out the video camera with the video that Chia, Mai Vang's husband, had made of the family and played it back on the 4-inch color LCD screen. Immediately tears began to flow and it was touching to see how she held the camera so close to her eyes and ears (for she is hard of hearing too) and I could almost see her reaching through the screen and actually holding her own daughter. As she watched it, several more relatives came. I think that they had been notified in the fields where they were working that we had come.
Beginning of Part 2
When the tape was over she immediately got up and walked over to a wooden platform bed piled with baskets and began moving them off and arranging them on the ground. She then stood up on the 'bed' and began sweeping off all the dirt. I then realized that she really did want me to spend the night, or two. Unfortunately I wouldn't be able to because Khampan and Wan Ping had to go back to their families. More relatives began arriving, along with her oldest brother. I recognized his face from photos that Mai Vang and Chia had shown me. We talked and then stepped outside the house as they told the boys they wanted them to catch a chicken for a special meal.
It was quite a sight to see the boys running about after the chickens who were doing a pretty good of avoiding getting caught! We then set off to explore the village led by one of the young men. Mai Vang's mother's house was the highest on this little ridge and we proceeded down into a grove of trees where a group of boys were playing with the Hmong wooden tops. There were quite good, with the object being that one boy would get his top spinning (they have about a two foot long straight stick with a string at one end which they wrap about the wooden top, which is about three inches tall, and whip the stick forward throwing/spinning the top) and then the other boys would try to hit the top with theirs.
As we climbed the other ridge another young man came out and asked if we wanted to see his father who was a shaman. We proceeded to follow him to his house and were led inside. His father, dressed in traditional Hmong clothes with a brown simulated leather vinyl jacket was sitting listening to a radio. He was going to shortly perform a ritual for his daughter-in-law to see if her spirits were "OK", but said that he would give a demonstration for us now. His son lit a bunch of incense and the man got his black hood and stood before the altar that all traditional Hmong have in their home. He then pulled down the front of the hood so that it covered his eyes, separating himself from this world and therefore allowing him to enter the spirit world. He beat a small gong and proceeded to chant for a few minutes. He then picked up four water buffalo horns cut lengthwise so they are flat on one side, of about four inches in length, and tossed them on the ground. He left two and then repeatedly tossed the other two while chanting and then stopped.
We were led outside and followed the first young man up the ridge where we were invited into another home where they showed us two large bins. There were several young women standing by the bins and I noticed the when they turned around the middle of their back of their blouses was wet. One of the women then lifted up a bag from the dirt floor, which looked like a 50 kg size bag and dumped it into the bin which was about four feet off the ground. She was strong! I then noticed the wooden carrier frames and it came to me that they must have just carried the bags from the village below to this house. The work here is not easy, and that is an understatement. We were told the beans (they looked like soybeans?) were used to make some kind of lao lao. We then went back out and up another ridge where the school was. One of the young women followed us and talked to Chou. I guess she had been married once (she only looked like she was in her late teens) and told Chou she wished she could live in Luang Prabang where the work wasn't so hard. In this village they really were isolated, and you realize how important a time like Hmong New Year is when everyone can finally get a chance to relax and socialize. This is most important for the young unmarried men and women who rarely get to see anyone outside their own village.
At the top of the ridge we reached the school which was just a small thatched building about fifteen feet by thirty feet. Inside were simple and rustic wooden benches and tables on a dirt floor with two small heavily used chalkboards. That's it. The group of five boys and girls that had been following us came in and posed for a photo and the oldest boy of about ten had them line up from biggest to tallest. It was important to him! Most of the students in this village drop out by fifth grade to help their parents. Later, back at Mai Vang's mother's house I met a young man who was the teacher, but who really was only a practice teacher who hadn't even gone to the Luang Prabang Teacher Training College. I guess that this village was so remote and small it wasn't worth paying a "credentialed" teacher, even though they only make between ten and fifteen dollars a month.
We then headed down the ridge and back up to Mai Vang's mother's house. As we stepped over and passed through the opening in the fence we were invited into the house for a ceremony and meal. Chou warned me several times that I would have to say "something." On a small round woven "table" about two feet in diameter and six inches off the ground was a whole cooked chicken, who had been living and breathing a couple of hours ago, some sticky rice and lao lao. One of the men was cutting lengths of white string and arranging them around the edges of the table. All the men sat down and then Mai's oldest brother took my hand that I had extended and tied a string around my wrist while saying something in Hmong. He then did the same for Chou, Kamphan and Wan Ping, and was followed by the other men who tied strings around our wrists while expressing their gratitude for our visit. We then were give a small glass of lao lao to drink and I told them how glad I was to be a guest in their village, and how sorry I was that I couldn't bring Mai Vang and her family with me. But I wanted them to know that I brought her love and tears for missing them and hope that in the future that they could be brought back together again. I added too, that I wanted America and Lao PDR to become friendly nations and see beyond their differences. Chou interpreted and then Wan Ping was given the honor of tearing off parts of the chicken for us to eat with the rice. I thought maybe this was all we had to eat, which was fine, but after about ten minutes they brought more dishes of cut-up chicken, hot chilies and cooked mustard greens. I have to admit the first chicken was a little tough, but the cut-up chicken was delicious. We talked, with Chou and Khampan interpreting, and then I replayed the video of Mai Vang's daughter's family in Oroville, and have a great picture of all of them gathered round the three inch LCD screen eagerly soaking up Mai, her husband and children's voices and faces.
Afterwards we went back outside and I videotaped Mai's oldest brother "talking to her" with his wife and daughter-in-laws beside him. Other relatives took over and came in and out of the video and finally Mai's mother who was always right there listening to her sons and daughters speak wanted to have the final word. I think a lot now how I can somehow bring Mai and her mother together. I think it would be one of those moments that I know happen often, that most of us aren't aware of, but have a silent powerful ripple effect that opens each of our hearts a little wider.
It was time to say goodbye and I had everyone gather for a family portrait. I took several photos and Chou took one of me with them. I shook the men's hands and then Mai's mother came over, as I walked over to her, and grasped my arm and peered into my eyes. She spoke in Hmong and I know she didn't want to let me go. I never ever, will forget that look in her eyes and I didn't need to understand what she was saying in Hmong. It was a tearful moment for each of us and I told her I would be back this summer, hoping to stay longer this time with even more to show and say about her daughter and her family.
The walk down the hill went quickly. It was after 5:00 and the sun was just about ready to set. When walked into Ban Heuy Ot more people came over and talked. Kamphan wanted to leave though, as it would be much more difficult driving in the dark and it was a rougher road than tuk tuks usually took. It was an absolutely gorgeous night. The sky was crystal clear and as the stars came out and I leaned out of the window to soak up the mountain air I knew that whatever else came my way on this trip, it couldn't have the meaning that this day brought into my life.
The one thing that I didn't mention was that as we walked down the trail Wan Ping and I became "best friend" talking in the limited English and Lao we both knew. Somehow after the day's happenings he must have decided in his mind I was "OK." You have to see a photo of him, he has the face of someone you want and are more than willing to trust. I hope that the Lao government holds on to him because he has a gift for communicating and I know he can make a positive difference for Lao PDR. He insisted that we would have to stop at his house for a visit when we dropped him off. We did, and as his house didn't have any electricity it appeared dark, but his wife came out with an oil lamp and led us into their living area that also contained one sleeping area. We sat on the floor and he brought out a bottle of lao lao with special herbs and we shared it. I have to admit lao lao when shared with friends tastes great. There were many jokes and stories, and his wife brought out some lao scrambled eggs, a hot chili paste and some sour vegetables (sort of like Korean kim chee). As we ate I heard a rustling from the sleeping area and his 120-year-old grandmother came out and sat a little ways away listening and occasionally adding a comment or two. Her eyes were so bright and I was amazed at her alertness.
We left around 9:00 and got back to the hotel around 10:00.
It was a long day, but one I will always remember and needless
to say Chou and I were both tired and I knew I would sleep well
tonight.