 |
| The village on the hill top |
The ensuing two days were to draw deeply on the energy
reserves of my aging body and take us to a far simpler, infinitely more
demanding way of life.
 |
| challenging at times |
 |
| Northern Laos, looking towards China |
We climbed for what seemed like days, but was probably about
five hours, through dense tropical forest that shaded us mercifully from the
hot sun. Our guide showed us many treasures of the forest such as, edible
plants, sweet tasting insects (?) and tiger balm bark. This was what I came
here for – a chance to experience tropical jungle first hand. The trail was
rough and steep, but passable enough. Fortunately the thick foliage mostly
obscured the dizzying slopes below us. Once we reached the ridge we walked in
hot sunshine gazing in awe at rows on rows of green forested peaks. Far above
we glimpsed our goal perched high on a hilltop - the small brown huts of the
Lahu people.
 |
| Much of the foliage has been eaten by the cattle |
 |
| surprising what a small kitchen can produce |
Images of that remote little community will remain for a
life time. Little brown bodies of laughing naked children, shy teens peering
around corners. Competent mothers looking after the rice and the cooking;
carrying wood and water for their families. The men with machetes and
cigarettes, friendly, welcoming. We are as strange to them as they are to us.
And everywhere pigs, large and small, squealing snuffling, eating everything.
Colourful roosters crow at all hours of the day or night. The village is never completely quiet, but
seems somehow always peaceful. At night the stars appear – more than many
people ever see. In the morning the cattle seem to have come home, cows and
buffalo scattered around the hilltop. The animals live with the people and the
people live with the animals; they’re interdependent.
 |
| sun rising in the mist |
 |
| clothes would only get dirty and they're harder to wash |
They hosted us, made room for us to sleep, fed us their
local food and made us feel welcome in their home. They prepared dinner for us
in the local fashion over and open fire.
It was quite delicious. There’s very little garbage. Nothing is wasted
after the pigs get through with it. I
produced balloons for the children which produced a lot of laughter and played
my flute to a small curious crowd. My
flute playing is very bad, but they loved it. There’s not much entertainment
available. Somehow the girls got
themselves cleanly dressed in our honour- not easy when you consider the hike
down the mountainside required to carry water.
 |
| Keep smiling - the best is yet to come |
I wondered why they live so high. Apparently the air is much
healthier for the cattle. In the valley
they easily die from various diseases. There
is plenty of wild food for them on the mountain and the rice grows well. Some
farmers grow opium, but they need to pay for the privilege otherwise the
penalty for getting caught would be very severe. Needless to say, the villagers
all seem extremely physically fit.
To my surprise, getting back down the next day was harder
than going up. We walked in thick forest again on the shaded slope which not
yet dried from the rain. Cattle make the
trip too, so the trail was a river of thick, brown mud. We encountered fallen trees, carnivorous
leeches and tricky streams to cross. I fell a couple of times and suffered a
few scrapes and bruises, but it could have been much worse. I have never felt
quite so happy to hear the sound of cars and see the road again.
