Laos - The Lahu Village

The village on the hill top

 It started off innocently enough – gathering with some other foreigners after a simple western style Guest House breakfast and climbing with my hiking boots and backpack into the back of a small truck.

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.