Khmu Village Trek in Laos

Flying from Bangkok to Luang Prabang in a twin-engine plane was reminiscent of the dirty little Fokker in Ethiopia. The airport in Luang Prabang was of little difference than Lalibela. The arrival Lao visa will be a feature page in my passport. There was an excessive amount of Germans grouped for a package tour. Outside a few guides greeted arrivers with paper signs. There were Tiger Trails seeking Roger Rowley. Satith Sengvilay was to be my guide and companion for the next two days. I felt certain Laos was the right choice once I viewed the rugged fertile landscape from the air. From the airport, we bounced around in our van with lush vegetation heaving over the dusty dirt road. I beamed inside assured Laos was a good selection.
A twenty-minute ride brought us to a launch point at the Nam Khan River. Here other groups were assembling to or ending an adventure. In eighty-something heat and humidity, I gathered the ‘cool’ highlands were merely relative to ninety-something lowlands. Here I could take essentials which by now I am thinking minimal and stash my luggage. A modest buffet was offered but having had lunch on the plane I opted for a cold beer, the bad choice before trekking, add heavy Levis and you are dragging most of the way.
We tipped into a shaft-propeller driven canoe for a twenty-minute sight experience of activity on the riverfront. Fishing, gardening, bathing, water buffalo, and commerce bought the locals out to wave our passing. Along the way, torrents of water were gushing from the thick forest ahead without a usual tributary stream. We pulled in beyond to a seasonal cascading waterfall and pool setting. It was the weekend and several people gathered to enjoy the cool waters, we tourists as well. Tad Xe Falls may have been a refreshing destination but our day was just beginning so I prompted Satith to continue.
The two of us ventured off. Satith was well conditioned to handle the heavy load of provisions and essentials in his backpack as I trudged behind with my oversized fanny-pack. A two-hour struggle along well-used footpaths took us ever upward. A few breaks along the way as my consumption emanated through my pores.
The day-one destination village of Hua Phi is home to the Khmu people. Local natural materials were used for their structures. Bamboo, banana, palm, reed, and teak made mostly two-level dwellings for animals below and people above. Chickens and pigs ranged freely. Dogs and cats were, I guess you could say, domestic. Assured of my free reign, I wandered about in awe of their subsistent ways. Several children had a push-toy made with a long stick in the neck of a plastic bottle with crude wheels and axles at the base. Childhood ended at about seven when able to work the fields or handle household chores. I don’t recall the exact statistics but the village has over four hundred people in twelve families. Planting, sowing, and reaping were I expect a continuous cycle. Given a rain and dry season, a convention must have given crop cycles.
Their end of the day brought in people from the fields. Teens played volleyball of sorts with a beanbag ball and soccer rules lobbing over a head-high bamboo pole. It was a spirited competition.
My evening bath was reminiscent of a mandi during my Volunteer days in Java. An open cistern of water is ladled over your body in breath-taking ice-cold shock. The cool-down was most welcome as my recovery in such heat was slow in coming. Their running water was gifted from NCO, an organization not known to me. Cleanliness proved important here as all seemed to have their time in the mandi or an open faucet.
An affiliated family to host Tiger Trails ran an enterprising commercial store and trade outlet. A widow of two years and four daughters would hold their own in any marketplace. They handled the distribution of goods for locals to market. Toting fifty kilos of goods rivaled any task a man could or would do.
The vegetables Satith carried were turned over to the ladies who relayed it to others for cleaning and slicing. Satith was keen on performing his cooking task over a wood fire, preparing a stir-fry and soup for our evening meal. Here I found sticky rice to be a paste form in which to sandwich mouthfuls of vegetables by hand -- finger-food utensils.
These enterprising ladies had a television and music videos that turned their store into a mini theatre. Thanks to a generator with a two hour evening cycle beyond the seven o’clock sunset. Satith was enthused about music but my weary bones needed repose. Comfort was a matter of need and I found the bamboo mat as inviting as any five star accommodation. My next conscious moment was first rooster call. Sometime latter with the second rooster call I turned on my ineffectual iPhone to focus on three-thirty. Shouldn’t this activity be coming at dawn? I stumbled out in total darkness with my flashlight for a nature call under billions of stars and millions of galaxies overhead in a crystal clear night. I estimated the calling roosters to be eight. The one outside my bamboo curtain had lost some bravado lauded by others in the village. His cock-a-doodle-doo barely fostered a weak doodle-doo. For sure he had his day.
Dawn gave birth to a busy village life. Washing, sweeping, and duties in line, the locals were engaged with a new day. Satith came with omelet and bread for me and I watched passers by eat sticky rice on their way to the fields. The Enterprising Ladies were receiving fifty kilo sacks of cash-crops for their commissioned mass deployment to market. An entrepreneurial man with a two-wheeled, gas driven, tractor of sorts pulled up with cart in tow to transport the goods to town.
It was good for me to be an ineffectual visitor, passing by for a moment of their daily lives. We traded appreciable smiles. No one looked for a handout. My picture taking went unnoticed. If they showed curiosity, I would respond with a digital picture review which was met with smiling eyes of approval.