Day two of Laos’s hill tribe trekking began in a clearing mist with our trail in the shadow of adjacent hills. The plan was a modest one hour walk from the Khmu village of Hua Phi to the Hmong settlement called Xiang Pha. From there a four hour downhill journey to a riverfront town of Xiang Ngeun where we could summon a canoe to return to our base camp an hour upstream.
Bamboo, bananas, and butterflies were continuous features on narrow, well-traveled paths connecting
settlements and access to productive fields. Teak trees grew everywhere. It was the main structural component of their huts. I saw no signs of commercial logging deforestation. In a small way, locals dragged individual timbers via streams to the main rivers for trade.
The Hmong differed from Khmu subsistent farming with individual family farms in a confined area rather than an encompassing village. Livestock was raised for sale. Pigs and goats were kept in corrals rather than beneath the family abode. I was told Hmong spirits dwelled in the earth and sleeping on the ground maintained better contact. Fields of rice and corn had fencing signifying property rights, in contrast to a Mother Earth provider concept of Khmu.
We came across an elderly Hmong lady foot-levering a pestle to hull rice grains while a young lad threshed the chaff with a basket. The lady characterized satisfaction for duty-driven results of her toil. At no time did I see idle behavior nor think such allowance could exist in this society. Beyond, a man-made swamp appeared to yield some form of marine life for harvesting. Textile art was used for their known ceremonial wear plus another cash item for the marketplace. I walked away with a deep respect for these highland peoples.
The next four hours were gruesome. The sun was now high overhead. Our downhill path was less than surefooted from erosion. My leg muscles soon felt stressed by the constant downward step. I was more apt now to stop for a butterfly photo to break the routine.
The river town of Xiang Ngeun was far more advanced than villages we had passed. Galvanized metal roofs and concrete structures failed to have much allure. At the river’s edge, I found fascination in the bustling commerce. Young boys with windowed masks and small spears waded to catch small fish. Many young girls harvested natural weeds on the river bottom. A teenage girl piloted a canoe to ferry people across the river. A middle-aged woman washed house mats near the shore. A family towed small teak logs from a stream outlet.
Over the past two days, my guide Sathith related his story. He grew up in a remote village near the Thai border. As a young man, he came to Luang Prabang for work, adventure, and support to his parents back home. Starting as a dishwasher in a bar-restaurant, he took English classes. Good work and English got him transferred to the tending bar. From behind the bar, he was able to relate well with tourists and chose tour guiding to expand his horizon. Two years ago, his adeptness won the respect of a Finnish girl on holiday. Their short time together led to romance. His hopes were dim as the girl’s father disapproved of their intent. Last spring she was secretly able to return to Laos for a month. Poor Sathith has little chance to get a visa to leave and much less of a chance to save enough money for airfare to Finland.
Our motorized canoe arrived for returning to our base-camp.
Bamboo, bananas, and butterflies were continuous features on narrow, well-traveled paths connecting
settlements and access to productive fields. Teak trees grew everywhere. It was the main structural component of their huts. I saw no signs of commercial logging deforestation. In a small way, locals dragged individual timbers via streams to the main rivers for trade.The Hmong differed from Khmu subsistent farming with individual family farms in a confined area rather than an encompassing village. Livestock was raised for sale. Pigs and goats were kept in corrals rather than beneath the family abode. I was told Hmong spirits dwelled in the earth and sleeping on the ground maintained better contact. Fields of rice and corn had fencing signifying property rights, in contrast to a Mother Earth provider concept of Khmu.
We came across an elderly Hmong lady foot-levering a pestle to hull rice grains while a young lad threshed the chaff with a basket. The lady characterized satisfaction for duty-driven results of her toil. At no time did I see idle behavior nor think such allowance could exist in this society. Beyond, a man-made swamp appeared to yield some form of marine life for harvesting. Textile art was used for their known ceremonial wear plus another cash item for the marketplace. I walked away with a deep respect for these highland peoples.The next four hours were gruesome. The sun was now high overhead. Our downhill path was less than surefooted from erosion. My leg muscles soon felt stressed by the constant downward step. I was more apt now to stop for a butterfly photo to break the routine.
The river town of Xiang Ngeun was far more advanced than villages we had passed. Galvanized metal roofs and concrete structures failed to have much allure. At the river’s edge, I found fascination in the bustling commerce. Young boys with windowed masks and small spears waded to catch small fish. Many young girls harvested natural weeds on the river bottom. A teenage girl piloted a canoe to ferry people across the river. A middle-aged woman washed house mats near the shore. A family towed small teak logs from a stream outlet.Over the past two days, my guide Sathith related his story. He grew up in a remote village near the Thai border. As a young man, he came to Luang Prabang for work, adventure, and support to his parents back home. Starting as a dishwasher in a bar-restaurant, he took English classes. Good work and English got him transferred to the tending bar. From behind the bar, he was able to relate well with tourists and chose tour guiding to expand his horizon. Two years ago, his adeptness won the respect of a Finnish girl on holiday. Their short time together led to romance. His hopes were dim as the girl’s father disapproved of their intent. Last spring she was secretly able to return to Laos for a month. Poor Sathith has little chance to get a visa to leave and much less of a chance to save enough money for airfare to Finland.
Our motorized canoe arrived for returning to our base-camp.
