The Sliver Lining

When the bed has two wrong sides, how can you ever expect to wake up on the right one?

After tossing and turning all night, I was woken up by load banging at my door at 6:25, a mere five minutes before my alarm was set to ring.  It was Mr. K, waiting for me.  He must have been confused because I was told to be ready to go at 7:30 and I had yet to shower and get dressed.  We need to work on our communication skills.

While he walked back out to the car, I quickly showered, hoping he understood what I meant by the 7:30 AIS.  He had, and when I reemerged at 7:15, he was gone, picking up Viengmany and the government official that comes with us on village visits.

Today was day one of two Village Days.  Growing up, village day meant no school, a big swimming pool, unlimited buffet food and sunshine.  Laos hasn't caught on yet.

Suan Mone, our first stop, is over a two hour drive from Phonsavanh on the infamous winding roads.  The whole trip was brutal as we were squeezed into the back of the truck, sliding back and forth, and Mr. Government has no concept of an indoor voice.  By the time we arrived, I was thankful to have two feet on the ground.

Instead of doing CLTS training, we we visiting to deliver the monthly top up for village health volunteer cell phones (the ones they use to report cases of diarrhea) and get a head start on GPS mapping.  We learned during our visit to Phou San last week, that it is impossible to use the transect walk to double as a GPS activity.  

We set off with the VHV and began walking through one part of the village.  Apparently I missed the memo about recent rain and did not wear shoes with great traction.  It's a daily battle here to decide whether to wear shoes that are weather appropriate or suitable for easy on/off each time you enter a house.  Today I had gone with flip-flops, although my only other choice of chacos wouldn't have been much better.  Needless to say, I slipped, fell and got covered in mud (I hope it was mud, since mapping I don't know whats going on behind these village houses).  It provided a good laugh, but only added to the frustration of the day.  

After two more falls and more shit mud, I decided to stick to the road and not try and trek up to each house.  We were invited into the chief's house for a cup of tea and met his mother who was 98 years old!  As we continued our walk, people became interested in what we were doing and wanted to say hi.  One man gave me two cucumbers and I learned how to say thank you in Hmong. Over an hour later, we settled in for lunch at the VHV's house.  He had prepared pumpkin soup, a Hmong staple, and Viengmany had brought string beans, chicken and enough sticky rice to feed an army.  I stuck to the veggies and avoided the sticky rice (I need a break once in a while).  Towards the end of the meal, the VHV brought out a bottle of Lao-Lao and six shot glasses.  I should have expected it and unfortunately he remembered my last visit where I had been tricked into three shots of the poisonous whiskey.  Luckily, I tried to explain that I didn't feel well and with another 4 hours in the car ahead of us, I didn't want to be sick.  I had successfully weaseled my way out of the Lao drinking game for the first time!

We helped clean up lunch, said goodbye and loaded back into the car.  Ban Leuk was an additional 45 minutes on death road and after being berated by Mr. Gov as to why I hadn't eaten any rice at lunch, I was happy when we pulled in.

At this point, the muddy ground had dried a little and it was easier to participate in the mapping.  We followed one of the VHVs around her part of the village, stopping quickly in her house to go over some of the new cases.  Taking off his shoes, Lahthana realized that a leech had gotten into his sneaker and bit his foot.  I panicked a little and from then on was VERY cautious where I stepped.  

I had had it up to here with Mr. Gov at this point, but the last straw was when we were following a dog along the path and he picked up a piece of bamboo and struck it.  Both the dog and I screamed.  To be honest, I was so upset with him, I hardly made eye contact for the rest of the day.  

Because Ban Leuk is divided into two units, about 2 km apart on the road, we loaded into the car and drove down.  Mr. Gov hopped into the back of the truck on the flatbed.  Between you and me, I wasn't too upset when it started to rain.  He deserved it.

We walked through the second part of the village, now in the rain, and I tried my best not to slip again.  Taking shelter in the other VHVs house, Viengmany shifted to her consumer self and bargained with the woman to sell her some of her weavings for sihn material.  The rain slowed and we finished our walk.  Standing by the car, I started to get bit by hundred of tiny little bugs.  Noticing the blood that was now dripping down my legs, Lahthana said, "oh, those are the bugs that like blood."

Well, great.  I was ready to hit the road.  But, of course, we were invited in for Lao Hai and the next 45 minutes were spent scratching my legs and politely declining the rice liquor.  When we finally got into the truck, I was so happy to be heading home.

While we stopped a few times along the way to let people "pick some flowers,"  I wasn't asked to get out of the car until we got to a place that Viengmany kept describing as the cave.  Although the last thing I wanted to do was visit a cave, I got the impression that this place was somehow very meaningful.  I watched Lahthana buy an orange marigold and followed him to a building that was unlocked for us.  The walls were covered with photos from the war and I realized that this was the famous Tham Piu cave that was bombed by US troops who believed there were Vietnamese soldiers hiding inside.  Instead, the bombing killed over 350 people including children, monks and local villagers who had taken refuge inside. The pictures on the walls were graphic, portraying headless child monks and people with their intestines hanging out.  We decided to leave the "museum" and I followed Lahthana and Viengmany up towards the cave.

At the mouth of the cave.

What felt like 500 steps later, we were in the mouth of the 800 meter cave.  I realized that this was a very sacred spot to the Lao who are still haunted by the legacy of war.  The inside is dark and ominous, very spooky if you ask me.  Everyone took a moment of silence and we proceeded back down towards the car.  I was very happy I had put aside the events of the morning, to appreciate this very historic yet horrible site for which my country was to blame.

Inside the cave at a memorial rock.

The silence didn't last long and once we were back in the car, everyone was talking (in their not-so-indoor voice) and telling Lao jokes.  I watched the countryside pass by and it slowly become dark.  And by dark I mean very dark.  Despite our headlights there wasn't even light pollution from the surrounding villages.  

I looked up and saw the most gorgeous moon: a faint sliver of white light in the sky.  Between that and the thousands of bright stars, everything that went wrong today seemed to wash away.

We finally pulled into Phonsavanh and stopped so that I could get something to eat and not have to take the motorbike out later.  I treated myself to a banana roti and Mr. K dropped me back off at the office.  

I'm home safe and sound and clean.  Best part?  I get to do it all again tomorrow.