Laos : Luang Prabang : Rafting : Rapids; Blue Hmong and Saisonbun Special Zone

We were in a rush the next day – it was RAFTING day! We went to the bakery down the road for a quick breakfast. The Lao service kicked in. The people moved as if underwater, prepared exactly the wrong sandwiches and never smiled. The sandwiches were pretty good.
Our guide, Seg, was great. He perched at the back of the raft with a grin on his face and a cigarette in his mouth. We spent a lot of time drifting downriver, lying on the bouncy red rubber and flanked by the steep hills and beautiful scenery. We passed small waterfalls, festooned with fishing baskets. Swallows swooped and skimmed.
Jakob was a Scandinavian who seemed a lot like Gilderoy Lockehart, but turned out to be knowledgeable about local culture. He paddled along beside in a kayak. He couldn’t Eskimo roll and so the guides were very hesitant about letting him go, but he was very insistent. We thought he was nuts but he turned out to be fine. We even used his upturned kayak as a table over lunch.
We were also travelling with Lauren, an aid worker for ‘Number One’. Number One produce and give away condoms. This got her knowing looks from Seg. She was dead sharp and even spoke some Lao.
The rapids were easily the best bit, such a rush after languishing on the raft and doing flips into the water.
Seg had lots of commands we would frantically practise before launching into rapids. They would start ominously with calm water. We got sucked in and thumped about, all the time being hollered at and paddling madly. Hiding behind a white-cap, a hole in the river opened out and the raft dropped down. The water pounced in and the raft threatened to throw Liv out. The raft would then rise up a sheer wall of water…suddenly all would be calm and clear again.
Time easily overtook us – we pulled into the landing spot at sunset. Lauren told us a fantastic travel disaster story – some friends of hers took a two day rafting trip through Saisonbun.
Saisonbun Special Zone is the final stronghold of the Blue Hmong – a Lao tribe who were used by the U.S. during the Vietnam War. They were trained and financed by the U.S. to fight a mutual enemy - the Pathet Lao (translates as ‘Land of the Lao’, i.e. the Communists). The Americans were extremely secretive about this war – pilots flew civilian planes in cut-off jeans, checked shirts and Ray-Bans. U.S. soldiers further protected their operation (and themselves) by firing flares only – these acted as targets for the native Blue Hmong on the ground. Official communications referred only to ‘The Other Theatre’.
The operation financed itself through opium export in U.S. planes. This drove up demand both at home and abroad, increasing Lao production but also dependency. The U.S. are now pressuring Laos to halt opium production, but still deny involvement.
The Blue Hmong deny that the war ever finished – they are still fighting the governing Pathet Lao in Saisonbun. The Government has officially declared amnesty and are willing to reintegrate individuals into society. However Amnesty International has been searching for hundreds of individuals the Lao Government has named as ‘reintegrated’ without success.
Early on in their trip, they had doubts about their guide’s competence. By the afternoon of the first day, their raft had overturned on a nasty rapid and everything (tents, sleeping bags, cooking equipment, food, digital cameras) fell out. They were forced to sleep on the side of a mountain and scavenge for food. The second day they overran and were forced to sleep on a mountainside again – the guerrillas roaming round them. At this point Seg chipped in – the tour company had hired out Wildside (our company) to go out and find them.
The villagers were dotted about in the river for an evening wash. It was a surreal sight – dark bodies, half covered with colourful billowing cloth, half reflected and distorted, topped with pure white soapy fluff.
Heads turned and villagers emerged to stare at six tired and drenched farang struggling under a huge red rubber boat. The entire village turned out to gawp, but any hint of a camera would repel the forest of eyes.
When we got back we tried to pack, only to be accosted by a SUN CREAM EXPLOSION. The inside of my bag was embalmed. We ended up scraping up the precious gloop. This was the fourth time. Out sun cream is now a dim grey.