There is a steep sided valley tucked away in the mountains of Laos that has escaped notice for decades. The 21st century is arriving all of a sudden with destruction greater than anything they or anyone they know has ever experienced.
Notice my back pack on the left side of the root flare? I've never seen trees this large in Laos before.
The valley up until now wasn’t on the radar so to speak. It’s not on the way to anywhere. The river that flows through this valley crosses only one road far upstream and runs for 60 or so kilometres undisturbed until it empties into the Mekong unnoticed just below Xiengkok. Nature has also done her part to shield this valley from the covetous eyes of the modern world. Guarding both sides of the valley are steep mountains covered in thick forest. Up and downstream powerful rapids make the river impassable by even the smallest open boat. There are no roads into the valley or up the mountains on either side.
Above is the river entering the Mekong. The river is called Nam Fa, (River Sky, or River Blue) the river never slows down enough to accumulate silt, hence it's blue name. The sandbars it pushes up into the Mekong hide it from view. The Mekong itself has bad rapids here. This is far upriver alongside Burma, halfway to China.
On the south bank of this valley on a sloped bench well above the reach of even the highest flood waters lay a small neat village. Mongla. I speak of these people as if they still live there, because I can’t believe they are gone. Until I see them again I will remember them as I last saw them.
Mongla.....as I first saw it in Feb 07. I used the telephoto on my mini zoom to glass the town from 4km away, above Jakune. Large dipterocarps rise above the canopy, tilled fields at higher elevations behind the village.
Mongla is not totally isolated. Fit and strong adults make a long one day walk to Muang Long or even Xienkok. They bring back manufactured items, such as lead for shot, fishhooks, gasoline for the generator, even tin for the roofs if they have the cash. Until recently the outside world had hardly made an impression on the remote valley and no one ventured in.
Above the Naiban of Mongla and a young boy who has been studying Laotian returning from Muang Long with fuel, a bucket, a woven mat, and some other manufactured goods. This is the ford below Jakune in the dry season. The flow is about ten cubic meters per second down by the Mekong, less than a tenth the volume of the wet season. When the rains come there is no more travel to the west.
The people of this valley are called Akha. The men can recite their lineage back to common ancestors with all the other Akha of Phongsali, Thailand, Burma, or China. Above the river on the higher slopes of the mountain they grow corn, rice, peanuts, squash, and opium.
The trees are some of the tallest and oldest I’ve ever seen in Laos. The trail is forced to climb up and over and around the roots of the trees in the perpetual twilight of the deep forest. Here the large predators and their prey survive in high numbers, not yet hunted for sale. I’ve seen many original forests in Laos, but none with trees as large as those along the river between Mongla and the ford below Jakune. Some of these trees were probably growing before there was a United States.
Tigers and leopards,
barking deer guar,
bears and civets,
slow loris sambar.
Fish eagle fly away,
Jakal can run.
What of the marten and badger,
For them it’s no fun.
I went to Mongla on my second trip into those forests. The previous time my guide and I had gotten kind of lost. Didn’t know where we were, didn’t know where a trail was to take us to where we wanted to go, we saw a valley in the distance that we thought was the one with the road and we walked out to it. There are no maps, there are no signs, half the villages aren’t on anyone’s list.
My Lahu guide from another trip. Note the store bought ciggies, and resoled dress shoes. The people obtain most of their protein from the forest. When the government takes their guns it causes much hardship. The gun is not even a rifle, they make their own black powder.
On my return trip our plan (new guide) was to make a beeline to the last village I’d stayed at previously and continue on from there. To do that we had to walk up 3,000 feet close to the top of the predominant mountain of the area, and down the other side another 3,000 feet. A long walk for one day.
Soon after we began we met a middle aged man and young boy who accompanied us. My guide spoke some English, I speak some Lao, the Akha man spoke some Lue as did my guide. We walked up the mountain and ate lunch at a spring part way down the other side. No one but me carried water. After stopping to say hello to the Naiban (head man) at the village I’d stayed at previously, we forded the river, took a swim, and walked through the quickening twilight into Mongla.
Above the Naiban of Mongla in his traditional jacket of cotton grown, died, spun, woven, and embroidered in the village.
Not knowing which house was the one of the village chief my guide asked the kind man who had accompanied us all this way to point it out to us. The man said, “follow me, I am the Naiban”. Unknowingly we’d walked all day with the village chief.
In the morning I could see more of Mongla. The village was doing well for itself. Many metal roofs, manufactured shirts and flip flops, no malnourished kids. The Naiban was a soft spoken man with a young second wife not yet with child. The evening in his house had been relaxing if quiet. The two wives talking between themselves and drinking tea, a young son with the flu so we were all quiet as he slept, the fire warmed the house and drove out the damp.
There are almost no manufactured things to be seen in the village. No plastic. Often few or no foreigners had been to these places before.
All that is now gone. The village had been there for many generations. They were forcibly relocated.
I’d seen plans for a hydro dam, one of a hundred planned for the country, but the valley is too far from anywhere to make it feasible, the amount of water too small. Until copper was discovered. A double whammy. Now there is a big demand for electricity close by. The mine and the dam are both by a private Chinese company. All the laborers and technical workers will be Chinese, all the profits back to China.
First they will cut all the trees. One of the largest intact river ecosystems of it’s type still existing in South East Asia. There are no elephants but every other large and rare mammal exists. Gaurs, tigers, clouded leopard, all the civets, and lorises.
I know of two other villages that I’m sure had to move. They were very close to the river. The moves will probably be to the road. The government likes that. The guns are illegal, they’ll work as day laborers to buy food. They’ll be impoverished. Populations shrink from moves like this. The old and the young get sick and die. The fine houses with wood plank walls carefully carved by hand will be no more. They’ll live in bamboo, the kids will have their hair fall out and their bellies grow round from hunger. I’ve seen it before.
The second wife, since the photo she has had a child. As I remember they cover one breast after their first child.
The headman is responsible for every person in his village. When food is scarce and kids cry long into the evening the headman has the weight of the world on his shoulders.
The village gate on the NW side of Mongla, my last view of the village.
http://asiapacific.anu.edu.au/...
http://asiapacific.anu.edu.au/...
http://asiapacific.anu.edu.au/...
There is no direct route for the copper to go from the mountains above Mongla to that iphone in my pocket. Copper from China goes to many uses, often to build China itself. None the less I can't ignore my partial guilt. We in America have no place for copper mines, not in Bristol Bay not in Arizona close to where jaguars cross from Mexico. Yet we use the lion's share of all resources in the world.
The people of Mongla use very little in the way of metal. The silver jewelry and some lead for shot. The carbon footprint of the village is less than a one way trip to work for me.
Sometimes when making decisions about my consumption I think of these people.
Thanks for the Recommended: though I'd think this kind of thing has little general interest compared to the Duck guys. My concern is that up top it says queued to rescue and you know how it is, rather rescued than recommended. It looks to be a warm day, above freezing already, I'm working while I can, but I'll be back to thank any comments. Again thanks for the recommend and rescue.