A River Runs Through It

Last night, I sat on the deck of the Villa Merry 1 Guesthouse deck sharing a *second* dinner with several of the local guesthouse staff.  VM1 sits perched on the bank of Laos’s muddy and usually languorous and shallow NamKhan river.  As we chatted over bowls of spicy noodles, our conversation was punctuated by loud splashes coming from the direction of the NamKhan.  My hosts explained that the river is flowing faster due to recent rainstorms.  There is also water being released from the hydroelectric dams that have been built to help satiate Laos’s neighbors’ thirst for electricity.  This increased flow dislodges chunks of the opposite river bank which slide into the water, where they are churned into silt, and are washed downstream.  We speculated on how much longer the seasonal bamboo pedestrian bridge would last, before it was also consumed by the muddy river, only to be rebuilt by hand with the coming of the next dry season. 

Seasonal bamboo bridge across the NamKhan river

As the NamKhan enters the town of Luang Prabang, it briefly parallels its big brother, the Mekong, before it finally makes a sharp turn and the NamKhan quietly empties into the Mekong. This meander creates a narrow peninsula of land between the two rivers, which forms the heart of Luang Prabang. It is the site of some of Lao Buddhism’s holiest temples, and the historic residence of the Lao monarch.  It is also the epicenter of the booming tourism business in Luang Prabang.  The peninsula hosts Lao and foreign restaurants, guesthouses catering to all budgets, French cafés brimming with breads and pastries, and a crowded night market bustling with Korean tourists and dreadlocked Western twenty-somethings on a gap year.  All haggle with the vendors over handicrafts or BeerLao t-shirts.

A rare uncrowded shot of the night market (from July 2015)

The tourist activity co-mingles surprisingly comfortably with the Luang Prabang's locals who carry on with their daily lives  – children attending primary school; saffron-robed monks and novices chanting, studying, and doing chores in the various temples; and market vendors selling everything from vegetables, to consumable insects and bamboo-woven kitchen items. 

Novice monks on the peninsula (July 2015)

The Mekong quietly flows past this activity.  Originating in Tibet, the Mekong is one of the world's great rivers, and is the traditional lifeblood of Southeast Asia.  It passes through China and Myanmar, forms much of the Lao-Thai border, then flows through, and supports the economies of Cambodia and Vietnam, before it spreads into the vast Mekong Delta and ultimately spills its muddy contents into the South China Sea.  In landlocked Laos, it is a major source of fish, and its brown waters conceal unique occupants like the Mekong giant catfish, which is the world’s largest true freshwater fish, as well as the critically endangered Irrawaddy river dolphin.  

Typical river scene from the NamOu River near NongKhiao (taken July 2015)

As the regional economies grow, the role of its rivers is changing.  Hydroelectric dams are obstructing their flow and blocking boat traffic, unique river animals are being endangered, and overland transport is supplanting boat traffic.  Dirt tracks are being replaced by sealed roads that support the flow of motorbikes, dusty trucks full of construction materials and consumer goods, and inter-city minivans and buses of all sizes.  There is even a plan for a high-speed rail line that is destined to link China, Laos, and Thailand.  It will be the central piece of a three-line network, with the additional lines from China passing through Myanmar and Vietnam.  These will all converge in Bangkok before continuing southward through the Malay peninsula to Singapore.  As a testament to the complexity of the project, an estimated 60%, of the line through Laos will be either bridges or tunnels due to Laos’s rugged terrain.

Proposed Lao Rail Lines. Source: Vientiane Times

Interestingly this rail idea originated with the British and French imperialists of the past two centuries.  Now with its re-emergence as a regional and global power, it is China, rather than the West, that is helping to bring this plan to fruition.  Some would argue that the imperial motivations are unchanged, however.  Most of the funding for the Lao line will come from China and is likely to include concessions of land around the stations to the funders, and will open Lao markets to additional Chinese imports.  The amount of debt Laos will carry may also be a drain on the Lao economy.

I am cautiously optimistic about the opportunities that economic growth brings for the people of Laos.  It remains one of the world’s poorest countries despite its recent growth rate of 8% annually.  Poor nutrition and lack of quality healthcare still contribute greatly to unnecessary death and disability.  But, I sense a degree of happiness and optimism among people here that I have not experienced in other developing countries.  The people of Laos seem accepting of the current state of things, but not resigned to it, which is refreshing.

Despite all of this activity and change, the pace of Lao life still seems more in tune with the tranquil waterways than the bustle of the emerging roads and rails.  Laos provides a quiet and gentle contrast to the more frantic activity of its neighbors in China, Vietnam, and even Thailand which have all more fully embraced the brash consumerism of corporate globalization.

Photo from my bike commute to work.

For now, I am still able to pedal to work on my bicycle at about the same speed as cars, motorbikes, and the rusting, dented blue tuk-tuks (a vehicular chimera consisting basically of a motorcycle in front and a covered pickup in back).  People I meet still make time for a greeting and ask if I have eaten.  They are almost always ready to engage in a conversation, share a laugh, and help me learn another word or two in Lao.

A tuk-tuk

As I watch the NamKhan’s flow eating away at its banks, I am aware that the increasing rush of modernity and economic forces are going to change the course of life for the Lao people, just as the dams are changing the flow of its rivers. I am hopeful, however, that the cultural foundations of Laos are strong enough to resist being eroded away like the banks of its rivers.