Secret War

Often when I come across a great travesty in this world my heart is filled with flame and a desire for redemption. I dream of going to great lengths to right these wrongs, spread the word, and protect the realms from evil.

But after a few days pass I realize that the flame was only a spark and I have been reading far too much of the Game of Thrones series.

As the saying goes, "Out of sight, out of mind." Which doesn't always apply to distant love, but is often the case with wars and death in far away nations.

What all of my blathering is referring to is my resent visit to Phonsavan, Laos.

Last week, when I first entered the country was the first time I heard anything about Laos in relations to the Vietnam war in the 60's and 70's. Before hearing about any secret war, I was told that Laos is the most heavily bombed country in the world. At first I thought it must be an exaggeration. The war was in Vietnam, not Laos. Why would the U.S. bomb the wrong country? Despite my skepticism, the bombing stats turned out to be true.

Phonsavan is a city amongst mysterious jars, an area known as the Plain of Jars. It was the jars that drew me to Xieng Khouang Province, but a less ancient history is what captivated my attention and got the tear ducts going.

Right before my tour to see the jars is when I learned about the C.I.A. secret war on Laos. I was shocked about hearing the number of casualties and bombings in this beautiful and friendly country. But seeing is believing and I became completely appalled to see the number of craters left by bombs during a war that "never happened."

 

I was shown a very small cave, right next to a site of jars, where an entire village lived for 5 years hiding from U.S. artillery. The cave contains stacks of rocks that the locals compiled, each representing someone who died in the cave during the bombings. I counted over 70, and learned that there is a cave nearby where over 400 civilians, unassociated with the war, were killed.

Did I mention these were villagers? Farmers, mothers, children. These were not accidents either, the pilots were told to target the caves filled with people, because they were filled with people. Many of the bombs were also dropped like trash. If a plane missed their target in Vietnam, they couldn't land with missiles, so they had to drop them somewhere, Laos was often that somewhere.

Worse yet, most of the bombs dropped were full of what the Laos call, "bombies" lethal mini bombs contained in what is known as a cluster bomb. 30% of these bombies didn't explode on impact and continue to kill villagers today. There are teenagers in this town with missing limbs. Children, who had helped with farming and struck a bomb or who had picked them up to play with. This is happening still, over 30 years after the war. The equivalent of one person a day was killed last year alone from these bombies. 

On the tour we were informed to walk on designated areas marked by MAG (mines advisory group) that had been cleared of bombs. I felt at first they were being over cautious until our van got stuck in the mud and a fellow traveler found one of these bombs off the side of the road. This is real, not just some documentary on Nat Geo.

For 9 years bombs were dropped on Laos every 8 min. It's still hard to wrap my head around that kind of bombardment. And sadly it's easy to let the significance of this monstrosity fade away in my life as I nurse dengue fever and get lost in a book.

But it's important for us to realize these horrible realities. Even if distance and time come between our concern for the world for a moment, we can't progress as a species (let alone a country) if we don't learn to pay attention to history. History does repeat itself, and often in the most horrible ways.

What worries me right now is that I hadn't heard a word about this war in Laos my entire life. An operation, carried out in secret, in direct violation of the Geneva Agreements which prohibited the presence of foreign military personnel in neutral Laos.

It only leaves me to wonder what else our government is keeping hidden from us. Snowden gave up everything in his life to expose a secret. Should we let his efforts go to waste as we read our books, watch our shows and pretend our government isn't lying to us? An out of site out of mind mentality might end up being our downfall, but it's still our choice to acknowledge what's there.

-Zazz

For more info on the secret war check out this documentary below.

 

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Guilt of the Lazy Traveler

Leaving my hostel to the bus station I was told to pay no more than 30 baht (.96 cents) for a ride, any higher I would be getting ripped off. I was also given the advise to go to the main road and catch a blue truck, which Chaing Rai uses as public transport. Armed with this advise I headed out into the heat with my backpack; but my plan was quickly thwarted by the sudden appearance of a tuk tuk driver on the sidewalk, blocking my way.

Not wishing to walk any more in the heat with a heavy pack, I decided I would at least check the price and if I could match 30, no need for the blue truck. After a couple rounds of a song-sib, sam-sib duet (40, 30) I was able to get him to agree on sam-sib baht, or 30 baht. Win! Except that this was before my slow realization that the tuk tuk was not a tuk tuk at all, but a good old fashioned rickshaw. And the driver happened to be a little old man who was smaller than myself. As he struggled to peddle my heavy bag and ass to get started on our way, I realized I had made a horrible mistake.

With each valiant effort of my driver to peddle me to my destination, I began to feel more and more like an ass-hole tourist. There I was, a white middle class tourist paying a little old Thai man pennies to wheel me around. Before we had gone one meter I had agreed with myself to pay him his original 40 baht he suggested.

Whenever we came upon traffic or a slight incline upward, forcing our momentum to be lost, his bicycles wheels would lock, forcing him to struggle even more. With each moment this happened I silently told myself I would give him more, "Ok, 45 baht.... No, 50. This deserves 50." I couldn't back out, it was far too late. I had agreed to pay him money and he was determined to follow through no matter how shaky his legs got.

The apex of the situation was reached when we came to a stop light in front of traffic. As the light turned green motor bikes zoomed past us and cars waited patiently for us to get going. We weren't going. I watched some pedestrians smile and chuckle as I silently put a leg out to help push the rickshaw forward. I was shamefully reminded of my youth, health and laziness in this moment. Why couldn't I have walked one block further to the main road? This tiny old man was outdoing me by a longshot. One hundred baht I decided then. This crazy old man was getting 100 baht.

Before handing him the 100 baht, I asked for a photo which he proudly posed for. Before putting my camera away I handed him the note, signaling to keep the whole thing. When I looked back up he had his hand stretched out for me to hold. I obliged and was surprised when he didn't shake it, but held it firmly with both hands. It was clear in his eyes as he looked into mine, that he was very grateful. I wish I could say it made me feel like a saint but 100 baht is only 3 USD and it was given mostly out of guilt. I can't say it was all out of guilt, however. That amazing old man peddling my 160 lb self and bag through the streets of Chiang Rai undoubtedly earned my respect.

Shameful experience for me, but at least I learned something and my strong friend got a great leg workout.

- Zazz

 

 

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