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ARRIVING IN LAOS

 

Peering through the plane window I tried to envision the country in which we were to spend the first half of the 1970s. Half a world away from our home in Hawaii, would Laos, country of our destination, resemble the flat brown fields of central Thailand below us? Would Vientiane, the capital city, be anything like Bangkok where we had just spent twenty-four hours?

My husband and I had flown into Thailand from East Pakistan and had been assailed by cultural contrasts. The noise, the frantic human activity, the exotic aura provided by brilliantly colored temples, the trauma of suicidal taxi drivers all had been compressed into a very brief glimpse of this sensual Southeast Asian city.

The ride from the airport to the hotel had been classic Bangkok. Vehicles on the roadways were six abreast, separated only by a stripe of paint. We caught glimpses of upwardly curving, bright orange and green pagoda roofs, watched sidewalk vendors thrusting their wares towards camera-toting tourists, marveled at canals, known as klongs, jammed with shore to shore sampans.

The abundance confronting us was mind-boggling. It was immediately obvious that we had left behind us the austerity of Pakistan, that country where we had just completed a six-month assignment for the U.S. State Department. We were eager to look around and, leaving unopened bags in the hotel, soon found ourselves in streets awash with taxis. We gawked at neon signs designed to lure us into nightclubs and restaurants and, giving in to a wave of homesickness, availed ourselves of the opportunity to view an American movie.

After the show we strolled along the sidewalks, noting the mixture of cultures reflected in passing faces, staring at the excess of consumer goods offered in stores. We had repeatedly delighted the street children by responding with, "Hello. How are you?" and, "What's your name?" to their giggling attempts at English.

On our way back to our hotel we stopped to eat small hot coconut cakes cooked over a portable brazier set up on a street corner. Tucked into my bag was some fruit from a sidewalk stand, ready for the next morning.

Our early start on the following day produced only frustration. Officials dispensing visas to Laos were insensitive to our eagerness to move on, causing us to spend most of the day filling out forms and waiting in line. Grateful at last to be airborne, I gazed out of the plane window where below us I could see a two-lane highway down which toy trucks appeared to be racing in slow motion.

 

1. Lao people live in houses on stilts (Thadeua Road, 1971)

 

Did this highway connect with Laos? Perhaps figuratively, but I reminded myself that the Mekong River was a boundary between the two countries. Was Laos a country suffering from the severe economic restrictions we knew in Karachi, or would it be more likely to reflect the sights and sounds of Bangkok?

Neither of us knew a great deal about the small, landlocked country we were approaching, and John responded to my questions with, "I'm quite sure it will not be as economically advanced as Thailand - and probably less soph isticated."

"What about roads?" I asked. "The one we can see under us looks pretty impressive."

"Not surprising. Unless I'm mistaken, it was built primarily with American money in order to facilitate the movement of military vehicles from south to north. I don't know that American foreign policy has set that kind of priority in Laos." His answer was my initial clue toward the intricate interconnection between American foreign aid through the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) and the political ramifications of American foreign policy in this part of the world.

"I understand that our University of Hawai'i team members usually fly from one point to another since many of the roads are in the hands of insurgents and too dangerous to use, even when they exist." (Much later I learned from Martin Stuart-Fox in Laos: Politics, Economics and Society, that in all of Laos there were less than six thousand kilometers of highways and two of these roads in the Laotian panhandle connected Lao communities directly with Vietnamese ports and were, thus, constant targets of both American and North Vietnamese military action 116, 122.)

Further questioning was interrupted by the proffering of a drink by our cabin attendant who was wearing what she informed me was traditional Lao dress. Her stunning calf-length woven silk skirt was matched by a pa peh or shoulder sash. Gold thread formed intricate patterns in both the skirt and sash. Was this everyday dress for Lao women? Did anyone wear slacks in public? Would all Lao women have the fresh complexion and delicate features of this attractive stewardess? Was hers a coveted job?

As we neared our destination I became acutely aware of how little I knew about this small country and recalled my astonishment when John had asked me what I would think about living in Laos. "What's Laos?" I had countered triggering his explanation that it was a country in Southeast Asia where the University of Hawai'i had a team of education specialists in place and was seeking an experienced vocational education specialist with his skills in welding, machine shop and blueprint reading. He would supplement the team's practical arts curriculum development efforts, help to install equipment and also train teachers in the use of both the equipment and the curriculum materials. The University was pressuring him for a reply, and he was obviously eager to accept.

Sensitive to the enormity of the changes that were about to take place in my life, for a marriage proposal was attached to this career change, he offered me the USAID Post Report for Laos and suggested that some of my questions, at least about Laos, if not about marriage, would be answered in this document.

I turned to the government-produced report to learn how it might separate the lure of travel from the risks of marriage. The Post Report was helpful about Laos and answered questions I didn't yet know enough to ask. Laos nestles in the midst of Vietnam and Thailand, Burma, China and Cambodia. The Kingdom of Lan Xang claimed three million inhabitants (and according to legend, one million elephants.) The report indicated that the United States had a very extensive presence in Laos. In fact, the USAID contingent - more than two thousand people - was second in size only to the USAID program in Vietnam.

What would it be like to live there?

I tried to visualize the climate (both rainy and humidly hot) and the accommodations:

 

The Vientiane plain is located in a bend of the Mekong River. Most Americans live in a compound six kilometers from the center of Vientiane. The homes have modern American conveniences. You may ship one vehicle in addition to four thousand pounds of household goods.

 

The report explained that the United States was providing aid in the form of road construction, public safety training, agricultural assistance and, of course, education. I was introduced to the fact that some USAID programs were contracted to nongovernmental agencies, such as the University of Hawai'i, while others were under the direct supervision of our government and staffed by foreign service officers. Because of the large number of families accompanying the employed American workers the post had an American school offering all grades through high school.

"What do Americans who live in Laos and who are not government employees do?" I wondered.

With my husband I examined the Post Report and concluded that teaching in the American school, or possibly teaching English to Lao nationals were both options.

 

 

2. Homes of the poor in Vientiane are made from scrap lumber and corru- gated roofing sheets.

 

The American Women's Club was active and ran a small library as well as a thrift shop. I saw several ways to fill my time during John's working hours, and the intrigue of living in a hitherto unknown country piqued my adventurous nature.

I had traveled to Japan, Thailand and India in the previous ten years and was eager to go again to Southeast Asia. Indochina was unknown territory, although all or us were deluged with conflicting opinions about America's role in South Vietnam. With a minimum of time to wrap up my job as a student activities advisor in a community college, I had no chance to research the country of Laos and its relations to its neighbors.

June 6 was our marriage date, and four days later we were on our way overseas. Our diversion to Pakistan, where John had previously served on a University of Hawai'i/USAID sponsored team, allowed him to complete some unfinished tasks of that effort and delayed our arrival in Laos by six months.

The "Fasten Seat Belt" sign interrupted my reveries, and the musings melded into the excitement of touching down in a country promising new experiences. Several members of the Hawai'i team greeted us at the gate and sped us through customs. We were then ushered into a car from which I gazed eagerly as we drove slowly through the...