Men who eat dogs and frogs fear
There are as few animals in the jungles of Vietnam as there are in Laos. The people, as Juan told us, they eat it all.
With the feeling of heading to a somewhat looted place, we enter the roads of northern Laos. Our driver, Vulcan, he was a caring person. He stopped with a kind gesture every time we asked him and we asked him many times.. The landscape took on a wilder air as we moved further into the country.. The jungle threatened to invade the asphalt, The trees and vines bowed and the rivers rushed down the valleys with fury.. Como nos había adelantado nuestro guía vietnamita, no escuchábamos el estruendo de los pájaros o las cigarras, ni veíamos una sola culebra despistada en la carretera. Pero yo sabía que allí, somewhere, away, muy adentro en la densidad de la jungla, caminaban con sigilo algunos de los pocos tigres que aún habitan el Sudeste Asiático.
También en Laos hay terrazas de arroz, pero están ocultas, como improvisadas entre los palmerales y cada vez que aparecían nos sobresaltaba su presencia, pues no la esperábamos. El hecho de domesticar allí el paisaje me pareció un desafío del hombre. In my opinion, aquel contraste era más bucólico que en Vietnam, más visceral. Las aldeas eran humildes, con niños desnudos que entraban en pánico si les apunábamos con la cámara y alrededor, sólo el verdor ingobernable de la selva.
También en Laos hay terrazas de arroz, pero están ocultas, como improvisadas entre los palmerales
Llegamos aturdidos por tanta curva y tanta maleza a la localidad de Muang Long. Es un pueblecito tranquilo, con un par de hostales viejos y restaurantes que se asoman a los campos de cultivo. Contactamos con Tui. Según la opinión de muchos viajeros era el mejor guía de la zona y con él pretendíamos adentrarnos en la selva para encontrarnos con los pueblos akha, que son los indígenas que aún habitan la parte más agreste de Laos.
Nos levantamos al amanecer. A certain Don and Tui himself guided us during the first day along narrow paths that ascended hills through the undergrowth.. We carried the camera equipment and although the slopes made the path difficult, Paul, Yeray and I felt with enough strength and desire. But sometimes it happens that when one crosses jungles in the middle of the rainy season, it goes and it rains. And here the rain falls with rage, sin control, there is no limit to water, no respite for the traveler. Hours passed and I had the sensation of swimming on the dirt roads, that were no longer earth but mud and mud. To record the journey, Yeray armed himself with an umbrella with which he protected the camera from the water.
The ramps turned the road into a tumbling contest. To lighten the painful journey, we decided to count each one's slips and thus try to take advantage of our clumsiness., laughing at a situation that the truth is that we no longer controlled. I was in the lead. He had kissed the ground five times, Pablo followed me with four and Yeray, more careful he had only fallen twice.
We decided to count each one's slips and thus try to take advantage of our clumsiness.
We crossed bamboo vaults and crossed several rivers. Almost from the beginning we had resigned ourselves to the fact of walking with wet feet. There were more than ten hours of beatings, stumbles, oaths and rivers. The sun was setting when the first of the villages appeared. A woman was carrying more firewood than you could have sworn she was capable of carrying.. The rest were wooden houses on a mud blanket that occupied everything.. The place is called Chakhuen, but it doesn't appear on the maps.
One of the houses opened its doors to us. We take off our shoes and enter in silence. Nobody spoke. The room was spacious. They had lit a fire and we discovered to our astonishment that there was a television, off, in a corner. Some men smiled subtly. The women wore long skirts and bare chests., something that seemed to me more typical of black Africa than northern Laos. They served us dinner, but they did not accompany us. They would have dinner later.
when we finish, The women gestured for us to lie down on several mattresses that they had laid out.. Then two young men approached each of us and began to massage our feet., a massage that relieved the twenty kilometers of crossing. It is tradition to receive the traveler in this way and a sign of courtesy to accept it.. The massage lasts as long as the stranger decides, so after a few minutes we thanked the gesture and sat up with a somewhat disheveled soul..
two young men approached each of us and began to massage our feet
The next morning, The village chief welcomed us and I had the opportunity to talk to him to discover that the dog is the most precious delicacy there.. I looked out of the corner of my eye at the dogs that were running around playing with the children..
But that was just an anecdote compared to the customs of his grandparents., terrible at times.
-When twins were born in a village, It was necessary to get rid of one of them because the brother who was born second was considered a kind of demon and if he was not executed, bad luck would invade the entire town. But that was before, I disagree with that. I only saw it happen once.
The Akha are especially superstitious. They usually build houses far from rivers, because another evil spirit lives there: the Frog. The croaking of the frogs scares some of the akhas, although younger generations are beginning to be more skeptical.
When twins were born in a village, it was necessary to get rid of one of them
It was a clear morning but the entire town was full of mud. The situation was becoming absurd, because there was a hose in the middle of the esplanade formed by the four houses of the village. I tried to wash my clothes and clean the mud. After, In any direction, You could only move forward by sticking your foot up to the knee in the mud.. Everything was chocolate color. The pigs were wallowing and the few who dared to cross from house to house did so barefoot..
Another day of more than fifteen kilometers of new slips awaited us., of muddy slopes that made us fall down the slope, again and again. It took us a whole day to reach the second village, whose name is Chongka, and we discovered with relief that it was more walkable. The children looked at us shyly at first and curious later..
Akha women wear a silver headdress, made with coins that decorate his head. They are elements as expensive as they are necessary to maintain social status.. A man who was recognized as the village healer put an arrow through my back to cure a contracture.. The man spent several minutes murmuring ancient words that would help ease my pain.. The tip of the arrow was wrapped in some kind of roots or plants that were sacred to them for some reason that they tried to explain to me but that I didn't quite understand.. We didn't speak the same language but we got along well.. They offered us hot tea and we bowed in return.. We chased the children who were laughing and took photos to celebrate that unintelligible moment of complicity..
A man who was recognized as the village healer put an arrow through my back to cure a contracture.
That second night it rained as if the flood had settled in the world of the akhas. The last day was going to be a mud marathon. We already stopped counting the falls. I think Pablo was winning, that in the last kilometers he had slipped half a dozen times. Only the huge spiders made us stop our steps to avoid the web that hung from the trees.. We pass by a new village and continue on our way.
There were still several kilometers left when Tui and Don left us alone, literally. A passing motorcycle took Tui home because his knee hurt.. Don stepped forward., without any explanation, with part of the luggage that included, eg, the lanterns. And night fell
Yeray, Pablo and I grope forward, illuminated only by our cameraman's cell phone. We arrived at night, painful, exhausted and very angry to the town of Muang Long. After locating our guides who shrugged their shoulders at our protests, fuimos in sleep. And before falling exhausted in my bed, I spent a moment thinking that there, in those towns hidden in the jungle, the akha continue sleeping their nights, trying to avoid the frogs, eating dog, fighting the mud, begging for a truce from the rain, without anyone in the world knowing about your worries.
