A Brown River

by Elise Lopez (United States of America)

A leap into the unknown Laos

Before that morning, I had thought stories of a village beach a mere joke. I had arrived in Sop Chem, a rural and humble village that prior Sunday to volunteer. The boats had came right up to a mesh of land close to the bungalows in the village. There was no beach, just wet ground as the river was almost on top of the fence of the village's gardens. I was told the water level would gradually lower to reveal a large beach as far as the next mountain, but I couldn't picture it in my mind at the time. Yet, there I stood in the morning wind, staring at a vast amount of sand stretching as far as I could see, and I felt numb. I followed Touy, a local guide, from the breakfast bungalow down the path through bamboo trees and exotic flowers peaking towards the direction of the river. As we emerged from the bamboo garden, each step crunched under my feet over what was once a pumpkin patch. I later learned, the pumpkins would have been ready for harvest that day, and now laid under my feet, a messy graveyard. Touy walked slowly over the dead pumpkins reaching the beautiful beach I didn’t believe existed. He stopped about a foot in front of the water and sat in the sand letting his toes dig. I followed and sat next to him listening to the calming river flow in front of us. The day we arrived the river was not calm like this. It was strong and harsh flowing fast and loud. That was the day the Dam broke. It was Dam number 4, and it took a week for the river to calm. The Dams had destroyed the village's pumpkin crops, but they had also given the village its first week of electricity ever. Many of the volunteers had argued over the dams' presence in Laos. Questions about corruption of modernity and the levels of poverty affecting happiness had filled the last couple nights. Some argued that the genuine nature of happiness radiating in the village was a product of simplicity within the village and modernity would kill that gem. I resisted for a second, but finally asked, “Touy, are you mad that the dams are being built in Laos?” He continued to gaze at the water for a long moment. He scrunched his lips to the side as if contemplating his response before surprising me, “Do you know why the river is brown?” Perplexed at this response I took a moment to think about mud or sedimentary rocks or other reasons, but before I could speak he continued, “There is an old Laotian legend, telling the story of many villages living harmoniously like sister and brother. The river was transparent as a crystal and flowed through these villages with clear calm waters. The river’s transparency made it easy for the villagers to fish because you could see all the way to the sand, all the fish and all the shrimp, every crab and every frog. You could see all the rocks which made it easy for boats to avoid crashing or scraping tall rocks. The people loved the river. However, the rains began to get heavier and heavier through the years and with a lack of water systems their homes and villages would flood. This caused many of their valuables, including gold and family heirlooms, to be washed away into the river. Now the people could see the rivers sparkling with these treasures, and they began to fight over these material objects. They became driven by greed and materialism instead of love and friendship. They had lost their Lao way. Nalga who is the guardian of the river saw all this and was saddened by the change in the Lao hearts. He wanted to help the people remember who they were, so he decided to take away the temptation that was clouding the people’s hearts. He clouded the rivers and tainted them brown taking away any transparency that was once there along with the view of any treasures in them.” I paused before asking, "Did they remember?" Touy looked at me and smiled.