Laos Law

     Van Vieng is nestled at the base of some of the most dramatic limestone mountains the world has to offer.  In northern Laos they raise dramatically into the sky fall like a curtain to the ground all at the same moment.  The jungle immediately begins to cover them in dark green foliage, vines and exotic flower pedals.  This morning I'm watching the mist role over their sharp peaks until they are almost out of view.  We are at a riverside cafe and restaurant built on stilts and a soft rain is quietly falling around us.  Our table is a dark wood, almost Chinese in fashion.  It is short rather than using chairs we sit cross legged on an old rug with pillows all around for our backs.  Below a woman has hung bed sheets out to dry and now they soak up the rain while at the river's edge some children play in the river and bathe.  My eyes cannot let go of these mountains.  I think of Buddha and Taoism.  Not because I am one, or even fully understand the philosophy behind the religion but because I am at peace.  My heart wears the calm visage of the monks I see walking the the dirt streets either on their way to morning meditation or to collect alms from the neighborhood shops.  Linda is sipping on fresh guava juice while I blow on my coffee to cool it down.  I wish I had ordered the juice.  David has temporarily put down his book Understanding Buddhism to role a joint.  in light of the previous nights events I can't believe he's doing it.  And I can't believe I'm letting him.  You see, I don't want to go back to jail in this foreign country.  But the morning is young and life is so beautiful and the rain is cleansing our fears.  Like a thoughtful ghost I watch the scene unfold before me.  As David wraps the dense green marijuana buds into thin paper, time unravels and I feel powerless to stop it.  And I wouldn't even if I could.

       David is from Melbourne, Australia.  We met him on the bus from Vientiane and instantly became friends.  He teaches music and theater and has left his home for other vistas so that he might find himself, sort out tangled loves and put some direction to his compass.  We had more in common than initially perceived.  It would turn out to be a magical and frightening few days.  but enough of foreshadowing.  Let me bring this tale out into the light.

Linda and I hadn't planned ahead on where we would stay.  We seldom do anymore.  It's easier and more fun to show up figure it out.  When we got off the bus it was already agreed that we would follow David to The Banana Bungalows where he had a room waiting.  They were fully booked as were the two other establishments next door.  Our packs were growing heavier and our shirts were soaked through with sweat.  The bandanna I used to pat my forehead with had to be wrung out every few minutes.  When David suggested we sit and share a beer it sounded like the best plan of the day.  We had already endured a six hour bus ride through the mountains of Laos all on dirt roads and our stomachs ached from being tossed about.  As it often goes with friends in beautiful places, one turned into many and within a few hours the problem of lodging seemed as distant as the animal calls coming out of the jungle.  We talked about music and musical theory.  We philosophized on the merits of experimental theater and the magic of the ensemble.  David was recently exploring the  concepts of Buddhism and seemed entranced by the notion that the student must always question the teacher (a part of Buddhism that is woven into the fibers of its history since the first silk worm unfolded the weavings of the human mind).  Such a far cry from the religions of the Western World where follow and obey are the cornerstones of thought.  Linda would listen and laugh, chiming in at every appropriate opportunity as she does so well and lifted our spirits with her charisma and charm.   She is truly beautiful.  I could tell David was soft for her, all the boys are keen on her and that was fine by me as we had long ago traded romantic possibilities for something much more enriching.  Our love for each other went deeper than the physical and with that sort of freedom the bonds of friendship were free to travel to places I've never known to exist.  David, I think, wanted some alone time with her but who can blame him, she was beautiful and he was only on the second chapter of his Buddhism book.  And it matters little.  No one can direct the flow of water.

       But there was that sun.  Always present on every corner of the earth and it was slipping behind those mountains that held me so transfixed.  Soon it would kiss us goodnight.  We needed a place to unpack so we could appreciate it when it gently rattled our shutters in the morning.  So I left the budding lovers or way-station flirts to there business (and really what's the difference), to go and find a place to stay farther down the river.  At least she was in safe hands.  They hardly heard my footprints fade.  I walked a length of the river and was momentarily deterred by a herd of cows who claimed the right of way.  I was all to happy not to argue and found a patch of grass to lie in while they passed.  They were agreeable and thanked me before carrying on.

       I had some reservations when I approached this little farm road down the river.  This was truly the last house on the block and we needed a room.  A long path wondered past some hammocks, though a vegetable garden and beside a few squat toilets covered by a loose tin wall.  The room was a bungalow consisting of little else other than a bed, mosquito net and a fan.  Bottles of lizard whiskey sat next to an old U.S. Jeep that had long ago stopped working.  The cost was two dollars and fifty cents per night.  It was perfect.  I was careful not to step on any chickens as I raced back to tell Linda about the Eden I had found.  Down through the garden, past the toilets and around the hammocks (wouldn't a nap be nice); the cows were long gone but I was weary not to step in the all the gifts they had left.  Along the river and back up the bank to where I found my friends laughing and smoking much as I had left them.  We shared the last of the beer and agreed to meet later that night.

       

       I don't want to be here.  I didn't even smoke anything.  Where are my mystical mountains of limestone and jungle where Buddha sits and meditates?  None of this can be seen from the jail cell of the Laos prison where we sit.  And Buddha?  Why does he have to be so passive?  A little divine intervention is what we need.  This is all to real.  The severity of what the officer is saying is resonating through my head.  "One break Laos law, all guilty.  Two half year in jail."  This was serious.  I am scared.  We needed a way out.  The only guard who spoke English was the one with the gun, he was fifteen years my junior.  They took us, sometimes one at a time, sometimes in groups of two, into a small room for questioning.  But there really were no questions.  I sat and watched a gecko climb over the peeling green paint and between a crack in the wall.  Safety.  "By to have marijuana you have broken Laos law.  No matter who smoke or no, you all guilty.  Two half years in Vientiane prison.  We go now."  What would you do with this information?  Have you any idea about the justice system in non-westernized countries?  I have been to enough to know that it doesn't exist.  Corrupt police declare you guilty and then you disappear until your family and embassy can locate you.  By then it is often to late.  Simply staying alive in these prisons is a matter luck.  I thought about Linda.  This would be an entirely different kind of torture for her.  The men could be beat and starved but her fate would be terrifyingly different.  This could not happen.  What is the only other option?  Where is that crack in the wall where the gecko escaped.  Money.  Western Money.  More powerful than law or life or fate at this moment.  But this too is a treacherous road.   Let me ask you.  Have you ever bargained for life but at the same time had to realize the limits of your resources?  The more you have the more they will demand.  How do you draw that line and give up?  What is the amount that will make both parties happy?  Or do you really have a choice.  I didn't know any of these answers when we quietly, calmly and with a gentle step began to negotiate.  

       That's when David took command of the stage.  What were in the first two chapters of that Buddhism book?  He never explained why he stood and took the actions he did.  Guilt?  Karma?  Heroism and responsibility?   They had his passport.  Like I said before, you cannot control the flow of water and David's soul was a river riding high on new ground.  It rippled over shallow rocks but remained constant.  He stood and demanded, in a calm voice, to speak with the ultimate authority.  Nothing would be discussed until this was achieved.  He was taken to yet another smaller room with the man with the gun and the doors were closed.  From an open air vent in the ceiling I could here him explaining that the drugs belonged to him and him alone.  No other person had participated in the use nor had we had known it was present in the room.  This was partially true.  We all knew it was there.  We watched him buy it.  But no one had smoked it other than him.  A lie by omission is still a lie.  How thick is the veil of deceit?  He signed a sworn statement of liability.  What's the problem with this logic?  If you can bribe many why not bribe many?  There was more collective money than in one.  So where is the dollar amount?  The officer thought the same way I did and sent David back to our cell.  Another officer turned the TV so we could watch.  Soccer.  Amazingly my mind wandered into the game and I began to cheer for a team.  

       What I wanted was a papaya salad.  It's a mixture of under-ripe papaya, chili, lime juice and fish sauce.  We were all drunk.  David wanted a little smoke and the people all around us were getting high.  It seemed like an innocent gesture when he got up to go and buy a bag.  He was back within five minutes.  Something recognizable played in the background and  we ordered more drinks and food.  Van Vieng was beautiful and the mountains were silhouetted under an almost perfect moon.  We greeted fellow travelers and watched the night fall like a lose leaf from an aging tree.  But special nights must always come to an end.  People grow tired, morning descends upon dark and bills need to be reconciled.  It was time to go and our hour had long ago fallen past the hand of time.  It was time for a house party.  David was carrying his guitar and along the road I met some friends from Vietnam who also played.  They quickly followed suite and we were off to frolic and sing.
       For a while the music was grand.  Who doesn't like singing along to Oasis, The Beatles and Neil Young?  I think I was doing a particularly good rendition of Wish You Were Here  by Pink Floyd when they came through the door.  There was no knock, no forewarning to their entrance, they were simply there in the Bungalow.  And on the floor next to some dirty and tired sandals was David's small bag of marijuana.  When the officer in the camouflage jacket picked it up and help it out so we could all see it I knew the last chord had been played.  Did you exchange, a walk on part in the war, for a lead role in cage....Wish you were here.  We were, (pardon the expression Buddha) fucked.

       When David walked out of the room with the man with the gun  I had high hopes.  I felt bad for him but this had nothing to do with me.  I couldn't have been more wrong.  Back into the room with no TV.  They wanted money and they wanted a lot.  Five million Kip each to be exact.  That's approximately six hundred U.S. dollars and there were five of us.  All because one person had some pot.  That was the option presented to us.  Pay or go to jail.  At least we had an option.  None of us had that sort of cash on us so we needed to get creative.  Linda, myself and the two other people managed to come up with one million Kip between the four of us and offered it to the officer.  He took it but said nothing.  What of David?  They still had his passport.  After some discussion we were released with the understanding that David would return the next morning at eight am and pay five million Kip.  They would keep his statement and passport until then.  Then they let us go.

       We  had no idea where in this small village we were but it didn't take long to find a recognizable street and make our way back down towards the river.  We said our goodbyes and agreed to meet for breakfast.  Then we said our prayers and fell into a deep sleep.  That night I was joined in my bungalow by a small critter who came in between the walls.  I could hear him scurrying and scratching along the wood floor but couldn't bring myself to get out from under my mosquito net and lower my bare feet down to see what he was doing.  The next morning I rose at seven and discovered that he had ransacked my toiletry case and tore through all my condoms.  Knowing his propensity for safety I felt much better about being bit by him.  The way I saw it this little fucker owed me twelve U.S. dollars.  He never did pay up.  I also noticed that the fan was off.  How had he managed that?  I was slightly impressed.  Linda and I dressed, grabbed our ATM cards because we were now totally broke and went to meet David.  He should be back from the police by now.  Things were strangely quiet around town.  When we found the ATM we discovered why.  A passing French traveler explained that all the power for the whole town was off until five pm.  We had about eleven dollars between us and went for breakfast.  David arrived an hour or so later and told us there was on bank on the other side of town that had a working ATM.  He had taken out five million Kip and gone to retrieve his passport but a different officer demanded ten million Kip.  He politely left and waited for the man he had spoken with before.

       So was I surprised to see him that morning rolling a joint?  Not really.  That's just the way some things work.  Later that evening we sat with a couple from the UK while they sipped on opium tea.  David smoked and we played guitar and laughed, putting the previous evening behind us.  Eventually he got his passport back and we parted ways, most likely never to see each other again.  We had come to Van Vieng to go tubing and kayaking but saw so much more.  Farewell Laos.  We appreciate both your hospitality and corruption.