Why a Man With an AK-47 Was On My Bus

I just arrived in Luang Prabang (colonially beautiful!) from an nine-hour bus ride from Phonsavan. Laos is a strange and beautiful land. And obviously a bit dangerous. In fact, there was a man holding an AK-47 on the bus. Why? Let me explain.

In the early 70s the US was certain that Laos was the key domino that, when toppled, would start the unavoidable march of terror of communism. To block this move we provided incredible funds to the CIA to wage a secret war to stop the communist forces in Laos from taking over. We kept it secret because only years before we (the USA) signed an agreement in Geneva protecting Laos’ neutrality. But now we wanted to ignore that promise and bomb some brown people.

As is often the case with our engagements (see: Afghanistan) we chose to provide massive air cover to locals so they could fight the battle for us. We chose the Hmong people in Eastern Laos and gave them “civilian” air support as they went to war against the North Vietnamese and the Lao communists. I put civilian in quotes here because in reality these were ex-military people that were stripped of identity so they could be technically declared as non-military. But after a year or two of ferocious bombing, America pulled out of Vietnam and left Hmong to fend for themselves. End of story. For us at least.

The Hmong didn’t think this was the end of story. In fact, if they surrendered they would unquestionably face certain death at the hands of the communists. So, they took to the hills and started waging a multi-decade struggle against the communists that control the state today. Because there exists no means of generating money in the hills of Laos they turned to the obvious means of revenue generation: banditry.

For decades now the Hmong have swarmed down on passing buses, cars, and motorcycles robbing people of their valuables to fight the war that the CIA started with them decades ago. Often these robberies are non-violent (insomuch as robbery at the barrel of an Kalashnikov can be non-violent) but occasionally a group of passengers gets executed. Eggs, omelette, etc.

So, here I was on my mountainous trip from Phonsavan, following poorly-paved winding roads through tiger-infested forests, and I see that one of the bus “passengers” is wearing a long coat that covers a shouldered AK-47. As he restlessly moves around the cabin I see that there are multiple clips for his weapon in various pockets. He’s got the predatory look of a caged animal but the unkempt look of a non-soldier. Perhaps a mercenary hired by the bus operators? I’ll never know.

The trip was uneventful. Uneventful, that is, except for my heart’s thrashing at every roadside pedestrian we saw as we cornered a hairpin turn.

But at this point I’m glad to be in Luang Prabang. By far I’m at the nicest hotel on my destination with a Mardi Gras-like balcony overlooking the colonial streets. There’s a night market to my left and the end of a peninsula surrounded by the Mekong to my right. Cicadas are squealing in the surrounding trees and the stars barely poke through the warm, hazy atmosphere. I’ll relax in this luxurious hotel ($35 per night) for a few days and then head back to the smoke and chaos of Vietnam (Hanoi).