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University of Nevada, Reno

Traditional Beliefs and Farmer Decision- Making in the Uplands of Northern Lao PDR

A dissertation submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of in

By

Michelle S. Roberts

Dr. Robert L. Winzeler dissertation advisor

December, 2011

Copyright by Michelle Roberts 2011

All Rights Reserved

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Abstract

This dissertation reports the results of a year of anthropological fieldwork on agricultural decision-making and traditional beliefs about the land among upland farmers in northern Lao PDR (). Ethnographic research in this region is rare.

Laos is currently undergoing an economic and agricultural transition. There is a need to understand farmer perspectives in the midst of this transition. Using ethnoecological, anthropological and participatory photography methods I explore preferences and values associated with agricultural crops and land. More specifically, I elicit local perspectives at an individual level, across five different ethnic groups (Tai, Tai-Lue, Lao, Hmong and Khmu) and across two stakeholder groups (farmers and government staff). Broader outside forces and how they affect farmer choices is also considered. The political ecology of Laos, ethnicity, and international environmental discourse all affect farmer choices. I found that ethnicity affects preferences, but economic variables affect cash crop choices. Farmers in Laos apply a ―safety-first‖ principle in an attempt to minimize risk. Upland farmers‘ livelihoods are dependent on subsistence farming, livestock rearing, and ecological knowledge about non-timber forest products as foods, medicines and cash earners. Farmers in Laos prefer to maintain subsistence crops and to have some cash income either by growing annual and long-term cash crops, collecting forest products, or through traditional cultural activities such as weaving. Farmers prefer to plant some trees to secure landholdings and to comply with government and international environmental to reduce deforestation. My research conveys the complexity of livelihood systems in the uplands of Laos. I show that farmers negotiate a number of variables and adapt their farming strategies as situations change. My research contributes to the global issues of agrarian change and international development ii

Acknowledgements

Kap Jie Li Li or ―Thank You Very Much‖ to all the farmers in Laos who accepted me into their lives and villages and let me learn from them. None of this research would have been possible without the willingness and patience of farmers to sit and talk with me. Nong Pawnkham, Mae Tao Kian, and Poh Pawnpuey in Muang Muay village went out of their way to make me feel comfortable in my new surroundings. From Bouammi village I give special thanks to Nai Ban Bounyong and elder Bouatang; they were reservoirs of local knowledge. And they always greeted me with a smile and showed genuine interest in me as an individual and in my home country. Occasionally they requested me to sing an ―American‖ song, which was the cause of much laughter and delight. The Nai Ban Khamdeua, the school teachers and all the quick-witted old women in Pak Lao village, always made me enjoy my time there. I also will never forget the women in Houay Khone village who were concerned about my non-meat eating habits. Due to their concern they would give me their highly valued chicken and duck eggs. The women would stop me as I was walking through the village, or at the meeting hall, or as I was brushing my teeth in the morning. It did not matter where I was or what I was doing they wanted to be certain they got the eggs to me! It was such a surprise to be given eggs at random times throughout the day. Their thoughtfulness and the oddity (from my cultural perspective) of the situation makes me giggle whenever I think about it.

Thank you to Dr. Robert Winzeler my Ph.D. advisor, who guided me throughout this long and arduous journey. He was continually available for discussions and always committed to helping me reach my goal. His insights and questions helped me articulate my research more clearly. The hours he spent advising me were invaluable. I only hope one day I can become as good of a mentor to others as he has been to me.

I give thanks to my husband Joshua Laking for being willing to accompany me into the field with our then 4-year-old daughter. Graduate school and child-rearing are opposing forces; I had to rely on the generosity of many members who collectively spent hundreds of hours babysitting over the past five years (the time it took iii me to complete this degree). Thank you Grandma‘s Debbie and Cyndee, Grandpa‘s Rick and Chuck, and aunt Tami—it really was a group effort. My father Dan is a farmer; I spent many warm summer days in his alfalfa fields asking him questions and testing some of my methods on him and my step-mom Nancy. Conversations with my father and my father-in-law Chuck helped me incorporate more aspects and points of inquiry into my study. I want to thank all of my family and friends for believing in me, emotionally supporting me throughout this process, and for sending care-packages to fulfill our American food cravings while living in Laos.

In the field Sangthong Padsalin was the best research assistant and friend anyone could ask for. He was efficient, smart and funny. He always seemed to understand things from my point of view, which is a talent, considering we were communicating across . My research tasks would have been much more difficult to complete without his continued assistance. He is, and shall remain, a dear friend for years to come.

I give professional recognition to Dr. Nora Devoe; we spent many hours discussing development issues in . Every time I left her office I was rejuvenated about my topic of inquiry! Her enthusiasm was contagious and I was sad for her to leave my Ph.D. committee when she moved to Alice Springs, . Thank you to Dr. Louis Forline for his help navigating through the ANTHROPAC program and for sharing his method books with me. Thank you to Dr. Donald Hardesty, Dr. Catherine Fowler and Dr. Hugh Shapiro for being on my committee and for their continued support.

I give thanks to the CIFOR Landscapes Mosaics project and its entire staff in Laos and Indonesia who allowed me to work with them as an intern. I give special thanks to Dr. Manuel Boissiere and Dr. Jean-Christophe Castella who were my CIFOR field advisors. Thank you to Dr. Brian Belcher of Royal Roads University, with whom I collaborated on the photovoice method. I quickly learned he was easy to talk to and full of knowledge about international work. I want to thank the staff of the Lao District Agricultural and Forestry Offices in Pak Ou, Xieng Nguen, and Viengkham districts, and the staff at the Northern Agriculture and Forestry Research Center for working with me, especially Mr. Houmchitsavath Sodarak and Mr. Vilaphong Kanyasone. Also the iv

National Agriculture and Forestry research Institute and their staff who worked with the Landscapes Mosaics project particularly Vongvilay Vongkhamsao. I also thank Ouenheuane Phoutachit, who helped me navigate the logistics of being a foreigner working and living in Laos. He is an excellent administrator and good friend.

Thank you to John Watts for letting me vent and put things into perspective when times were tough. Thank you to Amandine Boucard whose perseverance to get the work done, train her partners and students and stay focused were inspirational.

Thank you to my dear friend Tasha Zemke who copy edited my work pro-bono and prodded me along when I was running out of steam. Thank you to Judith Winzeler for all the helpful feedback, editing advice, and motivational words.

Finally, and very importantly I give thanks to my funding institutions:

1. The National Science Foundation, Dissertation Improvement Grant #0921900

2. Rotary International, Ambassadorial Research Scholarship 2009-2010 academic year

3. The Graduate School at UNR, Semester Dissertation Writing Grant Spring 2010

4. The Canadian International Development Agency via the -CGIAR Linkage Fund, Developing More Effective Methods for Assessing Conservation and Livelihoods Outcomes in Forest Landscapes Project—for their support of photovoice workshops through Dr. Brian Belcher.

5. The Swiss Development Cooperation through the CIFOR, Landscapes Mosaics Project—for the support of Lao staff per-diem wages and some fuel.

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1 My Perceptions, Their Perceptions: Approaching Development Holistically ...... 1 Introduction ...... 1 My Research...... 9 My Background and Fieldwork ...... 11 Research Goals ...... 17 A Note on Languages ...... 19 Chapter Organization ...... 22 Chapter 2 Peoples of Laos: A History and ...... 23 A Brief History of the Peoples ...... 24 Ethnic Groups in Laos ...... 32 The Mon- Ethno-linguistic Branch ...... 37 Forest Nomads ...... 44 The Tai Ethno-linguistic Branch ...... 45 The Hmong-Mien Ethno-linguistic Branch ...... 51 Conclusion ...... 57 Appendix 2 ...... 59 Chapter 3 Political Ecology, Decision-Making Theories and Development ...... 75 Topography, Economy, Shifting Cultivation and the Politics of Natural Resources ...... 76 Government Land-use Policies ...... 79 Political Ecology Summary ...... 83 Rational Choices and Decision Making ...... 84 Decision-Making Perspectives in Anthropology ...... 86 Economic Theories ...... 88 Cognitive Models ...... 91 Internal and Socio-cultural Factors in Decision-Making ...... 97 Decision Making and Development ...... 101 Linkages ...... 109 Chapter 4 An Ethnographic Overview ...... 112 vi

Introduction ...... 112 Research Area ...... 112 Research Collaboration ...... 115 Housing ...... 117 Research Villages ...... 118 Ethnic Groups of the Muang Muay Kumban ...... 120 Khmu ...... 121 Tai and ...... 124 Village Livelihood and Social Organization ...... 128 Seasonal Tasks ...... 128 Gender Division of Labor ...... 131 Gender Equality ...... 133 Children ...... 134 Marriage ...... 134 Divorce ...... 137 Adoption ...... 137 Description of Muang Muay Village ...... 139 Village History ...... 140 Village Organization ...... 141 Village Leadership ...... 144 Education ...... 149 Healthcare ...... 154 Traditional Medicines ...... 158 Village Economy ...... 159 Rice and Agriculture ...... 159 Income ...... 161 Markets and Merchants ...... 162 Non-Timber Forest Products ...... 164 Wildlife ...... 167 Village ...... 168 The Baci ...... 169 vii

Bacis at Baby-naming Ceremonies ...... 170 Curing Bacis ...... 171 Spirits ...... 173 Conclusion ...... 174 Appendix 4 ...... 175 Chapter 5 Local Perspectives through the Camera Lens ...... 185 Method Background ...... 185 My Use of Photovoice ...... 187 The Who, What, When, Where and How of Photovoice in Laos ...... 189 Who Participated ...... 189 How: The Workshop Process ...... 189 What: Questions Asked ...... 194 Common Themes ...... 196 When and Where: Village Iterations and Discussions ...... 199 Muang Muay Village, January 13-15, 2010 ...... 199 The Social Quality of Uniformity Presents Itself ...... 201 Photo Question-and-Answer Round One: Local Livelihoods ...... 202 Photo Question-and-Answer Round Two: The Value of Natural Resources ...... 205 Photo Question-and-Answer Round Three: Conservation and Development ...... 211 Photo Categories ...... 215 Pak Lao Village, January 16-18, 2010 ...... 215 Aggregation of Three Photo Rounds ...... 216 Photo Categories ...... 220 Don Keo Village, February 1-6, 2010...... 221 Photo Question-and-Answer Round One: Conservation and Development ...... 224 Photo Question-and-Answer Round Two: Traditional Land Beliefs ...... 227 Photo Question-and-Answer Round Three: Health and Values ...... 233 Photo Categories ...... 237 Vang Kham Village, February 3-10, 2010 ...... 238 Photo Question-and-Answer Round One: Conservation and Development ...... 240 Photo Question-and-Answer Round Two: Traditional Beliefs ...... 241 viii

Photo Question-and-Answer Round Three: Childbirth and Health ...... 248 Photo Question-and-Answer Round Four: Values ...... 253 Photo Categories ...... 253 Bouammi Village, March 5-8, 2010 ...... 254 Photo Question-and-Answer Round One: Conservation and Development ...... 256 Photo Question-and-Answer Round Two: Traditional Beliefs ...... 259 Photo Categories ...... 267 Houay Khone Village, March 10-12, 2010...... 269 Photo Question-and-Answer Round One: Conservation and Development ...... 269 Photo Question-and-Answer Round Two: Traditional Beliefs, Pregnancy and Health...... 272 Photo Categories ...... 280 Summary of Direct Findings ...... 280 Summary of Indirect Findings ...... 283 Relating the Findings to Agricultural Decision Making ...... 285 The Added Benefits of Photovoice ...... 287 Photovoice as a Participatory Tool ...... 290 Conclusion ...... 292 Chapter 6 Ethnoecological Methods, Results and Limitations ...... 293 Introduction ...... 293 Ethnoecological Methods ...... 294 The Research Process ...... 297 The IRRI Research Area ...... 299 Education ...... 302 The Contrastive Question Method and Results ...... 304 Contrastive Questions and Decision Making ...... 313 The Pile Sort Method and Findings ...... 314 Pile Sorts and Education ...... 315 Pile Sort Hierarchical Clusters ...... 318 The Most Inclusive Clusters of Farmers and Staff ...... 320 Staff Clusters ...... 321 Farmer Clusters Compared to Staff Clusters ...... 323 ix

Farmer Clusters by ...... 325 Criteria Used by Pile Sort Respondents ...... 328 A Pile Sort Test ...... 330 Pile Sort Limitations ...... 331 Ranking Method and Results ...... 333 Cash Crop Ranks ...... 334 Cash Crop Ranks from the Muang Muay Research Site...... 336 Rice and ...... 338 Reflections about Ranking Activities ...... 348 Environmental Constraints ...... 349 Differing Perspectives on Environmental Constraints ...... 353 Political Constraints and Trees ...... 354 Staff and Farmer Relations ...... 356 Conclusion ...... 359 Appendix 6A Interview for the IRRI Site Villages Ban Fai and Ban Silaleck ...... 365 Appendix 6B Interview for IRRI Site, DAFO and NAFReC Researchers and Extension Agents ..... 367 Appendix 6C Species List for Pile Sort and Ranking Activities ...... 368 Appendix 6D Hierarchical Clusters from Staff, Farmer and Ethnic Group Pile Sorts ...... 372 Aggregate Hierarchical Cluster ...... 372 Farmer Cluster ...... 373 Staff Cluster ...... 374 Tai-Lue Farmer Cluster (11 respondents) ...... 375 Hmong Farmer Cluster (5 Respondents) ...... 376 Khmu Farmer Cluster (4 Respondents) ...... 377 Appendix 6E Pile Sort Non-Metric Multidimensional Scaling Results and Graphs ...... 378 Findings from Farmer Multi-Dimensional Scaling ...... 378 Farmer Output Graph 1 ...... 380 Findings from Staff Multi-Dimensional Scaling ...... 381 Staff Output Graph 2 ...... 381 Staff Output Graph 3 (Three Dimensional MDS) ...... 383 Limitations of Multi-Dimensional Scaling ...... 384 x

Appendix 6F Consensus Analysis and Outputs ...... 385 Chapter 7 The Dynamics of Development in the Lao PDR ...... 404 Culture Affects Decisions ...... 406 Broader Outside Influences ...... 408 The Burden of History ...... 408 Socialism ...... 412 The Failure of Socialism and its Current Effects ...... 414 Government Policies and Resettlemnt ...... 419 Farmer Choice and Government Pressure ...... 425 Ethnic Influences ...... 427 Globalization ...... 430 Chapter 8 Conclusion ...... 436 Bibliography ...... 442

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Chapter 1 My Perceptions, Their Perceptions: Approaching Development Holistically

Introduction

People in developing countries desire change. Having lived in two of the world‘s poorest countries, Malawi and Laos, I speak from experience. Because I am a Westerner,

I get inundated with development requests from villagers in the communities where I formerly lived and worked. They assume that I, as a foreigner, have more resources than they, as local agriculturalists, do, and they are not shy to ask for assistance. I have received letters about needs for school buildings, school supplies and sporting equipment.

I have listened to people talk for hours and hours about wanting roads, bridges, motorcycles, livestock, agricultural technologies, water wells and, perhaps most importantly, local clinics with medicines and educated nurses and doctors who can assist them and their children. Even my friends living in Laos who are considered wealthy by that country‘s standards have written me asking for goods, especially medicines from the

United States.

If people desire change, and others want to assist those in need monetarily and technologically, then why do so many development schemes end in failure? Partly because those in need do not necessarily desire some of the changes that are or will be 2 forced upon them by outside entities such as international organizations or their own governments. They do not desire changes they don‘t agree with or that threaten their cultural beliefs or livelihoods. In these situations, it is only natural for people to resist undesired change, as James Scott so eloquently discusses in his book Weapons of the

Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance (1985). The problem persists in bridging the desires of agents of change with local peoples‘ desires. The simplest solution is to listen to local people; after all, they are the ones who turn development ―plans‖ into lived . Without the support of local people, development efforts fail, technologies are not adopted, and billions of dollars are spent with minimal benefit. When one looks at the history of international development projects, it appears as if millions are spent annually to re-learn this same lesson. The case studies within Human Problems in Technological

Change, edited by Edward Holland Spicer and published in 1952, are equally relevant today, so much so that it may well have been published yesterday! The book gives examples of development projects that went wrong for the same reasons they do today: failure to talk and listen to local people, failure to holistically understand the situation, adherence to preconceived outsider notions about the problem, and inflexibility. The few success stories in the book have the tenets of today‘s successes, namely creative and flexible coordinators who listen to locals and who adapt their goals to concur with local cultural behaviors and ideologies.

If local people are meant to be the beneficiaries of development plans, why are they more often left out of the planning stage than incorporated into it? Participatory make developers conscious of including local people, but so far they have 3 not proven to foster winning situations. Numerous reasons exist, which include: local people giving responses they think developers want to hear; local people agreeing with the most powerful person in the room; the exclusion of poor people at meetings; and the fact that wealthy people participate and benefit more than poor people because of their social position, their contacts with agents, and their greater economic resources. In the following pages, I explain how such reasons continue to influence development trajectories in the Lao PDR (Laos).

I am not suggesting collecting emic data and using it to force change on people; I am morally and ethically opposed to this unwarranted of behavior. What I am suggesting is to listen to local voices to foster an understanding of what changes people want and then to create development projects that coincide with local desires. Certainly, different cultures have different ideals about development and but, in general, livelihood improvement, poverty reduction and hunger elimination are overarching objectives of both local inhabitants and funding agencies that hail from Western .

People desire change. Who, then, would deny change to a woman requesting a clinic near her village because she‘s already suffered the loss of five children and three grandchildren?

Of course, things do not always work out as development agencies would like, even those agencies bolstered with well-informed projects. In 2007, while I was in Laos exploring possible research collaborations, I met an Australian man whom I‘ll call Ron1 who was promoting livestock forages and fish ponds for the International Center for

1 Ron and Kham are . 4

Tropical Agriculture (CIAT) throughout Laos. Ron recounted the following story to me.

Near Oudomxay town he met an enthusiastic farmer, Kham. Ron shared technological information with Kham, who had created a number of fish ponds on his land. Kham‘s land was a short distance out of town in a beautiful rural setting among rice fields, scattered bamboo stands and fruit trees (a common landscape in the lowland valleys of

Laos). With the assistance of Ron, Kham created more and more fish ponds and was eventually selling the fish and making a good profit. Then he decided to add a restaurant and bar to the ponds. He wanted patrons to come and eat the fish in this lovely setting.

Kham‘s actions represent common values among people in Laos. Many people from all social strata—rich town folk to poor village folk—have shared this desired fish-pond- and-restaurant goal with me.

Ron went on leave and did not return to visit Kham for a year. But upon his return, while Ron was driving his motorbike up the dirt road to Kham‘s place, he heard a thump, thump, thumping sound. Once he arrived, he realized it was the loud music blaring on the bar stereo. As he sat at the bar, he saw a photo of himself framed and nailed to a support beam. Kham, delighted to see his friend, proudly pointed out the publicly displayed photograph of Ron as a gesture of appreciation for assisting him in developing his successful business. Kham was elated for he was making good money and he told Ron that he was now financially able to send his children to college. As Ron sat there, he made more observations: He noticed small bamboo huts placed along the edges of the fish ponds, and then he saw men coming out of these huts buttoning up their pants.

It wasn‘t long before he realized that in addition to selling food and drinks, Kham was 5 also selling sexual services. Casual sexual relations are not necessarily frowned upon in

Laos; in fact, it‘s accepted for men to have extramarital affairs and in some cases for men to take a mia noi, or little wife, in the event that a first wife seems to be infertile (I say

―seems‖ because there are no fertility clinics in Laos, therefore it‘s a guess as to who is the infertile mate)2.

Kham and Ron viewed the situation differently. In Kham‘s eyes, he had progressed and developed his fish ponds into an ideal business, in a leisurely setting where people could come and relax, catch their own fish if they wanted, drink local whiskey, listen to loud music, eat fresh fish and also be sexually satisfied. However,

Ron‘s reaction was the opposite; he had enjoyed the fish ponds last year when there wasn‘t a bar and loud music—let alone sex for sale. He told me that he melted inside when he saw what Kham had done, and he cringed that his picture was on the wall giving him credit for such a development, something he had not predicted and did not agree with.

Selling sex may not be acceptable, but Kham had worked hard and was successful in developing the fish ponds, which was the goal of the development project.

Construction of fish ponds is a practical livelihood alternative for all villagers in Laos3.

Not only do the ponds provide food, they also generate cash, and most people want things

2 While we were in Laos, my husband turned down many offers by his Lao friends who suggested they would get him ―the best and prettiest prostitute in the bar.‖ Perceived as a gift to satisfy their visiting friend, they remained perplexed about his consistently polite refusals. In particular, upland villagers in Laos want to be certain that all visiting government officials enjoy themselves on visits, which often includes sexual relations with an unmarried young woman; however, if this encounter results in pregnancy, this creates shame and the girl‘s family must be paid off. I‘ve noticed that this consequence does not hinder the sexual encounters. 3 And, I do not think remote villages would add the sexual component. 6 that will economically improve their lives (direct evidence is discussed in Chapter Five).

Both Ron and Kham saw the practical reasoning behind fish pond development.

However, the cultural ideals about fish ponds were very different between the two men.

Ron preferred fishing in a quiet rural setting, and Kham preferred fishing in a developed setting where he could party with friends in a bar-restaurant with loud music blaring on the stereo. Through this example we can see that culture influences individual perceptions, and it is important to understand how such perceptions influence choices and behaviors. However, emic perceptions must be considered within the context of broader outside forces that also affect decision-making choices and behaviors. A holistic perspective promotes success. Although a holistic approach does take extra time and research, it is worth the investment. As international researchers, it is our responsibility to take the time to dig deep to foster higher success rates and spend donor dollars more effectively.

We know people want change. But how do we go about understanding local perspectives about change? Using a proposed by Toledo

(2000:514), information from three domains is necessary: traditional beliefs (kosmos), traditional knowledge or cognitive systems (corpus), and farmer practices or actions

(praxis). Toledo argues that these domains are inseparable and when studied together they offer a holistic description of the process of human production. While Toledo explained these domains to define the subject of , his conceptual framework is applicable to development. 7

To gain a holistic understanding of what people want and how best to get it to them, we can use Toledo‘s framework. First, if outsiders can begin to understand traditional beliefs and how such beliefs affect social norms, then we can understand how such beliefs may impede or expedite development efforts. It is futile to consider a development plan that does not adhere to traditional beliefs because it will not be adopted. For example, when I lived in Malawi, condoms were being promoted to help stop the transmission of HIV. However, the Malawians I talked to thought that if men wore a condom, they weren‘t really having sex; so, instead of wearing the free condoms given to them by health workers, Malawian villagers gave them to their children to play with. Furthermore, many Malawian men infected with the virus believed that if they had sex with a virgin, the act would cure their HIV. Obviously, condoms, as a solution, could not combat these local beliefs. Another fairly recent example of how development efforts are being impeded by local beliefs is the assumption in that polio vaccinations are making women infertile. Although the may have started out as a rumor, it created enough fear that Nigerian women have refused the vaccinations, which has led to an increase of polio outbreaks in not only Nigeria but also its neighboring countries

(Associated Press 2006). Finally, a detailed example exists in the book The Spirit Catches

You and You Fall Down by Anne Fadiman (1998) about a young Hmong girl living in

Central whom U.S. doctors believed suffered from epilepsy; however, the girl‘s parents, who were recent Hmong immigrants from Laos, believed their daughter had a special condition that allowed her to communicate with the spirit world (hence the of the book). These two divergent cultural beliefs about the girl‘s condition led to an unfortunate cross-cultural struggle about her health. If the doctors would have understood 8 the parents‘ beliefs and the parents‘ could have understood the doctors‘ beliefs, then the young girl might not have suffered as long or as badly as she did. These examples highlight the need to understand local belief systems, or kosmos, prior to designing and implementing cross-cultural projects.

Second in Toledo‘s framework is corpus. There is a need to elicit the knowledge or cognitive system of local people to understand emic perceptions about development needs and solutions. For example, in the 1970s, scientists at the International Potato

Center thought that Peruvians needed new storage technologies in to decrease the annual percentage of spoiled potatoes. However, farmers weren‘t worried about having spoiled potatoes because they could feed them to their animals. Thus, scientists perceived a problem that farmers did not. Instead, the problem perceived by farmers was that they had to spend too much labor de-sprouting the stored potatoes. Rhoades and Booth, two social scientists who talked to the Peruvian farmers and the scientists involved in the matter, were eventually the ones to elicit and share the divergent perspectives of both stakeholder groups (Rhoades and Booth 1982). Understanding local knowledge or cognitive systems helps outsiders gain insight into local perspectives, which is needed in order to identify the problem and suggest suitable solutions.

The third domain of Toledo‘s framework is praxis. This involves looking at traditional beliefs and knowledge and incorporating them into a development plan that respects these local domains. It is only in this way that development projects will be accepted and hopefully put into practice by local people.

9

My Research

My research focuses on eliciting emic perspectives of both farmer and staff stakeholder groups in relationship to agricultural practices and behaviors in Northern

Laos. Some data is compared across the two stakeholder groups and also across three ethnic groups, although the sample sizes for ethnic groups were small.

Shifting cultivation is the main agriculture practice in the uplands of Lao PDR, where the majority of ethnic minority groups live. For well over a decade, the

Government of Laos (GOL) has been encouraging farmers to change from a subsistence- based shifting cultivation system to permanent cash crops; however, the results have been mixed—some farmers have decided and are deciding to adopt new agricultural practices while others are not. To understand why only some farmers are adopting new practices, I researched farmers‘ decision-making processes. Using decision-making theories as well as anthropological, photovoice, and ethnoecological field methods, my study focuses on farmer beliefs, preferences, values, and behaviors. The following hypothesis guides my research: Culture affects agricultural decision making. Culture includes shared knowledge or cognitive domains, traditional beliefs, norms, expectations, concepts of prestige and security, and goals involving consumption, investment and labor resources.

Although I focus on eliciting emic perspectives, I also acknowledge and discuss etic forces throughout this dissertation. Finally, my findings contribute information about local perspectives and the economic practicality of farmers in Laos.

The following specific questions guided my research efforts in Laos: 10

1. What do farmers, scientists, and agricultural extension agents4 perceive as the

most valuable crop characteristics? How do perceptions and values vary among

these different groups?

2. What are farmers‘ agricultural preferences (i.e.: to grow a fast-producing crop,

like rice, or to invest time and energy into a slower-growing crop, like mandarin

fruit trees, with the hope of future rewards, etc.)? What are the agricultural

preferences of external stakeholder groups, such as scientists and agricultural

extension staff?

3. Does ethnicity affect perceived values and preferences? Is there a noticeable

pattern of preference among the Khmu, Hmong, Tai-Lue, Lao, and other Tai

farmers that shows ethnic cultural differences, and, if so, what is it?

Additionally, as one way of approaching these research questions, I was interested in assessing the photovoice method. Briefly put, photovoice involves local people taking photos of their own lives and discussing them with researchers. The focus of my assessment was guided by the following research questions:

4. Can photovoice be used as an anthropological method to elicit emic data? Can

emic data from photovoice be used to understand local perspectives and how they

relate to farmer decision making? Can photovoice be used as a participatory tool

4 Throughout this dissertation I refer to scientists and agricultural extension agents as ―staff.‖ I have done this because they are civil servants or ―government staff,‖ and within their work positions, they are expected to adhere to government agendas regarding agriculture. Although only staff from ‘s provincial and district offices participated in this research, their perspectives represent broader government agendas. 11

to enhance effective communications between various stakeholder groups

involved in development projects?

A full discussion of photovoice and my use of it during this project can be found in

Chapter Five.

My Background and Fieldwork

I first became interested in the problem of rural development and agricultural change while I served as a Peace Corps volunteer in Malawi, Africa, from 1999 to 2001.

At the time, I was working with the Malawi Department of Forestry as an agro-forestry extension agent on a community based, natural resource management project in rural villages located on the outskirts of the Phirilongwe Forest Reserve in the southeastern

Mangochi District. I resided in one of the villages for two years and learned Chiyao, the local tribal language. I worked in 13 villages with three counterparts (local forestry personnel assigned to work with me). My first task was to train my counterparts and other forestry personnel, whose job had recently been changed from forestry guards to extension agents. However, there was no funding to train the staff about the meaning or implementation of ―extension,‖ so I fell into the role of sharing and facilitating informal trainings for staff to gain an understanding of their new work positions. After a few training sessions, we held village meetings to introduce agro-forestry techniques and species to farmers. We assisted in the creation of village nurseries and visited farmers‘ fields to encourage them to intercrop agro-forestry species with in their slash-and- burn systems. This two-year experience made me aware that getting farmers to consider 12 altering their traditional agricultural practices is a large step, and that finding farmers who are willing to try new agricultural techniques and then adopt them is neither simple nor easy. This stint in Malawi also heightened my awareness about the numerous factors that affect farmers‘ decision-making processes and the many ways farmers subtly resist introduced change.

After completing my service in Malawi, I took the long way home through

Southeast Asia and visited Laos. Here I was immediately intrigued by the amount of forested land, the cultural diversity, and the practice of slash-and-burn cultivation on very steep hillsides. The excitement gained from my initial visit to Laos has not wavered.

After enrolling for an M.A. degree in geography at Ohio University, I returned to Laos for thesis research. From January to March of 2004 I conducted research in the Pak Ou

District of as a student-intern under the sponsorship of the

International Rice Research Institute, Northern Lao Office. My assignment was to assess the participation level of farmers in two villages that were part of the Integrated

Agricultural Research Project (IUARP). For this research, I conducted farmer and staff interviews and created a farmer database from surveys conducted by the project staff over a three-year period. I graduated from Ohio University in 2004 and my master‘s research has since been published as a monograph, Assessing Participatory Action Research: A

Case Study From the Lao PDR (2010).

For the current fieldwork, I was a student-intern with the Center for International

Forestry Research (CIFOR). My plan was to arrive in Luang Prabang in June 2009, take three months to ease into life abroad, get tutored in the on a daily basis, and 13 understand as much as possible about the CIFOR project and staff before moving to the village in September 2009, where I would reside for one year. However, my plan veered off track, largely due to housing issues.

I initially wanted to stay in the village of Muang Muay, but I had difficulty getting a house because there were none available to rent. This -back caused me to reside in the village of Naduey in Luang Prabang for five months and to have two research sites

(one near Luang Prabang town and one in the Muang Muay area). During my housing delay, I became anxious to begin fieldwork. I approached the International Rice Research

Institute (IRRI) administrator in Luang Prabang to negotiate a brief research collaboration. For the months of August and September 2009, I conducted research in two villages about an hour‘s drive from Luang Prabang town in opposite directions (one village north of town, the other south). The bulk of my ethnoecological data and findings come from this research area. I eventually rented a house in Muang Muay village and moved in November 1, 2009. Although I kept the house in Muang Muay for seven months, I also kept the house in Naduey village because my husband didn‘t want to reside with me in the village as he preferred the Western amenities offered in Luang

Prabang town. This arrangement led to long commutes for me as it was a six-hour drive5 on small windy roads from town to the research area, and the distance also meant I was often separated from my husband and then four-year-old daughter in two-week increments. However, I didn‘t complain as I also enjoyed returning from weeks in the

5 I foresaw the need to purchase a vehicle and included it in my funding proposals. If I could not drive myself to and from town it would have been an eight- to 10-hour trip by bus—one way. The Hyundai mini-van was also necessary for any emergency safety concerns, so that I could get myself or my family to available medical help in a timely manner if necessary. 14 village to the limited Western amenities of town. Moreover, time in town was necessary to communicate with project collaborators, funders and advisors via e-mail and phone.

Consequently, I did not spend as much time in Muang Muay village as proposed, but I still consider it my main research site. It was in Muang Muay and the surrounding five villages, together referred to as a kumban, that I conducted the bulk of my research.

No two overseas experiences are the same; each comes with a new set of challenges and obstacles to overcome. As all fieldworkers will attest, living and working in another country amid another culture is not an easy task. For example, it took CIFOR administrators nine months to attain my one-year work visa, and it took several months to negotiate a house to rent in the village. Furthermore, living in an area where there is no electrical grid meant I took many cold baths in the river during the winter months and suffered through many hot and sweaty afternoons during the summer and monsoon months. Meals were cooked over an open fire. All water needed on the home front was carried in buckets from the river and any drinking water had to be boiled. Going to the toilet was a challenge, considering some villages I worked in simply did not have them.

Near my village hut I built a septic tank and installed a squat toilet.

As previously mentioned, my husband Josh and young daughter Asia accompanied me for this year of fieldwork. Asia was the true anthropologist while Josh, by contrast, merely survived (literally, as he suffered a long bout of dengue fever in addition to the expected psychological processes of cultural saturation, etc.). My daughter often accompanied me to the village where she had numerous friends as well as second moms and grandmas. She was constantly looked after, just like all the other village 15 children, by the village adults; in this culture, the norm is for adults to keep a watchful eye over all children, even if there is not a blood relationship. This concept of community child-rearing allowed me the flexibility to conduct research, even across the village away from my daughter, and not feel like I was negating my parenting responsibilities. Laos is a child-centered country where babies and young children are highly valued (due, in part, to the comparatively high infant mortality rates6, although these are on the decline now) and have constant attention showered upon them. In fact, it was impossible to put Asia in

―time out‖ for misbehaving. ―Time out‖ is a Westernized concept of discipline, and Lao women did not understand why I would make my child sit still and let her cry instead of going to comfort her, so they would rush to her tears and do anything they could to stop her cries. My husband and I quickly learned that our ―time out‖ attempts were futile in the presence of Lao women. Likewise, my daughter quickly learned she got an overabundance of attention from her ―Lao parents‖ and she sought them out to play and converse with on a daily basis. As I mentioned earlier, she was a true anthropologist, learning the language without hesitation and becoming a full participant of village life without judgments or inhibitions. She ran around chatting to everyone, collected and ate fruits from the surrounding trees, and bathed and washed clothes in the river on a daily basis. She took long walks with friends to the market in Luang Prabang and came home with her hair sopping wet from the sweat and humidity. She preferred noodle soup for breakfast instead of toast. And she often learned the local news before I did because the

6 In 2005, the mortality rate for children under age 5 was 98 per 1,000 live births. In 2007, the United Nations reported the infant mortality rate (IMR) per 1,000 live births as 77.82. In 2011, the IMR is 59.46 compared to 20.09 in or 16.39 in (WHO 2010). (http://www.who.int/countryfocus/cooperation_strategy/ccsbrief_lao_en.pdf ;CIA World Fact Book https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/rankorder/2091rank.html). 16 minute she awoke, she ran out the door to be a part of the community. Her natural gift at assimilating with the local culture was beneficial for me as I more easily gained new friends and built a rapport with individuals I otherwise may not have known. That is, being a mother (of a girl whom was known and liked in this shared community) put me in a position to share common ground with more individuals. Observing her language socialization with the Lao language was like watching the pages of a socio-linguistic text book unfold; she became fluent and surpassed me in her tonal language pronunciations by month four! Furthermore, her natural desire to fit in, or her acculturation process, reminded me of the innateness of human sociability manifested as culture. She even adopted subtle Lao mannerisms, such as thrusting her hips forward while standing, fiddling with the ends of her hair, and launching snot rockets to alleviate sinus congestion. Her non-judgmental acceptance of this culture reminded me of the difficulty or mere impossibility of adults to shed their own culture and fully submerge themselves within another; that is, her ease in doing so made me recognize my inability to shed my subjectivity. While postmodernism points out that an objective science or study of culture may never be achieved, we must ―get on with anthropology,‖ as Peter Metcalf advises

(2002). And that is what I‘ve attempted to do through my research.

My living conditions in the village exemplify my personal research commitments.

I admit there were moments I considered changing my collaboration so I could permanently reside in Luang Prabang town with my family and enjoy some of the living standards I was used to; however, once I began creating friendships in the research villages and became part of the kumban community, my desire to live here and learn 17 more was fueled. Through my perseverance, I now realize that the true gift of being an anthropologist is the unstated acceptance and entrance into a foreign community, a community which, after some time, feels no longer foreign but instead a comfortable home. I left Laos a year and a half ago and already feel nostalgia for the village life I once lived. I miss the joking, teasing and laughter of the mae taos (old women), watching the children quickly scale the trees to retrieve fruits from the high branches, and bathing in a river that was surrounded by tropical ferns, vines and vibrant trees. Village life in

Laos is metaphorically and physically a world away from life in this modern land. I hope

I am able to convey a snippet of that far-away life and within the pages of this dissertation.

Research Goals

My academic goal is to understand emic agricultural beliefs and perspectives of groups in Laos and to test methods that assist in eliciting such perspectives in order to contribute to a holistic understanding of development situations. My personal goal was to experience another way of life, open my family‘s eyes to the world and the diversity within it, foster lasting friendships, and try to assist my new friends with satisfying the needs they expressed—although my ability to do this was very limited7. And, as much as

I tried to be helpful, I can never repay the kindness and acceptance of the people living in the village of Naduey, Luang Prabang and the six Muang Muay kumban villages.

7 It was impossible not to get involved with, and feel empathetic about, the needs, especially medical needs, of my friends and neighbors in Laos. While medical anthropology was not the focus of this research, I did collect some information about the topic worthy of a future article. 18

Development is not easy. Neither is understanding a different culture. The aim and structure of this thesis is a journey into the culturally embedded environmental beliefs, ecological knowledge and livelihood practices of people living in the mountainous regions of Northern Laos. This journey is intended to be more than informative. Data and findings of this research endeavor are applicable to real-life situations in the Lao PDR, where a number of international non-governmental organizations are currently working. In addition to fulfilling Ph.D. requirements, it is my hope that my findings will be applied to current and future agro-ecosystem development and research projects in Laos and elsewhere. Furthermore, I hope my methods will inspire other international workers to understand the importance of eliciting local perspectives and incorporating them with broader outside forces to gain a holistic understanding of local situations that can be applied to future development projects. As researchers and practitioners, we owe it to the world‘s citizens to try to design locally appropriate development projects that are less likely to end in failure. We must spend donor money in the most responsible way possible, especially in these turbulent economic times. Idealistically, one should incorporate local perspectives into development to increase the success rates of development projects. This basic concept warrants more research and practical efforts allocated toward it. My thesis is only one step on a long journey of trying to make this ideal a lived . I carefully selected methods to understand local emic perspectives, and I encourage others to adopt and re- work the methods presented herein, and other methods, to reach their goals of understanding local perceptions. 19

A Note on Languages

The of Laos is Lao. It is a Southwestern Tai language and therefore closely related to the spoken in Thailand (Enfield 1999:259). The

Lao Language is composed of 27 consonants, 28 vowels and four marks (See Image

1.1 below). It has its own script, which is also similar to the [(both scripts have indirectly borrowed vocabulary from Pali and Sanskirt by way of the Khmer kingdom (Enfield 1999)]. The standardization of written Lao is a complex issue because it is deeply interwoven with politics8. However, with the establishment of the new government in 1975 a standardized written grammar was officially adopted based on the

1967 book Lao Grammar written by Phoumi Vongvichit a revolutionary political leader

(Enfield 1999:267). Although a standard form of written Lao is officially recognized, Lao people who migrated out of the country prior to 1975 still use ―traditional‖ written Lao instead of this ―new‖ style (Enfield 1999). Therefore, a single word in Lao may be spelled multiple ways as evidenced in a Lao-English Dictionary wherein ―beer‖ is spelled five different ways in (Becker 2003:25). Furthermore, regional differences exist in spoken Lao, but there has been no attempt to standardize the spoken language.

Finally, transliteration of Lao into English script is not standardized.

Phonetic transliteration of Lao into English script can be difficult since many Lao sounds are unfamiliar to English speakers. I have tried to use the best phonetic transliteration as possible within this document. In some cases, my transliterations may not agree with more common transliterations, which, in my experience, use a French

8 See Enfield 1999 for a detailed discussion. 20 pronunciation of vowels as is to be expected due to the as a French colony. For example, a common transliteration for rice is ―chao‖ but for American

English-speakers, I feel this is pronounced ―chow‖; however, in Lao, the ―ch‖ is supposed to represent a ―k‖ sound, thus I transliterate rice as ―kaow.‖ I have taken a liberty in making the transliterations as phonetically correct as possible for American

English-speakers. Furthermore, farmers‘ words are not transcriptions but translations

Image 1.1 The Lao Alphabet

Legend: The bold faced letters with images are consonants. The ones underneath and to the left are special consonants. The blue x‘s to the right with marks above them are showing tone marks. On the bottom left are the 28 vowels and to the right is the Lao script for numbers. 21 completed by both myself and my research assistant Sangthong Padsalin (Sang for short), who holds a Bachelor‘s degree in the English language from the National University of

Laos in Vientiane

I can speak Lao conversationally and read and write it at an elementary level. In

2003, I attended the University of Wisconsin--Madison‘s Southeast Asian Summer

Studies Institute, where I completed an intensive Lao language course equal to two college semesters. After gaining the basics of the Lao language, I continued to learn Lao while conducting my M.A. research for three months in Laos in 2004. For the current fieldwork, I listened to a series of Lao language CDs prior to my departure, and once in country I hired a Lao tutor in Luang Prabang to continue my education. However, people in different regions of the country use different words and have varying pronunciations of the Lao language. While I could generally comprehend the main point of people‘s words, some of the details were difficult. Thus, Sang, my research assistant accompanied me and helped translate most of the farmers‘ words. But I was always listening and double- checking Sang‘s translations. Additionally, the Khmu and Hmong have their own languages9. While there is a certain level of Lao that is understood by most people residing in Laos, there were some instances when Khmu speakers felt more confident discussing something in their native tongue. In these situations, a district staff person would translate the Khmu into Lao. With Hmong respondents, we were only able to interview those who could speak Lao. The Tai groups I worked with generally spoke Lao

9 At the beginning of my research, I also tried to learn Khmu and completed about 12 hours of tutoring with a well-known teacher and author of Khmu books. However, after a short time I realized I needed to focus on learning only one language at a time. 22 however, occasionally a White Tai or Tai-Lue word was used that was not understood in

Lao, in those cases a Lao synonym was requested to fully understand.

Chapter Organization

Chapter Two presents the ethnology of peoples and cultures in Laos based on a literature review. Chapter Three discusses the country of Laos and its political ecology while linking decision-making theories and development issues to current changes in the natural resource sector. Chapter Four describes my research environment including collaborations, protocols, setting and logistics. Here I also give a detailed about Muang Muay village and a general description of rural livelihoods in Laos.

Chapters Five and Six discuss research data and findings from photovoice, contrastive questions, pile sorts and rank-order methods. Chapter Seven briefly summarizes my findings about emic perceptions and how they influence farmer decision making. The bulk of Chapter Seven discusses broader forces such as history, socialism, corruption, ethnic identity, and globalization, and how these also affect farmer choices in the Lao

PDR. Chapter Eight summarizes my overall conclusions.

23

Chapter 2 Peoples of Laos: A History and Ethnology

The following pages briefly discuss the history of the peoples of Southeast Asia

(SEA) and more generally consider cultural traditions of four ethno-linguistic groups residing in the Lao PDR. Background information about specific groups inhabiting the country conveys a sense of the diversity of groups in the region and the need for more research on such groups. A general ethnography of any research area is part and parcel to anthropological fieldwork and, in this case, necessary to gain an overall understanding and appreciation of my research area and its people.

More often than not, development planners over generalize and assume that tribal peoples, subsistence farmers or slash-and-burn agriculturalists from various regions around the world are similar. (Likewise, locals make generalizations about foreigners; I found it amusing to be asked whether I knew ―Mark‖ from America, the man who worked in their village four years prior to my arrival!) Over generalizations often lead to mistaken assumptions, which create misunderstandings across cultures. Therefore, it is important to understand some basic cultural information about the people living in Laos in order to explore their current agricultural preferences and behaviors, especially because many groups in Southeast Asia have religious and cultural associated with their agricultural activities, i.e., in Indonesia the Iban of Sarawak have rice-harvesting ceremonies to honor the rice spirits (Sutlive 1978). 24

Lastly, the high amount of cultural diversity in Laos necessitates flexible methods and creative researchers armed with the ability to improvise. Thus, I chose theories and methodologies that would take into consideration the impact of the research area‘s cultural diversity.

A Brief History of the Peoples

Early historical evidence of people and migrations in Southeast Asia is scant.

Several scholars call for a need to further develop the historiography of the region. The majority of evidence about the first peoples and kingdoms in the Southeast Asian massif comes from Chinese dynastic writings, writings, and archeological evidence, mostly from Thailand. Within Laos, prehistoric artifacts were found in some villages along the outskirts of Luang Prabang town and in caves in Khammuan Province. Also, megalithic stone jars (Photos 1a and 1b; all images are in Appendix 2 at the back of the

Chapter) were found on the central plains near the town of Phonsovan in Xieng Khouang

Province (Raven 1933:545; Chazèe 2002:14; Stuart-Fox 1997:7). The evidence of artifacts indicates that people settled in Laos prior to the first century A.D.

Funan, the first documented chiefdom in the region, was established by either

Austronesian-speaking people of Malay stock or non-Austronesian in the first century A.D. in current-day (Schliesinger 2003:115; Burling 1965:65).

Funan, a Hinduized society, was written about by a Chinese visitor, K‘ang T‘ai (Burling

1965:65). Shortly after the establishment of Funan, a kingdom named was organized in what is today central Vietnam. Chinese documents suggest that Funan and 25

Champa shared several customs and recount a about an Indian who founded these chiefdoms with a Naga princess (Burling 1965:67; Keyes 1977:66).

Between the fifth and sixth century A.D., at least three small Mon Buddhist polities formed in current-day northwestern Thailand and Laos (Stuart-Fox 1997:6). In 627 A.D., the Khmer founded the kingdom of , near what is today the southern Lao town of

Champassak (Schliesinger 2003a:1; Chazèe 2002:14). The first so-called ―civilized‖ people in were the Khmer and Cham, and during their migrations, they encountered indigenous tribal peoples who were not socially or politically organized beyond village enclaves.

The original tribal people of mainland Southeast Asia were most likely displaced from the plains into the mountains by the migrating Khmer10, Cham and other groups influenced by Indian methods of growing paddy rice (Von Geusau 1983:243;

Schliesinger 2003:1-2; Michaud 2006:8). When Tai11 people began migrating into the region, the Khmer kingdom was in decline, which freed up the lowlands to be settled.

However, legend suggests that indigenous tribal people did create a kingdom, as summarized by Martin Stuart-Fox (1997:7):

Legend tells how two brother hermits consolidated territories protected by snake kings, who were probably guardian spirits (protective phī); how the throne was offered to a sandalwood merchant from Viang Chan; and how the region was seized from a certain Khun (lord of) Xua (as

Luang Prabang was then called) by the first Lao ruler, Khun Lô.

Exactly who Khun Xua was and who occupied this region before the Tai migrated is uncertain; however, such people were most likely linguistically and ethnically similar to

10 However, Khmer people also live in the highlands. 11 The Lao are part of the Tai ethno-linguistic family. 26 the Austro-Asiatic speaking groups currently found throughout the region such as the

Khmu of northern Laos and the Lawa of northern Thailand (Stuart-Fox 1997:7). Early inhabitants may have also been descendants of the people who carved the megalithic jars; a Khmu legend refers to King Jueang and a Khmu connection to this archaeological site, discussed more in the Mon-Khmer section (Stuart-Fox 1997:7).

Nithān Khun Bôrom, the story of Khun Bôrom in the Lao chronicles, recounts the origin myth of the . Many versions agree that Khun Lô is the son of Khun

Bôrom, who is the original ancestor of all Tai peoples. Khun Bôrom was sent by the celestial deities to rule over the earthly realm. When he arrived, life on earth was threatened by the growth of a large vine. An elderly couple volunteered to cut it down and were crushed to death when the vine fell on them. Attached to the vine were two or three large gourds, of which cries could be heard from the inside. Holes were made in the gourds, first with a red-hot poker and later with a knife; the people who emerged from the blackened (poker-cut holes got soot on them and were collectively named the khā

(literally ―slaves,‖ a pejorative term for the darker skinned Austro-Asiatic tribal people today referred to as Lao-Theung—explained in the Ethnic Groups of Laos section of this

Chapter), whereas the people who emerged from the holes cut by the knife were the lighter-skinned Tai groups (Lebar and Suddard 1967:8; Stuart-Fox 1997:7; Chazèe

2002:19). Several ethnic groups continue to recount similar origin in which people of different emerge from gourds (Chazèe 2002:19-20).

Khun Bôrom ruled over the people who emerged from the gourds. In time, Khun

Bôrom had seven sons and sent them off to found seven new kingdoms ranging from

Burma (Shan State) and Vietnam (the Tai Highlands) to southern , Laos (Luang 27

Prabang and Xiang Khuang), and Siam or current day Thailand (Lebar and Suddard

1967:8, Stuart-Fox 1997:7-8). Martin Stuart-Fox (1997:8) suggests that the myth of Khun

Bôrom and Kun Lô (the founder of the first Lao dynasty of Luang Prabang) explains how the Tai people (specifically the , lowlander, of the valley floors) came to dominate over the , the uplanders, and how Tai people migrated from one mountain valley to the next, providing an anchor in time from which Lao identity is derived.

Debate continues about the origins of the Tai people. Historical, linguistic and comparative anthropological data suggests that the Tai people originate from a region in southern China, either from the southeastern Province (formerly known as Sip- song-panna or Xishuangbanna) or from the Guizhou and Guangdong provinces and what is today known as the Guangxi Autonomous Region (Embree 1950:181, Lebar and

Suddard 1967:7, Stuart-Fox 1997:8). Following this migration pattern, it is suggested that

Tai people were pushed south due to Han military pressures. (Mention of Tai people appear in Chinese records from the fifth century A.D. and refer to them as the

―barbarians‖ beyond the Yangtze (Lebar and Suddard 1967:7). Some scholars suggest that Tai, Lao, Shan, Lue, Siamese (Thai) and more distantly the Miao and Man12 nations at some time were all connected to the military kingdom of Nan Chao in western Yunnan, established by 649 A.D. (Briggs 1949; Lebar and Suddard 1967:7, Stuart-Fox 1997:8,

Michaud 2006:8). Alternatively, the extant high concentration of and ethnic groups in northwestern Vietnam suggests that Tai people may originate from this

12 Literally ―crude barbarians‖ in Chinese. The title Man is used as a generic term for indigenous groups and is sometimes still used to refer to the Yao peoples of southern China and Vietnam (Abadie 2001:145). 28 region (Winzeler 2011:39). Chamberlain (1991 and 1998) traces two languages—the

Mène and Sek—that are used by groups south of the Red River delta in Vietnam as being northern Tai languages. That is, northern Tai languages were found appearing in both the north and the south. This linguistic evidence, coupled with historical and cultural evidence, leads Chamberlain to propose that Tai languages—or a Proto-Tai language

(Be-Sek)—extended from the Sino-Vietnamese frontier through the modern provinces of

Thanh Hoa, Nghe An, and Quang Binh and eventually to current locations in Laos and northeastern Thailand (1998:44). If this was the case, then Tai-speaking peoples may not have been abruptly displaced from an original, more northerly .

From the sixth century through the twelfth century, a slow and steady migration of Tai people infiltrated mainland Southeast Asia and established themselves throughout small village principalities (meuang). Stuart-Fox (1997:8) suggests that by the eighth or ninth century a small Tai meuang was established in Chiang Saen in the far north of

Thailand and most likely another one in northwestern Vietnam near current day Dien

Bien Phu.13 By the mid-thirteenth century, the Tai were widely settled throughout the

Mekong Basin (Stuart-Fox 1997:8). In 1253, the polity of Nan Chao (near what today is

Yunnan, China) was overrun by the Mongol armies of , causing a southward exodus. And as the Mongol armies continued their push south, they broke apart other strong kingdoms such as the Khmer and the Burmese kingdom of Pagan (Lebar and

Suddard 1967:7-8, Bowles 1977:191, Stuart-Fox 1997:8). In the wake of the Mongols, the Tai formed two principalities: Lā Nā, near current-day Chiang Mai in northern

13 Burling (1965:85-86) suggests this is the source of Tai languages and migrations, rather than the polity of Nan Chao. 29

Thailand, and Sukothai, to the south. From the mid-thirteenth century onwards, the Tai people began to spread out and become the dominant ethnic group in the middle

River region, in northern Burma and in mainland Southeast Asia (Burling 1965:86). By the mid-fourteenth century, two more Tai principalities were formed: Ayutthaya, in the south (today central Thailand), and Lān Xāng, with its capital at Xiang Dong Xiang

Thong in current-day Luang Prabang, Laos (Stuart-Fox 1997:9). A Lao meuang was established at Xiang Dong Xiang Thong at least as early as 1271 when a Lao warrior seized it from indigenous inhabitants, most likely the Khmu (Stuart-Fox 1997:9). The

Lao chronicles suggest that in 1271 a dynasty took power whose rulers were titled

―Phrayā,‖ a Pali14 term meaning ―He Who Upholds,‖ suggesting strong Buddhist influence (Stuart-Fox 1997:9)

Fā Ngum, a hereditary prince of the Phrayā dynasty, is credited with founding the kingdom of Lān Xāng (literally translated as ―a million elephants‖—a claim of military power). Legend has it that Fā Ngum was exiled from Xiang Dong Xiang Thong. Upon exile, he traveled south to Cambodia. At the court he married a Khmer princess and obtained an army to fight his way back to Xiang Dong Xiang Thong. On his travels from Angkor to Xiang Dong Xiang Thong, he forced the scattered meuangs to accept his suzerainty, thus creating the Lao state Lān Xāng in 1353 (Lebar and Suddard 1967:10-11;

Keyes 1967:5; Stuart-Fox 1997:10-11). During Fā Ngum‘s reign, Lān Xāng covered all of modern-day Laos as well as the majority of modern-day northern and eastern Thailand

(Map 2.1). holds that Fā Ngum is the twenty-third successor of Khun Lô.

14 Pali is the ecclesiastical language of Therevada Buddhism, originating in India, but it has been written in numerous scripts such as Indic, Brahmi and Devanāgarī (http://www.omniglot.com/writing/pali.htm). 30

It was not until Fā Ngum‘s reign that occurrences in the region began to be recorded

(Lebar and Suddard 1967:10). Most likely under the influence of his Khmer wife, Fā

Ngum is credited with bringing Buddhism to Lān Xāng. The leader succeeded by his eldest son, Unheune15, in 1373 (Stuart-Fox 1997:10), and in 1376 Unheune ordered a national census taken. The results showed 300,000 adult Tai males and 400,000 non-Tai adult males living in the kingdom of Lān Xāng. Since monks, women and children were not accounted for, it is speculated that the total population exceeded two million (Lebar and Suddard 1967:11). Based on the results of the census, Unheune changed his throne to Sāmsaenthai, literally ―Lord of 300,000 Tai‖ (Lebar and

Suddard 1967:11; Stuart-Fox 1997:10).

Some ancient Chinese texts refer to the Ai-Lao or Ngai-Lao people. Briggs

(1949:63) suggests that the name Ngai-Lao, or Ai-Lao, is found all over the map of northeastern Indochina. Chamberlain suggests that the Lao is the oldest surviving term for ―Tai-Kadai‖ and it was used throughout Chinese history to refer to

Tai-Kadai-speaking peoples (1998:37). It has also been suggested that both the Lao and

Tai come from the Ailao kingdom, which dates from circa the second to third centuries

B.C. and is mentioned in Chinese texts (Houmphanh 1995:266-7). Both Rattavong

Houmphanh (1995), the director of the Institute of Information and Culture in Vientiane, and Maha Sila Viravong, nationalist historian and author of History of Laos (1964), suggest that the origins of Lao people go as far back as the origins of the Chinese.

However, other scholars dispute this claim, suggesting that Houmphanh and Viravong, who both hold strong nationalist sentiments, have pushed the idea of the Lao people

15 Literally ―warm house.‖ This is a common name for Lao men to this day. 31 having a long ancient history.16 The term Lao may have been used to describe past groups in the Yunnan Province, but Briggs suggests that the Ngai-Lao were from northwestern

Yunnan and have no ties to the Lao who eventually inhabited the Mekong region (1949).

The term Thai (sic) may originate from between 1292 and 1317 A.D. when Phra Ruang, a

Siamese king, freed his people from the Khmers—Thai meaning ―free‖ (Briggs 1949:62).

And although anthropologist Grant Evans posits that ―the so-called Ai-Lao family group has a shadowy existence at best‖ (1999:3), it does appear as if the term ―Lao‖ preceded the use of the term ―Tai.‖

From the establishment of Lān Xang, the predecessor of the current -state of Laos, to the creation of the country of Laos, there were numerous power struggles. At times tribute was paid to neighboring kingdoms such as the Siamese, Vietnamese and

Burmese. Eventually Lān Xang was broken up into three separate kingdoms, which severely weakened the Lao polity and they never regained their power (Stuart-Fox

1997:18). The country of Laos might not exist today if it were not for French intervention. In 1893, the French, in pursuit of expanding their Indochinese Empire, created the political entity of Laos. A boundary drawn by the French and negotiated with the Siamese and other neighboring polities included less than half of the geographical area and only a fraction of the population of the former Lān Xang kingdom (Stuart-Fox

1997:18). Due to these artificial boundaries, the country of Laos has fewer Lao people residing in it than the country of Thailand. Ethnic Lao account for almost 80% of the population of the northeastern Khorat Plateau area of Thailand (Grabowsky 1995:107). In

16 This idea, about how others shape a country‘s identity, is further discussed in The Changing Historiographies of Laos: A Focus on the Early Period, by Vatthana Pholsena, 2004. 32

1970, Condominas (9-10) suggested that the ethnic Lao in the state that bears their name only numbered one million while they numbered five million in neighboring Thailand. At the time of French occupation, however, Siamese officials quickly learned that the Lao of the Khorat Plateau needed to identify themselves as ―Thai‖ in order to keep this region out of the hands of the French; thus, the geographical area was referred to by officials as

Isan, and the Lao, Khmer and other ethnicities living within this area quickly adopted the term khon [people of the northeast (of Thailand)] to refer to themselves

(Condominas 1970:9-10).

Ethnic Groups in Laos

Although there is still debate over where the Tai groups migrated from, there is agreement that physical and cultural differences existed between them and the original inhabitants of mainland Southeast Asia. Tai groups had lighter-colored skin and it is argued that they were more ―civilized‖ than the original inhabitants because of their contact with Aryans, who had an influence on their intellect and morality (Evans

1999:25). Although the Tai groups did invade and displace many of the indigenous groups, several scholars emphasize that modern ethnic groups are the product of hundreds of years of assimilation between various groups. For example, Edmund Leach, in his classic book Political Systems of Highland Burma (1970), dismisses the idea that

Tai groups succeeded at having ―fabulous large-scale military conquests‖ of indigenous groups. Instead he ascertains that Shan culture 33

…is an indigenous growth resulting from the economic interaction of small-scale military colonies with an indigenous hill population over a long period.... large sections of the peoples we now know as Shans are descendants of hill tribesmen who have in the recent past been assimilated into the more sophisticated ways of Shan-Buddhist culture (1970:39).

Condominas (1990:45) suggests that the Tai were able to gain power and control over areas using what he terms ―Tai-ization,‖ a process through which marginalized indigenous people have become Tai. Evans (1999:25) states, ―Clearly many Lao or Tai have Kha ‗racial‘ ancestry.‖

Identification of a people is never simple because it involves migration, intermarriage, barter-trade relations, inter-penetrating political systems, warfare, values and beliefs (Davies 1909; Izikowitz 1951; Leach 1970; Warren 1978; Evans 1999:25;

Giersch 2001). The difficulties of ethnic identification are further illustrated in Chapter

Four; the majority of my research respondents gave vague, non-detailed accounts of their ethnicity. In fact, many researchers of ethnic groups in Southeast Asia have expressed the challenges of ethnographic surveys in this region. Outsider-given exonyms and insider- named endonyms result in confusion during classification attempts (Moerman 1965). For example, the of the Tibeto-Burman have various depending on where they live. In Burma, the Shan have named the Lahu people

―Muhso,‖ meaning hunters, but Muhso may also be spelled Musuh or Mousseu; in Laos, the Lahu may be called Kui Lung, Kui Luang, Kui Nyai or Kui Sung; and in Vietnam,

Lahu is typically written as La Hu (Michaud 2006:130-131; Chazèe 2002:3).

Ethnic diversity in Laos is extremely high. Although any specific number of ethnic groups is arbitrary, acceptable estimates vary from a low of 48 to a high of 236 34

(Government of Laos and United Nations, respectively, according to the Ministry of

Agriculture and Forestry 1999 and Hodgdon 2003). A less-realistic high of 820 self- named ethnic groups was reported by Vietnamese ethnographer Le Cu Nam in 1990 (see

Schliesinger 2003:63 for further citation—Mr. Nam‘s article is written in Vietnamese).

Another high number, never officially published, of 260 was offered by a Vietnamese17,

Soviet and Lao research team based on research conducted from 1975-1976 (Schliesinger

2003:55). The government-appointed Committee for conducted extensive research from 1983-1985 and arrived at a number of 68 ethnic groups, a number cited by numerous documents but kept secret and unpublished by the government due to controversies over the ―correctness‖ of the classifications. For example, the list classified many sub-groups of the Akha and Lahu as independent groups and did not include migrant such as the Chinese, Vietnamese, Thai, Cambodians, Burmese or

Indians (Schliesinger 2003:62-63). Lastly, Chazèe (2002:7) cites 132 ethnic groups.

The exact number of ethnic groups in Laos will always be a matter of opinion, but what is known and accepted is that the people residing in Laos belong to four ethno-linguistic groups. Although the of such groups vary among scholars, they are most commonly referred to as Mon-Khmer (from the Austroasiatic super family), Tai-Kadai,

Hmong-Mien, and Tibeto-Burman. One Austronesian-speaking group, the Cham, reside in Vientiane prefecture, but its population was estimated at only 227 in 2002; thus, this group will not be discussed further (Schliesinger 2003b:18).On another note, the entire population of Southeast Asia falls into these five ethno-linguistic , in part accounting for more general regional similarities.

17 For a discussion about Vietnamese ethnographic influence in Laos see Evans 1999a. 35

Due to the ethnic diversity of the country, two simplified classification systems have historically been used. One system divides the population into Lao, who are Tai speakers, and non-Lao, who include Hmong-Mien, Mon-Khmer, and Tibeto-Burmese- speaking groups. In notable contrast to most other mainland Southeast Asian countries, an important demographic trait in Laos is the relatively small size of the dominant lowland population in comparison to the minority groups; that is, ethnic Lao are just barely a majority, comprising about 30% of the total population. Ethnic Lao with other

Tai groups make up between 52.5 to 60%18 of the overall population. The remaining 47.5 to 40% of the population is made up of a variety of ethnic groups that include the Khmu, the largest of the ethnic minorities with a population of 500,000 (Sisouphantong and

Taillard 2000).

Still another system of classification, which has been used since the French colonial period, places ethnic groups in Laos into three categories based on traditional locations of residence; that is, elevation or meters above sea level (Revue Indo-Chinois

1899). According to this scheme, the Lao Loum are those who reside in the lowlands; this refers to ethnic Lao and some other Tai-speaking groups such as the Lue and the Tai

Dam. Next are the Lao Theung, who reside on the mountain slopes and include mainly the Mon-Khmer-speaking Khmu in northern Laos. Last are the Lao Soung, who reside on the mountaintops and include the Hmong, Yao, Akha, and other Tibeto-Burmese groups

(Stuart-Fox 1986:44-45; Evans 1999:24; Schliesinger 2003:57; Ovesen 2004:216). This tripartite classification system has been the most common form of classification used by

18 Population percentages of ethnic groups vary depending on the resource. For example, the State Planning (2001:38) states that ethnic Lao make up 30% of the population but Chazee 2002:7) states it is 35% based on the 1995 census. What is not contested is that all Tai groups, which include the ethnic Lao make up the majority of the population. 36 the Lao government since the 1975 revolution. Evans (1999:7) argues it was a method used to unify the diversity of people living in Laos by incorporating the term ―Lao‖ into their identities. Although the tripartite system of classification was not included in the

1991 constitution, it is still commonly used by provincial governments and local people themselves. Firsthand experience of this system is further discussed in Chapter Four. For the purpose of this chapter, I will use the anthropologically accepted ethno-linguistic categorization system to discuss ethnic groups in Laos. However, at other times throughout this dissertation I refer to and use the Lao Loum, Lao Theung, and Lao Soung tripartite classification terms, mostly because it is how people in Laos currently refer to themselves.

Khmu people from the Mon-Khmer ethno-linguistic group comprise the majority of the research villages and respondents for my research. (Tai groups such as the Lao,

Lue, and White Tai also participated in this research.) The proceeding ethno-linguistic accounts demonstrate the similarities and differences between these two groups that reside near one another, and in some cases literally next door as neighbors. A small number of Hmong participated in my research, so I have included an account of the

Hmong-Mien ethno-linguistic family, with a focus on Hmong traditions. Part of the reason so few Hmong participated was due to the fact that the Hmong village in my main research area was contending with government-forced relocation19. My research- collaborating institution (the Center for International Forestry Research), felt it best not to

19 Relocation in Laos has been heavily criticized; however, it remains a reality for the citizens of the country. I mention relocation throughout my Chapters and address it more thoroughly in Chapter Seven. 37 allow an anthropologist to work in this contested social arena20. Lastly, no Tibeto-

Burman groups were included in my research. Only about 3% of the population is comprised of Tibeto-Burman speakers and most reside in the far northern provinces of

Luang Namtha and Phongsaly, near the Chinese border; this is the area to which they migrated from the sixteenth through twentieth centuries [(Map 2.11; Figure 2.12)

(Chazèe 2002:133)]. The Akha make up approximately 50% of the Tibeto-Burman speaking peoples in Laos and had a population of 66,108 in the 1995 census (Chazèe

2002:133). While Tibeto-Burman groups practice unique cultural traditions, they will not be further discussed.

The following descriptions provide a general background of the peoples and cultures of Laos that were part of my research.

The Mon-Khmer Ethno-linguistic Branch

Mon-Khmer is a branch of the Austroasiatic ethno-linguistic superstock, the other branch being the Munda languages of East India (Figures 2.2- 2.3; Maps 2.4-2.5). Mon-Khmer is the most archaic language spoken in Southeast Asia and represents the greatest internal diversity of the four language families in the region. Due to the age of this language family, the people speaking it are considered the true indigenes of the region (Stuart-Fox

1986:45, Schliesinger 2000:11, Chazèe 2002:51, Goddard 2005:32). In Laos, people from this language family were subjected to when Tai-Kadai groups migrated to the

20 Specific information about this relocation process can be found in ―Information Flows, Decision-Making and Social Acceptability in Displacement Processes,‖ Chapter Four of Collaborative Governance of Tropical Landscapes, edited by Carol Colfer and Jean-Laurent Pfund, 2011.

38 area—this is implied in the generic exonym kha, or ―slave,‖ used to label such people

(Schliesinger 2003a:3; Chazèe 2002:51). Slavery was abolished in Laos during the

French colonial period.

Exactly how many Mon-Khmer ethnic groups reside in Laos is unclear.

Schliesinger (2003a:3) cites 41 groups but says there are many sub-groups (Map 2.4), and

Chazèe (2002:51) cites 59 groups and sub-groups. A discrepancy in the number is no surprise since ―Linguists are agreed that it is impossible to draw a strict distinction between languages and dialects‖ (Matisoff 1983:57). Whatever the exact number, Mon-

Khmer speaking groups represent between 23% and 36% of the population (Matisoff

1983:57).

People of this language group reside on the mountain slopes between 400 – 1000 meters; using the tripartite classification system, Mon-Khmer speakers are referred to as

Lao Theung. The majority of these groups subsist via shifting cultivation; however,

Mlabri, Krih, Atel, Thèmarou, and Mlengbrou are/were forest nomads and some Vietic- speaking groups within this language family are paddy rice cultivators (Schliesinger

2003a:3; Chazèe 2002:51; Chamberlain 1997). All types of subsistence patterns are found within this language group, although Chamberlain (1997) suggests that paddy rice cultivation was most likely borrowed from Tai peoples. Glutinous rice varieties are the staple crop, intermixed with other foods (discussed in more detail in Chapter Three).

Generally, shifting cultivators within this group rely on collecting forest foods and other products, particularly when faced with annual rice shortages. The book Khmu Livelihood:

Farming the Forest by Suksavang Simana and Elisabeth Preisig gives ample evidence of the intricate relationship the Khmu have with the forest, not only for collecting food, but 39 also for spiritual purposes, some of which are discussed in detail in Chapter Five. Shifting cultivation requires larger tracts of land than paddy farming due to the fallowing of fields.

Mon-Khmer people are estimated to inhabit approximately 50% of the country (Chazèe

2002:51). Representing 70% of the Mon- family in Laos is the Khmu, the most populous ethnic group of this language family. Other populous groups include the Katang, Makong (So), Suay, Laven, and Taoy21 (51). According to generalizations drawn from an extensive literature review (details resulting from my research efforts are discussed throughout the remaining chapters), common characteristics of the Mon-Khmer ethno-linguistic family that are adopted from Chazèe 2002:52-58 unless otherwise noted include:

1. Patrilineality and patrilocality, sometimes with a preliminary matrilocal probation period of the husband living with the wife‘s family for a few years. Some matrilineality and matrilocality were observed among the Lawen, Suay, and Plrai.

2. The practice of monogamy, though polygyny was observed among the Khmu and Lamet in the north. Izikowitz (1951:98-99) observed only a few cases of polygyny among the Lamet, suggesting that only a wealthy man could take on two or more wives.

He also reported practices of fraternal levirates and sororates (98-99).

3. Presence of kin groups or lineages with mammal, reptile, bird, and plant names.

Among the Lamet, totemic each have an origin myth that tells of the ‘s ancestor and it‘s relation to the totem (Izikowitz 1951:84-93). Clans are patrilineal and exogamous and strict rules apply to who can marry whom; matrilateral cross-cousin marriages are

21 For detailed profiles of each group within the Mon-Khmer language family see The Peoples of Laos: Rural and Ethnic Diversities by Laurent Chazèe (2002) and Ethnic Groups of Laos, Volume 2, Profile of Austro-Asiatic Speaking Peoples by Joachim Schliesinger (2003). 40 permitted but patrilateral cross-cousin marriages and inter-clan marriages are forbidden among the Lamet and Khmu (Izikowitz 1951:84-93; Simana & Preisig 2003:1). Among the Khmu, different sub-groups speak different dialects and follow various traditions based on their totemic ancestral beliefs (Simana and Preisig 2003:1).

4. An animistic, and in some cases shamanistic, religion with the belief in ancestral, house, and village spirits. The animistic beliefs of the Mon-Khmer groups differ from those of the Tibeto-Burman and Hmong-Mien in that the ancestral spirits are more passive since they are derived from totems, not genealogical reference. There are taboos related to the totem animals such as abstaining from eating them and not being able to marry someone from your own totemic clan (i.e. exogamous marriage patterns).

Approximately ten main active spirits are prevalent among Mon-Khmer groups. These spirits are responsible for disease, accidents, natural calamities, sufferings, bad harvests, and bad omens. Among the Lamet, the death of a young girl was linked to black magic

(Izikowitz 1951:105). The Khmu believe that the world is divided into a human world and a spirit world (Simana and Preisig 2003:7); however, people belong to both worlds— in the daytime they live in the human world and in the nighttime, in their dreams, they travel to the spirit world (Simana and Preisig 2003:7). People who die have simply returned home to the spirit world. Life and good health are the result of the spirits looking over the people (Simana and Preisig 2003:7). Spirits of the forest, thunder, big woods, sky, and mountain water are the most feared and not welcome to enter the village compounds. It is believed that such spirits will attach to peoples‘ clothing when they walk outside of the village; thus, a village gate is erected where sacrifices take place, and bamboo taleos (Photo 2) and other wooden carvings are placed there to dissuade the 41 spirits from entering the village. Ceremonies are performed to placate the spirits, most commonly at times of death, natural disasters, epidemics, before clearing the fields for cultivation, at rice sowing and at harvest time. Among the Khmu, village ceremonies, including the construction of new spirit houses outside the village gates, are most often performed directly after sowing rice seeds or before harvesting; in both cases people believe the spirits will assist them with agricultural success if they honor them at these times (Tayanin 1994). Spirits are generally invisible but some may become visible in the form of vampires like the Rroï Su of the Khmu Ou. Still other spirits may punish people by entering their bodies, such as the Rroï Pop; or by entering people‘s souls, such as the

Rroï Rwaay Ook; or the tiger spirit, which comes to people who have not adhered to exogamous marriage customs in respect to their totems (Chazèe 2002:57; Tayanin

1994:20 respectively). Among the Khmu, people belonging to certain families and who have many tattoos are believed to possess certain powers, and they may be called upon as mediums or shamans in certain situations. It is suggested that Austroasiatic peoples, including the Khmu, are closest to the spirits, and because of this, they do not have to be shamans or priests to identify and communicate with the spirits as is necessary for the

Tibeto-Burmans and Hmong-Mien. The Khmu connection to the spirit world was respected by Lao elites, as Khmu were often called on as magico-religious specialists by the Lao court and Royal Palace in Luang Prabang (Smalley1964:113). Some groups

(notably the Chieng group in the southeastern Attapeu Province) erect miniature spirit houses or entire spirit villages, each house home to a spirit where offerings are made.

Bronze drums were traditionally used during spirit ceremonies, as well as sacrificial poles 42 and the drinking of rice beer/wine (Izikowitz 1951:77-79). Ceremonial information is passed on through the men, unless it‘s a matrilineal group.

5. A strong sense of community, though rarely organized outside of the village level. The Lamet construct a community house, where men often gather for discussions.

Women rarely enter the community house, but male or female visitors may gain permission from the village chief to sleep in the community house (Izikowitz 1951:65-

79).

The lack of socio-political organization beyond the village level makes these groups vulnerable to the power and assimilation of more widely organized groups such as the Tai-speaking peoples. Thus, the Mon-Khmer groups have often been influenced by other cultural groups and they have adopted the languages, traditions, clothing, and organized (particularly Buddhism but also Catholicism and Protestantism) of

Tai groups. For example, the Xinh Mung (or Sing Moon) peoples have been integrating into Black Tai villages since the 1970s and today many of them are paddy rice cultivators and practice the songs and dances of the Black Tai (Evans 1999b:128-129).

6. Multilingualism—many groups speak their original language, the languages of neighboring tribes and the official Lao language. For example, Khmu villages in Luang

Prabang Province speak both Khmu and Lao; the commitment to retain the Khmu language remains strong22. Conversely, the Bo and Kaleung peoples in the eastern

Khammouane Province have been living in close proximity to Tai groups for long periods of time and have been losing their original languages and traditions; today the Bo

22 For a linguistic account of the Khmu language, refer to Outline of Khmu Structure, by W.A. Smalley.

43 speak several Tai dialects, suggesting a history of interactions with Tai groups

(Schliesinger 2003b:7).

7. Wooden or bamboo houses built on shorter poles than those of the Tai. Roofs of wood tiles are found among the Khmu Rok, Nguan and Kouene in the north.

8. A rattan and bamboo basket-weaving tradition. In the south many groups still produce rattan baskets, the Katu‘s and Talieng's being the most intricate. In the north most groups produce only bamboo baskets, and the Khmu Rok is the only group to produce traditional rattan baskets. ―All baskets have a square base with a round or oval aperture‖ (Chazèe 2002:54). Shoulder baskets are found in the south and frontal carried baskets in the north. I observed baby cradles, small fishing baskets, fishing traps, rice winnowing baskets, various storage baskets, rice granaries and walls of homes all woven from various bamboo species. I have only witnessed men weaving bamboo, never women

(Photo 3).

9. The use of guns, crossbows and various styles of snares and traps to hunt animals. Hunting is often done between November and December, the off-peak months for cultivation.

10. The practice of slope-protection techniques by the Khmu Rok of Oudomxay

Province. This group practices soil erosion to control hedgerows, intercropping and fire- protection strips and works to preserve larger trees.

11. A blacksmithing skill among the Khmu men, who are renowned and commonly trade fashioned metal objects with neighboring ethnic groups.

12. A lack of writing skills. The Khmu traditionally lacked writing. They learned about legends and history through storytelling, dancing, poetic chanting, and music 44

(Lindell et al. 1980; Simana and Preisig 2003:9). For example, more than one Khmu legend tells of a king who made knives that could cut stones. Evidence for such a legend is depicted in archeological sites around Laos. In particular was the lord Cwang

(prounounced Jueang), a who won a battle and, upon his return home to Xieng

Khouang, he made giant stone jars with his knife (Photo 1). People feasted around the stone jars for seven months. These are the infamous jars found on the plains near

Phonsavan town in Xieng Khouang province, central Laos.

When Shan Lue Yang invented the Pahawh script in 1959, it provided symbols to accompany both the Hmong and Khmu languages (Smalley et. al 1990:27). Through personal tutoring with teacher Suksavang Simana, I experienced the similarity of Khmu and Lao script, the biggest difference being that Khmu has a rolling ―rrr‖ while Lao supposedly no longer has an ―r.‖ However, there is an old symbol used for an ―r‖ sound in Lao, although it‘s rarely used and now more commonly pronounced as an ―l‖ sound when read (Becker 2003:26).

Forest Nomads

Although my research did not include forest nomads, this rapidly disappearing subsistence pattern and the people practicing it deserves a brief discussion. The fate of forest nomads in Laos, as elsewhere around the world, is endangered by development and government efforts to settle them. Settlement efforts have often resulted in a rapid decimation of such populations due to the close living quarters and communicable diseases passed on by other sedentary groups. In 1976, the government imposed village 45 consolidation efforts. They forced forest nomads to live in villages. Consequently, only small populations remain of the Atel, Thèmarou, and Mlengbrou ethnic groups, and those still residing in villages express their desire to return to their foraging lifestyles

(Chamberlain 1997:1-8). The Kri in the Bualapha District of Khammouane Province were mostly all settled by 1993 while the Mlabri appear to be on the edge of extinction

(Chazèe 2002:52). In Laos the Mlabri had a population of 18 in December of 1998 and

150 in Thailand in 1994 (52). Although, Chazèe suggests the Mlabri have continued their nomadic lifestyles, Winzeler (personal communication 2007 and 2011) has observed them settled into Hmong villages by Thai authorities. Although scholars suggest the importance of the ethno-biological information on such groups and the urgent need to preserve their lifestyles, government agendas may not be forthcoming on this issue.

The Tai Ethno-linguistic Branch

Tai speakers from the southwestern and northern Tai language branches reside in

Laos (Figures 2.6-2.7; Maps 2.8-2.9). Between 27 and 39 Tai groups live in Laos, with ethnic Lao representing the largest population of the country—as noted earlier, ethnic

Lao make up approximately 30% of the population (State Planning Committee 2001:37).

And when added to other Tai minority groups, the total Tai population accounts for somewhere between 52.5 to 60% of the national total (Sisouphantong and Taillard 2000;

Chazèe 2002:27). Non-Lao Tai groups with large populations include the Phutai, Lue,

Phouane, Tai Nyo, Tai Deng (Black Tai), and Tai Khao (White Tai) (Sisouphantong and

Taillard 2000; Chazèe 2002:27). The Lao language is of the southwestern Tai branch and 46 shares similar vocabulary with people speaking Thai in Thailand (Li 1960). Both Thai and Lao languages indirectly borrow their script from Indic languages (through the

Khmer kingdom, which was influenced by Indic Sanskrit and Pali scripts). Although they are not genetically Pali or Sanskrit languages, they have heavily borrowed vocabulary from these languages (Enfield 1999:259). Lao and Thai are not considered the same language, each having distinct dialects in different parts of their respective countries

(Enfield 1999:259). However, due to trade relations and exposure from television and radio programs, many Lao residents (including Khmu, Hmong and various Tai groups) now understand Thai speakers, but few Thai understand Lao speakers.

The Lao language was declared the official language of the Lao PDR on

December 2, 1975 (Enfield 1999:259). Since that time, the government has been working towards standardizing the Lao language (Enfield 1999:259), but this has not yet happened. For example, my Lao-English dictionary does not include the symbol for ―r‖ but a primary education language poster, printed by the government and purchased in

2007, does.

Tai peoples traditionally live in the plains and valleys and cultivate glutinous wet- rice varieties, preferably with the use of draught animals and in irrigated paddies. Due to these customs, Lao and some Tai ethnic groups are classified as Lao Loum under the tripartite system. However, and particularly in Luang Prabang Province, some Lao people live on the mountain slopes and practice both dry- and wet-rice cultivation; their residence at higher elevations demonstrates the oversimplification of the tripartite classification system. Common characteristics of ethnic groups in this language family, adopted from Chazèe 2002:28-29 unless otherwise noted, include: 47

1. Sedentary villages composed of larger populations when compared to other ethno-linguistic families in Laos.

2. Stratified societies with commoners and aristocrats.

3. Both patrilineal (Tai Dam) and matrilineal (Lue) societies practicing monogamy, except for the aristocrats. The ethnic Lao live in small nuclear families with strong female authority, in some respects; for example, in many cases the women control the money and have small businesses (Schliesinger 2003b:30). I witnessed the female control of monetary resources among my wealthier ethnic Lao friends in Luang Prabang

Town and I have also heard men say they hand their pay over to their wives, except for what they want to spend on beer. One leisurely afternoon, a Lao friend invited a group of her female compatriots to cook fish, drink and gamble at her family-owned fish pond.

She and her friends continued to gamble for hours in a card game. Although I never understood the rules, I was aware of the unprecedented cash flow coming from each woman‘s purse. I was aghast at the amounts of money gambled during this event—sums of over 500,000 kip23 or about $59 (more than some laborers make in a month) were wagered! The fact that women are gambling in their leisure time suggests that they earn income and have control over some, if not most of, the household‘s cash resources. My friend and her husband owned a bus. She collected the fares while he drove to Vientiane one day and back to Luang Prabang the next day. Many of her friends also had their own

23 Kip is the official currency of Laos. Since the year 2001 it has fluctuated from 10,000 to 8, 200 kip for $1 U.S. Exchange rates used throughout this dissertation are $1U.S. to 8,500 kip, the average exchange rate for the 2009-2010 year of fieldwork. The sum of 500,000 kip is equal to the annual cash earnings of a poor farmer in Muang Muay Village, as is discussed in Chapter Four. 48 small businesses, such as selling vegetables in the market and/or cooking and selling foods at small food stalls along the roadsides.

4. Intermarriage between Tai peoples and other linguistic groups, although some suggest this is a step down the social ladder since ethnic Lao hold the highest social position and prestige in the country.

5. Weaving activities, which are culturally important and utilize a diversity of techniques. Women weave both silk and cotton on fixed looms. Threads were traditionally colored with numerous natural dyes; now, however, factory-made synthetic dyes imported from China are commonly used24.

6. Women traditionally weaving cloth and wearing sinhs, which are wrap-around skirts of various colors, different motifs and weaving styles (Photo 4). Stylistic differences in dress act as for certain ethnic groups (this practice is also found among other linguistic groups like the Hmong-Mien). For example, the Tai Deng, or Red

Tai, use red dyes while the Tai Dam, or Black Tai, use black dyes with some greens and reds, and the Tai Kaow traditionally wear white or light-colored shirts. In most cases, the ethnic labels refer to the main colors used in clothing (Rakpong 2000:66).

The Tai Dam are particularly notable in their weaving skills. They traditionally weave mosquito nets (which is not very common for other Tai groups) and on large- frame looms, larger than those seen in other Tai groups (Schliesinger 2003b:137). Many

Tai Deng women still dye their threads with natural indigo (137). Status and age of Tai

24 Lao Textiles: Ancient Symbols, Living Art by Patricia Cheesman, presents detailed accounts of weaving techniques and beautiful pictures of woven fabrics from the Tai groups in Laos.

49

Deng women can be seen through the quality of their worn garments and the complexity of their designs (137).

7. Ethnic Lao and some other Tai peoples practice Theravada Buddhism mixed with animism or a belief in spirits. The temple plays an important role in village social life. The Phutai, Tai Kaow, Tai Dam, Tai Deng, Taket, and Yang mostly practice animistic beliefs, discussed in detail in Chapter Five, although some are slowly being drawn to Buddhism. It is common for men or boys of Buddhist families to serve some time as monks. This means living in the village temple to learn Buddhist doctrine; such an ordination gains religious merit for the entire family (Schliesinger 2003b:31). This tradition is such an important way to gain merit that families who do not have their own sons may ―adopt‖ a son to send to the village temple. The adoption is comprised of monetary, emotional and material support for the boy while he resides at the temple.

After the son has completed his ordination and stay, he will continue to refer to his supporters as ―parents‖ and they to him as ―son.‖ This occurrence was explained to me by my co-worker at the International Rice Research Institute office in Luang Prabang and friend, who is the father of three daughters.

Animism is also important and integrated with Buddhism. Spirits are held responsible for diseases and other problems, and people ask their forgiveness in the village temples. In addition to monks, there are various religious specialists capable of providing certain spirit and soul services within their villages (Yukio 2000:172). For example, mo wisa, or specialists of ―supreme knowledge,‖ specialize in reciting certain spells or verses for protection against dangers and malevolent spirits (Yukio 2000:172).

Small wooden houses (san papoum, or in my experience huean phi, Photo 5) are erected 50 inside or outside of people‘s homes and daily offerings are made to appease the spirits.

Animal sacrifices are also made to the spirits during ceremonies. Lao people believe that every person has 32 souls (khwan)—20 are inherited from the father and 12 from the mother (Schliesinger 2001a:31). All 32 khwans must remain in a person‘s body for balance and health, and if a person falls ill, it is often believed that a soul has wandered off. In this case, a baci ceremony may be held to call the wandering khwan back to the body. Although all Tai groups believe in khwan, the specific number believed to inhabit the human body varies from group to group (O‘Connor 2000:45). Khwan also inhabit rice, a belief that encourages people to cooperate with one another and create a balanced lifestyle in village settings so as not to scare the rice khwans and consequently kill the rice plants (O‘Connor 2000:45)25.

8. Lao ceremonies that include the pee mai (New Year) celebration, baci (calling of spirits for a number of reasons like childbirth, forgiveness etc., explained in Chapter

Four), boat racing, rocket, and fishing ceremonies.

9. Tai traditional wood and bamboo houses built on high poles. Lao people build their granaries near the house while Tai Dam build them under the house. Animals, firewood, fish traps and other material items are stored under the houses within the Tai and other linguistic families.

10. Baskets hung on a bamboo support and suspended over the shoulders. This is common among all Tai groups.

25 Tai Dam: Rituals of the Death by Prachan Rakpong provides a detailed account of the topic. 51

11. The use of traditional foot-operated rice pounders by most Tai groups; however, some groups, such as the Tai Deng, Tai Kaow and Lue in northern Laos, use hydro-powered rice pounders (Photos 6 and 7). These systems of rice pounding are being adopted by Mon-Khmer groups and slowly replacing the mortar and pestle. More recently, village entrepreneurs have purchased fuel-run mechanized rice mills and turned them into small businesses at the local level.

12. The production and consumption of rice alcohol (Lao lao) at ceremonies and other village festivities.

The Hmong-Mien Ethno-linguistic Branch

There are four ethnic groups from the Hmong-Mien (or Yao) linguistic family in

Laos (Figure 2.10; Maps 2.8-2.9). Compared to the Mon-Khmer and Tai ethno-linguistic groups, the Hmong and Yao are relative newcomers, having migrated from China and

Vietnam between 1810 and 1900 (Chazèe 2002:105). Four groups, discussed below, make up approximately 6% to 10% of the population. The largest group is Hmong; both

Hmong Khao (White Hmong) and Hmong Lay (Striped or Green Hmong) account for approximately 315,465 people, while the Yao and the Lao Huay (Lantien, a group of

Mun-speaking Yao) account for approximately 22,665 people (Chazèe 2002:105 based on 1995 census data). The majority of Mien speakers reside in the far northern provinces of and Phongsaly, both of which share borders with China. The Hmong are more widespread than the other groups and reside in many northern districts, though the majority dwell in Xieng Khuang Province. Although these groups comprise a small 52 part of Laos‘s population, they are part of a larger population spanning several countries including China, Vietnam and Thailand. Smalley et. al. (1990:3) suggest that the world

Hmong population is six million, and Pourret (2002:12) suggests that the Yao number two million, with the great majority of both residing in China.

The was originally unwritten but in 1959 a Hmong man named

Shan Lue Yang who was living in Vietnam began to create a written alphabet for Hmong

(Smalley et. al 1990:2). An uneducated man, Shan Lue Lang reported to his followers that he received visions and instruction from a divine source. He was believed to be a messiah for the . The Hmong communities called him ―Mother of Writing‖ and ―Savior of the People.‖ He believed that providing a written script for the Hmong people would allow them to ―validate their equality with other peoples,‖ especially during wartime (15). Shan Lue Lang eventually moved to Laos and was assassinated in

1971 by conspiring Hmong war leaders26. One of the effects of having a written language was that it assisted some Hmong in converting to , which had economic and social benefits (Winzeler 2011:208-209; Tapp 1989).

Traditionally, Hmong people were migrants. They would slash and burn areas in the mountains for agricultural purposes, and once the soil was depleted they moved to new lands (Culas 2000; Tomforde 2003:260). It is likely that they first spread into northern Southeast Asia in search of new lands and then later to flee from Chinese persecution (Culas 2000). Although the Hmong have been involved in a number of battles, Culas suggests that they only fought when necessary to secure their lands but

26 The detailed story and unique invention of a writing system is told in Mother of Writing by W.A. Smalley, C.K. Vang, and G.Y. Yang. 53 never to take over the lands of other people (2000)27. The Hmong inhabit the high elevations of the mountaintops (1000-1,300 meters) and practice shifting cultivation of dry rice and corn during the rainy season and, formerly, opium poppies in the dry season

(Chazèe 2002:106). The Hmong have a reputation of being natural resource degraders due to their intensive use of lands for profit maximization. The Hmong are categorized as Lao Soung and at least some Hmong present themselves using this term. Common characteristics of Hmong groups, adopted from Chazèe 2002:105-108, unless otherwise noted, include:

1. As with the Tai, Hmong sub-groups are distinguished through the color of clothing, embroidery styles and other clothing accessories (such as the use of silver and the styles of head turbans, etc.) that they wear. They traditionally weave cotton fabrics on backstrap looms, use some hemp fabric and batik techniques (Lewis 1984:104; Anderson

1993:24)

2. Patrilineal societies; each subgroup is divided into exogamous patrilineal clans and then into lineages. In Laos, 15 Hmong patriclans are known. Clan membership is inherited from one‘s father for life, so women do not take the clan of their husbands

27 The Hmong people are extensively documented, in part because of their migration patterns and consequent contacts with numerous other cultures and also due to persecution and unfair treatment by dominant groups in several countries where they‘ve resided (Michaud 2000). The most recent conflict they endured was under the Pathet Lao government in 1975. The Hmong had been commissioned by the American CIA to assist in battles in the hills to stop the spread of socialism. Once the revolution was over and the socialist regime came into power, many Hmong fighters became refugees in the , Thailand, , Canada, Australia and French Guyana. Hmong living in Southeast Asia continue to have political struggles with local governments (Siriphon 2006). However, in 2010, media attention was given to the repatriation of Hmong refugees from Thailand back to Laos. Stories focused on the fair treatment of Hmong individuals by the Lao government, including land areas allocated to them and food supplies given to them until they were settled and could sustain themselves.

54

(Lewis 1984:152). It is forbidden for Hmong to marry someone from the same clan

(Smalley et. al 1990:7). Most marriages are monogamous but some polygyny is found. A

Hmong proverb indicates the status associated with polygyny: ―A man with two wives and ten horses is a very rich man‖ (Lewis 1984:127). Bride prices are paid as part of the tradition.

3. Among the Hmong, primary social units are extended families. However, under certain circumstances clan members will organize themselves within and across village units (Smalley et. al 1990:7). The Hmong groups in Laos are not politically homogenous but rather loosely connected by common language and customs.

4. The practice of animism with spirit and ancestor cults, a belief in souls and shaman practitioners and a belief in numerous other spirits, similar to the Mon-Khmer and Tai ethno-linguistic branches. Among the Hmong, the ―door spirit‖ is especially important—upon the death of a person, permission must be obtained from the door spirit to allow the deceased to cross into the afterlife (Lewis 1984:131). Every Hmong village typically has a shaman, who can be either male or female. A person can become a shaman through a dream, inheritance or by surviving a sickness (Chindarsi 1983:187).

Each Hmong home has at least one altar; among the Blue Hmong this constitutes a piece of white paper placed on the wall opposite the doorway (Chindarsi 1983:187). Protection of household members and livestock is sought at the altar. Shamans‘ homes generally have more than one altar (Chindarsi 1983:187). Animals are sacrificed at religious ceremonies.

5. Wood, bamboo, and in some cases earth-walled houses, built on the ground are customary. Roofs are made of grass thatch. Wooden or bamboo shingles. The site of 55

Hmong houses are chosen with care since it must be acceptable to the ancestors. The ancestors are offered ―paper money‖ to determine whether the site is acceptable or not

(Lewis 1984:122). The ground is leveled out by dragging large pieces of wood being across an area and then is tamped down to create the house floor (122). In some regions, traditional Hmong houses have two hearths, one for gathering around and cooking people‘s meals and another to cook the pig‘s food28 (122). Stables for ponies and mules and chicken coops are built against the outside of the house (122).

6. The Hmong secure their wealth in the form of silver jewelry (Lewis 1984:116).

Traditional designs are embedded in silver accessories and all-silver ornaments are worn during special occasions such as New Year festivals (Lewis 1984:116). During baby naming ceremonies, the Hmong place a silver necklace on babies to retain their souls

(Lewis 1984:116).

7. The traditional production of opium for use and sales. The Hmong generally did not abuse self-consumption (though the Lantien had a high rate of opium addicts).

Among the Hmong, a man can only smoke opium after the age of 40, once his lineage is secured. Poppy substitution programs have been implemented in Laos and most other

Southeast Asian countries (excluding Burma) where the Hmong reside, with the goal of eradicating poppy production among highland groups. In fact, government and

28 Although literature suggests there are two kitchens in Hmong homes, personal observation and conversations with Hmong correspondents demonstrates this is not the case in Hmong villages in

Luang Prabang or Oudomxay Provinces. However, two kitchens were observed in Black Hmong villages in Northern Vietnam; such observations suggest geographical variation of this tradition. 56 international29 agendas have reduced the cultural tradition of poppy cultivation so much that this tradition will most likely be lost within the next few generations (Tomforde

2003:360).

8. The desire to conserve ethnic identities by conserving domestic architecture, beliefs, religion, ceremonies, clothing, and ornaments. In my experiences, both in Laos and with Hmong friends in Wisconsin, I have been told that it is important to maintain traditions, especially when it comes to certain ceremonies like the New Year festival. It is important for women to wear traditional skirts, which are woven and embroidered either by oneself or by a close family member. In Laos, the ball-toss, or pov pob, game remains an important aspect of New Year celebrations. Youth toss balls at prospective marriage partners, and if a girl purposely does not catch the ball then the boy is being refused; if she catches it, she is interested. One of my project research assistants, who was Hmong, told me this was how he found his wife.

Shamans and their roles as spiritual advisors and healers remain strong both in

Laos and in migrant communities (Koltyk 1998; Fadiman 1997). Funeral rites and songs have also remained constant through oral traditions for thousands of years; however, Falk

(1996) notes that some song lyrics are changing among Hmong singers located in

Australia today. Maintaining gardens (inclusive of some healing herbs), hunting, fishing and embroidering flower cloths (pa ndua) and/or story quilts (paj ntaub) are important traditional activities that Hmong refugees maintain (Koltyk 1998). Furthermore, clans

29 Opium eradication has been the largest and most heavily funded project the U.S. government has supported in modern Laos. 57 and lineages still organize the larger Hmong communities, and extended families continue to be the most important social unit (Koltyk 1998).

Conclusion

This chapter presents an ethnographic account of the peoples who played some role in my research. The brief review of history and general customs of the Khmu, the Tai and the Hmong only partly reflects the diverse cultural mosaic and wealth of cultural knowledge residing within the Lao PDR. Laos‘s geographic position, as a landlocked country sharing borders with five other countries, contributes to the richness of cultures within it. While some groups have remained somewhat isolated and able to maintain traditional cultural customs, many other groups have intermingled, intermarried and established trade-relationships—and have done so for millennia—thus redefining their identities along the way. More recently, minority populations have been increasingly influenced by majority populations and government agendas. The government of Laos, as well as the governments of other mainland Southeast Asian countries, believe that mountain dwelling ethnic minority groups who practice shifting cultivation are the main cause of deforestation and environmental degradation. International agents (with money) advocate environmental sustainability and, as a result, are pushing the government to change the situation. Consequently, ethnic groups discussed in this chapter have become objects of development and modernization efforts, and as a result, many cultural traditions discussed in these pages may not persist in the near future. While it is widely accepted that cultures are constantly changing, it is important to understand how local 58 people, coming from diverse cultural backgrounds and belief systems, envision and desire change. As I write, the government of Laos is encouraging agricultural transition, which will undoubtedly influence cultural change. Yet how this agricultural transition will influence other changes and what the outcomes of such changes will be remains difficult to predict. Since culture is deeply intertwined with agricultural perceptions, beliefs and practices, it is critically important to understand the background of the ethnic groups in Laos concerned in this thesis, especially their relationships to current agricultural decision-making and behaviors. Finally, when working in such a diverse setting, flexibility and openness are necessary; hence my choice to use decision-making theories and participatory methodologies.

59

Appendix 2

Photos 1a and 1b. Megalithic stone jars found on the plains in Xieng Khouang District in northern Laos. This is the archeological site the Plain of Jars. The man in the photo is 6 feet 4 inches tall, which offers some perspective on the massiveness of these jars. (Photo by author 2004.)

60

Photo 2. A bamboo taleo from northern Laos. (Photo by author 2007.)

Photo 3. A Khmu man weaving a bamboo basket to carry on the back. (Photo by author 2010.)

61

Photo 4. An example of sinhs, a type of wrap skirt woven and worn by females in Laos. There are numerous motifs and weaving patterns throughout the country. (Photo by Tao Tit Bouammi Village 2010.)

62

Photo 5. Huean phi, or spirit house, in the forest. (Photo by Nong Kham from Bouammi Village 2010.)

63

Photo 6. A foot-powered mortar and pestle to mill rice and process other food sources, such as cassava for animal feed. These are generally constructed under people‘s homes in the shade. This woman is multi-tasking: milling rice, breast-feeding her infant, and chatting with friends. (Photo by author 2004.)

64

Photo 7. A hydro-powered rice mill on a tributary of the Nam Seuang River near Muang MuayVillage. (Photo by author 2010.)

65

Map 2.1. Kingdom of Lān Xang in Mainland Southeast Asia (Stuart-Fox 1997:17)

66

Figure 2.2 The Mon-Khmer language groups of Laos (Schliesinger 2003a:2)

Figure 2.3 The Vietic branch of eastern Mon-Khmer (Chamberlain 1997)

67

Map 2.4 The Approximate Distribution of Mon-Khmer Languages (Goddard 2005:32)

68

Map 2.5 Ethnic and Geographical Distribution of Austroasiatic Speakers in Laos (Schliesinger 2003a:xxvi)

69

Figure 2.6 The Tai-Kadai Language Family (Edmondson & Solnit 1997:2)

Figure 2.7 A more detailed chart of the Tai language family; note the Southwestern branch, the majority of Tai speakers in Laos originate from this branch (Chazèe 2002:8 based on Chamberlain 199

70

Map 2.8 The Approximate Distribution of the Tai-Kadai and Hmong-Mien Language Families (Goddard 2005:35)

71

Map 2.9 Ethnic and Geographic Distribution of Austro-Thai-speaking Peoples. Note that Nos. 40 and 41 represent Hmong–Mien groups and No. 42 is the only Austronesian- speaking group in the country. (Schliesinger 2003:b:xxix)

72

Figure 2.10 The Hmong-Mien Language Family. Speakers from the West Hmongic and Mien-Mun branches reside in Laos, refer to Maps 2.8 and 2.9 for their distribution (Chazèe 2002:12).

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Map 2.11 The Ethnic and Geographic Distribution of Sino-Tibetan speakers in Laos (Schliesinger 2003c:2)

74

Figure 2.12 The Sino-Tibetan Language Family (Chazèe 2002:13)

75

Chapter 3 Political Ecology, Decision-Making Theories and Development

Researchers from numerous disciplines (anthropology, psychology, economics, marketing, healthcare, etc.) seek to understand how people make decisions. In the field of anthropology, decision-making theories are applied to diverse areas and contexts around the world. In particular, economic and cognitive anthropologists seek to understand farmer decision-making especially in the face of change, and whether it is forced or voluntary (see

Barlett 1980). Through research outcomes, anthropologists agree that their contributions to agricultural decision making lie in ―affirming the complexity and heterogeneity of farmers, their communities, their decisions, and policies (Barlett 1980:2). While there are some key factors that commonly affect farmers‘ decisions—such as land, labor, and household goals—there is still a need to elicit details about specific decision-making environments in order to understand local situations and contribute to general decision-making theories.

Farmers in Laos are currently faced with an agricultural transition encouraged by the state, so there is a real need to understand internal and external variables affecting their choices. Chapters Five and Six discuss the more internal factors while this chapter discusses external factors and theories. Additionally, Chapter Seven gives a detailed description of external or broader outside forces and how they influence upland farmer decisions in Laos.

Internal factors are values, preferences, goals and plans to attain said goals, attitudes, 76 ambitions, and beliefs (these may also be termed cognitive factors). External variables are things considered outside the realm of people‘s control for the most part such as politics, national economics, environmental and agricultural goals, available labor, the weather, prices, soil conditions, market demand, pests, a household‘s socio-economic standing, etc.

The purpose of this chapter is threefold: 1) To present background information on the political ecology and natural resource sector within the Lao PDR; 2) To provide background on the theoretical framework of decision-making theories and development; and 3) Through my research, to link political ecology, decision-making theories and development.

Topography, Economy, Shifting Cultivation and the Politics of Natural Resources

Laos is a landlocked country in northern Southeast Asia with a territory of 236,800 km² and a population of 6.67 million as of 2008 (UN 2008). After the 1975 revolution, Laos officially became recognized as the People‘s Democratic Republic of Lao, a socialist, one- party state. From 1975 to 1986, the country was largely closed to outsiders and world trade.

In 1986, due to economic hardships and the influence from neighboring allies, the government introduced the New Economic Mechanism (NEM). Under the NEM, the centrally planned economy initiated efforts to transform into a market economy, an ongoing development that is far from complete but progressing. For example, Laos‘s economy grew an average of 6% per year from 1988-2007, increasing per capita income to $2,100 (UN

2008). A jointly prepared report by the Government of Laos (GOL) and United Nations suggests that from 1992-2002, national poverty rates declined from 46% to 33%; however, the disparity between rich and poor was reported as increasing (GOL-UN 2008). 77

Quantitative indicators from the United Nations Global Human Development Index show improvement: Currently Laos is ranked 122 out of 169 countries (UNDP 2011), which means it is categorized as a country with ―Medium Human Development,‖ a marked improvement from decades past but not enough to elevate it out of the Least Developed

Country (LDC) category. By 2020, the government hopes to shed this LDC ranking (UNDP

2011). International aid to Laos makes up half of the government‘s budget, with the most money coming from the World Bank and Asian Development Bank. The largest bilateral donors are , Australia, and Sweden (Cooper 2009:185). Although these statistics look positive and improvements are being made, many rural farmers continue to suffer from a lack of cash income, medical and educational resources, and insufficient food stores. As will be explained in Chapter Four, some farming households continue to survive on less than a dollar a day; in some cases, they‘re surviving on as little as 33¢ per day. Generally speaking, there is an ethnic dimension to poverty; the ethnic minorities are worse off than the Lao majority (Ruohamäki 2000; Kenichiro et. al. 2004).

The isolation of Laos, combined with the relatively low population density, has helped to preserve its natural resources, most notably its forests (Rigg and Jerndal 1996). In

1999, 47% of the country was officially classified as forest 30 (Berkmuller 1995; Thapa

1998; FAO 2003). That said, forest products are the most lucrative sector of the Lao economy. More specifically, in 2001 the World Bank reported that 52% of the country‘s

GDP was provided by the natural resource sector. More recent estimates—by the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry in 2004—suggest that forest cover has decreased to

30 To be classified as a forest an area must have a 20% canopy cover if the canopy is less than 20% it is classified as degraded forest. 78 approximately 42%. At least 80% of the population directly relies on forest products for foods, fuel, housing materials, and craft and tool supplies (Hodgdon 2010). In remote areas, non-timber forest products can contribute more than half of a household‘s annual income

(Foppes and Ketphanh 2005; Clendon 2001- cited by Hodgdon 2010).

The topography of Laos is rugged and the population mainly rural (an estimated 83% of the total population resides in rural lands). Twenty percent of the land is classified as lowland and 80% as upland (Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry 1999). The northern region of Laos is a continuous expanse of rolling hills and steep mountains, with peaks topping out 2,800 meters (8,400 feet) above sea level. Subsistence-based agricultural activities engage 80% of the workforce while the agriculture sector contributes approximately 50% of the country‘s GDP (Government of Laos and UN 2008).

As throughout much of Southeast Asia, farmers in Laos mainly follow one of two cultivation methods: lowland wet rice or highland dry rice. In the traditional highland- subsistence system, farmers integrate the use of crops, animal husbandry and forest resources (Burling 1965; Roder et. al 1996). Shifting cultivation is the main agriculture practice in upland Laos as well as in much of tropical highland Southeast Asia. While dry rice is almost always the main crop in a slash-and-burn system, other plants are inter- cropped. In order of frequency – and leaving out opium – crops include maize, cassava, cucumber, pumpkin, taro, chilies, sesame, smooth loofah, sweet potato, long bean, peanut, eggplant, Job‘s tears, ginger, sorghum, yam bean, and sun hemp (Roder 2001:9). Upland farmers cultivate valley floors with wet rice but such land is limited. True rice, Oryza sativa, 79 was domesticated in Asia and grows in variable climates and altitudes; it is the staple food crop in many Asian countries (Hanks 1972:17).

In the past, the hilly topography and low-population density rendered slash-and-burn agriculture the best subsistence option, and fallow periods were as long as 20 years.

Currently, increasing land scarcity due to government policies and the population increase

(from immigration and relocation) has reduced fallow periods to between two and eight years, with fewer years being more common (Rerkasem 1995; Blasco et. al 1996; Roder et. al 1996). With shortened fallow periods, many new problems are arising including reduced- soil fertility, erosion, pest infestation, loss of biodiversity and increased weeding requirements (Roder et. al 1996). Upland dry rice cultivation is limited to only one annual rice harvest since the system is reliant on rainfall from the southwest monsoon that occurs

May through September (Rerkasem 1995; Roder et. al 1996; Roder 2001; De Rouw et. al

2004). Families practicing upland shifting cultivation are generally considered the country‘s poorest and mainly belong to ethnic minority groups.

Government Land-use Policies

The Lao constitution declares it is the right of the state to control, use and transfer its natural resources (Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry 1999). This includes the Lao property law, promulgated in 1990, which states that forests belong to the national community as represented by the state. Government goals of high economic growth and poverty eradication led to the implementation of a series of new policies regarding natural resource access and use throughout the country. Land reform policies were created to 80 control land use with the goal of sustaining forestry resources and reducing shifting cultivation (Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry 1999:45). There is disagreement about the main cause of deforestation in the country; the government blames shifting cultivators while other researchers suggest that state-supported commercial logging endeavors are the main culprit (Thapa1998; Hodgdon 2003; Holtsberg 2004). Needless to say, shifting cultivators are the main target of land-use reform policies. The premise is that forestry products account for at least half of the country‘s net export revenues; therefore sustaining forest resources by limiting lands under shifting cultivation will assist with economic development.

The National Socioeconomic Plan of the Government of Laos outlines eight national priorities, two of which directly relate to the subject at hand: stabilization and reduction of shifting cultivation and rural development (NAFRI 2000). Within this plan, government policy calls for:

Elimination of upland rice production in densely forested areas, diversification into

perennial crops where possible and the development of more sustainable upland rice-

farming systems in areas where rice production is essential (NAFRI 2000:5).

The 2003 National Poverty Eradication Programme pointed to the importance of stabilizing shifting cultivation as a means of eliminating rural poverty, especially among ethnic minority groups (State Planning Committee et al. 2001). The five-part strategy for stabilizing shifting cultivation is:

1. Sedentarization of agriculture in upland areas through farming systems, diversification and agro-forestry development (sic). 81

2. Open-market access through feeder-road development and market-information delivery.

3. Land-use zoning based on slope and land capability.

4. Rural savings mobilization and credit extension.

5. Land allocation and land-use occupancy entitlement (Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry 1999:27).

Since the early 1990s31, natural resource reform policies have been promulgated through the Land Use Planning and Land Allocation (LUPLA) program. Theoretically, all of the country‘s natural resources are assessed and then allocated according to their

―best‖ abilities. Village land is classified into general land-use categories such as forest land, agricultural land and homestead land. Forest land is then allocated into production, protection, conservation and sacred categories, each of which has strict management rules because it is considered community land. Each farming household is limited to three agricultural plots of land, which are temporarily leased to them for three years. If farmers adhere to the categorized rules of use, then after three years they are supposed to receive land-title certificates32. Once issued, land titles can be inherited, sold or leased as long as the land is registered and taxes are paid (Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry 1999).

In principle, the LUPLA program has the potential to assist poor farmers through high-quality land-use planning (completed by government officials based on land characteristics), technologies and land rights. It is hoped that farmers who have land titles will be encouraged to invest in more permanent cash crops such as fruit tree propagation

31 A number of ministerial decrees have influenced the institutionalization of Land and Forest Allocation in the Lao PDR including Decree No. 169 in 1993; Decree No. 186 in 1994; Prime Ministerial Order No. 3 in 1996; and Ministerial Instruction No. 0822 in 1996 (Fujita 2010). 32 In my experience, land titles are not promptly given at three years. 82 or teak tree plantations. However, by limiting land access, LUPLA constrains farmers to a three- to four-year fallow cycle; this short fallow period does not allow soil and biomass to regenerate, thereby causing a decrease in soil fertility and an increase in soil erosion. These factors cause more labor days per year for smaller annual rice yields. In other words, shifting cultivators, who are generally poor to begin with, are working harder and reaping less (State Planning Committee et.al. 2001). Additionally, foraging for forest foods and collecting other natural forest products were recently limited by the creation of national parks. In 1993 24,600 km² were set aside in 17 National Biodiversity

Conservation Areas (NBCA‘s), which have newly imposed access regulations33 (Stuart-

Fox 2006). Villagers are not permitted to forage or collect products within the NBCA‘s, which has adversely affected their livelihoods (Raintree 2001; Ducourtieux et. al 2005).

In short, LUPLA is protecting forest resources at the cost of local livelihoods and this has resulted in displacement and out-migration of rural populations (Vandergeest 2003;

Moizo 2004). Furthermore, LUPLA has not been implemented uniformly across the country, and while it is supposed to include local farmers in the allocation process, in many cases it has not, which has caused lands to be allocated based on state criteria instead of local interests, further constraining local livelihoods (Fujita 2010; Fujita and

Phanvilay 2008; Hodgdon 2010). Finally, LUPLA decision-making has been

33 Although Martin Stuart-Fox (2006) makes the point that these are not national parks since some villages still live within their boundaries and do slash-and-burn agriculture and logging of ―production timber‖ is still allowed by the military (62). However, in my experience this is changing. In 2001, I visited Nam Ha NBCA (National Biodiversity Conservation Area) in and there were still villages living inside its boundaries. But, in 2009 in Vieng Kham and Vieng Thong districts villages were relocated outside of NBCA boundaries and they could not access natural products inside the Park. The traditional medicine man in Muang Muay village complained that he could not access some medicines in the Nam-Et Phou Louey NBCA due to Park policies. He even tried to gain permission from the district officers but was denied. 83 decentralized to provincial, district and village resource committees; however, Fujita

(2010) discusses how provincial governments have the power to rescind district- and local-level allocation categories to satisfy their own needs, which in many cases causes more detriment to local livelihoods.

Political Ecology Summary

To summarize, the main goals of LUPLA are to decrease deforestation (which the government blames on upland swidden practices); increase agricultural production, especially cash crops and permanent crops like teak tree plantations; decrease poverty; and increase government revenues through land taxes (Lestrelin and Giordano 2007;

Roberts 2010). In reality, such policies are causing more hardships for farmers who were already poor to begin with because they limit access to agriculture and forest resources.

Faced with land-access constraints, farmers are forced to labor more in their fields or seek livelihood alternatives. Additionally, land reform policies are aimed at both economic transformation and agricultural transformation; that is, the government is pressuring farmers to change from subsistence-based shifting cultivation to permanent cash crops. If farmers begin to grow and sell cash crops, they directly contribute to the broader economy. However, the current lack of infrastructure such as roads and bridges makes markets inaccessible to the majority of rural farmers. Regardless of the infrastructure deficit, the government has partnered with a number of Non-Governmental

Organizations (NGOs) to work with upland farmers in an attempt to diversify livelihood strategies via ―integrative agricultural‖ schemes, to include the introduction of permanent 84 crops, cash crops, livestock fodder crops, irrigation systems, hillside terracing, and agro- forestry species (Van Gansberghe and Pals 1994; NAFRI 2000; Phimphachanhvongsod et. al 2004; Foppes and Ketphanh 2004; IRRI 2005; Ducourtieux et. al 2005; Lestrelin and Giordano 2006).

While some farmers have decided to adopt new agricultural practices, others remain steadfast in their use of traditional ways. In an effort to understand why only some farmers are adopting new practices, my research explored farmer decision-making processes. Although farming households ultimately make their own farming decisions, they do so with some regard to national policies. Therefore, the political framework discussed herein must be considered throughout this dissertation.

Rational Choices and Decision Making

Decision making is the evaluation of alternative options, generally followed by the assessment that one option is more preferable than others. Decision-making theories have often been interpreted from the perspective of rational choice. This approach assumes that individuals make choices to maximize their own benefits or utility (Simon

1955; Homans 1967). Utility is the ―payoff,‖ or the value placed on perceived or actual outcomes of certain alternatives (Simon 1955:102). Originally used in mathematics and economics, rational-choice theory migrated to the social sciences in the 1960s. Rational- choice theory assumes humans assess known alternatives and make a choice based on deliberate reasoning (Gould 1969; Heath 1976; Iannaccone 1997; Ortwin et. al 2000) even though in most situations outcomes are not certain. ―Quantifiable‖ uncertainty is 85 termed ―risk‖ and non-quantitative factors are termed ―uncertainty‖ (Cancian 1972:6).

Uncertainty leads people to use whatever they do know to make their best guess about probabilities in order to achieve maximization. This concept of ―subjective probability‖ turns uncertainty into risk since people will take any amount of information they have and turn it into a probability estimate; that is, an estimate that takes an uncertain reality outcome and turns it into a calculable probability (Cancian 1980:164).

The discourse of social progress assumes that ―primitive‖ agricultural practices will be replaced by more efficient ones as people modernize (Tucker 2007). However, studies on peasant moral economy and indigenous farmers‘ adaptability dispute this.

Subsistence farmers are aware of ―rational‖ economic choices and they partake in actions to better their positions within their individual cultural contexts (Leach 1954; Shultz

1964; Barth 1967; Firth 1967, 1969; Ortiz 1967; Rappaport 1968; Mynt 1969; Mellor

1969; Johnson 1971, 1974; Cancian 1972; Scott 1976; Rutz 1977; Ganjanpan 1982;

Rhoades 1989, 1995; Netting 1993; Tanaka 1993; Negi 1994; Tchewa 2000; Finnis

2006). But what scholars consider a rational choice may not be interpreted as such by farmers and vice versa (Joy 1967; Murray 1977; Beckford 2002). For example, Negi

(1994) demonstrated the rationality of farmers in Himalayan India who rejected high- yielding wheat varieties in favor of low-yielding traditional varieties. Specialists were promoting a high-yielding variety but farmers rejected it because they have small, rain- fed landholdings and high-yielding varieties do not proliferate on small non-irrigated lands. Thus farmers get better yields planting traditional low-yielding wheat. In another example of rationality, Tanaka (1993) witnessed that farmers in southern Laos planted rice nurseries in shaded areas, which slows their growth; Tanaka noted that this was 86 rational—farmers do this as a security measure in case the rains don‘t come when expected and they can delay the transplanting of shade-grown seedlings for up to a month.

Past scholars and development specialists from developed nations believed that peasant farmers in less-developed countries were hindered from making rational choices because they were influenced or controlled by tradition (Joy 1967). However, due to holistic anthropological research methods, these thoughts have since been largely debunked. For example, Melford Spiro‘s 1966 paper ―Buddhism and Economic Action in

Burma‖ demonstrates how poor Buddhist farmers and townspeople rationally spend their small incomes on religious rituals, feasts for monks, and the construction of elaborate pagodas—things that appear superfluous to Western eyes. Given the cultural and economic conditions of mid-century Buddhist Burma, Spiro showed that spending money for religious purposes was prestigious, respectful, and merit making (created good karma), all of which favor an advantageous rebirth. Implicit in this case study is Weber‘s

(1947:35) concept of ―substantive rationality,‖ which suggests that patterns of rational procedure are largely determined by cultural values. Economic and substantivist interpretations of rationality are the cornerstone of decision-making theories in anthropology.

Decision-Making Perspectives in Anthropology

Economic anthropologists have conducted most decision-making studies in anthropology. In the 1960s, economic anthropology was concerned with the debate 87 between formalists and substantivists (Barlett 1980a; Wilk 1996). Formalists argued that formal economic concepts derived from Western market economies could be applied to all of the world‘s cultures. Substantivists argued that concepts like rationality and maximization are culture-bound, and thus the use of them in non-Western societies would distort the reality of such cultures. Near the end of the decade, a growing number of researchers began to focus on rural change and agricultural development by joining formalist analysis and substantivist perspectives (Barlett 1980a:7). By the 1980s, economic anthropologists were concerned with when farmers behave as predicted by rational economic formula and when they do not. Understanding what variables affect when people behave differently than predicted, and the relationship of the variables to one another and to decision-making, became the focus of economic anthropological research and stemmed into cognitive anthropology (Strickton and Greenfield 1972; Quinn

1978; Barlett 1980a). Anthropologists studying adaptive strategies in peasant agricultural production have four goals, according to Barlett (1980b:549):

1. Careful description of current strategies and the diversity within those choices;

2. Determination of the variables and conditions that create and reinforce those diverse

strategies;

3. Clarification, if possible, of the causal priority of some variables over others; and

4. Prediction of the future directions and long-term implications of those choices as they

affect both current agricultural change and long-term adaptive processes of agricultural

change.

88

Researchers have constructed numerous models to understand how people actually make decisions. Researchers model farmers‘ decision-making through economic and socio-economic perspectives; economic models of decision-making generally employ price and other quantitative variables to predict the decision-making behavior of individuals under various circumstances whereas socio-economic models try to integrate as many non-economic variables as possible, including education, age, ownership, land size, farm type, and farming experience in order to understand farmers‘ decisions and behaviors (Brase and La Due 1989; Wurjanto 2001:551-52). Johnson states that economists prefer formal-prescriptive models using mathematical deductive arguments not tested with empirical data while anthropologists prefer broad-ranging models that are empirical and descriptive (1980:19).

Economic Theories

Although narrow economic theories can be helpful in predicting behavior, they are criticized for their normative frameworks. Economic calculations employed by capitalist firms to make decisions cannot necessarily account for smallholder farmers‘ decisions in a diversity of cultures and contexts around the world. For example,

Chayanov (1966) rejects capitalist cost-benefit calculations when studying family farms.

Chayanov, who studied Russian peasants in the 1920s, articulated that peasants do not calculate depreciation, investment, interest, and other factors as a capitalist firm would.

Instead, he suggested that the concept of utility for a peasant farm is the annual product minus cash outlays. (Outlays only include cash expenses, not family labor costs on the farm.) Family farms will continue to invest labor to meet household needs, and 89 maximization of returns to labor is less of a priority than meeting family needs. Thus, self-exploitation of the family continues until its needs are met (1966:5-6). Economic activity does not increase once family needs are met. In Russia in the twentieth century, land was abundant so Chayanov‘s studies stressed the importance of family size since labor was the limiting factor for farmer decision making. Chayanov‘s research and theory of utility have become in peasant-farming research34. In line with Chayanovian utility theory, Peggy Barlett (1977) found that Costa Rican farmers in the peasant community of Paso did not include their labor as part of utility. Many of these farmers stressed that if they included their labor in their outlays, they would not make any profit. I found something similar with Lao farmers who make pennies for their labor, as discussed in Chapter Six.

A number of researchers agree that farmers‘ decisions are more consistent with utility maximization than with profit maximization (Officer & Halter 1968; Dillon &

Anderson 1971; Lin et. al 1974; Ortiz 1979), and that many economic actors trade profit for security (Lipton 1968; Johnson 1971; Cancian 1979; Plattner 1981; Negi 1994).

Robbins Burling (1962) discusses maximization theories in reference to more than monetary profit. After an extensive literature review, he concludes that maximization theories apply to more than cash income. They apply to pleasure (Freud 1925), power and prestige (Leach 1954; Lasswell 1948), and any number of other ―satisfactions‖ such as love, admiration or energy (Burling 1962:816-818). Revisiting maximization theories

34 Traditionally, in pre-industrial times, peasants were viewed as agricultural workers. However, a looser definition applies here, eliminating the pre-industrial condition, since most regions of the world have some industry today. For the purposes of this dissertation, peasants and farmers are interchangeable terms. 90 within an anthropological context, Burling highlights the anthropologist‘s role in broadening economic theories to include an assortment of goals and explore actual behavior in real-life decision-making situations, a task addressed by cognitive theories and practitioners (1962:819).

Another criticism of economic theories and probability models is that farmers rarely employ any sort of formal mathematical equations to reach decisions (Estes 1976;

Ortiz 1979, 1980; Chibnik 1981). Simon (1955:103) offers an economic formula for the probability rule:

V(â) = Σ V(s) P â (s) = Max Σ V (s) Pа(s) sєSâ aєA sєSa Where A = the set of behavior alternatives, S= the possible future state of affairs, V= the perceived value or utility placed on each outcome, and P= the probability. For example Pa(s) = the probability that s will occur if a is chosen (Simon 1955:102- 103).

The above equation is only one of numerous mathematical equations applied to decision-making models (for more see Simon 1955; Tani 1978; Salminen et. al 1989).

Common knowledge and the example demonstrate that there is a complete lack of evidence that such computations are used in actual human choice situations (Simon

1955:104). Estes (1976:53) indicates that two requisites must be met to make relatively accurate probabilistic predictions: 1) the alternative events in a situation must seem to have a roughly equal opportunity of occurrence, and 2) the learner must attend to and encode occurrences of all the alternative events with equal uniformity or efficiency. Both requisites are often violated in actual probability estimates, causing inaccurate probabilistic statements. 91

Ironically, even though numerous calculations about decision making originate in economics, economists have found that many firms weaken decision making by relying on a set of overly simple rules (Winter 1971:242). Winter (1971) suggests that using formal calculations can be costly to firms so they simplify rules to minimize costs. The simplification of complex decisions has been a topic of study for many cognitive psychologists, as discussed below.

Cognitive Models

Dissatisfaction with formal economic approaches led anthropologists to study natural decision making. Quinn suggests, ―This approach is inspired by Simon‘s early discussion of ‗bounded rationality‘ and subsequent work of cognitive psychologists who, with Simon, have rejected normative assumptions that real-life choices match or approach optimality. Instead these scholars pursue the processes by which individuals actually make decisions‖ (1978:206).

The study of natural decision-making processes is conducted through cognitive models. Cognitive models are not only interested in translating farmers‘ behavior into research formats but in incorporating farmers‘ local knowledge into the research model.

The supposition behind cognitive models is that people have the ability to describe real- life decisions through the evaluation of alternatives, sequencing comparisons, and dimensions of contrast (and their relative weights). Through such descriptions, patterns of decision-making are recognized (Gladwin 1980; Messerschmidt 1992; Wurjanto 2001). 92

Natural information processing in agricultural decision making focuses on the farmer actually making the decisions and avoids externally imposed, normative assumptions (Wurjanto 2001:53). The natural decision-making approach uses ethnoscientific methods to elicit information from decision-makers about the rules governing their decisions (Gladwin & Gladwin 1971 ; C. Gladwin 1975; Johnson 1974 ;

Quinn 1978; Young 1980). Ethnoscientific methods stem from ethnoecology, a field of study initiated by Harold Conklin and Charles Frake in the 1950s35. The main premise of ethnoecology is to view aspects of the environment from natives‘ perspectives instead of researchers‘ perspectives (Fowler 1977:215). Essentially it transported the ideas of emic

(insider perspectives) and etic (outsider perspectives) from linguistics to cultural and ecological anthropology (Fowler 1977). As mentioned earlier, rationality is culturally influenced. And since it is a major cornerstone of decision-making theories, it is neccessary to gain an emic perspective on the concept of rationality in various other cultures to elucidate decision-making processes in such cultures. Cognitive decision- making theory reaches beyond formal economics to explain how people make choices. It recognizes that decisions are made based on ―subjective‖ factors including social constraints, norms, and expectations. Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the

Hidden Side of Everything (2005) by Steven Leavitt and Stephen Dubner, contributes a modern look at such ―subjective‖ factors. For example, they found that sumo wrestlers in

Japan must win eight matches in order to go to the tournament, so wrestlers who have already won eight matches will collude with their opponents who need one more win

35 Both scholars were interested in cognitive anthropology and elicited ―folk categories‖ from cultures in the Philippines. Frake is well known for his studies of Subanun disease and classifications and Conklin for his study on Hanunóo color categories. 93

80% of the time. Thus, wrestlers who should be winning are actually losing in the final match to ensure that their colleagues can also go to the tournament. This example shows that friendship or respect for colleagues (social norms) are more important than economic gain.

Cognitive psychologists have called attention to the heuristics used by experimental subjects to simplify complex decisions (Slovic and Lichtenstein 1971:713;

Tversky 1972:297). The two strategies people use to manage complex decisions are satisficing and criterion ordering. Satisficing occurs when individuals search among available alternatives until they find a satisfactory one. An alternative is chosen even though a more desirable alternative may still exist. By settling for the first satisfactory alternative, an individual saves the costs of searching further (Simon 1957:204-205). The costs may be physical, such as the time and effort it takes a fisherman to search for a log in the forest for a new canoe, or they may be mental, such as the costs of remembering or sorting large amounts of information (Quinn 1976:332). A decision-maker may limit the number of criteria used to judge alternatives and the number of alternatives considered to decrease the mental costs of information processing (Quinn 1976:332).

Criterion ordering is a strategy that assists people in limiting their calculations by considering only one criterion at a time (Quinn 1976:333). Criterion ordering is a feature of the lexicographic model proposed by Tversky (1969). In the model, decision-makers apply criteria one at a time in order of their perceived importance (i.e.: I have $6,000 to spend on a car, so the price of the vehicle is my first criterion). The best alternatives are chosen concerning this first criterion (i.e.: four cars fit my price criterion). The second- 94 ordered criterion is then introduced (i.e.: miles on the engine) and so on (i.e.: gas efficiency, car color, electric or manual windows, etc.) until a single alternative remains

(Tversky 1969:32; Quinn 1976; Gladwin 1980). A feature of criterion ordering is

―elimination by aspect‖ (Tversky 1972:285). In the above example, every feature of the car would be an aspect and each alternative car is slowly eliminated by its aspects.

Aspects may have both quantitative and qualitative dimensions, and some aspects may be treated as constraints; for example, is the cost of the car greater than or equal to $6,000

(Lancaster 1966 & 1971; Gladwin 1980:47)? Each aspect does not have a fixed value or order but is weighed relative to the other remaining criteria, i.e.: one car has 10,000 more miles than the others but it has electric windows and it‘s my favorite color, therefore I may decide to purchase it based on criteria other than mileage (Tversky 1972:285).

Elimination by aspect accounts for inconsistencies in decision making based on individuals‘ changing states of mind from one moment to the next (Quinn 1976:333).

Both lexicographic modeling and elimination by aspect suggest strategies for ordering criteria that simplify decisions and relieve decision-makers from employing numerical computations, which people in developing countries may not have the education to make anyway (Quinn 1976:333). For example, Quinn found that litigation settlement among the Mfantse people in southern Ghana involves complex decision making but that elders use a ―natural‖ decision-making system to simplify the decisions. The system ―reduces the cognitive burden of making highly complex decisions‖ by using three methods: 1) satisficing—that is, reducing each case to a small number of pertinent facts; 2) ordering the facts and only considering them one by one (lexicographic ordering); and 3) a 95 cognitive division of labor wherein one or two experienced elders deliver expert opinions about difficult cases (Quinn 1976: 344-345).

Empirical evidence indicates that in actual human choice situations, people simplify calculations (Simon1955:104; Miller 1956; Broadbent 1971 & 1975; Quinn

1975; Ortiz 1979). I, personally, have never employed a probability calculation to make any decision, and in talking to friends, neither have they; the most common method reportedly used by friends is a list of ―pros‖ and ―cons.‖ Miller‘s (1956) now-classic paper propounds that human subjects became confused when asked to sort a stimulus into more than six categories at any one time. Broadbent (1975) that the fundamental number of categories is even smaller (two or three), as is evidenced with the simplified heuristic list of ―pros‖ and ―cons.‖

For 30 years, Herbert Simon has suggested that the optimal situation to observe decision making is at the interface between human rationality and the complex environments decision makers inhabit (Gladwin and Murtaugh 1980:116). In Simon‘s view, decision-makers do not pay full attention to their environments when making decisions or solving problems. Thus, ―choice is always exercised with respect to a limited, approximate, simplified model of the real situation‖ (March and Simon

1958:139). Anthropological field methods place anthropologists at the interface of cultural and general human rationality, referred to as natural decision-making situations in the literature. Such situations place anthropologists in positions to analyze and study what cognitive psychologists refer to as multi-attribute (Shepard 1964:264), complex, or composite (Tversky 1972:294-297) choices. 96

Hugh Gladwin and Michael Murtaugh (1980) posit that farmers arrive at simplified decision models through ―preattentive processes.‖ Preattentive processes

―refer to any information processing that is outside of a decision-maker‘s ordinary attention and awareness‖ (117). Individuals are constantly engaged in preattentive or unconcsious processing of their environments. For example, many people can drive a car or ride a bicycle while thinking of something other than their body movements and coordination. Gladwin and Murtaugh argue that preattentive processes dominate routine behaviors while conscious attention is used judiciously (117).

Christinia Gladwin (1980 & 1989—and hereby referred to as C. Gladwin to diferentiate between she and the aforementioned Hugh Gladwin) refers to preattentive processes as Stage 1 of decision making. In Stage 1, individuals quickly eliminate alternatives based on their aspects, often in an unconscious manner. For example, a person looking to buy a vehicle quickly eliminates 40 vehicles based on non-verbalized, unwanted aspects such as them being trucks, vans, or motorcycles (C.Gladwin 1980:47).

C. Gladwin suggests that most people don‘t consider Stage 1 as part of the decision- making process since Stage 2 is when rules and hueristics are attentively applied to make a decision. Stage 2 is the ―hard-core‖ part of a decision, thus the majority of people consider it to be the entire decision-making process (47).

C. Gladwin (1989) designed a Decision Tree Model (DTM) to account for both

Stage 1 and Stage 2 of the decision-making processes. Although farmers rarely verbalize

Stage 1 of the decision-making process, researchers have found they will discuss the process when specific questions are asked. This is termed ―contrastive eliciting‖ (Quinn 97

1975 &1978; Randall 1976; Young 1980; Gladwin and Murtaugh 1980). Socio-cultural factors are often involved during Stage 1 of the natural decision-making process, but they are often glossed over in the literature. My research contributes information about the preattentive variables that influence farmer decisions in the Lao PDR.

Internal and Socio-cultural Factors in Decision-Making

Although some anthropologists mention preattentive processes (C. Gladwin

1980,1989; H. Gladwin & Murtaugh 1980) of decision-makers, this stage is not given much attention in decision-making models. Preattentive processes are thus rarely explained or described in the literature. Nardi (1983:698) suggests that the internal variables (or emic perspectives) of decision-makers, such as values, beliefs, aspirations, attitudes, and ambitions, are lacking in anthropological research. She suggests that such internal subjective variables often remain more constant than external variables and that they greatly influence decision processes (698). In her research with Samoan women, she focused on three variables: the goals, plans, and expectations that affect these women‘s reproductive decisions. These three variables are both internal and subjective because they are ideas and thoughts belonging to an individual; that is, although values and goals are culturally influenced, they are individually chosen. Nardi suggests that goals, plans, and expectations are knowledge structures which organize cultural information for use in decision making and function inseparably to create a ―scenario‖ of future consequences based on certain choices (Nardi 1983:711). ―Scenarios outline hypothesized series of 98 events, and they, rather than factors, weights, or utilities, are the basis of the choice- making process‖ (Nardi 1983:711).

Understanding how socio-cultural factors contribute to decision-making is best understood via case studies. For example, both Warner (1997) and Dewees (1997) found that farmers in Kenya plant trees in order to establish and keep land rights when employed off the farm. In contrast, farmers in Zambia are culturally discouraged to plant indigenous trees due to the belief that only (their) God can plant trees (Kwesiga &

Chisumpa 1990). When I lived in Malawi, I observed that Malawian villagers do not harvest natural resources in or around cemeteries due to spirit beliefs (2000). Acheson

(1980) found that Mexican farmers value land because ownership of it symbolically links them to their natal pueblo and increases individual prestige; the more land a person owns, the more prestige he will have, so people with little prestige are often landless (Acheson

1980:259). Farmers living in the northern district of Phongsaly, Laos, make emigration decisions in order to maintain environmental sustainability with traditional shifting cultivation practices (Ducourtiuex 2006). In analyzing the economy of a Lisu village in northern Thailand, Durrenberger (1976) found that Lisu households kept an average of

14.4 pigs due to the high value placed on them for reciprocal exchange. Beckford (2002) found that farmers in Jamaica perceived that the size of the yam was a direct correlation to their overall yields, thus they did not adopt the smaller minisett yams being promoted by agronomists. (Furthermore, Jamaicans and Africans living in the United States did not want to buy smaller yams because the larger, traditional varieties reminded them of home.) In a case study from the Kolli Hills of south India, Finnis (2006) demonstrated 99 that crop commercialization cannot solely be understood via external pressures by international markets, government policies and large landowners; rather, crop commercialization can be the result of conscious decision making based on individual and household goals. Indigenous Malayali farmers (the Malayali originate in the Indian state of Kerala) adopted sweet cassava as a cash crop on their own initiative due to perceptions of environmental security (Finnis 2006). Lastly, in 2004 I found that Khmu farmers in the village of Houay Kha were not interested in adopting pineapples because one wealthy farmer already monopolized the local market and they did not want to compete with him.

A case study worth citing in more detail is one conducted by Glyn Williams in

1977. He found that Welsh farmers living in the lower Chubut Valley of Chile‘s

Patagonia avoided intensifying their agricultural practices as a form of cultural style.

Farmers did not adopt intensive crops because they were unwilling to give up social and cultural obligations to produce the necessary labor (Williams 1977:77). Welsh cognitive orientation is based on the desire to maintain social harmony via conformity. Moderation is valued in all activities. A lazy farmer is frowned upon but so is a hard-working one trying to push ahead of his neighbors. If a hard-working farmer is economically successful, he is viewed as flaunting his success and embarrassing his neighbors who have less. Such social attitudes represent a strategy of maximizing income per unit of time rather than income per unit of land. Risk minimization, income/time maximization, and social network maintenance are all factors considered by Welsh farmers in Patagonia when making decisions about their farm activities (77). Furthermore, internal (cultural beliefs) and external forces (negative development outcomes in the past) and human and 100 nonhuman forces led Welsh farmers to rationalize their not participating in economically expansive activities (78). This case study points out that Welsh farmers rationalize utility maximization over profit maximization. The utilities, or benefits, maximized are based on social values, such as the desire to socialize and not work too hard or too little. Although this study is outdated, it still had the potential to assist development efforts in the 1980s by letting developers know that farmers were not interested in intensifying their cropping systems to make money but, rather, might be interested in high-yielding, less time- intensive crops.

This section elucidates the need to understand internal and subtle socio-cultural factors that affect decision-making processes. Literature on decision making is scarce within these two realms yet necessary to enable more successful agricultural development projects. In 1969, the economist Weisblat urged anthropologists to illuminate ―the relevance of social factors to economic decision‖ (1969:38). While some researchers heeded the call, there is still a need for more research in this area, specifically in relationship to agricultural and environmental decisions. Since people around the world are faced with a number of limitations challenging their livelihood practices, billions of dollars a year are committed to agricultural research projects in an attempt to alleviate food shortages and poverty around the world, i.e.: CGIAR36 centers have a $500 million annual budget (CGIAR 2009) . Unfortunately, many projects end in failure due to the use of top-down approaches—that is, approaches which stem from an etic perspective. Thus

36 CGIAR is the Consultative Group on International Agricultural Research. It is a global partnership that unites organizations for sustainable development with funding agencies. As part of the consortium 15 agricultural research institutes around the world specialize in certain crops and climates. For example, the International Rice Research Institute (IRRI) is based in Los Baños, Philippines; the Center for International Forestry Research (CIFOR) is based in Bogor, Indonesia; and the International Potato Center (CIP) is located in Lima, Peru. 101 emic perspectives that illuminate local social factors of decision making are needed to increase the success of international development projects, particularly in the realm of agriculture.

Decision Making and Development

Farmers around the world are faced with several problems: population increase, resource-base decrease, and external pressures from broader outside forces to change traditional systems and to modernize and adopt new livelihood strategies. While international development projects try to assist farmers contending with these constraints and changes, they often fail. Critics argue that projects fail due to top-down approaches, meaning the local people—the adopters, the people who apply the technologies—are left out of the decision-making loop (Cernea 2006; Hayward et. al. 2004; Douthwaite 2002;

Schafer & Bell 2002; Ferraro 2002; Adams & Hulme 2001; Scott 1998; Chambers 1997).

For example, the Burmese government squandered $1.5 million dollars in 1995 when it purchased stripper-gatherer machines to harvest rice, and the Philippine government wasted $10.5 million in the 1990s buying rice dryers (Douthwaite 2002:1-28). In both cases, farmers refused to use the technologies because neither was effective in the local conditions. Both wasteful endeavors might have been avoided if farmers‘ perspectives were understood. James Scott suggests that ―fiasco is too lighthearted a word for the disasters‖ (1998:3). In his book Seeing Like a State: How Certain Schemes to Improve the Human Condition Have Failed, he examines the detrimental effects of compulsory

―villagization‖ in Tanzania, Ethiopia and ; the Great Leap Forward in China; 102 collectivization in Russia; and issues with modern agricultural schemes. Throughout the book, Scott discusses the ―indispensable role of practical knowledge, informal processes, and improvisation in the face of unpredictability‖ (6). Furthermore, he illustrates ―how schematic, authoritarian solutions to production and social order inevitably fail when they exclude the fund of valuable knowledge embodied in local practices‖ (6).

In reaction to top-heavy approaches, participatory ones were popularized after the

1992 United Nations Conference on Environment and Development (UNCED) in Rio de

Janeiro, Brazil (Adams & Hulme 2001). Agenda 21, the global action plan for sustainable development, was one of the first global initiatives to identify the importance of involving local people in environmental and development issues, a sort of reaching–out to civil society (Salemink 2006:104; Chuenpagdee et. al. 2004). Participatory research methods were formulated as early as 1940 and applied in the 1970s but they weren‘t popularized until the 1990s (Lewin 1946; Johnson et. al. 2003). Participatory approaches are a way to incorporate civil society into the decision-making process that was formerly reserved for government officials (Ribot 2000:30). Since the 1990‘s the term

―participatory‖ has been a buzzword appearing in the title of numerous research projects around the globe. However, over the years, various projects have utilized various research designs, which in turn has resulted in various levels of participation37— sometimes very minimal; in fact, it is easy for a project to disguise itself as participatory, while only minimally involving local people (e.g. having a conversation with locals and then disregarding it). Furthermore, the participatory process is often diminished by consultant-scientists, whose actions are influenced by their own goals and ideologies,

37 See description of participation levels in Appendix 3.1. 103 causing local socio-cultural conditions to be neglected during the decision-making process (Hagmann et. al. 2003). Scheuermeier, a scientist trained in reductionist and positivist science, suggests that instead of talking in the ―language of ‗situational analysis‘ or ‗problem identification‘‖ with farmers, scientists should change their language to encourage farmers to talk about their ―knowledge and explorations‖

(1997:37). Scientists identify general problems and circumstances, which is only one way to see the situation—local farmers and outsiders, such as scientists, government officials and international workers, may view the world through different lenses. If the goal of international development and its millions of dollars in annual funds is to assist farmers in overcoming the challenges they face, it‘s only rational to include them in the process from beginning to end. The greater challenge is to get scientists and farmers to communicate in such a way that they understand each other so they can work together toward the common goals of poverty and hunger reduction. There is a need for social scientists, with their constructivist views, to enter the picture in an attempt to bridge the gap between local situational knowledge and hard scientific thought processes and, particularly, to elucidate the substantive rationality of farmers.

Known variables affecting farmers‘ decision-making are the physical environment

(land holdings, water availability, climate, soil quality, and pests) and material resources

(labor, cash holdings, availability of agricultural credit, and markets). Other factors include infrastructure (roads and bridges) to reach market locations, product demand, information about agricultural methods, accessibility of training and extension, etc., and socio-cultural settings (socio-economic status, membership in a cultural/religious group 104 and/or local and regional politics). Lastly, subjective variables may include personal knowledge, risk tolerance, values, trust in agents of change, family needs and goals

(Moerman 1968; Ortiz 1979; Barlett 1977 & 1980; Ganjanpan 1982; Rigg 1987; Negi

1994; Geilfus 1997; Wurjanto 2001; Adams & Mortimore 1995; McReynolds et. al 2000;

Kolawole & Torimiro 2005; Liu et. al 2006; Amsalu & de Graaff 2007; Tucker 2007).

While this is a comprehensive list of variables, past research has focused on the first three physical variables (environment, material resources and infrastructure). Libraries evince the contributions of positivist science; there is no doubt that science has led to an understanding of climates, soil quality, ecological functions of plants and animals, infrastructure, markets etc. But there is also a need to understand socio-cultural settings, farmers‘ access to agricultural information, household goals, preferences and perceptions and other local variables. In other words, there‘s a need to understand the non-physical variables influencing agricultural decision making. Social science methodologies and practitioners are thus needed to gather socio-cultural and emic data. My research contributes to this need because I made it a point to understand farmer perspectives in northern Laos.

The need to incorporate social science into world development issues is not new.

Applied gained momentum in the 1970s with the encouragement of international development agencies wanting to incorporate social and cultural issues into their programs (Little 2005:33-37; Escobar 1991:663-665). Specifically, USAID‘s ―New

Directions‖ mandate, formulated from 1973-1975, declared that a ―more beneficiary- oriented, community-centered approach‖ was necessary to ―get at the basic human needs 105 of the poor,‖ especially ―the poorest of the poor‖ (Escobar 1991:664). Around the same time, World Bank and International Monetary Fund directors were pointed toward the need for ―poverty oriented programs especially in the area of rural development, health, nutrition, and family planning‖ (Escobar 1991:663). Since anthropologists already had a reputation for working with and having knowledge of the poor, they were called upon to assist with participatory programs designed to target the world‘s poor (Little 2005:34;

Escobar 1991:664). Thus, in the 1970s there was a ―gold rush‖ of anthropologists entering the fields of applied science (Jansen 1989:36), and since then, development anthropologists have been able to create their own institutional identities. For example, in

1974 there was only one full-time anthropologist working for USAID, but by 1977 there were 22, and by 1980 at least 50 (Escobar 1991:665). Over time, however, development anthropologists have faced numerous ethical questions about their positions: Are they agents of change? Are they following ―imperialist pursuits‖ by working with development institutions? Should they be involved with development, especially if it‘s pushing Western ideals onto other cultural groups? Many do become involved which conjures up a discussion about the negation of a ―neutral science‖ (Escobar 1991:668).

Today, development anthropologists are encouraged not only to look at the local level to understand how global actions are affecting local communities around the world (also termed political-ecology) but also to ―study-up and look at larger organizations, processes and policies‖ (Nader 1996 quoted in Little 2000:53). An ecologically informed, ―big- picture‖ anthropology emphasizes ―energy flows, technology, traditional knowledge, systems analysis, and human interactions with plants, animals, water, and soils‖ (Rhoades

2005:67). These ecological underpinnings led to the formation and recognition of 106 agricultural anthropology in the 1970s (the field was initiated by Clifford Geertz 1963,

Marvin Harris 1965, Roy Rappaport 1968, and John Bennett 1969). Rhoades states that agricultural anthropology is

the comparative, holistic, and temporal study of the human element in agricultural

activity, focusing on the interactions of environment, technology, and culture within local

and global food systems, and it has the practical goal of responsibly applying this

knowledge to improve the efficiency and sustainability of food and fiber

production……As long as humans modify and simplify landscapes for production and

utilize the products of agriculture—such as food, clothing, and building material—

agriculture will be culturally significant (Rhoades 2005:62-63).

The International Potato Center (CIP) was an early advocate of social science research; at least 25 anthropologists have been employed over a 25-year period (1975-

2000), and a number of articles have been written by anthropologists about their contributions to CIP projects (Rhoades 2005:73; Thiele et. al. 2001; Nazarea 1998;

Rhoades 1989; Rhoades & Booth 1982). For example, using anthropological methods,

Rhoades and Booth found that farmers in Peru were not concerned with shriveled or spoiled potatoes being kept in their storage sheds since these could be given to the animals. But they were concerned with the long sprouts the potatoes grew in the dark storage rooms because of the labor and time it took to de-sprout them (1982). The scientists on the team initially thought the main problem was spoiled potatoes, so once the real issue was illuminated, one scientist said it was ―the beginning of understanding a reality; namely that we scientists often perceive technical problems through different eyes than farmers…‖ (1982:129). This quote indicates that even physical scientists have noted 107 the need for social science in international agricultural development. The admission that farmers and scientists view the world through different lenses is a step in the right direction, one that heads toward more collaborative research efforts.

Three more case studies highlight the importance of understanding local culture and emic perspectives in the face of development projects. Palis, a staff anthropologist with the International Rice Research Institute, used a case study from the Philippines to show how cultural norms and expectations fostered the successful adoption of Integrated

Pest Management (2006). And Nazarea et. al (1998) emphasized the importance ethnoscientific methods can have when understanding emic perspectives about quality of life indicators and sustainability indicators via another case study from the Philippines.

Additionally, Schmidt-Vogt (1998), who assessed the swidden systems of the Lawa and

Karen ethnic groups in northern Thailand, found species diversity to be high in the secondary forests. This was in part because emergent trees are not cut but are kept in the swidden fields, and because the Lawa in particular have long fallow periods—around 17 years. Policy makers and other dominant ethnic groups consider swidden to degrade the land, but Schmidt-Vogt found the opposite. He suggested that what one group defines as degraded others don‘t (i.e.: policy makers vs. villagers; or dominant ethnic groups vs. minority groups; or paddy rice growers vs. swiddeners). The Lawa and Karen villagers discussed how they used each species in the secondary forests and that they did not perceive them as ―degraded‖ (1998:146).

The consideration of local environmental indicators and definitions can help shape development trajectories in a way that local people can benefit from and 108 understand (Nazarea et. al 1998; Schmidt-Vogt 1998). David (1995) proposed suggestions along the same lines based on empirical data from an agroforestry project in

Kenya. He suggests that agricultural innovations must continually be discussed with farmers in order to understand their needs and perceptions about the practice. If a practice is to be adopted by farmers, then researchers must gain an emic perspective of the situation and adjust innovative parameters to fit local situations (Winter 1995; Adams &

Mortimore 1997; Stocking & Clark 1999). The process of agricultural adaptation should be active and gradual, ―it needs to be seen as a social and economic process, not as a simple technical response to external driving forces‖ (Adams & Mortimore 1997:159).

Different households and people have diverse portfolios of environmental resources, labor, skills, and wealth, and each person acts on his or her perceptions in varying ways

(Adams & Mortimore 1997:159). Understanding people‘s judgments is pertinent to agricultural development, and research efforts should be directed to this matter (Adams &

Mortimore 1997:159).

Studies that correctly consider multiple variables create more accurate descriptions of, and predictions about, decision making. They have the potential to discover how culture affects decision making. Recent publications recognize the need for social science methods and inputs in international development schemes (Volker et. al.

2007; Cernea & Kassam 2006; Rylko-Bauer et. al. 2006; Kemm & Perry 2004; Campbell

& Sayer 2003; World Bank 1999; Scheuermeier 1997). Within the realm of agricultural development, participatory approaches have the potential to allow researchers and farmers to work together more effectively and compensate for each other‘s‘ limitations through recognition of diverse skill sets (Volker et. al 2007:355). CGIAR‘s 2000 strategy 109 states: ―There are important developments in sociology, social geography, anthropology, and economics relevant to future strategy and research priorities‖ (Cernea 2006:21). The strategy specifies a need for a ―better understanding of the decision-making process of individuals and groups in rural communities‖ (Cernea 2006:21) and the need for ―socio- economic research to augment the understanding of people and their agricultural and technological needs‖ (Cernea 2006:23). The 2000 strategy is the first document from

CGIAR that directly states a need for social science research in international development

(Cernea 2006:23). My research heeds the call to better understand emic perspectives on livelihood systems in relationship to decision making and actual behavior.

Linkages

To summarize, there‘s an assumption that people make rational decisions.

However, rationality has a cultural context; what‘s rational in one culture and/or among one set of actors may not be rational in another culture and/or to another set of actors. In particular, farmers around the world who live in variable climates and contend with an assortment of locally and globally influenced constraints and opportunities do not rely on cost-benefit analysis to make agricultural decisions. Instead, traditional farmers make decisions based on ―utility maximization,‖ not ―profit maximization,‖ as evidenced through previous research, some of which was cited in this chapter. The utilities, or benefits, farmers seek to maximize are influenced by cultural beliefs. Understanding cultural values and emic perspectives as well as other variables such as soil types, flavor preferences, and market demands, etc., assists outsiders in understanding what constitutes 110 rational behavior in varying local contexts. Gaining an understanding of rationality in a specific culture assists in predicting farmer behaviors, which is pertinent for the creation of successful agricultural-development projects. International development agencies recognize the need to elucidate local perspectives via social science and participatory research methods in order to design appropriate development technologies for sustainable livelihoods.

While there is some hesitation about the correctness of anthropologists‘ involvement in international development, there is a constant variable we all face as humans—change. Thus, the age-old saying ―change is inevitable‖ holds true. Many individuals around the world living in poverty stricken situations desire change and welcome ―development.‖ Regardless of anthropologists‘ involvement, change will continue. It is my hope that as an involved anthropologist, my skills and training can assist in the creation of locally inspired development processes. That is, developments that local people want and that increase emically identified benefits. Lack of social scientific involvement too often equals a lack of local voices in the development process.

Furthermore, as an anthropologist interested in the peoples of Southeast Asia and their cultures, it is my path to be involved in development since it is occurring rapidly throughout the region. A quote from Mosse and Lewis suffices: ―Anthropology of development is inextricably an anthropology of contemporary Africa, Latin America, and

Asia‖ (2006:1). Cognitive decision-making theories purport that socio-cultural variables must be considered as part of the decision-making process. Likewise, international development schemes call for the need to include local perspectives in development 111 agendas. Understanding local perspectives and identifying socio-cultural variables are both goals of anthropological research. Thus, linking decision-making theories with development agendas via ethnoecological methods has the potential to contribute to theory and methods. Furthermore, applying decision-making findings to real-life situations facilitates collaborative efforts toward more sustainable livelihood systems.

112

Chapter 4 An Ethnographic Overview

Introduction

The purpose of this chapter is to explain the Muang Muay research area, logistics and general lifestyle of villagers in Laos. Social organization, village leadership, gender division of labor, gender equality, farming practices, markets, medical care and religion will be discussed. Information presented within this chapter draws from participant observations, interviews, and conversations with local respondents over the course of a year (from June 2009 through May 2010).

Research Area

I performed my research in the Vieng which is located within the province of Luang Prabang in Northern Laos. This area lies along National Route One, which runs on a west to east axis. District headquarters is a one-hour drive west, and the provincial headquarters is a six-hour drive southwest (see Map 4.1). The district is mountainous and rural and includes the country‘s second-largest national park, Nam Et-

Phou Louey, which spans about 320,000 hectares (see Map 4.2). Out of the 139 districts in Laos, the Vieng Kham district has been categorized as one of the nation‘s poorest, making it a priority district for poverty eradication (Messerli et. al. 2008). Due to its high- 113 priority status, Vieng Kham is a target district for outside development and research projects.

Map 4.1 Location of Research Villages Within the Lao PDR. Created by Jeremy Bourgoin, LM Project, CIFOR 2010.

My research area consisted of six villages, three along National Route One (Don

Keo, Muang Muay, and Vang Kham38) and three away from the roadside (Pak Lao,

Bouammi and Houay Khone), which share boundaries with the national park (Map 4.2).

When the national park system was established in 1993, hunting and gathering within park boundaries became prohibited. This prohibition has affected subsistence patterns of all the villages but more so for those sharing boundaries with the park. It is worth noting that the Wildlife Conservation Society has photographed seven tigers within the park and

38 Although the map spells the village names as single words, I spell them as two words because my training in the Lao language suggests they are two words. 114 estimates there to be about fifteen living in the park (WCS 2009). The endangered status of tigers makes this a rare find and of high conservation priority39.

Map 4.2 Research District and Villages in Relationship to the National Park CIFOR 2010

39 On National Route One, a number of tiger conservation signs are posted and many villagers wear shirts obtained from tiger conservation workshops they‘ve attended. The signs and workshops are reminders to help protect the tigers.

115

Research Collaboration

As an independent researcher, I sought collaboration with a Government or Non-

Governmental Organization (NGO). A research collaboration offers a number of benefits:

1) research findings may be utilized by projects and thus be a form of applied anthropology; 2) there are fewer delays in the processing of visas and bureaucratic documents since the project is already established and has personnel taking care of such matters; and 3) fewer delays afford more field time for conducting research. During a preliminary trip to Laos in June 2007, I met with several project managers to explore potential future collaboration. Through various proposals, frequent correspondence and a trip to Luang Prabang in February 2009, I decided to collaborate with the Center for

International Forestry Research (CIFOR). Although CIFOR‘s headquarters are in Jakarta,

Indonesia, they conduct research around the globe. I was brought on as a student-intern with the Lao sector of the Landscape Mosaics Project, which was being carried out in five countries worldwide and funded by the Swiss Development Cooperation (SDC).

International projects within the Lao PDR must form partnerships with government entities. Thus, CIFOR partnered with the National Agriculture and Forestry

Research Institute (NAFRI) in the capital of Vientiane. CIFOR offices at the provincial level were housed at the Northern Agricultural and Forestry Research Center

(NAFReC), a 45-minute drive south of Luang Prabang town. At the district level, collaboration occurred with the District Agriculture and Forestry Office [(DAFO) (See

Graph 4.3)]. As protocol, provincial and district staff accompany foreign researchers into the field and assist them with building rapport and learning field logistics; generally, 116 provincial and district staff assist researchers in the field for the duration of the project. In many cases, this is beneficial to everyone involved—the Lao personnel tend to be helpful cultural brokers for the foreigners, and the personnel receive per-diem rates for field trips.

However, in some cases, an accompanying government officer may hinder respondents‘ answers because that officer wants to be certain those being interviewed respond in a way that‘s appropriate to current government policies, even if the question does not pertain to official concerns.

Graph 4.3 Research Collaborations

Funders: National Science Foundation, Rotary International, Swiss Development Cooperation Through CIFOR

Michelle’s Field Research June 2009- May 2010

Logistics: Research Institutions: National: CIFOR and University of Nevada, NAFRI Reno, and CIFOR Provincial: NAFReC, District: DAFO

117

Housing

Taking up residence in a small rural village in Laos is not an easy task for a foreigner. Permission for me to reside in a village had to be passed through a number of channels. First, provincial approval was granted and a letter was sent from the provincial level to the district governor, and after the district governor read the letter, he sent a copy to the village head. It is uncommon for foreigners to receive official permission to reside in rural villages, so mine was a unique situation. However, because I knew the director of the Northern Agriculture and Research Center from my Masters research project in 2004,

I had already established a working rapport. Once the letter reached Ban Muang Muay or the village of Muang Muay, it appeared I was all set. I was immediately shown two houses for rent. But when it came time to move my family (my husband and daughter) to the village, the aforementioned houses were no longer available to rent. Two months of negotiating, including discussions of building a house or residing in a different village, ensued. I considered living in a different village but the district governor vetoed my request. I learned that the governor only granted me permission to live in Muang Muay because it was considered a ―safe‖ village for foreigners since it was located along a roadside with a military station. Ironically, it was the military leader who was preventing my move to the village because he wanted his soldiers to make money from me by gathering the lumber needed to build a house40. After the governor‘s veto, the military

40 On a side note, military personnel are widely known to deforest and hunt wildlife in forest reserves and national parks throughout the country, both for survival and cash income. 118 leader was re-stationed, and a house rapidly became available to rent. I signed a rental agreement and moved into a bamboo house (see Photos 1A, 1B and 1C in Appendix) on the western side of the village in November 2009. Thus began my residence in Muang

Muay village for seven months. However, I had begun my research prior to my stay in this village.

Research Villages

My research in the Vieng Kham district was conducted in six villages which are all part of the Muang Muay kumban (group of villages). The Government of Laos (GOL) recently designated kumban as an official administrative unit in an effort to improve communications between the district and village levels. For example, instead of a district official travelling to each of the six villages, he would now only need to travel to one, where the head of kumban resides; the head of kumban would then be responsible for disseminating the district official‘s information to each village within the group.

Although I worked in all six kumban villages, the bulk of my time and work efforts were conducted in Muang Muay village (see Table 4.4). This is mostly because it was my village of residence and thus the most easily accessible. However, I felt comfortable working in all six villages because I had established a working rapport and had made friends throughout the kumban.

As summarized in Table 4.4, three villages are located along National Route One and the other three are away from any major roads, with varying degrees of accessibility.

Beginning in 2007, the residents of Houay Khone, an off-road village, invested 6,000 119 hours, over two years, to dig a dirt road from their village to the paved road. This was a negotiating tactic to avoid resettlement41. However, what was once a road is now a dirt track that has slowly crumbled down the mountainside with each rainy season and is no

Table 4.4 Summary of Six Research Villages

Village Total Number of Ethnicity School Location Field population households Level Methods Muang 956 168 138 Khmu 5th National Photovoice, Muay 458 women and 30 Tai42 Route One Interviews, 498 men households Ranking Bouammi 39 Tai 3rd Seasonal Photovoice, dirt track Ranking Houay 320 46 Khmu 3rd Seasonal Photovoice, Khone dirt path, Interviews motor- bikes only Pak Lao 415 68 Khmu and 5th Seasonal Photovoice, 227 women one Tai dirt track Interviews, 188 men household Ranking Don Keo 378 63 Khmu 3rd National Photovoice 118 women Route One 260 men Vang 54 Khmu 3rd National Photovoice Kham Route One

41 In an attempt to consolidate rural villages, and perhaps more easily bring modern conveniences such as schools and health clinics to villages, the government has a relocation policy. However, village relocation is controversial. In many cases, villagers resist yet the government coerces them to relocate. I discuss it more thoroughly in Chapter Seven. 42 Both Lao and tribal Tai peoples are ethnologically referred to as Tai (not to be confused with Thai which are citizens of Thailand). Therefore, I will refer to both Lao and Tai peoples as Tai throughout this and proceeding chapters, this is in part because of mixed responses form villagers about their ethnicity, discussed later in the chapter. 120 longer traversable by vehicles larger than motorbikes. The villages of Bouammi and Pak

Lao share a dirt road that is just barely wide enough for the width of a vehicle; it is also deteriorating and not passable during the wet season. In order for me to get to these three off-road villages I had to hike during the rainy season and hire a motorbike or vehicle during the dry season. At the time of my departure, a gold mining operation was underway on the nearby Nam Seuang River and an old road was being re-graded to get from Muang Muay to Bouammi village. The original road was built in 2004 by the Lao-

American Opium Eradication Project43, but within two years it had fallen into disrepair and could only be used as a walking or motorbike path. Suffice it to say that road maintenance is of the utmost importance in Laos, especially with the country‘s heavy monsoon rain season; otherwise, thousands of dollars and hours of labor are washed away with each downpour.

Ethnic Groups of the Muang Muay Kumban

Two ethno-linguistic groups, the Tai and the Mon-Khmer, are represented in the six research villages. Using the popular (originally governmental) tripartite classification system, these groups represent the Lao Loum, or lowlander, and Lao Theung, or uplander, categories. (Hmong respondents, who are Lao Soung or mountain top dwellers,

43 The most recent and biggest American-funded project in Laos was allocated to opium eradication in the early 2000s. Interestingly, the road graded by this project was to get better access to Bouammi and Vang Mat villages. These villages are comprised of Tai and Mon-Khmer speakers—ethno-linguistic groups that do not traditionally practice opium cultivation! Fitriana (2008) reports that Bouammi declared there were opium addicts in the village and that this declaration was made in order to attract the project and benefit from project activities. This tactic was beneficial since a semi-permanent road was, in fact, constructed and the people received free agricultural seed. 121 were only worked with at the IRRI research site; they are discussed in Chapter Six.)

Since both the ethno-linguistic and political tripartite groupings of people are broad categories, I wanted to better understand the more specific ethnic affiliations of the villagers I worked with. During my interviews, I asked people their sonpow, or ethnicity

(see Appendix 4A). All respondents first replied using the tripartite classification.

However, when I pressed them for more clarification, it was difficult to get direct answers; this is partly due to the arbitrariness of some ethnic group boundaries. That is, where is the line drawn from one ethnic group to the next? Does a different dialect constitute a different ethnic group? Or do different religious beliefs constitute different ethnic groups, even if people share a dialect of the same language? There is no clear way to separate—or combine—groups of people into ethnic categories. However, there is an expectation that individuals know their own ethnic origins. But this was not necessarily the case in the research villages. Although people knew their political classifications (Lao

Loum or Lao Theung), many were unclear about their origins beyond such classifications. Some respondents even gave me uncommon ethnic names that are not found in the ethno-linguistic literature of Southeast Asian peoples. The following two sub-sections discuss my findings in relationship to ethnic identification.

Khmu

When questioned, first responded that they were Lao Theung.

When asked their sonpow, or ethnicity, they quickly answered Khmu. Research indicates 122 that there was originally ten Khmu tribes;44 however, most respondents did not know their tribal affiliations. When asked, most people were unsure or responded Khmu Pla or

Khmu La, translated as ―regular Khmu.‖ In some cases people responded Khmu Lao, which really shows a blending of ethnic affiliation. Three respondents in Muang Muay suggested a known —two stated Khmu Ou and one suggested Khmu Am, both of which are likely since the Khmu Ou traditionally resided near the Ou River, located about a two hour drive west of Muang Muay, and the Khmu Am traditionally resided in the Xieng Khuang or Sam Nuea areas, also located relatively close to the research villages (Simana 2003:1-2). Three people in Pak Lao village responded Khmu Jueang, another likely answer since the Jueng traditionally lived in the Nam Bak region, a few hours‘ drive west of the research area (Simana 2009).

It appears that tmooy, or ―tribal group‖ affiliation, among the Khmu, is no longer passed from generation to generation. This non-transmittal of specific tribal identification indicates that it is no longer important. What is important is the addition of the term

―Lao‖ to ethnic labels. Evans (1999:7) argues that including Lao in ethnic labels was a way to unify the diversity of people living in Laos by making them all Lao. This loss of tribal identification and inclusion of Lao in ethnic labels suggests that ethnic assimilation

44 Traditionally there were 10 different tribes of Khmu: 1) Khmu Phuan, a group near Long Tien; 2) Khmu Ou, groups living around the Ou River in the province of Luang Prabang; 3) Khmu Khat, groups from the Phongsaly area; 4) Khmu Khong, groups near the Mekong River between Luang Prabang and Bokeo; 5) Khmu Rok, groups from Oudomsay; 6) Khmu Kuen, from Upper Namtha; 7) Khmu Yuan, from the Namtha area but living close to Yuan groups; 8) Khmu Lue, from Oudomxay but living close to Lue groups; 9) Khmu Am and Khmu Cwang (pronounced ―Jueang‖), from Sam Nuea and Nghe An in Vietnam; and 10) Khmu Beng from Xieng Khuang area, but this no longer exists (Simana and Presig 2003:1; Simana 2009). Although some of the above tribes no longer exist, most likely due to assimilation, many groups still persist, making the Khmu population the second-largest in the country after ethnic Lao (Simana and Preisig 2003:1). 123 is underway. However, since 1989 the tripartite classification system has been losing popularity at the national level (it is still widely used by provincial governments) and it was not included in the 1995 census (Chazèe 2002:6). Nevertheless, in 2010, Khmu living in rural villages continued to refer to themselves as Lao Theung, possibly indicating that: 1) Khmu want to have a national affiliation with some others in the country; 2) Khmu want to be ―Lao‖ so they may have as many opportunities as the Lao and not be looked down on within the social hierarchy; and 3) Khmu want to adhere to government terminology and use the politically correct label for themselves.

Mr. Pomma, a knowledgeable informant from Muang Muay village, offered an explanation as to why Khmu people in the research area no longer include their tribal labels. He suggested that he is part of the most populous Khmu tribe, and they just refer to themselves as Khmu because their dialect is the most dominant in the country. It is this dominant dialect that is used on Khmu radio and TV programs. He suggested that the

Khmu Rok are mainly located in Oudomxay, and that the Khmu Loven, Lavè and Oy45 live in Southern Laos and speak a dialect that is unintelligible to Northern Khmu speakers. The dialects are so unintelligible that Southern and Northern Khmu speakers must communicate with each other using the Lao language. What is interesting about Mr.

Pomma‘s answer is that he referenced four different Khmu tribes, all of which are part of the Mon-Khmer ethno-linguistic family (See Figure 2.1 in Chapter Two Appendix) and classified as Lao Theung. Although the Khmu Rok are well known and part of the

45 The Lavè are also referred to as Brau. They reside near the southern border of Laos and have scattered populations that now span the borders of Vietnam and Cambodia (Schliesinger 2003:15). The Loven and Oy reside near the Bolovens (which literally means ―country of the Loven‖) Plateau in Southern Laos. While there is reference to these groups also being called kha (meaning slave) like the Khmu, there is no reference to them being ―Khmu‖ (Lebar et. al 1964). 124

Khumic branch of the Mon-Khmer family, the Oy, Loven, and Lavè are part of the

Bahnaric branch and reside in the southern province of Attapeu. The latter groups have small populations and in some cases have been inappropriately classified as Lao Theung.

For example, the Oy have lived in the lowlands and cultivated paddy rice for more than three generations, but they were officially classified as Lao Theung (i.e.: uplanders residing between 400 and 800 meters) by the government (Chazèe 2002:6). Mr. Pomma‘s answer demonstrates his knowledge about the tripartite ethnic groupings in Laos; since the Oy, Lavè, and Loven are classified as Lao Theung, he assumed they are also Khmu.

Tai and Lao People

Bouammi village is composed of people who refer to themselves as Lao Loum.

Although they live in the uplands and practice dry rice cultivation, they call themselves

Lao Loum because they are part of the Tai ethno-linguistic family. Even still, people could not directly answer the question about their specific ethnicity. In an attempt to clarify my ethnicity questions, I asked two key informants: the village shaman and sole school teacher. My question instigated a long discussion between the two knowledgeable men but resulted in no conclusion; the shaman suggested they are Tai Kaow, or ―White

Tai,‖ while the teacher suggested they are Tai La, a group I had not previously heard of, but following the above translation of ―La‖ it means ―regular Tai.‖

In Pak Lao village there is only one Lao Loum family, the Mums. They are Tai

Deng, or ―Red Tai.‖ Reportedly the family was once part of a larger Tai Deng village that lived up the mountain from Pak Lao, but when the village was relocated by the government, none of the families liked the new location so all the Tai Deng families 125 migrated to other villages, leaving only Mr. Mum and his family at the new location.

Since Mr. Mum‘s family did not want to live alone in the new village site, they asked if they could join the nearby Khmu village of Pak Lao.

Because Pak Lao and Bouammi are located near each other, inter-ethnic marriages occur between their residents (see Map 4.1 and 4.2). One of my Khmu friends in Pak Lao was married to a Tai man from Bouammi. Thus, some households are of mixed ethnic origin and their children would follow a pattern of opportunistic descent

(i.e., they do not strictly follow a pattern of hyperdescent that is, superiority or hypodescent that is, inferiority) and would identify with whichever ethnicity is most advantageous in certain situations; for example, within the Khmu village they would refer to themselves as Khmu (hypodescent) but if living and working in Luang Prabang town they may refer to themselves as Tai (hyperdescent). The idea of opportunism is also discussed in the marriage subsection of this chapter.

Eleven structured interviews with ―Lao Loum‖ people in Muang Muay resulted in responses accounting for three ethnic affiliations. Five people stated that they are Lao; two classified themselves as Tai-Lao and four responded Tai Kaow (White Tai). These responses exemplify the difficulty in ascertaining the exact ethnic origins of non-Khmu people in the research area. In an attempt to clarify matters, I asked an elderly White Tai woman why she did not wear the traditional white or dark-blue shirt46 of the White Tai.

46 The shirt was traditionally white or pale in color with silver buttons down the center. But Chazee records that White Tai women in Houaphan Province adopted a dark-blue, short-waisted shirt with silver buttons, the darker color influenced by neighboring tribes (2002). However, Dien suggests that this is a traditional shirt style of the Nung Slu Tin group in Vietnam (2003:55). It is possible that White Tai women adopted this shirt style from Nung groups since they lived near one another in Southern China and Northern Vietnam (Dien 2003). I did not view either of these shirt styles in the research villages. 126

She suggested that the color of the shirt did not matter but that silver buttons down the front were traditional. She never owned a white shirt, nor did her mother. To me, this signaled that a specific shirt color is no longer an ethnic boundary marker, nor is the traditional plain, dark colored sinh, or skirt, since women in Muang Muay and Bouammi are wearing and weaving bright multicolored sinhs47. Furthermore, the tradition of silver buttons is not helpful since Black Tai and Red Tai groups also sew them on their shirts.

There was one old woman, who was identified by herself and other villagers as Tai Nuea

(Northern Tai) because she had sinhs that were all black with a multicolored woven border or dtin48. However, she was the only Tai woman who showed me an item of clothing that was distinctly an ethnic boundary marker. Finally, loss of traditional ethnic boundary markers also suggests that ethnic assimilation is occurring.

During the civil war (1968-75), villages dispersed as a survival mechanism; after the war, mixed ethnicities resettled together as single villages. Furthermore, government relocation efforts have created villages of mixed ethnicity. Village upheaval, coupled with high ethnic diversity throughout the country, has led to confusion about ethnic origins. Given the fluctuating situation, this is understandable. However, it was my feeling that people suggested they were White Tai because the word ―white‖ connotes a lighter skin tone, which symbolizes a higher social status than people with darker skin colors. Historically, elite classes—those who did not have to labor in the fields—were the

47 Exonyms of tribal groups in Northern Southeast Asia were often given based on the colors of their traditional outfits. White Tai women used to wear white, light purple or pink shirts, whereas Red Tai women would wear a black, indigo or green shirt with a red collar, front, and cuffs. Black Tai women also wore black or indigo shirts and traditional black head turbans or kerchiefs decorated with embroidered motifs (Chazee 2002; Schliessinger 2003; Dien 2002). Tai means ―human‖ and constitutes the endonym of Tai groups (Dien 2002:54). 48 Dtin also means foot and designates that the border pieces are at the foot end of the skirt. 127 ones with the whitest skin. Also, recall the origin story discussed in Chapter Two about

Khmu people coming through the soot-rimmed hole of the gourd, while Tai groups came from the non-blackened hole, cut by a knife. In this way, skin tone has been a distinguishing physical characteristic between ethnic groups in Laos for millennia and continues to this day. Thus, people in the research villages may say White Tai because embedded in the title is this idea of ―whiteness‖ which further separates them from their

Khmu neighbors. Lastly, as a researcher I prefer not to discount the ethnic consciousness or awareness of people in the research area. Just because material ethnic boundary markers are not present does not mean that these people are not who they say they are.

The director of the Institute of Ethnology in Hanoi, Vietnam, suggests that ―it is self- awareness or self-identity, far more than material conditions which may give rise to ethnic grouping, which ultimately defines an ethnic group. Although the community may be divided territorially, its culture disintegrated, and its mother tongue lost, ethnic consciousness may persist‖ (Dien 2002:3). The research area has people who identify as ethnic Lao and ethnic White Tai, Red Tai and other Tai groups. Since all of these self- identified groups are ethno-linguistically Tai I will use the term Tai to reference them for the remainder of my dissertation. Furthermore, Le Bar and Suddard (1960:38) identify ethnic Lao as ―sedentary wet-rice cultivators and Theravada Buddhists.‖ Although some households living in the upland villages of the Muang Muay kumban do practice wet-rice cultivation, it is a recent adaptation( since the 1990‘s) and they do not practice Therevada

Buddhism, thus they were more than likely originally tribal Tai people who now feel assimilated into the dominant ethnic Lao group. 128

Village Livelihood and Social Organization

Seasonal Tasks

Laos is an agrarian society, so seasonal tasks revolve around the agricultural cycle. Table 4.5 compiles my observations of major seasonal tasks in the Luang Prabang province. The bulk of labor is expended on the staple crop of rice. Corn and cassava are the second-most-planted crops after rice.

The onset of the rainy season, which starts between May and June, marks a labor intensive time since rice, corn, Job‘s tears49 (Photo 2) and other crops are planted at this time. However, cassava can be planted anytime during the rainy season. Throughout the rainy season (which typically occurs May-October), labor is allocated to weeding and caring for crops until harvest time. Corn is the first crop harvested, in September. Early varieties of rice (i.e.: 90 days to harvest) start to be harvested in October, while other varieties are harvested from November through December. Both planting and harvesting are labor intensive; every able-bodied person helps with the work load. Cassava is harvested from January onward depending on its use; if it‘s for human consumption, it must be harvested within one year, but if it‘s for livestock feed it can stay in the ground for up to two years.

After rice is harvested, people have a month or more to rest before slashing a new field. Slash is left on the ground to dry for a month or more before it‘s burned in March or April. During the dry season (January-April), large livestock (water buffalo and cows)

49 Job‘s tears or Coix lacryma-jobi are monocotyledons of the Gramineae family (today termed Poaceae family), or the grass family (Purseglove 1975:134). They originate in tropical Asia and are discussed more in Chapter Six. 129 forage on rice straw and other plants in the fallow fields. During this time, women weave cloth and men weave bamboo baskets and both partake in gold mining activities along the river banks.

Table 4.5 Seasonal Calendar of Major Tasks

Jan Feb Mar Apr May Jun Jul Aug Sep Oct Nov Dec -----Dry Season------Rainy Season------Slash fields Burn Fields Plant rice Weed fields Harvest rice corn, others Harvest livestock forage in fields corn Harvest Cassava Plant Cassava

Women weave cloth

Men: weave baskets, home maintenance and construction and village ceremonies

Rice, corn and cassava are the three most-planted crops; others include pumpkins, cucumbers, Job‘s tears, chilis, galangal root and cardamom.

The dry season is also the time to collect various non-timber forest products

(NTFPs) such as broom grass, pueak mueak, river algae, bamboo and rattan shoots

(discussed in detail in the market section below). New house construction, home maintenance, and fence maintenance also take place during the dry season. Many families grow small kitchen gardens50 along the receding riverbanks. This is mainly for household consumption, but occasionally they sell vegetables to their neighbors. During the dry

50 Kitchen gardens include a variety of foods including: eggplants, cilantro, basil, mint, scallions, tomatoes, green beans, cucumbers, chilies, an assortment of lettuces and cabbages, pineapples, sugar cane and occasional trees such as papaya, kefir lime, bananas, coconuts, custard apples, and mangoes. These cultivated foods, coupled with wild foods, result in a diverse diet. 130 season the village is bursting with life and activities since it is not necessary to visit the fields on a daily basis.

In contrast, during the agricultural season some families spend up to two weeks at a time in their field huts, planting, weeding and harvesting. If a family does not have land holdings near the village, they construct a hut near their agricultural fields. This diminishes travel time to and from one‘s field, which might be more than three hours round trip.

The area where one‘s field house is built and crops are grown is referred to as sanam. In many cases this is where people keep the bulk of their livestock. Generally speaking, roadside villages have more sanams than non-roadside villages. This is due to the high population density and consequent shortage of available lands near the village.

Furthermore, animals must be tethered and/or caged within the village to try to keep human living areas clean (pigs, especially, can become dirty and smelly). But in the sanam, animals can forage freely; only small ones are caged at night to protect them from wild predators. Most households prefer to keep their livestock in sanam because they can forage, which decreases the owners‘ workloads—they need not gather and transport their animals‘ foods to the village.

Rules about caging animals in the village are taken seriously. For example, one day in Muang Muay village a small pig escaped its enclosure and was being hunted by a pack of five dogs. The piglet was running for its life, squealing and screaming while trying to avoid being attacked by the dogs. All the people within earshot paid no attention to the desperate piglet. They just continued on with their chores as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. This went on for over two hours; finally, the piglet collapsed 131 and the dogs surrounded it, waiting for it to die. An old woman came over and smacked the pig with a stick in order to rouse it, but it was too weak. She proceeded to scare the dogs away and sent a child to tell the pig‘s owner of its whereabouts. To my surprise, the pig survived—and probably never wanted to escape its pen again! This story exemplifies an expectation of adherence to the village rule about containing livestock. People told me it was the pig owner‘s fault if her pig died because she didn‘t contain it to begin with.

Also, the status of the dog owning families was higher than that of the pig owner, and I suspect this influenced people‘s non-reactions to the situation. Livestock are a valuable commodity and people put a lot of effort toward their survival, which is why the lack of concern for the piglet puzzled me.

The more monetary value an animal has, the more highly regarded it is. Water buffalo have the highest status and cows come in a close second. Although people keep dogs as hunting companions, they do not treat them like pets. This can be disconcerting to a Westerner. I‘ve seen dog and cat owners kick, hit and throw animals to keep them away from human food. And it is only after people are finished eating that the animals are allowed to lick up the scraps. I also watched my neighbors cook up their deceased dog for dinner, further indicating the lack of emotional attachment to animals as pets.

Gender Division of Labor

Table 4.6 shows tasks primarily assigned to women and men. The table is formulated based on my observations of activities within the research villages; however, it is a generalization—it does not mean that a man will never be seen cooking sticky rice, though women are generally the cooks. Town situations also vary. For example, I‘ve seen 132 male chefs in restaurants. Cloth weaving is a female task among the Tai groups, though most Khmu women no longer weave (however, I did know of one in Muang Muay who did). Instead of weaving, Khmu women participate more in gold mining activities.

However, both Khmu and non-Khmu men weave bamboo products.

Young children of both genders assist with many gender specific tasks noted in

Table 4.6. For example, a young girl would likely help carry firewood, clean the dishes and care for younger siblings, and a young boy may help collect firewood (Photo 3), carry water from the river and participate in fishing activities. It is common to see the children run to the rivers after school, the boys equipped with their face masks and spear guns in order to spear fish and the girls carrying their hand-held fishing nets and walking from rock to rock in search of invertebrates on the river‘s edge.

Table 4.6 Gender Division of Labor

Women Both Women and Men Men

-Feed small livestock and pigs -Participate in all -Collect and process bamboo -Collect firewood agricultural chores: for weaving and/or for house -Collect water slashing, burning, maintenance -Wash clothes planting, weeding, -Weave baskets -Wash dishes harvesting -Fix house -Multi-task with child rearing -Fish in deep rivers -Process rice; mill or pound, -Tether/check on large -Mend fishing nets winnow, soak, steam livestock -Attend village meetings -Cook (more so than women) -Collect edible plants to eat and sell -Mine for gold -Fix machetes and other tools, -Collect NTFP‘s to sell including black-smithing -Weave and/or sew clothes -Are actively involved in -Hunt—a limited activity -Ferment and process rice wine or parenting -Slaughter and are responsible lao hai for cooking large animals -Net small fish and other aquatic -Distill rice whiskey macro-organisms (shrimp, crabs, (laolao) insects etc.) -Butcher chickens and ducks 133

Gender Equality

Women labor as much, if not more, than men on subsistence and cash crops.

Since women and men are both productive there is a relatively low degree of gender stratification. Women have the ability to make money on their own by weaving and selling cloth, mining for gold or collecting and selling non-timber forest products

(NTFPs). Thus, women do assert independence and autonomy because they control some of the food and cash resources. Although village women are generally less educated than men and attend fewer meetings, they may still be the village heads. For example, a Khmu woman in Muang Muay named Pawnkham used to be the nai ban, or village head.

Although occasionally I came across a woman who was shy, the majority of women I met were more than willing to let their voices be heard, whether in a meeting or an interview session.

Female behavior varies depending on age and ethnicity. As a group, young adolescent women/girls are the most shy and uncertain, while older women are the most gregarious and confident. Such behaviors reflect the idea that women gain status as they age (Todd et.al. 1990). I found that women, especially Khmu women, are not intimidated to speak up during a mixed-gender meeting, but they usually let the men speak first.

I did observe more gender equality in Khmu households than in Tai ones. Tai women tend to act more demure and obedient toward male demands than Khmu women, who are more brazen and apt to vocalize their positions. For example, at a Khmu wedding ceremony, I watched a young Khmu woman physically grab and hold drunken men, encouraging them to keep drinking whiskey. I would never expect to see a Tai woman act that way, even within a festive context. 134

Children

Children have a high degree of autonomy. Once a child is weaned, s/he begins to roam around the village with other children foraging for foods and playing in the river without adult supervision. Older siblings care for and supervise younger siblings at home while parents work in the fields. I once watched a five-year-old girl with her two younger siblings collecting firewood. She used a machete to cut the wood and a shoulder basket to carry it; there was no adult in sight. Children as young as eleven years old commute to school and live independently with classmates in school compounds (discussed in more detail in the upcoming Education subsection).

Marriage

Post-marital residence patterns are ambilocal51. Both Khmu and Tai respondents reported that newly married couples decide if they want to live with the bride‘s parents or the groom‘s. The flexibility associated with ambilocality is a survival strategy in a number of ways. First, the newly married couple can choose to reside with whichever family offers more economic opportunities, e.g., the bride‘s parents might have more land holdings and offer some to the couple. Second, ailing elders in either family may request that the couple reside with them for assistance. Third, as situations change, the couple will have the right to choose to move depending on their needs, e.g., the groom‘s parents might relocate to Vientiane, the capital city, where construction jobs are readily available, so a couple might opt to move with his family.

51 Specific to the villages because four of my ethnic Lao friends in the town of Luang Prabang experienced a matrilocal residence pattern, at least for the first few months of marriage, after which it became ambilocal or neolocal. 135

Bride prices are paid and large wedding feasts are preferred. The cost of both depends on the wealth and status of the two families. For example, in the research villages a bride price of three million kip ($353) would be considered high, whereas in the town of Luang Prabang, this would be seen as a poor price; in town, bride prices of twenty million kip ($2,353) represent an upper-middle class standing. In addition to cash, the groom‘s family is expected to buy a certain amount of gold or silver bars (baht in

Lao) to give to the bride and her family. Traditionally, the bride‘s family made new wedding jewelry with the baht but since silver-and-gold-smithing are not as common as they once were, bahts have just become another monetary expense for the groom‘s family. Wedding feasts last for several days as family members arrive and depart at different times. All the while the hosts are expected to feed and offer alcoholic beverages to their guests. The type of meat offered depends on the wealth of both families. For example, if a cow or water buffalo is slaughtered, it is a symbol of wealth, whereas pigs are more common fare.

Village women marry at a younger age than women from town. This is partly due to the education and job opportunities available in towns. Young women in towns prefer to finish their schooling and get a job before getting married. In contrast, women in rural areas who no longer attend school have no reason not to marry at a young age. Village women tend to marry between the ages of 15 and 20. I often inquired about young women‘s ages but in many cases the reply was, ―bo who,‖ or ―I don‘t know,‖ thus it‘s difficult to put exact ages on marriage. Women may marry any time after they reach puberty and are of reproductive age. Statistics from research conducted in the district of

Vieng Kham report that 70-80% of the population 15 years or older is married, or 136 correspondingly, only 10-20% of the population 15 years or older have never been married (Messerli et. al. 2008:34-35).

Both Tai and Khmu have totems. Among the Khmu the totems are passed patrilineally. Khmu respondents suggested that totems mandate who can marry whom, but this tradition is falling out of use. However, totems remain salient with Khmu people since every respondent knew their totem. They are forbidden to eat their totem animals

(either quadruped or bird species) or plants. According to those questioned, their teeth would fall out and/or they would vomit profusely if they tried. Tai respondents suggest that their totems do not mandate marriage patterns.

Furthermore, as mentioned in Chapter Two, a review of the literature suggested that both groups are patrilineal; however, changing of at the time of marriage appears to be optional. One knowledgeable Khmu respondent suggested that there are no rules about surnames for either Khmu or Tai people. She said that a husband could take a wife‘s last name or vice versa, whichever was more respected. A different

Khmu woman suggested that she kept her father‘s surname and her husband kept his father‘s. Conversely, one White Tai couple told me that the husband took the wife‘s surname, while another couple told me that the wife took the husband‘s. These responses indicate a system of cognatic descent and that the pattern for surname appropriation is opportunistic52, which is similar to ethnic identity and marriage residence patterns. The

52 Additionally, the ethnic Lao practice bilateral descent, which can be used to one‘s advantage. For example, a Lao friend of ours in Luang Prabang town had two passports; one with his father‘s surname and one with his mother‘s surname. His father had a renowned business surname whereas his mother had a well-respected land-owning surname. Thus, he had two ways of identifying himself depending on the situation. 137 flexibility of these social institutions enhances survival since people can choose the most advantageous course of action in any given circumstance.

Divorce

Divorce is less common in rural areas than in urban areas. National statistics suggest that 0-2% of the population in the research district is divorced and 4-7% is widowed (Messerli et. al 2008:34-35). It is more common for a man to enter into a second marriage than a woman. In Muang Muay, four men reported marrying a second wife after their first marriage ended or the first wife passed away. But no woman reported being in a second marriage (I interviewed five unmarried women—three widowers and two divorcees). A 62-year-old woman told me that her husband died twenty years ago while mining for gold along the Nam Seuang River (Photos 4A and 4B) but she never remarried. Men may also take a mia noi, or ―little wife,‖ as a second wife. This practice is generally only acceptable if the first wife is not producing children. Even so, it is not always condoned by peers. It occurs on a case-by-case basis and is sometimes kept secret in order to avoid controversy. If a divorce results from a mia noi relationship, there is the chance that the first wife‘s family (especially if she‘s suspected of being barren) may need to repay some of her bride price back to the husband‘s family. However, this too happens on a case-by-case basis since the wife‘s family can retort that the husband took a mia noi.

Adoption

Laos is commonly referred to as a child-centered culture. While this is a cultural generalization, I have witnessed the high value placed on children by Tai and Khmu 138 people in the research villages. Male and female children are equally valued; a sexual preference does not exist. Since children are so highly valued, adoption is common.

Seven out of forty-four interviewed households (or 16%) in Muang Muay had adopted children. In most cases, the child‘s parents had either died, were mentally disabled or too poor to care for the adopted child. A family member or friend who was financially able to care for the child would adopt it. Two cases of sterility were reported as the reason for adopting a child. Interestingly, the sterile individuals are siblings; one a male, the other a female. The wife of the sterile man described how she begged her brother to give her one of his children, so, after many years, when the brother‘s wife gave birth to their fifth child; he gave his sister the baby. The baby is now four years old and does not know she‘s adopted. Furthermore, I witnessed the nai ban (village head) of Pak Lao give his sixth child away after she was born. He explained that there was a young couple in the village who had several newborns die and had recently suffered another loss. When this unfortunate couple learned the nai ban’s wife was again pregnant, they asked if they could have the baby before it was even born. The nai ban told me that the couple desperately wanted a baby and the woman still had breast milk to feed a baby. I visited

Pak Lao a month or two after the baby was born and saw her visit the nai ban’s house where her birth mother happily played with her—and then happily gave her back to her adoptive mother when it was time to leave.

Grandchildren, nieces or nephews who are older in age may move in with elderly relatives to assist with labor-intensive chores. This is especially the case if the elderly person is living alone and needs help and company. In Laos, it is rare for individuals to live alone; it a cultural norm to share a house with relatives of any degree (i.e.: an adult 139 children or a second cousin). I only knew one old woman who resided alone; her husband had run away with his mistress and she did not want to move in with her adult children and leave her house vacant53. When I spoke with her, she cried and said she was sad and lonely. Lastly, grandparents care for young grandchildren if the parents have relocated for work opportunities54.

Description of Muang Muay Village

Most of my research time and activities were conducted in Muang Muay village

(or, in Lao, Ban Muang Muay). The following description comes from participant observation, forty-six structured interviews and numerous conversations with residents.

Some characteristics are unique to Muang Muay, such as its mixed ethnicity and military station, but many characteristics are shared with other villages. For example, the health care situation in the other five villages is equal to, or worse than, the one described for

Muang Muay. School buildings, outside of Muang Muay, are similar but with fewer teachers and students. All villages have a high percentage of rice-deficient households.

This is to be expected since national statistics suggest that poor districts generally suffer a

55% poverty rate and other sources suggest that farmers in the north are often rice deficient for up to six months out of the year (Messerli et.al. 2008; Asian Development

Bank 2004 respectively). All villagers receive equal payment for goods at markets, but

53 Tai, Lao and Khmu people have expressed a superstition about leaving homes vacant- that is if no one sleeps in a house then ghosts can move in. 54 Many young adults are now seeking wage-earning jobs outside of the village. The most popular place to relocate is the capital city of Vientiane, where more industrial jobs are becoming available. Teenage girls and young women weave in small factories while village boys are used as laborers at construction sites. 140 villages away from the tarmac road face more difficulties in getting products to market.

Additional differences between Muang Muay and the other five villages are its large population size, the bridge separating the two parts of the village, and more paddy rice area (but not enough for all households).

Village History

Muang Muay was not always situated in its current location. It has had three locations since it was established in 1925. Initially it was located on the northern side of

Nam Seuang River and only composed of ethnic Tai groups. At the beginning of the civil war in 1968, residents scattered into the thick forests and surrounding caves seeking refuge from bombs and the effects of war55. After war activities diminished in 1973 with the signing of the Vientiane ceasefire agreement, people returned to Muang Muay village and settled on the south side of the river. In 1973, the village was composed of approximately 50 households of mixed ethnic origin: Tai and Khmu. National Route One was begun in 1976 and finished in 1978, the construction done by a Chinese company.

Approximately a decade (respondents report between 1986 and 1992) after the road was built, villagers from Muang Muay voluntarily relocated to the current location along the roadside. National Route One is paved and passable year-round, allowing residents easy access to the road, roadside activities and transportation.

The Nam Seuang River flows north of the village, running parallel to Route One upwards of ten kilometers (Maps 4.1 and 4.2). The river passes through Muang Muay,

55 A 62-year-old woman told me that her sister was killed when airplanes dropped bombs and after that her family fled into the forest to live in the caves. Because of this, she cannot read or write because her education was interrupted by the war. Prior to the war she had a French teacher, which indicates a French presence in the country even after independence was gained in 1949.

141

Pak Lao, Bouammi and Vang Kham research villages and is a source of daily subsistence. People fish, gather water, wash clothes, bathe and use the river as a transportation network during the rainy season when dirt tracks are inaccessible.

Village Organization

As presented in Table 4.4, there are 168 households in Muang Muay, equaling

956 people, of whom 458 are women and 498 are men. Thirty households are Tai, while

138 are Khmu. Approximately 102 soldiers reside in Muang Muay, the majority of whom are Khmu. They come from around the country but most commonly from Vieng Kham town56. Spatially the village is long and narrow since most people prefer to build their houses directly along the roadside. However, since roadside space is limited, houses may be up to five deep. The bridge near the middle of the village creates a physical and social separation (Photo 5).

Muang Muay is composed of three enclaves; Tai, Khmu and the soldiers (the majority of whom are Khmu). Members of each enclave live near one another in specific locations. For example, the thirty Tai households live together in a small section on the western side of the bridge. All households on the eastern side of the bridge are civilian

56 The province stationed soldiers in Muang Muay in 1997 and a few years later they left. The current station was built in 2001 and soldiers were sent from the district. According to the soldier‘s leader the purpose of the soldiers in Muang Muay is to protect the area from separatist movements. The area used to belong to JAOFA, a group of Hmong who wanted to separate from the country; he said many were in the Muang Muay and Nong Kham area. About six years ago there was a big battle between the soldiers and JAOFA, but since then, many of the JAOFA had left the area and migrated to Thailand. Another reason soldiers are in the area is to protect the nearby Nam Et-Phou Louey National Park. Soldiers are expected to catch poachers and other people breaking rules regarding the conservation of park resources. The majority of soldiers stationed in the national park are appointed from the eastern side of the Park in Vieng Thong district.

142

Khmu. Some civilian Khmu households are also interspersed on the western side of the bridge. However, the soldiers, being the most recent addition to the village, built homes and elongated the western edge of the village. That is, the soldiers built homes on the western side of the Tai households, thus the Tai households are now between the homes of Khmu soldiers to the west and Khmu civilians to the east. Interestingly, there are two soldiers who are Tai and their homes are located within the pocket of Tai, not with the other soldiers. As I was departing, a new Tai soldier was stationed in Muang Muay and he, too, was constructing a small hut next to the other Tai soldiers.

When questioned, the nai ban, or village head, suggested that all three groups get along without problems and, when necessary, everyone works together. He said the soldiers were as much a part of the village as anyone else. When I asked another powerful figure about the village make-up, he said there is distance between the Khmu and non-Khmu ethnic groups but it is not discussed openly; in general, people don‘t fight with each other and can get along and work on projects together so he didn‘t view the situation as problematic. In contrast a District Agriculture and Forestry Office staff person from Vieng Kham expressed how it was difficult working in Muang Muay because people did not work together on projects.

Through observation and experience, I witnessed village separation. The basic social units of Muang Muay and the other kumban villages are extended families. Homes and fields that are near one another are often owned by extended family members. For example, adult siblings are often neighbors with each other and with their parents and/or aunts and uncles. The spatial closeness of relatives‘ homes and fields is in part due to the fact that parents and/or other relatives give some of their landholdings to younger 143 generations. When I asked how newcomers in the village got their agricultural land, all respondents suggested that their relatives gave it to them. In other words, if an arrangement was not made between relatives for land access, a new family would not relocate to the village. The soldiers are a case in point. None of them owns land within the village boundaries, and those who want to farm must rent land from the neighboring village of Vang Mat because Muang Muay residents don‘t have extra land for renters.

Additionally, three-generation households are common since older people live with their children and/or grandchildren. Four of my immediate neighbors‘ households included grandmothers (Mae Taos). Extended families share labor, rely on one another during times of need (e.g. to borrow money to buy medicine for a sick child), and socialize together. Since homes of extended family members are strategically built near one another, their daily social circles are literally at their doorsteps. Extended family members share agricultural labor and often collect non-timber forest products together.

Given these basic social units and the proximity of social networks, the long bridge in the center of the village becomes a social barrier.

My idea about village enclaves was vocalized by a 76-year-old Tai man. I asked him, ―Who is the most influential person in the village?‖ He replied, ―On this side of the bridge it‘s Tao (Mr.) Mang. On the other side of the bridge it‘s Tao Khamphay.‖ If I was invited to an event on the eastern side of the bridge, I rarely saw my neighbors or people from the western side of the bridge in attendance. The exception is village leaders since they are customarily invited to most events and feel obliged to attend, at least for a short time. Similarly, if I attended an event hosted by a Tai family on the western side of the bridge, I rarely saw a Khmu person from the eastern side of the bridge in attendance. 144

However, a Khmu event on either side of the bridge resulted in Khmu attendees from both sides of the village. I resided on the western side of the bridge in the pocket of Tai homes (I was a neighbor to the nai ban, assumingly for political reasons; I could seek his permission for certain activities and he could watch over my activities). Due to my western locality, I frequented stores on my side of the bridge and interacted more often with people in close proximity to my residence. Thus I personally experienced the pattern of social networking described above. It was only with intention and effort that I shopped or socialized on the eastern side of the bridge (Image 6).

Village Leadership

There are a number of leadership positions in the villages. The position of the nai ban (village leader) is the most publicly recognized position, especially by outsiders. It is customary for visitors to first contact the nai ban when entering the village. A nai ban is elected every two years with district overview. District officials nominate candidates and the villagers vote. However, if a nai ban is doing a good job, he or she may be asked to continue in the position without an election. The current nai ban, whose name is

Bounyang, has served for three years57. Prior to his appointment Pawnkham, a woman

(and current leader of the women‘s union), was nai ban. Although she maintains a good rapport with villagers, she did not want to be nai ban anymore because she ―could not control the men.‖ She reported that the nai ban position is a paid position while the women‘s union leader is unpaid—and more work. As previously discussed, a female village head indicates a certain amount of gender equality within village social structures.

57 The next election in Muang Muay was set to take place at the end of 2010. 145

Tao gay, which means ―elders committee,‖ is also an important governing body of the village. People are elected to the elders committee by the villagers; at the time of this research, the tao gay was composed of five influential people: Tao (Mr.) Bouapan,

Tao Khamphu, Tao Mang, Nong (Ms.) Pawnkham and Tao Bounpheng (the retired nai ban of thirty years). Ms. Pawnkham is the only female and Mr. Mang is the only Tai person on the committee; the remaining three are Khmu. In general, the tao gay helps resolve conflicts occurring between or within village families. If necessary, the tao gay get together with the nai ban to make decisions about the village landscape. For example, the incoming Tai soldier had to seek permission from the village leaders as to where he could build his hut.

The elders report that most conflicts are solved informally. Marital conflicts and delinquent children are the most common problems. In these cases, a tao gay representative talks with the child and/or the distressed couple to convince them of the positive aspects of good behavior such as going to school and not fighting with spouses.

If a serious problem arises that cannot be solved informally, a judgment takes place. The five tao gay individuals are the judges. Civilians involved in the dispute must pay the judges 10,000 to 50,000 kip ($1.25 -$6.10) for presiding over the case. Only two to three serious cases typically happen in one year. If the judges cannot make a decision then the nai ban‘s opinion is sought. If a verdict still cannot be reached within the village, the case is taken to district authorities. However, the nai ban reported that all internal disputes are handled within the village structure. External disputes, such as those happening between two villages require assistance from district officials. The most common inter-village dispute is about village boundaries. Two of the six kumban villages (Bouammi and Vang 146

Kham) reported encroachment on their lands from neighboring villages. Encroachment includes both agricultural and foraging livestock.

In Muang Muay, people work together to avoid or resolve wrong doing, something I term action. For example, one evening on the porch of our house we heard bamboo cracking. A moment later we heard a woman wailing, then shouting and more bamboo cracking. One of my neighbors was being beaten by her husband.

People within earshot began to gather around the husband and wife. The presence of the group quelled the dispute. Bystanders wanted to hear both sides of the story and give their advice. The crowd lingered until tempers were calmed and the matter was resolved.

The next day the woman acted ashamed. I passed her walking to the river and she turned her face away from me and did not speak. As disheartening as this sounds, it was the only incident over a 12-month time period that I witnessed any form of abuse. As previously discussed, gender equality in Laos is generally high. The argument was over the woman buying too many snacks for their young child at the village stores.

According to respondents, both Bounpheng and Mang from the elders committee and Khamphay, a retired district official, are the most influential people in the village.

While villagers respect the political position of nai ban, Bounyang, the current one, is young in his tenure and in the process of earning respect. Although he may become an influential leader,58 I overheard people express doubts about his trustworthiness. For

58 Other project colleagues and I suspected that Bounyang was placed in the position of nai ban as a pawn for influential village elders, who appear to retain a certain amount of control over village decision-making. Additionally, he must contend with the military leaders. On one occasion I witnessed him succumb to requests from the military leader, demonstrating weakness. Furthermore, nai bans are expected to have a certain amount of personal wealth before being elected since it is their duty to accommodate visitors; therefore the position requires an increase 147 example, when the gold mining company came to Muang Muay village and began digging in the river, the villagers were shocked and forced the miners to stop. The villagers had not received a message from village, district or provincial leaders stating that the company had permission to dig in the river. The village was in an uproar and the nai ban was nowhere to be found! Apparently, he had gone to a meeting in another village. People began to speculate that he knew what was happening and had been paid off by the gold mining company to conveniently disappear. If Bounyang was already highly respected then people would not have suspected him as being in cahoots with the gold mining company. I will never know the truth of the controversy, but it appears that no one in the village, including the nai ban, was notified about the gold mining. It appears as if the gold mining survey concession was sold from the provincial level. Even the district governor, who had to visit Muang Muay village two times to ease the tension, said he was not informed. The governor told villagers that nothing could be done to stop the gold mining since it was coming from provincial contracts. Bounpheng, the retired nai ban, and others told me that the whole operation was illegal since it was not approved at the national level. However, when I inquired with our Center for International Forestry

Research (CIFOR) project‘s national coordinator who works with the National

Agriculture and Forestry Research Institute (NAFRI) he stated, ―If it‘s happening, it‘s legal.‖ This led to a lecture about development needs in Laos. The gold mining controversy was still underway when I packed my bags and boarded the airplane. I have since heard from colleagues in Laos that gold mining activities have stopped.

in workload, and the retired nai ban told me he was too old and tired to continue being the nai ban anymore. 148

Additional leadership positions include two assistant nai bans, who are Tao Tae and Tao Khamman; three nhoi paks, who are Tao Thangchan, Tao Bounyang and Tao

Bounpheng; and one kumban leader, who is Tao Jawntawn. The nhoi paks are village residents who are appointed by the district. I was told that nhoi paks have more clout than nai bans. However, my attempts to understand nhoi pak duties were never directly answered, thus the position remains unclear. Nhoi paks maintain a presence at most village meetings and watch over village affairs. It is presumed they report village affairs to higher-up political figures; I tend to think of them as the local ―watchdogs‖ of the national Lao People‘s Revolutionary Party. Finally, within Muang Muay, there are twelve nhois (hamlets or groups of houses), each of which has a leader. When the nai ban needs to get a message to all the villagers he calls for the nhoi leaders. Nhoi leaders disseminate information to individual households within their presiding hamlets. Each house in the village is supposed to have a placard with a nhoi and house number on it (an address) but in reality the placards are old and outdated. We tried to use these numbers to keep track of interviewed households but found that many houses don‘t have placards and not even one existed for nhoi twelve59. Adding to the confusion, one house had five placards hanging outside the door! Placards, issued from the district, are often outdated and unreliable. (It‘s difficult for district personnel to keep up with the movement of people in the villages.) It is, instead, the nai ban who maintains a household list in the official village notebook that is up to date.

59 Nhoi twelve is where the soldiers reside; the lack of placards illustrates the relative newcomer status of the soldier households. 149

Lastly, mail is not delivered to the villages. A personal attempt to get an address resulted in me being sent to the post office in Vieng Kham town (the district headquarters). I learned from the postmaster that a general post system is used; only name, district and province are needed. If I wanted to collect mail, I would personally need to report to the post office, which was a one-hour drive from Muang Muay village.

Instead I opted to get mail with a P.O. Box in Luang Prabang town. However, the postal system exemplifies the lack of infrastructure in rural Laos.

Education

The primary school in Muang Muay is the largest of all village schools in the kumban. It‘s made up of three concrete-walled, aluminum-roofed buildings (Photo 7).

The buildings have open-air windows with wooden window shutters (remember, there is no electricity which means no lights, air conditioners or heating). Students may complete up to grade five in Muang Muay. Students are required to wear uniforms and supply their own notebooks, costs that some families have difficulty paying. The current student body is composed of 300 students (see Table 4.7 for demographics). Children from two nearby villages, Houay Khone and Vang Kham, attend Muang Muay school from third through fifth grades (see Maps 4.1 and 4.2). Vang Kham is approximately two kilometers to the east on the roadside. It is not a far walk and the road is passable year-round. However,

Houay Khone is to the north, across the Nam Seuang River and over a large mountain. It is at least a one-hour walk on a dirt path. Students must walk across the river to get to school. I witnessed children taking off their school clothes, putting them atop their heads

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Table 4.7 Student Population at Muang Muay School

Grade Boys Girls Total Preschool 22 11 33 First 32 20 52 Second 30 20 50 Third 20 36 56 Fourth 31 25 56 Fifth 31 22 53 Total 166 134 300

and walking through neck-deep water to reach the other side. During the rainy season, the river rises and a boat is needed to cross. Boat owners from Muang Muay charge up to

2,000 kip (0.22¢) to ferry each child. As an alternative, some children fashion bamboo rafts to get themselves across, but when the waters are strong, this is not a safe option

(Photo 8). Not surprisingly, student attendance decreases during the rainy season because children cannot afford the ferry fee and do not want to walk an hour each way in monsoonal downpours.

After grade five, students test into secondary school and must relocate. The closest secondary school is in Sop Heuang, approximately ten kilometers to the east of

Muang Muay. Alternatively, Vieng Kham Secondary is approximately an hour‘s drive west of Muang Muay. Parents decide what secondary school to send their children to depending on: 1) If they have relatives living near either school, and 2) Which school they can afford. It is cheaper to go to Sop Heuang because it costs less to get

151 there—students can walk, ride their bikes or pay a small fee for a motorbike ride.

However, to get to Vieng Kham Secondary School, a form of motorized transport is necessary and also more costly. Furthermore, if a relative does not live near either school or is unable to accommodate the child, then that child must be boarded at the school or find a room to rent, both of which cost more money. For example, I know one 11-year- old boy who attends school in Sop Heuang and stays with relatives Monday through

Friday. He returns to Muang Muay on the weekends to spend time with his parents and two sisters. I know another 16-year-old girl who attends Vieng Kham Secondary and she must get a motorbike ride to school on Mondays and back home on Fridays (she pays to rent a room for the week days). However, this does not seem to be a problem since her father, Tao Jawntawn, is the head of Muang Muay kumban and conducts his district business on the days he transports her to school. Implicit here is that children from wealthier families have more education opportunities.

Most teachers are paid by the government and salaries range from 400,000 kip to

955,000 kip per month ($47 to $112). Teachers in training do not receive government salaries; rather, students‘ parents supply them with rice. There is not a standard education requirement for teachers. At Muang Muay School, some teachers have completed high school while others only the eighth grade. Teacher salaries are dependent on level of education, years of experience and teaching location. For example, the teacher in Houay

Khone gets paid more money because he teaches in a village away from a roadside. Thus he receives a fuel stipend for his motorbike and, once cell phone service is available, he will also be given a cell phone stipend. Both stipends are given as a means of communicating with education officials. 152

School building construction and upkeep are supported by Non-Government

Organizations (NGOs) and village families. The three high quality buildings that make up

Muang Muay School were supported by two NGOs at different stages in time. Schools built by villagers are made with local materials and generally consist of bamboo walls and roofs and mud floors (see Chapter 5 Bouammi village discussion photos). School buildings that do not leak during the rainy season are considered high quality and have most frequently been funded by international organizations. Villagers and children take pride in their school buildings and hold various other meetings in them when school is not in session. It is unclear if and how much government funds are allocated to school materials on an annual basis. It is my understanding that the majority of supplies are funded by international NGOs. For example, the day I took up residence in Muang Muay village, the school headmaster, Mr. Somseedee Sombadt, arrived on my doorstep with a written request for school assistance. He requested approximately 1.2 million kip ($141) for various school supplies ranging from notebooks to sporting equipment. I quickly learned such requests were not uncommon since four out of six schools each presented me with one.

Information on adult education levels is presented in Table 4.8. Women have fewer education opportunities. Table 4.8 shows that four women never went to school and only one completed eighth grade. Although many parents and elders are illiterate, the consensus is that children today need to go to school. All adults discussed the importance of educating their children and reported that all young children in their household attended school. However, not all older children attend school. Most children attend school at least to the grade available within their village (for some this is third, for others 153 fifth grade). Once it‘s necessary to travel to school, the situation is assessed. If a parent can afford to send a child, and the child likes school, he or she is sent. However, in the case of children who do not like school, generally parents will not send them, especially if it‘s a long distance and costly. In these cases, the child will stay home and assist with livelihood chores. On the other hand, if a child is a good student and wants to continue school but the parents cannot afford it, assistance from relatives is sought. For example, one of my neighbors was a widow with four children, and she received assistance from relatives to send her bright daughter to secondary school in Sop Heuang.

Table 4.8 Adult Education Levels in Muang Muay

Grade Men Women Never went 4 1st 1 2nd 4 3rd 1 4 4th 1 1 5th 9 6 6th 1 2 7th 4 1 8th 3 1 9th 10th 1 11th 1 Adult school 1 Total 21 25

Note: Adult School was sponsored by the government to teach illiterate adults how to read and write. Adults went to evening classes until they were literate. However, I did not see any adult schools, suggesting this was a past activity.

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Healthcare

Healthcare in Laos is poor. Infant Mortality Rate (IMR) is a common international health indicator. IMRs are measured by the number of infant deaths (under the age of twelve months) per 1,000 live births. In 2006, the IMR in the United States was 7.3, the international IMR average was 49.4 and the Laos IMR was 77.82 (UN

2007). As part of my interviews, I counted the total number of deceased children per household, though I did not limit it to age twelve months or younger. My data is organized by parental age group and shown in Table 4.9. The table demonstrates that child mortality is decreasing, most likely an effect of the end of the civil war in 1975. My data, coupled with IMR statistics, reflect the poor state of healthcare in Laos.

Table 4.9 Child Mortality Rates by Parental Age Group in Muang Muay

Age group of Total Total deceased Percent of mortality parent/s children per age group

<25 3 1 33% 26-35 23 5 (4 families had 21.7% zero deceased) 36-45 61 16 (6 families had 26.2% zero deceased) 46-59 72 34 47.2% >60 49 24 48.9% Don’t know age 6 2 (1 family had zero 33% deceased) Total 214 82 38.3%

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Two men are the official healthcare providers in the village: Poh Leedt and Poh

Gam60. Both men sell medicine and give medical advice but their training is limited. Poh

Leedt studied medicine by himself when he was a soldier from 1968-1971. He studied in order to assist his soldiers. After the war he continued to educate himself by reading Lao and Vietnamese medical books. In 1992 he was chosen by the village and supported by the government to attend a month-long training session in Luang Prabang about childbirth. Prior to his training, a substantial percentage of women died during childbirth, so this was his impetus for specializing in childbirth. In 2001, he attended a five-day district-supported training course about setting up a health station in the village.

In 2002, he attended another five-day training course on the same topic. (In total he has had approximately forty days of formal medical training.)

Poh Leedt cares for two to three serious medical cases per month, the most common being drunk-driving motorbike accidents. On average he assists with two to three births per year but no more than five; he reports that women are having fewer babies because they buy birth control pills in Sop Hueang. He‘s only called for difficult births as easy births are attended by family members. If he assists with a birth, he does not charge for his time, only for medicines. However, people give him chickens, local whiskey and some money to make him happy. In the course of a single day, four to ten people see him for diagnosis and to purchase medicines. The most common medicine sold is paracetamol (similar to Tylenol), which is used to treat headaches and minor body

60 It is common for parents in Laos as well as Southeast Asia in general, to have teknonyms. Poh, means ―father‖ and Leedt is the name of one of his children. This healthcare person is known as Poh Leedt to everyone in the village. In many cases, respondents could not recall an individual‘s ; they only knew people as the mother or father of a child. I am known as Mae (mother) Asia, after my daughter‘s name. 156 aches. When he can‘t help a sick person, he recommends they go to Vieng Kham or

Luang Prabang. Poh Leedt is one of the better healthcare providers in the area and people from surrounding villages also seek his advice. He states, ―Yak pak pawn laow,‖ which is translated as, ―I want to rest already.‖ When I interviewed him in 2010 Poh Leedt was

63- years-old and told me he hoped to retire in the next two years.

Poh Gam was 55-years-old in 2010 and was also seeking retirement. He started learning about medicine in 1972, also during the war. He learned from a nurse while hiding out in the forest. He is knowledgeable about both traditional and modern remedies.

In the past he collected natural medicines in the forest, but today he states, ―I‘m too lazy to look for them because I‘m too old already.‖ On three separate occasions, Poh Gam attended two-day training sessions in Vieng Kham town. (District offices and pharmacy owners generally hold the training sessions.) He learns about new medicines available for purchase and what illnesses they treat. Although he does not pay for the training sessions, he purchases medicines to bring back and sell from his home dispensary in Muang Muay village. He reports spending anywhere from 200,000 kip to three million kip ($23.50 to

$353) each time he buys medicine in town. At the time of our interview, in April 2010, he was no longer stocking his dispensary. He said he wanted to renovate his house, so he was saving his money for that instead of spending it on medicines. Because he wants to retire, he‘s slowly running out of medicines. He no longer treats serious cases. (As a result, Poh Leedt is now the one called upon if there is an accident in the middle of the night.) He sends serious cases to Luang Prabang. The most common complaints Poh

Gam treats are colds, headaches and stomachaches, either with or without diarrhea. The cause of the stomachaches is mainly unclean water and spoiled foods. He tells people not 157 to eat spoiled foods, but many do anyway. 61 He most commonly sells vitamins B6, B12, and B-complex (for pregnant women) as well as medicines for stomachaches and colds.

He does not deliver babies for fear of the woman dying.

The nai ban understands that village medical care is poor but he praised the work of Poh Gam and Poh Leedt, saying that they have ―brave hearts‖ and just want to help people. Ironically, Pawnkham, the leader of the women‘s union, is a trained nurse (i.e.: she has more medical training than anyone in the village) but she does not assist with village healthcare. Since these two men have taken on the responsibility, she can not offer too much advice because she does not want them to ―lose face62.‖ That is, she does not want people to lose confidence in the medical skills of Poh Gam and Poh Leedt, so she does not interfere with their efforts. She confided that she helps family and close friends when asked. Sometimes she secretly tells parents what medicine to buy for their children when many months have passed and medicines purchased from Poh Gam and Poh Leedt are not helping (she gave an example about bladder infections).

Due to limited training, misdiagnoses do occur. One morning while interviewing

Bounkham, we noticed that his 4-year-old daughter was blind. He explained that when she was 2 she got very sick and he took her to Poh Gam. Poh Gam gave her four injections. The next morning, her skin turned yellow and they thought she was going to die. They turned to Poh Leedt for help, but he could not help! Instead, he suggested that

61 Remember, there is no electrical grid in the villages, thus no refrigeration. Foods spoil quickly, especially during the hottest months of April and May. The fact that people are eating spoiled foods, even though they know it may cause sickness, may be seen as an indicator of food shortages. 62 ―Losing Face‖ is a cultural norm in many Asian cultures. If one loses face then they lose the respect of others, or they lose status often through an act of humiliation or public disgrace. For example, an angry American tourist in Laos who yells at a waitress will lose face to all Lao people who witness the act, likewise admitting a mistake may cause someone to lose face. 158 they take her to the provincial hospital. Bounkham sold a water buffalo to pay for transportation and hospital fees and rushed his daughter to the hospital. The doctor said her body was poisoned from ―too strong of medicines‖ (an overdose). Unfortunately, by this time she was already blind and had to stay at the hospital for two weeks to recover.

Bounkham did everything he could to help his daughter, so he took her to a school for the blind in Vientiane but was told she was too young to stay—they told him to bring her back at age 7. He told us he can‘t be that far away from her because he loves her too much (a bus ride from Muang Muay to Vientiane takes sixteen to eighteen hours one way). Bounkham is not upset with Poh Gam. The two men are close friends and he can‘t feel upset since Poh Gam was only trying to help. This tragedy is not an isolated event. I heard another story about a 6-year-old boy who died after getting injections from Poh

Gam. The heartbreaking reality of these stories demonstrates the need for better medical training throughout the country, and especially, at the village level.

Traditional Medicines

Traditional medicines are used to treat minor illnesses. Tao Pawnpuey Aphaivan and his wife Tun collect and sell traditional medicines. Pawn knows at least 400 natural remedies. He learned them by helping his mother gather medicines in the forest. Most remedies are simple and he keeps them in his memory, but twenty complex remedies required notation. After writing them down, he asked his son to make them into a book at the print store in town. Pawn proudly showed us the copy he keeps in his house. Many people from Muang Muay and the surrounding villages seek Pawn‘s advice and natural remedies, and sometimes he cannot keep up with the demand. For example, a popular 159 remedy for male virility is consistently sold out the day it‘s made. While Pawn wants to pass this knowledge onto his children, he said that young people don‘t understand the importance of learning it yet. He hopes that his oldest son, who is 19 years old, will understand the need for such knowledge in years to come.

As a side note, during February, nursing students from Luang Prabang were stationed in twelve villages along the roadside. Many stayed in Muang Muay and Pawn housed one of them, a man. At one point, the young man became ill and Pawn cured him with traditional medicines.

However, despite their usage, traditional medicines do not always work. A 20- year-old father explained how elders tried to cure his first-born son with traditional medicine, but the medicines failed and the baby died when it was three months old. He told me that the elders said his son was sick because the spirits of the forest took his soul for food. It is said that if a baby is born before the rooster crows, then this is the time the forest spirits are wandering and looking for food; this was the case with the baby, since it was born during this dangerous time. Respondents in Bouammi village have a similar belief about nature spirits hunting at dawn and newborns being susceptible to them

(discussed in detail in Chapter Five). Traditional beliefs such as this remain an important aspect of people‘s lives in Muang Muay and in Laos more generally.

Village Economy

Rice and Agriculture

The nai ban reported that approximately 60% of households in Muang Muay are annually rice deficient. Households that are rice deficient pay an interest rate of 33% to 160

50% when borrowing rice from others; that is, if a family borrows two bags (one bag is about 50 kilograms or 110 pounds) of un-milled rice63 this year, they must pay back three to four bags next year. These high interest rates perpetuate rice deficiency. A need exists for a rice bank that has lower interest rates and can assist poor families with rice shortages.

A total of twenty-seven households have access to paddy lands. Paddy fields are important for a number of reasons. First, they yield more rice-per-land area than slash and burn agriculture; that is, an irrigated paddy field may yield up to four times the amount of rice, and a rain-fed paddy will yield up to two times the amount of rice than an equal size plot of dry rice on sloping lands (IRRI 2009). Due to higher rice yields on paddy lands, households with access to these are wealthier and suffer less from rice shortages. Some paddy owners have rice surpluses that they sell or loan to others, adding to their wealth.

Also, paddy fields comply with government policies to eliminate slash and burn agriculture and to increase permanent agricultural practices.

In Muang Muay, one area of paddy fields lies to the north of Nam Seuang River.

These paddy fields, and some irrigation ditches, were created by villagers with assistance from a Vietnamese project in 1999. Although water for irrigation purposes is limited during the dry season, some landholders plant cucumbers and the nai ban’s family plants watermelons64 to sell. In this way, households with paddy lands have another money- making opportunity that sloping land holders do not.

63 Respondents reported that un-milled rice weighs about twice as much as milled rice; that is, once the husk is milled off a 55-pound bag, it becomes 22.5 pounds of edible rice. However, the rice bran does not go to waste since it‘s a food for all livestock. 64 The nai ban’s household is the only one that plants watermelons; this is due in part to his high- status position. His friendship with Bounthanh, a DAFO staff, put him in a position to establish a 161

The remaining 141 households only have access to sloping lands, which are cultivated with dry rice in a slash and burn, rain-fed system. Crops planted on these lands are only grown in the rainy season unless they are tubers such as cassava and/or galangal65 that can be left in the ground during the dry season. The semi-domesticate kheme, or broom grass (Thysanolaema maxima), naturally grows on fallow fields during the dry season. Fire increases broom-grass blossoms, which are the part of the plant that are collected and sold; hence, many farmers will burn their fields after rice harvest to increase broom-grass yields (discussed more below).

Income

Table 4.10 shows annual reported income of Muang Muay respondents. As previously mentioned, the exchange rate used is 8,500 kip to 1 USD. Income varies from year to year depending on livestock sales, as reported by respondents. Thus, the incomes shown in Table 4.10 represent averages, not absolutes. Groups of people with monthly salaries are teachers, soldiers, and disabled veterans. As mentioned earlier in this chapter, teachers earn between 400,000 kip to 955,000 kip per month depending on experience and school location. One teacher in training did not make any money but received rice from the village families. After two years of training, she will start to receive a salary.

Soldiers earn between 500,000 kip to 700,000 kip or more (the boss‘s salary is unknown) and 24 kilograms of rice per month. One disabled veteran earned 317,000 kip per month.

partnership. Bounthanh purchases the seeds and other supplies in town, and then transports them to the village where they‘re grown by the nai ban’s family; profits are split. 65 Known as galangal, or galanga in English and Mak kha in Lao, this is a rhizome of the Zingiberaceae family. Although it is in the ginger family, galangal has a more piney/cedar-like flavor than ginger. It is often used in Lao and Thai soup dishes. Galanga is in the genus Alpinia, of which there are four separate species. 162

I interviewed his 20-year-old son, who was the head of household, and while he did not disclose the details about his father‘s disability, I observed that the man suffers from a mental disability. Another disabled individual in the village received 160,000 kip per month as a result of having his hand blown off during unexploded ordinance clean-up training.

Table 4.10 Reported Income Levels in Muang Muay

Annual income in kips Villagers Soldier Teacher Disabled ≤ 500,000 ($59 USD) 4 500,000-1 million 2 1-3 million 8 1 3.1-5 million 5 1 5.1-7 million 5 4 1 7.1-9 million 1 2 ≥ 10 million 2 1 2

Note: The two highest-reported villager incomes are from the former nai ban Bounpheng and the current nai ban Bounyang, who builds cement houses during the cold season. The villager category includes store owners in Muang Muay. Markets and Merchants

Poh Mai, a merchant from Vieng Kham town, comes to Muang Muay at least every ten days to buy agricultural crops and non-timber forest products (NTFPs). During peak harvest seasons he comes daily (Photo 9). Store owners in Muang Muay act as middle men, buying products at reduced prices from people who are desperate to get cash and then re-selling to Poh Mai or other merchants in Vieng Kham town. People from

Houay Khone join Muang Muay market day; after selling items to Poh Mai, many turn around and purchase goods from Muang Muay stores before walking home. Houay 163

Khone has only one small store with limited items such as cooking oil and salt. In contrast, Muang Muay has five large stores with cooking wares, clothes, hardware and food items.

An assortment of items is sold at the market. Bulk items are sold to the merchants while non-bulk items are sold between villagers. Non-bulk items are usually cultivated food items that include, but are not limited to, green beans (mak tua66), eggplants (mak kua), garlic (pak tiam), cucumbers (mak daeng), mandarin oranges (mak giang), ginger

(pak khing), and prepared snacks such as noodles with flavoring (fuu or kaow peeak) or sweet rice tortillas (kanome). Cultivated foods sold in bulk, usually to merchants, include chili peppers (mak pedt), galangal root (mak kha) or cardamom (mak naeng). Although mak naeng is an Amomum species, it‘s not true cardamom (Elettaria cardamomum).

Common English names of the species sold in Laos are tavoy, bastard or false cardamom.

Cardamom can be cultivated or found in the wild. In 2000, it was estimated that 30% of cardamom was cultivated while 70% came from the wild; both are sold at the market

(Fopppes and Ketphanh 2000). Residents of Houay Khone village actively cultivate cardamom. However, other kumban villages are not large producers of the product; therefore, a limited amount is sold from the research area. In addition to being a common spice around the world, cardamom fruits are used in a number of Chinese medicines that treat digestive disorders.

66The Lao language uses classifiers. Mak is a classifier for fruits and pak is a classifier for vegetables. 164

Non-Timber Forest Products

Non-timber forest products (NTFPs) are the most common bulk items sold to merchants during market days. NTFP availability and collection depends on the season.

For example, Pueak Mueak is a tree bark that can be collected and sold throughout the year; however, people collect more during the time of year when they have fewer labor demands. In contrast, bamboo worms hatch near the end of the rainy season, so they must be collected around the month of November. Pueak Mueak, or Boehmeria malabarica

Webb from the Urticaceae family, is referred to as Sapan in English. Villagers collect strips of the bark and dry it in the sun before selling it to the merchant who exports it to

China (Photo 10). The bark fibers are milled into a powder and used as a glue to make incense sticks and mosquito repellants in Chinese factories. Lao villagers use the sap as medicine and the fibers in construction. The tree naturally propagates in the forest and in fallow fields that are at least two years old. The Pueak Mueak tree must grow for three years before it can be harvested and it prefers rich, moist soils. This is a major NTFP export for the Northern Lao provinces (i.e.: ones that are near the Chinese border). In

2000, 685 tons were exported from to China at the cost of 0.33¢ per kilogram (Lao-ntfpwiki 2011). In November of 2010, in the Muang Muay market Pueak

Mueak was selling for 5,000 kip per kilogram (k/kg) or 0.59¢. Although the price increased over the ten-year time period, it is still considered low compared to the amount of work it takes to collect and dry the bark to sell.

Mae, or bamboo worms of the Crambidae family, are grass moth pupas. Adult moths lay their eggs near the bottom of bamboo clumps; the larvae hatch and eat their way up through the bamboo segments before returning back to the bottom as a pupa 165 getting ready to emerge. Before they emerge, villagers collect hundreds at a time from the bamboo clumps (Photo 11). I saw fresh worms sold in the village market only in late

October and early November. The price of bamboo worms was higher than any other market item at 35,000 to 37,000 k/kg (~$4.23). Other insects sold are rhinoceros beetles

(Dynastinae subfamily) and various other beetles. The price was 1,000 kip (0.11¢) per five insects. Respondents reported spending hours collecting beetles to sell for eleven cents per five! This demonstrates the dearth of cash-income-generating activities in the area.

Khai, or river algae (Cladophora spp.), can be collected at various times throughout the year; however, it is collected in bulk at the end of the rainy season (Photo

12). These algae grow on underwater rocks and proliferate in clear spots of water. During the month of November, truckloads of khai were being sold from surrounding villages for several days, including non-allocated market days. Even Muang Muay villagers were purchasing it for 3,000 k/kg (0.35¢) before it went to larger market places. Khai is highly nutritional, providing protein, beta-carotene, vitamin A, and numerous other vitamins and minerals (Khuantrairong and Traichaiyaporn 2011). Villagers cook the raw algae into soups or process it into dried sheets called khai paan, which can be eaten as a snack or fried and served warm with meals. Luang Prabang is known for a delicious khai paan that is topped with dried sesame seeds, tomato slices and garlic pieces.

Kheme, or broom grass (Thysanolaema maxima), is also sold by the truckload from January through March after it flowers. After the grass blooms, people collect, dry and beat the seeds out, then sell the flower heads with at least a foot of stem attached

(Photo13). It is difficult to categorize broom grass; since it is a naturally occurring 166 species, it may be considered an NTFP but it‘s also a semi-domesticate since people burn areas to increase its flower production. Additionally, some farmers in the southern province of Champasak are planting broom grass gardens. In Muang Muay village, broom grass is treated as an NTFP. However, since it contributes a significant amount of income to households, it is regulated. That is, farmers reported that people can only collect it on their own fallow fields. They created this rule themselves and told the nai ban, who agreed. If someone is caught collecting broom grass on another person‘s field, they must pay a fine equal to the amount of income they sold the broom grass for. In

2010, broom grass was selling for 3,000 to 4,000 k/kg (0.35 to 0.47¢). It is suggested that one person can harvest ten to fifteen kilograms of broom grass in a single trip, and one person can make two trips a day (Lao-ntfpwiki 2010). It is the second-largest NTFP exported from Laos; from 1996-1999, approximately 320 tons were exported to Thailand and China from Luang Prabang province alone (at the price of 0.01¢ to 0.04¢ per kg). In the year 2000, some 200 tons were exported (Foppes and Ketphanh 2000; Lao-ntfpwiki

2010). Chinese and Thai workers fashion brooms out of these natural grasses.

I have only discussed the most commonly sold NTFPs from this area of Laos.

There are numerous natural species that Lao villagers are aware of and incorporate as part of their daily diets and seasonal incomes. For example, rattan shoots (Calamus spp.) and a variety of bamboo shoots (fifty-two species from fifteen genera have been identified in

Laos, but not all are edible) are collected, eaten and sold (Lao-ntfpwiki 2010). Bitter bamboo shoots, (Indosasa sinica) or mai phong kom, are a local favorite. They can be salted and dried or boiled and bagged and kept for up to a year without spoiling. Bamboo shoots sold for 6,000 k/kg (0.71¢) in 2010 at the Muang Muay market. Bamboo is also 167 used for house construction, fence construction, basket-making and a number of other purposes. Upon inquiry, a 76-year-old Tai man easily listed eighteen varieties of useful bamboo. He said there were more species but he couldn‘t remember all the names.

However, I did not see construction bamboo being sold from the research villages.

Additionally, a list of ninety-eight useful forest species was compiled by researchers in the Landscapes Mosaics Project (Boucard 2010), a number that reflects livelihood dependence on natural products and a perpetuation of local environmental knowledge.

Wildlife

Although plant species are the most commonly sold natural resource, occasionally wildlife are sold. During market day on Friday November 5, 2009, a live baby primate was sold from a villager living in Houay Khone to a store owner in Muang

Muay. The owner purchased the primate for 60,000 kip ($7 USD). I took photos and a video of the baby primate and showed them to Wildlife Conservation Society staff, who identified it as an Assamese macaque (Photo 14). Approximately ten days after the primate was purchased, it was re-sold for 70,000 kip ($8.22) to another family on the eastern side of the bridge. There is one other ―pet‖ primate in the village, making it a total of two in the entire village in the year 2009-10 (assumingly the other macaque also came from the surrounding forest, but it was purchased prior to my arrival).

Wildlife meat being sold over a sixteen-day time period included one wild pig and two antelope species, hunted within Muang Muay village boundaries; and one deer in

Sop Hueang. The wild pig was hunted by my neighbor. When he arrived in the hamlet with two bags full of pig parts, piled on his motorbike, a crowd accumulated. People 168 gathered around excited, requesting what pig parts they wanted to purchase. The owner cut off a front leg from the pig and walked it over to nai ban‘s house as a gift. But he refused it. The owner made two more attempts, but the nai ban kept refusing. As I watched this happen, an older woman beside me explained that the offering is done as a sign of respect, something that has been done for generations. When the nai ban refused the meat, though, the crowd speculated that he must have thought the pig was illegally hunted (i.e.: out of village boundaries and/or in the national park). However, the hunter said he had dug a trap hole near his swidden field to catch the pigs eating his cassava.

After more discussion, someone said the back leg should be offered to nai ban because it was meatier. At that point, he accepted.

Small game are more commonly caught and sold than large game. However, all game is consumed infrequently. Common small game include: bamboo rats (dtho awn in

Lao—dtho is the classifier for animal), bats (dtho jia), squirrels (dtho hawk), birds (dtho nok), snakes (dtho ngoo) and monitor and gecko lizards. Additionally, fish (dtho p:a) and various other aquatic life such as mollusks, insects, and crustaceans are collected in the rivers (nam) and streams (houay) on a daily basis and contribute significantly to village diets. Domesticated animals are not a large part of the daily diet—they‘re saved for special feasting occasions and/or for emergency cash needs.

Village Religion

Although Buddhism is the national religion of Laos, the research villages are not

Buddhist. Many villagers are aware of some Buddhist practices and have seen Buddhist 169 temples on TV or when travelling. But many told me they cannot afford to build or maintain village temples. Instead, certain trees and/or hillsides are designated as

―temples.‖ In this way, the research villages practice animism. Ceremonies are performed outside, in nature, usually in the designated ―spirit‖ areas. They can also be performed inside people‘s homes.

The Baci

A baci, or sue khwan, is one of the most important and commonly practiced ceremonies in Laos. It includes a pa khwan or soul tray that is decorated with flowers, a bowl of rice, some animal parts (of whichever animal is slaughtered for the occasion), local whiskey, and pieces of white string (Photo 15). Once the tray is prepared and people have gathered, the village elders chant a blessing. After chanting, the person/s of honor are invited to eat and drink a token amount from the tray. Next, people in attendance take the white strings and tie them onto the wrists (fie madt ken) of the honored guests. As people tie the strings they recite blessings to honorees. Blessings may include but are not limited to: ―get well,‖ ―good luck and fortune,‖ ―longevity and health,‖ and ―thank you.‖

Once the strings are tied, everyone feasts and drinks together. It is tradition to keep at least a few white strings tied to one‘s wrists for three days after the ceremony.

Bacis serve a number of purposes. They are given for good luck in travel, to cure sickness (in this case the baci calls the souls back to the body to restore balance to the individual)67, to give thanks to honored guests, for house-warming ceremonies, wedding

67 Lao friends have reported that the body houses thirty-two souls, and if a couple of souls go wandering, a person becomes ill; thus, a baci calls the souls back to the body to restore harmony. Literature suggests that various Khmu groups believe in anywhere from thirty to 300 souls (http://www.joshuaproject.net/peopleprofile.php?peo3=12663&rog3=LA). 170 ceremonies, and baby naming ceremonies to ensure the protection and health of the newborn. If the ceremony is for good luck and/or to share thanks, it often turns into a fun celebration with people dancing and drinking. However, if it‘s a more somber occasion, such as illness, then people do not dance or linger after eating.

Bacis at Baby-naming Ceremonies

Bacis are given to babies at their naming ceremonies. Baby naming ceremonies traditionally take place thirty days after a child is born. The first thirty days of life allow a baby to grow strong and a mother to recover. The mother recovers by sitting next to a hot fire and/or lying atop a slatted wooden bed frame with coals underneath68, and drinking hot tea made from an assortment of tree roots and barks. It is believed that the heat helps release blood and other fluid remnants from the pregnancy. Visitors are expected at the house of the newborn; upon arrival, they‘re offered a cup of hot tea from a large pot constantly brewing inside the home. (I have been told the tea must brew for the full thirty days to ensure health and longevity for the newborn.) Around the thirty-day mark, the baby is officially named, blessed by village elders, and white strings are attached to his or her wrists. After the baci ceremony, the mother no longer needs to sit by the fire. She begins to participate more fully in daily activities with the baby attached to her back using a woven cloth.

Over the course of a year in Laos I attended more bacis than I can recall. In many cases, my research assistants and I were the guests of honor because we were visitors and needed good luck to travel back home. In my experiences, bacis often turn into village

68 Winzeler (2011 personal communication) suggests this is common throughout Southeast Asia. 171 parties and they are organized whenever an occasion calls. Bacis in the smaller non- roadside villages were often large, with the majority of village residents in attendance, whereas this was not usually the case with the roadside bacis. In this way, the smaller villages exemplified more village cohesion than the larger villages. The only observable ethnic difference at bacis is that Khmu have a drumming tradition but Tai do not.

Curing Bacis

Curing bacis can be given by village elders or shamans. Ones that are presided over by village elders are less expensive and usually tried after modern medicines.

However, if this attempt and modern medicines are not working, then resources are spent for a shamanic healing ceremony. Only two of the six research villages have shamans residing in them, so shamans are most often called from nearby villages.

Since a pig is generally sacrificed and various ritual paraphernalia are required by the shaman, it is an expensive ceremony. The paraphernalia at the ceremony I attended included a number of candles, plenty of local whiskey, a jar of rice wine, a machete, two smaller knives, an altar area covered in white cloth, a bowl with eggs, a baci tray with two baby pigs, one whole chicken, sticky rice, and some clothes from the ailing man. The shaman sat facing his altar at the wall with his back to the crowd for most of the ceremony. The ailing man lay in his bed adjacent to the altar. The shaman‘s assistant sat behind him, giving the shaman various paraphernalia as requested. During the ceremony, the shaman chanted and asked questions to the people in attendance, who were expected to respond accordingly as active participants. Once the spirit that had been summoned entered the shaman‘s body, he put his finger in the whiskey and then into the candle 172 flame. Negotiating between the shaman and spirit ensued; the spirit wanted more money and for the shaman to consume numerous shots of whiskey. Next, the shaman rolled up a shirt belonging to the ill man, then threw it behind his back, asking others if it unrolled correctly (right side up, front facing out). If the shirt unrolled correctly two times in a row, it indicated the entrance of the souls back into the ailing man‘s body. The shaman blew on some eggs, I presume as a test to see if the souls were indeed returning. After the healing ceremony, the sick poh tao, or old man, was able to sit up in a chair and finally stand and move around slowly. I was impressed by the power of the ceremony because prior to it the old man could not get out of bed.

A less expensive curing baci was presided over by an elderly woman. It was performed for a young girl who fell and hurt her leg at school. The old woman, or mae tao, took a piece of firewood with embers on the end, a shirt of the girl, and a fishing net and walked to the school house. She needed the embers to help her find the girl‘s soul.

After finding the soul near the place where the girl had fallen, she talked to it and asked it to return to the girl‘s body. Next, she walked back to the girl‘s house and asked, ―Ma laow?‖ or ―Come already?‖ meaning, ―Did the spirit return?‖ The girl‘s family responded, ―Jaow,‖ or ―yes.‖ This discourse occurred a number of times before the mae tao entered the house. She chanted with the other elders over the sacrificed chicken on the soul tray (because this was a minor curing baci, only a chicken was sacrificed). After chanting, everyone ate the chicken together. The same mae tao tried to heal another girl‘s eye by blowing air into it to dispel the sickness. She chewed ginger and blew again.

However, she was unable to heal the girl with the eye problem, telling me the problem 173 was too big for her to fix69. She learned these healing rituals by watching her grandmother perform them when she was young.

Spirits

Both Khmu and Tai believe in village and forest spirits. Both types of spirits must be respected throughout the year. In Bouammi village, we attended the annual boun kamban, or village blessing ceremony (see photos in Chapter 5). For two nights and days no one could enter or leave the village for fear of weakening the power of the ceremony.

Huean Phi, or spirit houses, were constructed in designated spots in the forest adjacent to the village. Spirit houses are small replicas of real houses, and people leave offerings there. A fire was built in the forest and chickens were sacrificed and cooked near the spirit houses. Local whiskey, candles, cigarettes, sticky rice and chicken were offered to each of the four spirit houses. These four spirit houses represented the forest and village spirits of the two previous villages that had consolidated into the single village of

Bouammi over thirty years ago. The village shaman explained that when the villages first consolidated they only made offerings to one set of spirits. But after four years, village leaders (i.e.: nai ban and people on the elders committee) began dying. Because of these deaths Bouammi residents decided they had to honor all the spirits from both of the previous villages. Once they began to honor all four spirits, the deaths stopped, and so they continue in this fashion. Each spirit has a name. For example, in the old village of

69 The girl with the injured eye was from Bouammi village. Her parents had previously approached me to see if I could help with the situation. They said the girl was walking home from school in Pak Lao when another child threw a seed at her. The seed hit her in the eye. At first, her eye just hurt a little and she could still see out of it, but by the second day it was very painful and her vision started to blur. She cried for a week from the pain, which finally diminished, but now she can only see darkness or lightness (shadows) out of her injured eye. 174

Ban Nam Tam the nature spirit is Vong and the village spirit is Hak. A spirit house is constructed for each, and only the oldest living relative (spirit custodian) from the original villages can chant and leave the offerings. Once the ceremony in the forest is complete, people go to the homes of the elders where a baci is performed for the spirit custodian. Then people feast and drink into the night. Bacis and offerings are performed again for two mornings and one night while villagers play many games, dance, sing and generally enjoy themselves. In addition to the ceremonies described here, there are offerings made to rice spirits and land spirits, as explained in detail in Chapter Five.

Conclusion

In this Chapter I have described my main research area; institutional, governmental, and financial collaborations; and numerous aspects of village life in Laos.

The lack of modern conveniences such as electricity, running water in houses, medical facilities, and phone services demonstrates the remoteness and dearth of infrastructure in this region of the country. This lack of modern amenities further underlies local desires for change. However, although these people live in remote areas, they still have access to

TV, radio and various Vietnamese and Chinese traders who drive through on National

Route One. Thus they see the modern amenities that other people enjoy and aspire to have them. Information presented in this chapter, however, is a kind of snapshot in time because changes are occurring rapidly in Laos. Government agendas, travelling tourists,

Westernized ideals (e.g., the importance of formal education, a car for every family, leisure time to travel, etc.) and conversations with international traders are influencing trajectories of change in this region. 175

Appendix 4 (Note: All Photos are by the author unless otherwise noted.)

Photo 1A. My Residence in Muang Muay Village

Photo 1B. The inside cooking area or ―kitchen.‖

176

Photo 1C. The Septic Tank of the squat toilet I built down the front ladder of the hut.

Photo 2. A Job‘s tears plant with seeds.

177

Photo 3. Young Boys helping collect firewood, in their own fun childlike way with a small cart they built, instead of the traditional way with back baskets.

178

Photo 4A. A hand-dug gold-mining tunnel, near the river bank, not only do these take a lot of labor to create, they are also very dangerous. Photo 4A and 4B by N. Liang from Muang Muay Village.

Photo 4B. After collecting dirt from the tunnel, it is panned in the river in search of gold flakes or nuggets.

179

Photo 5. The Bridge in the middle of Muang Muay Village, which acts as both a physical and social barrier. The Photo is taken from the western side facing east. The bridge begins where the railing starts.

180

Image 6. Muang Muay Village Landscape

Photo 7. Muang Muay school buildings and area. (Photo by N. Tun)

181

Photo 8. Bamboo raft made by school children from Houay Khone to get their bikes across the Nam Seuang River and go to school in Muang Muay.

Photo 9. The local merchant Poh Mai with a truck load of Broom grass and Pueak Mueak.

182

Photo 10. Pueak Mueak drying on the roadside in preparation to sell.

Photo 11.Selling bamboo worms at the local market.

183

Photo 12. A local woman prepares river algae by washing out the sand pebbles at the river‘s edge.

Photo 13. Broom Grass getting dried by fire to thresh out the seeds and sell at market.

184

Photo 14. Baby Assamese Macaque that was sold on market day (the village children learned it too liked lollipops!).

Photo 15. Sue Khwan or a Baci tray with white strings and other ritual implements such as flowers and local sticky rice snacks cooked in banana leaves. The liquor and chicken were not yet added to the tray.

185

Chapter 5 Local Perspectives through the Camera Lens

Method Background

In the field of anthropology, photos have been used as a tool to understand other cultures since the 1940s when Gregory Bateson and Margaret Mead put together the classic Balinese Character, A Photographic Analysis. In the 1950s, John Collier Jr. and

Alexander Leighton explored the use of photography as a direct research method in anthropology. They suggested that the use of photographs helped the anthropologist build rapport with communities and informants and that photos served as elicitation tools for interviews (Collier 1957; 1967). In the 1990s, photos as research tools took on a new twist; instead of researchers holding the cameras and clicking the images, local informants were holding and clicking, thus becoming photographers of their own lives70.

The process of having local people take pictures and later describing the photos to researchers is termed photo-elicitation, photovoice, or participatory photography. Here, I refer to it as photovoice.

Photovoice was conceptualized by health care practitioners working in rural

China, in particular American Caroline Wang and Brit Mary Ann Burris, and has since

70 In the late 1960s, Worth and Adair taught a Navajo community to film and make motion pictures, but the process did not become a common anthropological method. The duo‘s work is explained in their book Through Navajo Eyes, 1972. 186 been used with a diversity of people in a variety of settings71 (Wang & Burris 1994;

Wang et. al. 1995). Photovoice is ―a process by which people can identify, represent and enhance their community through a specific photographic technique‖ (Wang & Burris

1997:369). The three main goals of photovoice are: 1) to enable people to record and reflect their community‘s strengths and concerns; 2) to promote critical dialogue and knowledge about important issues through large and small group discussions of photographs; and 3) to elicit responses from policy-makers and others who can be mobilized for change (Wang 2003:179; Wang & Burris 1997:370). Photovoice consists of giving cameras to people, teaching them basic photography skills, and asking them to photograph their daily lives or certain aspects of their lives (Wang & Burris 1994; Wang et. al. 1996). The immediate visual image ―promotes an effective, participatory means of sharing expertise and knowledge‖ (Wang & Burris 1997:2). More recently, photovoice has been used to understand local perspectives about nature and culture in changing environments and as a needs-assessment tool for community development (Nature

Conservancy 2008; Skarbo 2008; Spira 2008). It has also been used to elicit landholder values in the fields of sociology and ecology, specifically in Australia (Beilin 2005;

Gobster et. al. 2007; Sherren et. al. 2010; Sherren et. al. 2011).

Photovoice is a tool that allows less empowered groups‘ voices to be heard via photographic images and narratives (Wang & Burris 1994; Wang et. al 1996). It helps local participants define issues and frame the most appropriate course of action.

However, Wang (1999:182) suggests that it is more than just a method for assessment, it

―is a tool to reach, inform, and organize community members, enabling them to prioritize

71 See Wang 2003:180-181 for a list of projects utilizing photovoice. 187 their concerns and discuss problems and solutions.‖ Furthermore, it is often impossible for policy-makers to understand how minority groups perceive their own environments or how they envision positive change; that‘s why photos and the photovoice process are so important—they offer visual proof that lessens the disparity between researcher and community perspectives about what is important (Wang 1999). In this way, photos become the ―voice‖ of marginalized groups. The process of sharing one‘s voice has the potential to result in empowerment.

While photovoice has been used in advocacy72 and as a needs-assessment tool, it can also be used, more generally, as a participatory and anthropological method.

Photovoice acts as a Participatory Rural Appraisal (PRA) tool, as defined by Chambers as

―a family of approaches and methods to enable rural people to share, enhance, and analyze their knowledge of life and conditions, to plan and to act…and to monitor and evaluate‖ (Chambers 2003:104).

My Use of Photovoice

In an attempt to understand emic environmental perspectives in Northern Laos, I used photovoice. The purpose was threefold: 1) to assess the applicability of photovoice as a qualitative method to understand local perspectives in local settings (that is, as an anthropological method to elicit emic data); 2) to actually understand how local perspectives relate to farmer decision-making; and 3) to assess the method as a

72 For example, there is a non-profit international charity called PhotoVoice.org that works to achieve positive social changes for marginalized groups around the world using this same method. Founded in 1998 by Anna Blackman and Tiffany Fairey, this organization has taken the method out of academia and into the mass media for social advocacy purposes. 188 participatory tool. Also, as part of a collaboratory effort, indicators for future monitoring activities were emically identified73.

This chapter discusses my use of photovoice in Laos, presents my findings, and considers the applicability of this method in relationship to the above purposes. A number of photos are presented, along with narratives from villagers about their lives in Northern

Laos. This chapter gives new meaning to the old saying, ―A picture is worth a thousand words.‖ An outsider, with no prior knowledge of Laos, may read it and gain a more

73 In addition to previously mentioned financial and logistical collaborations, for photovoice workshops I also collaborated with Dr. Brain Belcher from Canada‘s Royal Roads University and his project ―Developing More Effective Methods for Assessing Conservation and Livelihoods Outcomes in Forest Landscapes,‖ supported by the Canadian International Development Agency via the Canada-CGIAR Linkage Fund. The collaboration included financial assistance for workshop supplies, the 22 Nikon Coolpix digital cameras that were borrowed for use and field support by Dr. Belcher. He came to Laos to help launch the first two workshops, discuss future workshop variations and present photovoice at two partner workshops with government personnel. Running photovoice workshops cost more than other methods because modern technologies were utilized; however, through collaboration, cameras did not need to be purchased, which eliminated what would have been a large expense. (The 22 digital cameras that we used in Laos were first used by Dr. Belcher in Canada with First Nations people and then were targeted for later use in Cameroon.) Since none of the research villages have an electrical grid, we purchased a small generator and fuel used to charge the computer, run the projector and power the printer. Eventually we eliminated the projector but the computer and printer were integral to workshop tasks. Other expenses included batteries for the cameras; fuel for the motorbikes that transported equipment to non-roadside villages; and lunches, coffee breaks and a departing baci/dinner for workshop participants. Arranging lunches for large groups in the villages required assistance from the women‘s union, but because many women were participating in the meetings, this was a difficult task. After much discussion it was decided to give participants a lunch stipend instead of preparing lunches; all participants were content with this alternative. The baci/dinner—there were six dinners, one for each of the participating village groups— was a relatively large expense ~ $50 per dinner, due to the necessity of purchasing at least one medium-sized animal for consumption in compliance with local customs. Each village made its own choice of meat, which ranged from pigs, goats, chickens, and dog. Notably, the three villages away from the roadside made bacis with the facilitators as honorees, but the three villages on the roadside did not. This may be due in part to the fact that traveling to non-roadside villages was more difficult, thus a proper sok dee, or good luck farewell, was in order.

189 comprehensive image of rural life in Laos, as presented through the eyes of local villagers.

The Who, What, When, Where and How of Photovoice in Laos

Who Participated

We used photovoice in the six Muang Muay kumban research villages. The number of participants per village varied from 10 to 20 (see Table 5.1 for workshop specifics). We asked an equal number of men and women from different age groups to attend the workshops. Age groups included: ≥ 50 years, 35-50 years, 25-35 years, and ≤

25 years. In addition, we chose three skill categories: traditional healer and/or medicine salesperson; a man whom the village considered a good hunter from the past, before hunting regulations were in place; and the most efficient NTFP collector—a female task.

All villages complied with our requests except for Bouammi due to a miscommunication.

Bouammi villagers still participated in the project regardless. There was no obvious divergence of answers based on age group; therefore, unless pertinent, age is not presented as part of the following narratives.

How: The Workshop Process

At the beginning of each workshop, participants gave verbal to have their photos and words used in future presentations. Ethics about taking photos were discussed with participants, and everyone agreed to get the permission and consent of human subjects before photographing them. 190

A similar process was followed at each of the six workshops. However, since we were assessing the method, we employed variations for each iteration. The main variations are summarized in Table 5.1 and described in more detail in each of the following village discussion sections. We experimented with group size (as previously mentioned, between 10 and 20 participants), time in between discussion rounds, and gender composition. In the end, 89 village farmers took over 7,400 photos.

Table 5.1 Specifics about the Six Photovoice Workshops

Village Dates Number of Number of Number of hours Gender in 2010 Participants Discussion participants were Rounds given to take photos (between discussions) Muang Jan 13- 20 3 4-6 hours mixed Muay 15 Pak Lao Jan 16- 20 3 4-6 hours mixed 18 Don Keo Feb 1-6 12 3 18-36 hours separated Vang Feb 3- 10 4 18-36 hours separated Kham 10 Bouammi March 13 2 4-6 hours separated 5-8 Houay March 14 2 4-6 hours separated Khone 10-12

The first meeting always included both males and females; this was done to avoid repetition of introductions and the camera training. The idea of photos as communication tools was introduced through the use of a photo and the saying, ―A picture is worth a thousand words.‖ Dr. Belcher showed a photo of Canada while I showed a photo of

America. In this way we opened the workshops on a personal note since participants learned information about our lifestyles by viewing these photos. Next, participants 191 viewed a five-minute video presenting findings from a photovoice project in Chaicuriri,

Bolivia (Spira 2008). After the video, we discussed life in Chaicuriri and how much was learned about this area and these people in such a short amount of time. Participants then separated into groups and viewed photos from magazines to understand basic photo skills, such as lighting, perspective, subject placement and texture. However, the photos did not seem to educate participants about photographic technique as much as they did about other cultures and landscapes around the world. That is, participants were more curious about the objects in the photographs then the techniques used to portray the objects. Participants talked about what content they did and did not like in the sample photos. Interestingly, participants did not like environments that contrasted with their forest and riverine environment; for example, a photo of snow and a photo of a desert were received with negative reactions. Lao villagers assumed that people living in these harsh climates would be poor because they couldn‘t grow foods in such environments and they didn‘t have forests or rivers from which to collect foods.

Each participant received a Nikon Coolpix digital camera followed by training on their basic functions. Within this context, participants faced a steep learning curve. We were literally taking people out of their agricultural fields and handing them these small pieces of technologically advanced equipment. Some met the cameras with a sense of exploration and others with a sense of frustration. At most, only one person from each village had ever held a camera in their hands before, let alone learned how to take photos with one. This was a new and exciting experience for all participants. After learning basic functions such as turning the camera on and off, aiming the lens, and where to push to take a picture, respondents were asked to experiment for approximately 15 minutes 192 taking photos around the meeting area. Four facilitators74 offered words of encouragement and assistance as needed. Once every participant had had enough practice and felt comfortable taking a photo, a question task was assigned. Each task involved answering two questions through photos. Types of questions are addressed in the next section.

This introductory workshop took between two and three hours to complete, after which people were sent away to take photos and asked to meet back at a designated time.

Participants had anywhere from four to 36 hours to take photos before re-grouping (refer to Table 5.1 for specifics). At the re-grouping sessions, photos were downloaded from each camera. After viewing all of their photos two to three times, participants selected two photos to share with the group in answer to the assigned question task. Selected photos were placed into a separate computer file. After all participants selected their photos, they were projected onto a screen in random order. Alternatively, photos were printed instead of projected. In either case, participants were asked to stand and discuss each photo as it was shown to the group. Using the photo as an impetus, and in some cases as a clarification tool, participants answered researcher questions through narratives. I wrote down each person‘s response. During some presentations, Dr. Belcher and I asked questions of the individual or entire group that arose when we viewed certain photos. Comments from people in the group were also noted.

74 Sangthong Padsalin, BA, a research assistant and the main translator and I facilitated all six workshops. Dr. Belcher of the Royal Rhodes University, Canada and Bounpheng Chanthalangsy, BA, head of the District Agriculture and Forestry extension office in Muang Muay village assisted us with two and three workshops respectively. Additionally, Khamla an intern from the Muang Muay agricultural extension office assisted with four workshops. Finally, Khamsao from the CIFOR project helped with one workshop and other CIFOR students, staff and researchers were present at the first workshop. 193

Next, after discussing the photos, participants were asked to categorize them.

Using black-and-white printed copies of the photos, participants were asked to tape them onto the wall in self-identified categories. For example, the first person to tape a photo to the wall had to create a title for that category. Each subsequent person either placed his or her photo into the first titled category or created a new category in which to place the photo. Although each individual photographer was asked to categorize his or her own photos, it was a group decision—that is, the group could object to the categorization of a photo, and usually a discussion ensued until it was satisfactorily placed in a category based on a majority decision. The purpose of placing the photos into emically identified categories was to identify specific indicators for future research. Dr. Belcher used the identified indicators to formulate and implement a Participatory Monitoring and

Evaluation process with Vieng Kham District Offices and the research villages; his project is still underway.

Finally, during the last photo-taking session, (refer to Table 5.1 for the number of sessions from each village—It varied from two to four) participants were encouraged to take photos of their families. After downloading the resulting photos, participants selected two photos they wanted to print out. On our next trip to Luang Prabang, we printed color photos of the desired digital files that were then distributed to participants upon our return. These printed photos were instant rewards for workshop participants— peoples‘ face lit up when they physically held the image they had created. The symbolism of this instant benefit must not be downplayed; it was a tangible reward for the participants‘ time and contribution toward a research project. Too often local informants do not receive tangible benefits for the time they devote to outside research 194 endeavors. People were extremely delighted and assumingly will remember the photovoice workshops for years to come.

What: Questions Asked

Although questions were formulated and translated prior to the beginning of the workshops, a process of trial and error ensued. Such a process is expected when working with multiple languages; in our case, Lao, Khmu and English. For example, an original question was: ―Sabp phanya kan tammasadt tee sam kan tee sudt sam lap jaow maan nyang?‖ translated as, ―How do you value your natural resources?‖ However, the term

―natural resources‖ is difficult to translate into the Lao language. My research assistant translated it as sabp phanya kan (literally ―resource‖ or ―raw material‖) tammasadt

(literally ―nature‖); unfortunately, putting these two words together does not connote

―natural resource‖ the same way it does in the English. In an attempt to simplify, we asked, ―What do you value about your lifestyle?‖ Or we asked the same question a different way: ―What would you miss if you went away from your village for five years?‖

On another note, while I created questions in English, they became statements once translated into Lao, as demonstrated below with questions three and seven.

The following is a list of questions we asked at the photovoice workshops.

However, some workshops were short and only included four questions, while longer workshops included up to eight questions. The number of questions varied depending on the amount of time dedicated to each workshop, which was done on purpose to assess the overall process and method (discussed in more detail throughout the chapter). Due to these variations, only the first two questions were asked in every village. 195

1. What do you want to see change in your village in the next five years

(i.e. development)?

2. What do you want to stay the same in your village in the next five years

(i.e. conservation)?

3. What are your traditional beliefs about the land? Translated as ―Hoop

tee seu kwam seua teu giaow gap hed hai hed na,‖ this was literally

translated as, ―The picture that tells beliefs about doing sloping lands

and paddy fields.‖ We were satisfied with this translation because

basically we were asking participants to shoot photos of their lands and

fields that would reflect their traditional beliefs.

4. What are your traditional beliefs and, more generally, about health and

spirits?

5. What would you miss if you left your village for five years?

6. What do you value about your lifestyle?

7. What does good health look like to you, either individually or as village

health? Translated as ―Hoop phap tee bong bawk sukapop kaeng kon

nai ban jaow,‖ this was literally translated as, ―The picture that tells

about the health of the people in your village.‖

8. What are your traditional beliefs about childbirth, both during

pregnancy and after the baby is born?

196

Common Themes

Emerging themes from all six villages are presented in Charts 5.2 and 5.3. Chart

5.2 demonstrates local desires to improve infrastructure, such as schools and roads. It also shows that locals desire more education about livestock health and crop technologies.

Development themes directly relate to the local economy and peoples‘ interest in increasing livelihood status. Chart 5.3 shows that nature75, forests (including bamboo forests), and river eco-zones are the most important conservation topics to locals. The best translation for the word ―conservation,‖ as it was used in our workshops, is ―to sustain,‖ because people in Laos want to ―use,‖ not preserve (implying non-use), their natural resources. Themes presented in both charts demonstrate that participants are cognizant of their reliance on natural resources but also desire modern amenities.

Since the themes presented in Charts 5.2 and 5.3 are common across all six villages, they will only be discussed in detail within the Muang Muay village section. In other words, photos and narrations are organized in a way that presents an image of the villagers‘ lifestyles that would simultaneously avoid repetition. Photos presented from each village are done so with the intent of sharing new information. Thus, common themes should be considered underlying constants for each village. Furthermore, data for

Charts 5.2 and 5.3 are based on respondents‘ answers to the conservation and development discussion rounds only. That is, if people mentioned these topics in response to other questions, it is not reflected in the following charts. However, if a single

75 Nature is an all-encompassing term that in the Lao context refers not only to forests, rivers and wild places, but also to the lands where people practice shifting cultivation because fallow fields return to nature; that is, voluntary wild plant species propagate themselves again. 197 respondent mentioned developing both schools and livestock, their answer was accounted for in each category. Due to this, more than 89 responses are tallied in the following charts.

Chart 5.2 Development Themes By Gender

14

12 Development 10 Responses Men 8 Development 6 Responses Women

4 Number ofResponses Number 2

0

Development Topics

198

Chart 5.3 Conservation Themes By Gender 18 16

14 Conservation 12 Responses Men 10 8 Conservation Responses 6 Women

Number ofResponses Number 4 2 0

Conservation Topics Chart Legend: SB= slash-and-burn, for this category farmers specified compliance with government policies to eliminate slash-and-burn in order to ―save the forests‖. Also, some respondents specified Forest (Pa Mai) or River (Nam) but others used the encompassing term of tamasadt, or nature, which is why I have shown three separate columns for these interconnected themes.

The following two photos represent agriculture and livestock themes for all villages:

199

N. Naw--Pak Lao76

T. Bin--Muang Muay

When and Where: Village Iterations and Discussions

T. Bounpheng, ―I love this village [Muang Muay]. It‘s beautiful. I won‘t live anywhere

else.‖

Muang Muay Village, January 13-15, 2010

76 The N. represents Nong, meaning Ms. or woman; so, for example, this photo was taken by Ms. Naw of the village Pak Lao. The T. represents Tao, meaning Mr. or man, so this adjacent photo was taken by Mr. Bin of the village of Muang Muay. N. and T. are used throughout this chapter to designate gender. 200

Workshops were launched in the most populous village (168 households, 956 people) of Muang Muay (MM). Ten men and 10 women participated in the workshop.

Since this was the first workshop of the series, a number of formalities took place at this workshop only. For example, the District Agriculture and Forestry officer gave a brief opening address to participants. And a number of researchers and staff from the Vientiane office of the Landscapes Mosaics CIFOR Project were present for logistical support and observation of the new technique. There were four main facilitators, mentioned earlier in this chapter. Prior to the meeting, I briefed staff members on how to use the cameras, how to ask questions in a non-biased manner (as much as possible), the process of photovoice, and the purpose of the workshops.

Muang Muay village had 20 participants. This proved to be a large number when it came time to download photos onto the two available notebook computers. After the first discussion round, we attempted to scatter participant arrival times, but this did not eliminate the inevitable long line. Although the facilitators were troubled by the long wait time, participants were not; rather, they enjoyed viewing each other‘s photos.

Though genders were mixed in Muang Muay discussion rounds, men and women self-segregated: the women sat on one side of the room while the men sat on the other.

There wasn‘t a shared respect between the groups, which made conducting the session difficult at times. Men heckled women, telling them to ―stand- up‖ and ―talk louder‖ all the while making mumbled comments to one another. Men also constantly hawked phlegm balls out the meeting hall windows while the women were talking. However, while the men were talking, the women sat quietly and listened (and spit quietly onto the 201 meeting-hall floor). This voluntary physical separation, coupled with male interruptions, exemplified a non-cohesive group dynamic. Men and women did not help one another learn how to use the cameras; instead, individuals approached the facilitators for assistance. This individualistic quality was most apparent in Muang Muay village, perhaps due to its large and mixed ethnic population.

The Social Quality of Uniformity Presents Itself

Many participants gave similar responses to the question tasks. However, some were influenced by others. For example some men who held more clout in the village not only discussed their photos but used the floor to push their viewpoints onto others—who would then follow suit, giving similar responses.

There are a number of factors that contribute to similar responses from participants. First of all, Laos is an authoritarian country with a one-party system; therefore, people do not want to disagree with the rules. Formal education among adults varies from none up to the high school level, and a fifth-grade education is the most common for men where as a third-grade education is the most common for women (see

Table 4.5 in Chapter Four). Higher-educated individuals most commonly serve on committees and travel to meetings regarding various issues. It is at such meetings where people are educated about new natural resource rules and regulations. If an individual is not on a committee and he or she cannot read, that person has two other options for learning information: 1) listening to the radio—not very common; or 2) word of mouth— the most common means. Therefore, when an educated or more powerful person talks during a village meeting, everyone listens. No matter who calls the meeting, it has the 202 potential to double as a forum for educating people about new policies and other current events. Once a powerful individual speaks, others in the crowd will not go against his or her words. The result of such actions (or societal norms) is uniformity. Hence, when outsiders attempt to use participatory methods, the resulting responses are often repetitive.

Researchers can not undermine local politics; we need the approval and acceptance of local leaders to undergo research in their villages. Likewise, local leaders cannot be excluded from participating in or consulting about who will participate in the meetings. Because of this, a certain amount of uniformity in responses is expected and considered when analyzing the results. Even within these societal limitations, however, I am pleased to note that a diverse amount of information was collected reflecting local perceptions about livelihood, practices and the environment.

In an attempt to work around the norm of uniformity, I consistently encouraged participants to talk about different topics. That is, in order to learn as much information as possible, I asked participants to tell me something different from what was already said. In retrospect, this encouragement biased the numbers tallied in Charts 5.2 and 5.3.

For example, in the village of Bouammi, every woman wanted to develop the school but I already knew this, thus participants were encouraged to diversify their responses.

Needless to say, the common themes presented in Charts 5.2 and 5.3 are correct but some categories may have had larger numbers due to the extended conversation. If photovoice results are to be quantified, then a diversity of answers should not be encouraged.

Photo Question-and-Answer Round One: Local Livelihoods

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The first round of photo-taking was a practice round. Participants had approximately four hours to eat lunch and take photos about their lifestyles and livelihood activities. This was a broad topic; however it yielded concrete responses— although some were repetitive with subsequent questions and responses. The following are sample photos and quotes from participants during the first day of photo discussions.

The photographer is the first person quoted in reference to each photo; other responses with a similar theme are listed under the photographer‘s response.

N. Lai—Muang Muay

N. Lai, ―My family has lots of chickens. This is our main job.‖

T. Bin, ―I can eat and sell, they give me many things. I‘ve had chickens for a long time.‖

T. Bounkham, ―I like to have livestock. My cows are not a lot of labor and they can feed themselves.‖

T. Chankham, ―I don‘t have paddy fields. I have pigs; they‘re easy to feed. I feed them cassava.‖

T. Mang, ―I focus on the government plan to plant and have livestock.‖

T. SingKeow, ―[My] main job is having chickens. Buffalo we can get big money for because they‘re big animals.‖ 204

N. Dtho, ―I like livestock because they‘re food and we can sell.‖

N. Pheeng, ―I‘m poor. I like fish ponds for food because it doesn‘t cost money to buy [the fish].‖

Two other people mentioned fish ponds. Although people desire fish ponds, at the time of research only a few households had them.

T. Aphaivan—Muang Muay

T. Aphaivan, ―I try to stop doing sloping lands and only do gardens. Paddies are good to not cut forests.‖

All participants liked this photo. The group said that paddies are beautiful.

Participants also said they like nature because in the forest there are wild animals and

NTFPs to see or eat. They say, ―Our lives rely on nature.‖ Other responses about paddies include:

T. Pawn, ―I do paddies from a long time ago. It‘s our main job.‖

N. Wandee, ―This is my garden--I have no paddies, only gardens. Now the government policy encourages people to not plant in the uplands so I must do a garden to feed myself.‖ 205

N. Duangchan, ―Rice is the main crop for the people.‖

T. Bounpheng, ―My main job is paddies, and I always think about it. I can see the view from the north to the south at my fields.‖

T. Chansamay, ―I don‘t have any paddy land but I like it anyway.‖

Photo Question-and-Answer Round Two: The Value of Natural Resources

The question asked for round two was: ―What do you value most about your natural resources?‖ As discussed previously, this question was simplified after the initial workshop due to the difficulty of translating ―natural resources.‖ In the following responses, one can observe that villagers were not directly answering the research question; this was due in part to the linguistic confusion about the word ―natural resources.‖ However, respondents did not complain that they did not understand the question when it was asked. Instead, as the responses demonstrate, they took the opportunity to voice their development requests. This brings up an important point about development projects in Laos. Recall from Chapter Three that half of the country‘s budget comes from foreign assistance. Within this development-dependent economy, there is a stereotype that all foreign-run projects in Laos are development projects.

Although the Landscapes Mosaics project and my work were research projects, villagers perceived us as development projects, so they were eager to request development assistance from us, even though we tried to clarify that we were not a development project. It is difficult, if not impossible, to break free from development requests; this is why we see villagers‘ responses already pertaining to development before a question 206 about development was asked! Witnessing this reoccurring pattern reinforces my overall premise that people desire change. This constant focus on development by villagers can lead to repetitive responses, which were accounted for during data analysis, as discussed earlier about Charts 5.2 and 5.3.

N. Dtho—Muang Muay

N. Dtho, ―School makes people smart.‖

N. Wandee, ―School is so important for the children and education, but now we only have primary school. In the future we need a secondary school for more education.‖

T. Bounkham, ―The [school] room is small for so many students.‖

N. Pawnkham, ―I want more buildings for the school because some kids have to wait to go to kindergarten because there‘s no room. We need a health station for the kids. It‘s better to have a market for the kids to buy food and things. If we have a market I think people would be more active.‖ 207

T. Apahivan

T. Aphaivan, ―This is traditional medicine. Whenever people are sick we go to collect medicine in the forest to help them.‖ (He photographed eight different medicinal species to show us but only presented this one.)

N. Lang—Muang Muay

N. Lang, ―I like it [weaving] to feed ourselves with money we get.‖ (Ironically this individual does not weave!)

N. Lai, ―I like weaving when I have free time.‖

N. Ven, ―This is my job I‘ve done for a long time and I will do forever; I sell and use.‖ 208

N. Dtho, ―I like weaving; it‘s a job I‘ve done for a long time. I get money to help my

family.‖ This individual has a contract to sell her woven cloths to a merchant in Vieng

Kham town; more than 20 weavers in the village sell to him.

N. Liang N. Liang, ―Teak trees can get money.‖

T. Jangkham, ―Can build houses and sell [teak wood].‖

N. Pawnkham, ―It‘s like the forest because it‘s trees.‖

T. Phone, ―Government policy is to not cut trees, so I plan to plant teak trees.‖

N. Ven

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N. Ven, ―Gold panning is an activity for people here. In the future I don‘t think we should do this because it‘s hard work and some days they get nothing.‖

T. Jankham N. Duangchan

T. Jankham, ―[Kheme or broom grass] is a main income for Muang Muay village. Every plant in the picture is kheme. It‘s easy to plant or collect from the forest. [In] one year, one to two million kip ($117 to $235)—we usually can get this much money.‖

N. Duangchan, ―I like this because cassava we can eat and feed to animals, and kheme we get money for. Cassava is easy to care for, only weed when young. We can use for snacks, too.‖

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T. Bin

T. Bin, ―I think a lot of wildlife live there [amid the environment in this photo], and we should keep the forest like this. If only small trees, it‘s not so good. What we have to do is not cut the trees to keep a good environment…. I think the district should come help about this situation, to encourage the people.‖

T. Khamphone, ―I like the forest and mountains because they have many things: bamboo worms, deer, kheme, pueak mueak, etc. It‘s better to keep the forest and it helps the river.‖

N. Dtho, ―If we have forest, we won‘t face a bad situation. We can encourage people to keep the forest all the time. I think in the future the forest will decrease. It‘s not good to not have the forest. We need it for future generations to see.‖

N. Pawnkham, ―It‘s sad; there used to be big trees and big fish, and now there aren‘t.‖

T. Mang, ―A long time ago, we had big trees and more forest, so I think the next generation may not have forest, but we don‘t know how to solve this problem. If the district or province can help it would be good. If we keep cutting, we won‘t even have a bad forest.‖ 211

N. Pheeng, ―If we have good forest we can find animals forever. And the forest keeps water so we can have it in the future.‖

T. Jankham, ―The river is so important because we can‘t live without water and we can get fish and many other things from the river. The water is clean with lots of fish.‖

Photo Question-and-Answer Round Three: Conservation and Development

Round three included three questions. (And this was the only round out of all the villages that included three questions.) Questions were prefaced with the hypothetical suggestion: ―If you went to the USA with Michelle for five years,‖ then

1. What would you miss?

2. What would you want to stay the same (i.e.: conservation)?

3. What would you want to be different (i.e.: development)?

T. Phone 212

The photo is a close-up of a weir and electric turbine placed on the Nam Kap

River (a tributary of the larger Nam Seuang River that runs through several of the research villages). Households that can afford these supplies (which cost approximately one million kip, or $117.66) will dam up the river as shown here because the resulting electricity can be used in their houses to power light bulbs and, in wealthy households, a

TV and/or a radio. Upon further discussion, people commented that if the electrical grid comes to the village, they will pay—as much as up to two million kip ($235.29)—to connect it to their homes.

T. Phone, ―We shouldn‘t have electricity from only the river, and we should have it different because many people die from this [the dam]—when they fix it, they die and

[there‘s] no electricity in the rainy season because the water is too high.‖ ( I assume they die from electrocution but this was not clarified in the response and I did not witness anyone dying due to this during my fieldwork).

N. Pawnkham explained, ―We call it ‗tear electricity‘ because sometimes we don‘t have it so we cry.‖

T. Bounkham, ―I don‘t like the electricity coming from the river. It‘s difficult to run electricity because the water gets too high. We have to go back and fix it, and no time to sleep, and some people die.‖

T. Pawn interjected, ―We have no choice. We have to use this electricity even though it‘s hard.

213

N. Pheeng T. Bin

In the future people also want nice houses and they don‘t want to see dry lands.

They want a project that will help pay for and install large irrigation pipes so they can grow rice in the paddy fields year-round. Cement houses are becoming more common throughout the country (note the above left photo, made of cement). People complain that traditional bamboo houses are ―poor and dirty,‖ and they don‘t want to see them in the future. Furthermore, all 20 participants stated a variation on the theme that they would miss their hometown (ban gudt) and their families (kop kua), the forest (pa mai) and mountains (phu), i.e. the environment they get their foods from. People commented that they wanted to keep the forests but they also wanted them improved with ―bigger trees.‖

214

N. Lan

N. Lan, ―In the future I want to keep the market to sell and buy [things]. I expect it to be more developed.‖

N. Lai, ―I like this [trucks on the road] and want to see more—and a big road in the future.‖

N. Dtho, ―I want to see market, cars and electricity.‖

N. Tun, ―I want to see cars, hospital, electricity, school—I don‘t want my children to go far away to study; I want them to stay close.‖

N. Duangchan, ―I want to see more cars in the future and more civilization.‖

T. Jankham, ―I want to see a big market with many products in the future.‖

T. Chansamay, ―I expect to have a big bus in the village, but I think it‘s impossible. It won‘t happen during my generation.‖

N. Pawnkham, ―I want to see every house with a store and car and to send every kid to school. If we want to go somewhere, we can take the car anywhere and have a good road to go, and have a beautiful school for the future of the kids.‖ 215

Photo Categories

After three rounds of questions and photo narratives, black-and-white photos were printed out and given to their respective photographers. Next, respondents were asked to sort their photos into categories based on their own criteria. This proved to be an abstract idea in need of creative translation and examples; that is, 20 people, each with six photos and not understanding or knowing where to place them, proved to be a chaotic and unmanageable situation. After numerous attempts, we decided that four participants would stay with the facilitators to discuss categories and photo placement. Facilitators decided that for the following five workshops, photos needed to be placed into categories directly after each group discussion of the photos.

In the end, 137 photos were discussed and sorted into the following 16 categories:

1. Home/house/village 2. Electricity we don‘t like 3. We want clean water 4. Nature that‘s not good, i.e. bad soil, small trees, etc. 5. W don‘t want to be poor 6. Good nature 7. We don‘t like the bamboo house 8. Production area 9. Irrigation 10. Expectations, for school or education, vehicles, beautiful houses 11. Paddy fields 12. Fish ponds 13. Livestock and the foods they eat 14. Family 15. The market 16. Weaving

Pak Lao Village, January 16-18, 2010

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In the village of Pak Lao, we followed a similar system of facilitation as described for Muang Muay. There were 20 participants—10 men and 10 women. Males and females convened in the same room during the photo narrative sessions; however, the social dynamics differed from Muang Muay. Pak Lao is a smaller village, away from the roadside, and interactions between participants demonstrated a tight-knit community.

Men did not heckle women or make remarks while women were speaking. Mutual respect occurred between the sexes. During the camera-training session, people who easily understood how to use the camera voluntarily helped those who were struggling, thus a sense of group cohesion was exemplified.

Aggregation of Three Photo Rounds

Participants in Pak Lao mentioned the importance of forest and Non-Timber

Forest Products (NTFPs) more than people in Muang Muay. No one specifically mentioned markets, but participants did want vehicles to get sick children out of the village and because they believe the car represents modernity. One of the most mentioned topics was the road--or the lack of a permanent road. Residents desire a year-round road; they link road development with livelihood development. The participants in Pak Lao followed the same order of questions as those in Muang Muay village. That is, they were asked to take pictures about their livelihoods for the first round; what they would miss and what they value for the second round; and what they want to conserve and develop for the third round. After each round of discussion, photos were printed and theme mapped into villager-determined categories. The following photos and narrations represent answers for the series of three questions previously mentioned.

217

N. Kiang

N. Kiang, ―We need a good road to take the kids to the hospital when they‘re sick. In the rainy season we can‘t do this because the road is difficult.‖

N. Hak, ―We can‘t improve our lives if we don‘t have a road.‖

N. Eingkham, ―The road is the most important [thing] for everyone in this village, district, province and country.‖

N. Naw, ―We are so poor because we don‘t have a good road. Cars can‘t come to buy things here and we can‘t take kids to the hospital fast.‖

N. Tong, ―We need a good road.‖

T. Pom, ―It‘s so important. If we have a road, our lives will be better. The dirt road was made by Chinese people in 1975 to get small rocks from our area to make other roads.‖

T. Viengpawn 218

T. Viengpawn, ―Every village needs to have a good forest like this.‖ About school he said, ―The country‘s development depends on how good the children are today.‖

The above photo shows Pak Lao village; the mountain behind the village has been allocated as a village conservation forest. Behind the photographer, in the distance (not seen in the photo) is where the village boundary meets the Nam-Et Phou Louey National

Park boundary. The closest building in the photo, with the white trim, is the village meeting hall; it was built with the support of an NGO. This is where our workshop was held. It doubles as a school hall.

T. Mum N. Kiang

T. Mum, ―This man is carrying meauk [an NTFP]. This forest is where we can get

NTFPs.‖

N. Kiang, ―I value this because this is the forest where I look for food. And we can get food from the water. I collect food in the forest almost every day.‖

N. See, ―I can collect a lot of NTFPs here, like cardamom and posa [paper mulberry].

Every kip I have is from nature! I used to go gold panning here.‖ 219

N. Kuang, ―I value so much because I can collect many things here [in nature] like

NTFPs to get money by selling. We have no education, so this is the only way we can get money.‖

N. Ken, ―I stayed here since I was little to old. Every place in this picture [referencing a different picture of the mountains] I have been. This is part of my life; nature is a part of my life.‖

N. Naw, ―I will miss the forest where I get food for my family and cardamom and rattan.‖

N. Yeah, ―I will miss the forest because it‘s so important. If I don‘t have money, I go here to collect mueak and posa and other NTFPs or go gold panning.‖

T. Bounthan, ―I collect bamboo shoots, posa and meauk. I love this place the most, more than my wife. I used to live in Vientiane and Savannakhet, but I love this place the most.‖

T. Sijan, [The forest is] ―good for people in Pak Lao, for NTFPs, medicines and building houses.‖

T. Khamdeua (the nai ban of Pak Lao), ―Our life relies on the forest--it‘s the most important [thing]. The protected [forest] area belongs to the province. [It‘s] important because we can have food forever. If we keep this forest we can have wild animals to eat.

Everyone has to help each other to protect this; not one person can do it. It‘s working well; our village is the strictest of all because we share the border with the park.‖

220

N. Kiang

For the third round of discussion, I tried to ask a new question about sacred and special places in their environment. The question was difficult to translate and only one woman responded with a photo. However, once the translation was clarified, other villages offered a plethora of data on this topic.

N. Kiang, ―This is where dead bodies are buried [up on the hill]. People in this village are afraid to enter here to get firewood or anything. We don‘t go, and we don‘t let outsiders go. We always bury our dead.‖ [To Clarify: She has taken the photo from the village, which is a safe distance from the hillside. The fencing is for a vegetable garden along the streamside and has nothing to do with her discussion.]

Photo Categories

Over three days in Pak Lao, a total of 112 photos were discussed and categorized into the following categories:

1. Sacred places 2. Things we miss about our village 3. Nature with water 4. Nature 5. Production (fields and NTFPs) 6. Sanam (field house and agricultural areas) with livestock 7. Village 8. Family and house 221

Groups did not instantly agree about categories and photo placement; in many cases, placement spurred discussion. For example, a photo about agriculture and the forest was put into the nature category. One man said it should be split into a new category, but all the women said ―bo die,‖ or ―it can‘t,‖ because they plant their crops near nature. During a group vote, six people said to split it into a new category but 14 said to keep it in the nature category. When asked why agriculture is part of nature, participants explained that there are two types of nature: one they can use (to plant their crops on) and one they can‘t (protected areas). Some agricultural photos were put into the nature category while others were put into a production category. Photos of crops, which require a rotation of land, were typically put into the nature category since lands are allowed to go fallow and thus return to nature, if only for a short time. Contrarily, production crops are more permanent crops and alter the landscape for long periods of time (such as 20-year-old teak plantations), so photos of production crops would typically be placed into the production category. Finally, a picture about the river, fish and nature was put into a new category titled ―Nature with water.‖ Category titles and photo placement demonstrates that villagers in Pak Lao view their world as having more than one kind of nature and more than one kind of agricultural land. The distinction between these categories is not surprising since they collect and cultivate different types of foods in different types of landscapes.

Don Keo Village, February 1-6, 2010

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A number of workshop changes were implemented in Don Keo. They are presented in the following list. Most of these changes remained constant for the next workshops with the exceptions of the number of participants and time in between discussions. That is, we continued to experiment with group size and the amount of time allowed between discussion rounds.

1. Group size was lessened to 12 participants, with an equal number of males

and females.

2. Genders were separated for photo narrative discussions.

3. The amount of time allowed for taking photos was increased, to 36 hours.

4. Facilitators changed; Dr. Brian Belcher returned to Canada, and Khamla

Phomvysai, an intern from the agricultural extension office in Muang Muay,

was added.

5. Only one notebook computer was used from this workshop onward.

6. Use of the projector was abandoned; instead, photos were printed and

discussed by holding them up instead of projecting them.

7. Photos were placed into categories as soon as the photographer finished

talking about them (instead of after all participants had discussed their

photos).

8. New questions were added.

In Don Keo, we met with the group of 12 on the first day to introduce the workshop and conduct camera training. We assigned two questions and met back the next day in separate groups to discuss photo narratives and categorize the photos. At the end 223 of the second day, two men were trained on how to change camera batteries and given extra batteries. On the third day, researchers did not report to the village. People had 36 hours to go about their daily tasks and take photos. Staggering the meeting days did not have a direct correlation on the number of photos taken; that is, more hours to take photos did not result in more photos and, rather, it had an opposite effect. For example, after 36 hours, one woman had only four photos, while another had only seven. Perhaps having a day off in between meetings caused people to go about their daily chores, forgetting about workshop tasks. For example, the woman with only four photos went to the district town, a one-hour drive down the mountain, to attend to other responsibilities. It is unclear why people had fewer photos when more time was allotted to take them. When compared to the other five villages, in general, Don Keo participants took fewer photos. This may be due to a lack of explicitness from the facilitators about taking as many photos as one deemed fit, or it may just be that this village is more conservative with its use of resources. (While this may seem far-fetched, the following photo discussions demonstrate that this village lacks water in the dry season. Therefore, they must conserve their water resources. And it is possible this conservation ethic has overflowed into other aspects of their lives, including the quantity of photographs they were willing to take.)

In total, we had four meetings with both the women and men in Don Keo. Men and women reported back at different times. Since only six people needed to download photos onto the computer per session, the wait period was minimal. However, smaller groups did not remove the aspect of influence. This was especially observed with the women‘s group. Some women acted shy and uncertain. Thus, the more empowered and educated women in the group tended to coach their bashful counterparts. Such coaching 224 was not apparent in the men‘s group, however; shyness is not a cultural trait witnessed among peer groups of adult men in Laos (shyness may be witnessed among male groups when people of higher status are present, such as district, provincial or national staff— that is, when the group is no longer all peers).

Another change listed above was the elimination of the projector. Instead of projecting the chosen photos onto a screen, we printed the photos and gave the copies to each photographer. They held up their printed photos to show the group during their narration. After narrating, they then selected an existing category or created a new one in which to place their photos. This was a more efficient use of time and logistically easier; it was no longer necessary to hang a white sheet on the wall or power the projector on a daily basis, and there was not a large group of people trying to categorize their photos at the same time. Instead, participants categorized their photos one by one, directly after speaking, and with the full attention of the group.

Photo Question-and-Answer Round One: Conservation and Development

During the first day in Don Keo, we asked participants the conservation and development questions. The following photos and narrations demonstrate specific concerns and the environmental situation in this village. 225

N. Suk

N. Suk, (she has a suan mak nadt or pineapple garden), ―In the future I want to sell pineapples but now I don‘t have enough to sell. I do sell and eat some now, but I want more.‖

N. Chan, ―In the future I want more plants in my garden.‖

T. Siengkaow, ―I want it [the kitchen garden] to stay the same. If no garden, nothing to eat. It‘s so important to have food.‖

T. Somchan, ―This is pineapple. We plant in a natural way—not high technology. [I] want to see more in the future.‖

N. Phong

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Don Keo is the only research village that keeps goats as a livestock investment.

Six respondents discussed the need to develop livestock; three (or 25%) specifically talked about goats, saying something similar to the following:

N. Phong, ―Now not enough money to buy more goats, but I want them to reproduce for the future.‖

The cement square structure in the photo on the right is a water-holding tank. The

European Union sponsored its construction in 2003.

T. Somchan T. Thongbai

T. Somchan, ―We don‘t have enough water. I want this to change in the future; every dry season, no water.‖

T. Thongbai, ―[During] the fourth and fifth months, the water spout dries up. My opinion is this is a priority—we need this to change.‖

T. Oonkham, ―There‘s not enough water, but I don‘t know how to change it.‖

N. Suk, ―I want to keep the forest the same, with many trees; if people cut trees then we won‘t have water. The river is one hour away. We don‘t use it. [We] have five water spouts here but not enough water (te wa nam bo poh). During the dry season we use tanks to keep water. At night we can use. Sometimes at 4 p.m. we can take water from the tank, until 7 a.m. But in the very dry season, April and May, people have to take water from 227 the river, one hour away. All the water [in the tank] comes from a small spring three kilometers away and it‘s piped to the spouts. In the dry season, we only have water to drink, not bathe!‖

Don Keo has a cement school building that was sponsored by an NGO some years ago. However, one woman said she wanted a ―better school.‖ I inquired whether she specifically wanted a better school building or rather a higher quality of education for the children. Her response was that she was most interested in the aesthetics of the school building itself. Simply put, she wanted the building to ―look nice.‖ A nice-looking school building was not linked to, nor did it have any symbolic meaning about, the quality of education occurring within it.

Photo Question-and-Answer Round Two: Traditional Land Beliefs

The questions asked on day two were:

1. What are your traditional beliefs about the land?

2. What would you miss if you left your village for five years?

Khamla, our Khmu translator and assistant from the agricultural extension station, helped us work on a better translation for the traditional beliefs question, which yielded a plethora of new information! Because we collected so much information about this topic, for the sake of clarity, I will first summarize the beliefs and then present the photos.

There is the belief that all land is owned by spirits, or phi. In order to use certain pieces of land for various human purposes, the phi must first give their permission. In the case of planting crops, a three-step process is followed. The first step is Ba, whereby people pray or ask permission at a designated place; in Don Keo, this step takes place 228 near a large tree. The second step, boun mai tan hai, occurs in the field or forest. People bring a sharpening stone and a knife to the forest. Once they are in the forest, at the section of land they want to slash, they sharpen the knife to show the spirits their intentions. At this same spot, they build a fire and burn three chilis and one stick lac77 insect. Then they slash a small area and construct a taleo78 (bamboo star) or cut pieces of bark off a tree and put bamboo in it as a way to show others that someone has already asked the spirits permission to plant on this designated plot of land. Afterwards, they must wait at least a day for the spirits to answer them. If the spirits say no, the response it comes through an omen, such as seeing a deer, hearing a monkey, or through the presence of an uncommon sight or sound. The answer may also come in a dream. For example, if a person has a bad dream about killing an animal, even a domestic animal, then the spirits have refused the request and the person must look elsewhere. However, if none of these things happen, then the family may plant on the requested area. The family always goes back the day after asking permission to begin clearing the land.

The third and final step is the busa, or blessing. This involves feeding the spirits or sacrificing a small domestic animal such as a chicken or small pig. The sacrifice must take place at a designated tree and serves three purposes: first, it protects the cleared field so that wild animals do not enter; second, it blesses the crops and helps ensure a good harvest; and third, it protects the people working in the field from sickness. If the spirits follow through and grant the three blessings then, after harvest, people will sacrifice a pig

77 Stick lac is the common name for Laccifer lacca, an insect that creates a sticky substance used as a natural adhesive and dye. 78 Respondents suggest that local people have many names for taleo; however, I will simply use the term taleo in order to avoid confusion. A taleo signifies more than what is described here. For example, it may be placed outside a home where someone lies sick to keep the nature spirits away. 229 to thank the spirits. However, if people don‘t get a good harvest, indicating the spirits did not follow through, then only a small chicken is sacrificed.

Step One: Asking permission at a designated tree. Photos by T. Veesigh and T. Somchan

Step Two: Sharpening the knife, building the fire and slashing a few plants. Photos by N. Dee and N. Lai

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Step Two (continued): Designating the area with a taleo or bark cutting. Photos by T. Thongbai and N. Lai

Step Three: Asking for blessings and giving thanks at the designated sacrificial tree.

Photo by T. Thongsoon

In addition to beliefs about planting, there are beliefs about building and blessing new homes. If a person wants to build a new home, he must first take a lit candle and go to the land where he wants to build and ask the spirits‘ permission. The same omens as mentioned above will give the answer. After a home is built, a baci is held to bless the home. However, the women of Don Keo explained that a certain process must be 231

N. Nong followed. First, a ―good date‖ must be chosen; they did not explain how this is decided but did mention that they use their traditional Khmu calendar, which has 10-day weeks.

(A ―good day‖ is most likely derived from the traditional calendar explained in the upcoming Bouammi section). Next, an elder enters the house and chants blessings. While this is happening, the owner of the house enters carrying rice and salt. These two things must be brought into the house first—only after may other belongings be brought in.

Then people may enter the house in preparation for the baci. The owner must be the first person to put money in the bowl on the soul tray, after which other people put money in the bowl to help support the family in their new home. If the house is not blessed, locals believe that the owners will get poor and sick; this is why they must ask the spirits to bless the new house.

Men said that spirits live in certain caves, particularly one about an hour‘s walk from the village. People do not slash around the cave for fear of the spirit. Hunters and others have reported hearing voices and drumming coming from the cave when walking nearby. The caves are the noisiest around ―Buddhist Days79‖—the period during full

79 Although villagers are not Buddhists, they know that Buddhism is the national religion. They referenced the periods of the full moon and no-moon as Buddhist Days. 232 moons and no moons. Some people are afraid of the noises but others aren‘t because they‘ve heard them many times. There is another sacred area of ―stones that look like a house‖ (petrified wood?), which is a four- to five-hour walk from the village. The local men say it was built by Kon Jueang, an ancient Khmu creator who existed before Fa

Ngum (recall the myth of Jueang from Chapter Two). The discussion of Jueang implies cultural saliency about origin stories and mythological creators.

N. Suk

The women reported that spirits live in the mud. People will not plant fields or collect foods near mud holes. When I asked them how they knew that spirits lived in the mud, they said that people who have thrown rocks or sticks into the mud have gotten sick either with headaches, earaches or toothaches. Likewise, the men suggested that people cannot enter the spirit-cave because they will get a headache (kaow bo die jeb hua).

Water buffaloes and other animals wallow in mud holes, but they wouldn‘t go behind them in the trees, because even the animals know spirits live there.

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T. Thongsoon N. Phong. Storefront and village houses

In addition to the common responses that people would miss their home, family, and overall lifestyle, T. Thongsoon included blacksmithing. He stated, ―I will miss my house and everything in it: the knives, firewood, mosquito net, etc.‖

It is acceptable to come to meetings after drinking alcoholic beverages. For day- two discussions, the men met us in the afternoon. Prior to our meeting, many of them had been drinking at a village celebration. Although they weren‘t staggering drunk, they were in the beginning stages of intoxication. However, they were not unruly so it was not a problem. My point is that this kind of behavior is a cultural norm in Laos. It is acceptable to partake in libations at any point in time, including during work hours. I have witnessed this cultural behavior in numerous settings both in the countryside and in towns80.

Photo Question-and-Answer Round Three: Health and Values

The questions asked on day three included:

1. What do you value about your lifestyle?

80 On numerous occasions, I noticed that when the electricity was shut down in town and government staff didn‘t want to leave their offices-- in case the electricity came back on—to occupy themselves, they would buy a crate of beer and stand around outside and play the game pa tong (similar to bocce ball). Also, on many occasions in the villages, the government staff person accompanying us into the field would often ―disappear‖ in the middle of the day, to partake in libations. 234

2. What does good health look like to you (either individual or village health)?

Responses to the second question were influenced by the visiting nursing students. During the month of February, the nursing school in Luang Prabang sent more than 50 students to live and gain hands-on experience in 12 villages in the Vieng Kham

District. The three research villages along National Route One were part of the included

12.

We met many of the students and their teachers (they all desperately missed having cell phone access and electricity and complained they were homesick for their town amenities). In Muang Muay village, there were students living in the houses next to ours, so we talked to them on a daily basis. They conducted village-wide surveys and reported that the number one killer in these rural villages was diarrhea and/or stomach problems. In the nursing students‘ opinion, these ailments are most likely caused from eating spoiled foods and drinking dirty water, and they afflict young children and old people more than middle-aged persons. The nursing students encouraged villagers in each village to dig garbage pits in various locations throughout the village which was quickly done. People now had a designated place to throw garbage instead of just tossing it on the ground—the common pattern of behavior. The nursing students also went to each school and checked the students for lice and washed the hair of students that were found to have lice. (In Muang Muay, there was only one child out of 300 that did not have lice

The following narrations from Don Keo reflect some of the nursing students‘ ideas. 235

N. Lai N. Phong

N. Lai, ―The skinny boy‘s parents don‘t take good care of him, not enough food, etc. The fat girl has a lot of food to eat. Rich families‘ kids have more food and they‘re more healthy than poor kids.‖

N. Phong, ―This [photo] is about health because if this lady isn‘t healthy, she can‘t carry heavy things like this. A clean place to live, clean food to eat and clean water to drink makes someone healthy. Clean food is food that hasn‘t spoiled yet; clean water is boiled water; and a clean place to live means sleeping under the mosquito net.‖

The men‘s group featured a number of photos about a shamanic curing ceremony that had happened in the village the night before. Interestingly, none of them picked these photos as pertaining to health, and when I questioned them about this, they said they did

not think the ceremony was about health, but more about their traditional beliefs. 236

N. Suk 237

N. Suk, ―This is about the lifestyle of our people in this village. The water, mountains and nature are most valuable because our lives rely on nature. Also, we can collect NTFPs and food from the forest.‖ (The women pictured here have traveled together to collect bags of bitter bamboo and are returning home.)

T. Thongbai [about a photo of mountains], ―This is valuable to our village because we live near the mountains and our main job is hed hai, phuk fang le liang sadt, or dry rice cultivation on sloping lands, planting crops and livestock. All are foods for the family.

The mountains and land where we plant are important and because mountains keep the water.‖

Photo Categories

Three discussion rounds in Don Keo generated 72 photos. Since men and women were separated for discussion rounds, each group created its own categories, presented in

Table 5.4. And although the groups were separated, their photo categories hung on opposite walls in the same meeting hall. The men, in particular the village chief, looked at the women‘s categories and suggested that the men should try to categorize their photos in a similar pattern. Even though the titles of the categories were only written in my notebook, he tried to guess the meaning of each category. This action further demonstrates the characteristic uniformity discussed earlier. Surprisingly, in this situation, it was a person of high authority wanting to conform to the women‘s group.

Looking at the table below, it is noticeable that both the men and the women did create similar categories. According to cognitive anthropology, similarity of categories and responses demonstrates cultural saliency.

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Table 5.4 Don Keo Photo Categories

Men Women Dry water Need for human beings ( i.e.: water) Livestock Livestock What we miss Things we will miss About health Strong health Beliefs 1st step Beliefs about planting Beliefs 2nd step Khmu traditions Beliefs last step Places we respect ( i.e.: about spirits) Production area Production area Mountains and forest Nature Feeding fish Development Importance of place we live Good for people in the countryside (i.e.: firewood etc.) No disease Poor health

Vang Kham Village, February 3-10, 2010

Photovoice workshops ran simultaneously in Vang Kham and Don Keo. This was possible because both villages reside on the roadside. Due to accessibility, we experimented on the time allocated between meetings. After introducing each workshop, we attempted to return to each village on an every-other-day schedule. In total, we met with Vang Kham participants five times—the most meetings we had in any of the six villages. Originally we were to meet on February 9th and then again on the 11th, but during discussions on the 9th all were in agreement to end the workshop on the 10th instead of the 11th. Even though the last round of photo taking was shortened, participants said they liked having the day off between meetings. Tao Sienthong stated, ―When we have the time, we can still do our daily chores, so it‘s better for us. If only a short time [in between], we have to choose to do our work or to go to the meeting.‖ When asked if they wanted more time, perhaps two days in between meetings, they said no—that was too

239 long and they would forget the questions. They also did not want more than two questions per outing. One man stated, ―Even two questions is hard; you shouldn‘t add more! One question might be better than two; like we see [in the narratives], many people mix them together and answer only one!‖ Lastly, when asked their thoughts on gender separation during the sessions, the men all agreed with Tao Sienthong‘s statement that,

―[It‘s] better to separate the women and the men because the women will just follow the men if together and they‘re [the women are] noisy!‖ This proved to be an accurate statement; the women‘s group in this village had a tendency to get distracted and off- topic easily. Because it was such an intimate group—five women—they felt at ease to gossip and talk about other issues. This made our job more difficult because, as facilitators, we had to keep refocusing the women on the tasks at hand. The women were much louder and jovial than the men‘s group, often laughing and cracking jokes. So, while there were only five men and five women per photo discussion, we did not shave time off the meeting; however, the open atmosphere did allow me to ask more questions and probe for more information.

On the first day of photo narratives the women discussed how ―stupid‖ (bo sa:at) they were and their fear of giving ―wrong‖ (pit) answers. They expressed the feeling that they did not know the ―right‖ answers to the questions and doubted what they wanted to say. We told them that there were no ―right‖ answers. We only wanted to know what they thought, what their opinions were about their own lifestyles. However, opinion was an abstract concept. Given the lack of education and of uniformity, it is understandable why the women would talk like this about themselves. This may have been the first time these women‘s opinions had ever been asked within the context of a

240 semi-formal meeting. At first, it was a frightening situation for them, but they warmed up to it with encouragement from the facilitators. By the end of the eight-day workshop, the women were no longer talking about their answers in a negative way. Instead, they came to believe, as we did that they hold a plethora of knowledge about survival within their environments. This information-sharing process, coupled with learning a new skill about a modern technology, empowered these women. Their confidence as a group in responding to the questions greatly increased from day one to day eight.

Photo Question-and-Answer Round One: Conservation and Development

The first round of discussion addressed the development and conservation questions. In addition to common trends, people particularly liked shooting photos of the water tanks and water spouts (also supported in this village by the in

2003). They commented that they wanted to keep these because they‘re convenient. Two new topics discussed included the need for land-use planning and the desire to have more rice mills. Vang Kham borders five other villages, and one of the issues being dealt was the problem of livestock from other villages grazing on their agricultural fields. Vang

Kham villagers reported the problem to the head of kumban but nothing had happened.

At the time of our meeting, they had requested that district or provincial officials come and delineate village borders. Although boundaries had been drawn in the past, participants suggested that people don‘t follow them because they weren‘t created by people in positions of high authority. Thus, participants thought that borders needed to be re-drawn by government officials in order to be respected by all villages.

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The desire to have more rice mills is discussed in the narrative below.

T. Khamsuk

T. Khamsuk (nai ban), ―I want this to change because it‘s hard work. I want to change to the milling machine. Now it takes three hours to mill the rice this way.‖

Upon further inquiry we learned that the village already has three or four rice mills, but they‘re expensive to use. For example, 30 kilograms of non-husked rice yields

15 kilograms of husked rice. From these 15 kilograms, people must pay the mill owner two kilograms or 6,000 kip (71¢). Respondents say that the mill owner‘s payoff is too expensive, reasoning that one liter of diesel fuel costs 9,000 kip ($1.06) and can husk 100 kg of rice.

Photo Question-and-Answer Round Two: Traditional Beliefs

The round two discussion asked:

1. What are your traditional beliefs about the land?

2. What are your traditional beliefs, and more generally about health and spirits?

This round of discussion yielded an assortment of new information, as it did in the previous village. Many participants talked about bacis and their variations. However,

242 many used similar photos from a baci that took place the previous evening. Therefore, the single photo below represents a number of responses. Most respondents first explained what needed to be on the tray. As pictured below, it includes the traditional items discussed in Chapter Four (sticky rice, a sacrificial animal, money, candles, white strings and local whiskey). This photo also includes the non-traditional item of Beer Lao and shows the honoree getting white strings tied to her wrist. Since I have already explained the necessary items and baci process in Chapter Four, I will not quote each narrative regarding the items. I will only quote new information.

N. Phan

N. Phan, after doing a baci for the bride and groom, ―…The bride and groom go to the bedroom and lay on the bed. The head of the women‘s union puts a blanket on them.

They have to look at each others‘ faces for as long as they can (all the women in the meeting are laughing at this comment). After this, they can go to eat and dance with everyone.‖

T. Poh Boun, ―…. The most important item is the chicken or pig. If a chicken, we tie the fingernail of the chicken on the wrist of the person who the blessing is for. If they have

243 more money, they use a pig. They put a small part of the tail of the pig on the wrist. It‘s important because it shows the soul of the person that they are getting the chicken or pig, and then the soul is happy.‖

T. Janthong, ―[referencing a different ceremony then the previous respondents] this is the ceremony about eating new rice—one person can do or many people can join. In the morning, people go to cut some rice, then come home and steam it with the husk on.

Then they dry it in the sunshine, then husk by hand or machine. They use this to put on the tray with some snacks and flowers, etc. to show they‘re happy to have new rice…

They have to do all this in one day. When they put these on the tray, then many people come... This shows the ancestors they are blessing us by letting us have rice now. This also shows nature spirits [that] our ancestors are blessing us. We do this before we harvest. We…use the rice [variety] that grows the fastest [for this ceremony]… All have to plant a little bit of black rice for Boun Podt Phi; they have to use black rice for this ceremony.‖

T. Sienthong, ―Before we destroy the old house to make a new house, the day before we bring lao hai and talk with the ancestors and apologize about destroying the house. Then people drink together. Then, when they complete the new house, they do huean mai [the new house celebration].‖

Respondents believe that the ancestors‘ spirits always remain in the house and that the spirits can always see the living. They must honor these ancestors with the above- mentioned ceremonies and show respect by not working on the day of someone‘s death.

For example, if a parent dies on Saturday, then the living relatives cannot clean the house

244 or ―throw water away from the pot‖ on any other Saturday thereafter (T. Somboon). Only the first-born has to honor this tradition. Since the Khmu calendar has a 10-day week, it means abstaining from house work once every ten days.

N. Yuan

N. Yuan, ―Boun Podt Phi is important because if we don‘t do it, and we cook rice or potatoes [or other foods], we will get sick and sometimes die. We can‘t do anything, like sloping lands agriculture or weddings, etc. until we do Podt Phi.‖

T. Somboon, ―Boun Podt Phi—every year, every household needs to do this. They put rice… and sweet potatoes [on the tray]. They hang bamboo from the roof to the floor and put the tray in the middle of the house, then they tie flowers on the bamboo. The purpose of the bamboo is to connect the tray with the ancestors. Usually we do this after harvest.

The ancestors expect to get something from us after harvest so we do this to show respect. If we don‘t do this, a person or animal in the family will get sick.‖

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N. Nyaeng N. Janpheng

N. Nyaeng, ―This is about beliefs in looking for food, whether for NTFPs or food [from the forest], etc. If the leg of the right side accidentally trips or catches [en route to looking for food] then they can‘t go—it‘s bad luck. If it happens on the left side, it‘s not a problem.‖

N. Nyaeng, a merchant, says that if this happens when she goes to buy or sell something, it‘s not good. N. Janpheng‘s picture on the right is about the same belief. She stated that this man couldn‘t catch fish if he tripped on his right leg while going to the river.

T. Janthong T. Khamsuk

T. Janthong, ―This is a sacred place; we believe many spirits live here. People can‘t do agriculture here. But if they do it anywhere close, they have to make a small house for the

246 spirits and offer food on some days. On full moons or no moons we hear people crying from this place, like they‘re hurt! Yan tee (very afraid) of this place on Buddhist Days!

The other days we‘re not afraid.‖

T. Khamsuk, ―[This is] nothing about believing, but before we go to work (cut trees, weed, etc.), we have to sharpen the knife.‖

One research assistant, Pheng added, ―The most important thing for their lives are knives.

Every time they leave the house they have to carry the knife.‖

T. Sienthong, ―Before we hunt, trap, catch fish, we can‘t drink [alcohol]. [If we drink alcohol], we will go the whole day without catching anything. Can‘t even drink a little.

Drinking relates to being happy, so if we go to catch and we‘re already happy, we won‘t get anything.‖

N. Yuan N. Suksakhan

N. Yuan, ―This is about eating new rice. We have to enter through this gate to go and come back from the field. This protects so the nature spirits don‘t come to the village with us because they want to eat the rice, too. Anyone can make this gate and say the words to bless it. This [photo] is an example; the real one is more beautiful with flowers

247 and leaves. Only keep for the one [season]. Everyone has to make their own for their field. I don‘t know if they do this for paddy fields.‖

N. Suksakhan, ―This is about the shaman. If someone gets sick and the soul leaves the body, then the shaman can help. Maybe the ancestors or nature spirits took the soul. The shaman does something similar to sue khwan [a baci]. He has a candle, egg, and knife. He talks in a different language no one understands. This means he‘s looking for the soul of the sick person. Then, when he knows where it is, he will negotiate with the spirits that took the soul, e.g., ‗We need to eat three pigs,‘ etc. He keeps negotiating to a fair price.

After agreement, the soul can come back. To be sure the soul will come back, they put an uncooked egg in a bowl of uncooked sticky rice. If the rice sticks to the egg, even if they put in water and the rice stays, [then] this means the soul has come back. Around here, we‘ve never seen a woman shaman. There are only a few [shamans in general].‖

T. Poh Boun T. Khamsuk

T. Poh Boun, ―First we look for land to do dry rice. Then we burn stick lac and chilies.

Then we ask the spirits this way: If we hear a deer or have a bad dream, then we can‘t weed there. We don‘t have to sharpen the knife at the spot—[it‘s] not part of the ritual, it just makes weeding easier. If we use the knife to cut the weeds and it breaks, this is the

248 most serious situation and we have to stop immediately! It does not happen often but it has happened here.‖

N. Phan, ―They do this [split the bamboo]

and put sand in the top; then they curse

this area because they say this is their land

to plant on. So, if someone dishonors this,

then the person will die. If the land doesn‘t

belong to a spirit yet, then another one

[spirit] cannot claim it either because the people have claimed it now. Only some land belongs to spirits, not all of it. Usually spirits stay in the deep forest, far away. I‘ve seen a ghost before with long hair and big teeth. My grandchild died because of the ghost from the forest. She was born at 7 in the morning, and that night, I don‘t know if it was only a shadow or a real dog that came into my house…[well] the house was already locked. The dog smelled the baby. The father saw and tried to push the dog away but it wasn‘t real, it had a long tongue. After the father shooed the dog away, a few hours later the baby died.

We believe it was the ghost that took the baby away. This was over 10 years ago.‖

Photo Question-and-Answer Round Three: Childbirth Traditions and Health

Questions asked for day three in Vang Kham included the following (note that this was the first time question two was asked):

1. What does good health look like to you, either individually or village health?

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2. What are your traditional beliefs about childbirth, both during pregnancy and

after the baby is born?

T. Poh Boun T. Siengthong

T. Poh Boun, ―When my wife‘s pregnant, she doesn‘t work as much as before. She cleans the house and [pounds] sticky rice so she can have some exercise. It‘s not good to be lazy or do nothing. I ask my wife everyday what food she wants because at this time the woman needs to be taken care of. I also prepare for the needs of the baby by buying some clothes and small towels. After eight months, the baby is nearly born, and then all the work is for me. I have to look for good food for her. Duck, chicken, goat and pig are what she can eat now. According to our experience, some fish affect the body badly. I also boil water for her to drink and bathe; this is my main job.‖

The general response is that pregnant women don‘t do hard work. They do work around the house, like getting water, cleaning the house, feeding the small livestock, and preparing meals. However, there is a generational difference about this topic. A 55-year- old woman interjected that she harvested rice when she was eight months pregnant. And she suggested that women still work but they can‘t be expected to do hard work all the

250 time because they tire easily. After the baby is born, most women rest for up to a month; however, one woman stated that she started working after only four or five days‘ of rest, out of necessity. If there are enough laborers in the household, then a 30-day rest period for the mother is traditional, during which time she can sit by the fire and drink hot herbal water.

N. Nyaeng says, ―Drinking the hot water helps get the blood out of the woman. If we drink cold water, we [will] die.‖

N. Suksakhon, ―…after baby is born, they [women] mainly eat vegetables like pak ga, pak nam, pak kudt [chinese cabbage, morning glories and young fern leaves, respectively]. Can eat chicken, duck and some fish. More than one month don‘t work a lot. Can‘t eat cow, buffalo or goat organs, [but can eat the meat] for one year. If we eat, we will get a sore body and get sick and maybe die.‖

N. Yuan, ―Can‘t eat deer meat or bamboo rats after giving birth. Drink the tea made from the roots ya gan you kham to get rid of the blood.‖

T. Khamsuk T. Khamsuk

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T. Khamsuk, ―The baby has to take warm baths and drink only the mother‘s milk for six months. This is about the health of the mom and baby. We have to take good care of the woman and baby because she [the mother] is weak…‖

T. Poh Boun, ―For the first six months, the baby can only eat mother‘s milk. After six months, can eat chicken, fish and rice. When the baby is new I won‘t go away to drink and do things because she [my wife] needs my help and it will make her feel bad—like

I‘m visiting other women—and she will pry on this. I have to listen to my wife and do everything she asks for the first six months. She‘s the big boss (he says this jokingly)!

The woman‘s mind is weak these first six months--that‘s why we have to do what they say! They get upset and angry easily, jie awn!

T. Janthawn, ―I will talk about the mother who has no milk to feed the baby. They take the skin of the tree Mak va and the plant Kua nom ngua. They mix these together and boil in the water. This works 100% of the time; everyone knows about this remedy, it works the best!‖

N. Phan, ―…After you give birth to the baby, 30 days later you do a sue khwan and name the baby. It‘s no problem if we name them sooner, but it is tradition. The first day [the baby is born] the father takes the baby over the fire and says to the nature spirits, ‗If you want to take away the new baby, then take away now, but if you don‘t take today, tomorrow I won‘t let you.‘ They do this in the house. We don‘t know why we do this but it is tradition.‖

N. Nyaeng, ―Usually the husband cuts the umbilical cord with bamboo.‖

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N. Phan, ―We know healthy people can do hard work like get firewood and kheme while carrying the baby. If we‘re not strong, we just sleep and can‘t do these things and stay alone in the house.‖

T. Somboon, ―Eight or nine months after the baby‘s born, my wife can help me with everything but mostly getting food. Women here feed milk until about one year; only the last child gets until two years. This is because women usually have babies every year so they can‘t feed the older child milk after the new one comes.‖

T. Somboon N. Nyaeng

Responses about health include similar ones to Don Keo, that healthy people are strong and can carry heavy things, and that eating clean food and drinking clean water are important to health. Most responses focused on the individual. In a group discussion with the men, I asked what makes a village healthy. They suggested that clean houses, water spouts, toilets, and a school make a village healthy. If people are able to work fast, then they‘re healthy. If there are animals like pigs, cows and buffaloes living in the village around the people, that‘s not a healthy village. The photo below by N. Nyaeng represents these ideas about health.

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Photo Question-and-Answer Round Four: Values

The fourth round of discussion included the questions:

1. What would you miss if you left your village for five years?

2. What do you value about your lifestyle?

Respondents in Vang Kham had similar answers to previous villages. Most expressed how valuable nature is because it‘s where they get their foods and it‘s the basis of their livelihoods. And most would miss their families and hometowns if they left for five years. N. Phan, a 55-year-old woman, had a unique way to express these ideas; she stated, ―If I went to Vientiane, I would miss the forest because it has a lot of cardamom, bamboo, rattan and banana flowers. I can look for these and sell them to make money. If

[I was] in Vientiane, I don‘t know how to look for money, but here I can look for these things.‖ She continued, ―I value [nature and trees] because there are a lot of NTFPs and a lot of wild animals. There are big trees, and we can eat their fruits, and birds come to the big trees. We can hear them singing—this is very good! The nok tan nee sound is very good, ‗ gong jah’!‖ N. Phan was only the second person out of four villages that verbally expressed liking nature for itself, instead of for what it provides.

Photo Categories

A total of 80 photos were discussed and categorized in Vang Kham. Table 5.5 shows the categories created by the men‘s and women‘s groups. For the women,

―development needs‖ were about them wanting to get rich but ―development about the school‖ was about children, not wealth. Traditional beliefs were separated into ―culture‖

254 and ―beliefs‖ categories. Photos of a wedding and ancestor ceremonies were placed in the culture category. Photos about agricultural beliefs, such as asking the spirits to designate a piece of land and walking through the gate with new rice, were put into the ―beliefs‖ category. A similar trend was found with the men‘s categories; photos that expressed traditional beliefs but did not pertain to the agricultural cycle were put into the ―culture‖ category.

Table 5.5 Photo Categories, Vang Kham

Men Women Convenient things Water spout Beliefs about building a new house Shaman Culture Culture Beliefs about planting Beliefs Value of natural resources Nature Solve problems about being poor Gardens Things we don’t want to see ( i.e.: livestock around village) I want a beautiful house Spirit places Beliefs about looking for food Need more teachers Development needs Missing the hometown Miss families How to take care of the babies’ and mothers’ health Pregnant women Healthy Health Reduce the work of pregnant women Development about the school

Bouammi Village, March 5-8, 2010

This was our fifth workshop, so we were beginning to run them much more efficiently. We encouraged the men‘s and women‘s groups to discuss ideas among themselves, so they did not all come back the next day with the same answers. One man,

Bouatang, took this to heart and organized the men so that each discussed a different point when narrating their photos. In past encounters, Bouatang proved to be a natural leader, and through his organizational assistance, we collected a lot of new information.

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Participants in Bouammi did not feel they needed more than half a day in between photo discussions; therefore, less time was allocated to taking photos. We met a total of three times—once for the introduction and twice for photo discussions. This was the least number of meetings when compared to the previous four villages, yet we gained an equal amount of information. A number of factors played into this efficiency. First, Bouammi is a cohesive village. If individuals were struggling with any task, they asked their fellow villagers for help. Similarly, if one participant got the gist of our questions, then he would share his understanding with the entire group. Participants worked as teams to take photos and present their information. Male and female groups voluntarily organized their own walking field trips to take snapshots of the images they wanted to present. As facilitators, we fine-tuned our question translations and our introductory and discussion presentations.

As much as we tried to be efficient and keep our schedules, occasionally our efforts were derailed. For example, a letter was sent in advance to Bouammi announcing the workshop dates and requesting 14 participants. Nevertheless, the day we arrived, most people were in their fields working. There was a misunderstanding about the letter—participants thought we would arrive during the evening of the first day instead of the morning. Hence, we waited the entire morning for people to convene so that we could start the workshop. This misunderstanding resulted in non-adherence to the previously discussed age categories. Furthermore, we had only 13 participants—seven men and six women. In the end, this was not viewed as a problem since there was little variance between the age groups and we still had a fair representation from each gender. Besides,

256 we also understood that as researchers, we must remain flexible and work within the circumstances that are presented to us.

Photo Question-and-Answer Round One: Conservation and Development

The first round of discussion asked the development and conservation questions.

The two overwhelming responses about development involved getting a better road and a new school. As discussed in Chapter Four, Bouammi is off the roadside and only accessible by a dirt road in the dry season; hence, the desire for a better road. At the time of research, the school was a small bamboo structure81 with a dirt floor that had been made by the villagers (see the photo below by T. Gam). It leaked during the rainy season, causing the floor to get muddy and creating a wet and uncomfortable learning environment. Indeed, of all the villages I had visited, Bouammi had the school in the worst condition. Furthermore, three respondents suggested that nicer houses were needed and one man mentioned the need for a toilet.

T. Gam

81 Since my departure from Laos, a new concrete school house has been built. It was advocated for by my colleague, Amandine Boucard, and supported by an NGO.

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Common responses for conservation were similar to responses in previous villages. Villagers want to keep the amount of livestock they have and continue to raise more. They want to conserve nature, the river and waterfalls. One woman mentioned weaving because she said she makes a lot of money from it, and one man mentioned keeping his teak plantation. A response that conjured up group laughter was by an older woman who photographed a wild fruit tree called Mak Lodt. She said she wanted to keep the tree because it feeds everyone. Although her answer seemed somewhat humorous, it reiterates villagers‘ reliance on nature and its products. (I think the laughter stems from her detailed answer about the tree, and although people enjoy the fruits, they obviously rely on other foods for survival.)

N. Khamkhone T. Bouatang

N. Khamkhone, ―I want this [weaving] to stay the same because it‘s the job of my family.

In one month [I] make 100,000 kip ($12). The investor is from Sop Hueang, [he pays]

10,000 kip for one sinh82.‖

82 A sinh is the traditional hand-woven Lao skirt worn by women, as viewed in many photos presented in this chapter and elsewhere.

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According to the women, it takes about 28 hours to finish one sinh. They also said it‘s impossible to ask for more than 10,000 kip per sinh. However, a new investor had recently come from Vientiane offering to pay 300,000 kip for 20 silk scarves as well as supply the women with silk thread. He returned to the village 30 days later to collect the scarves and pay the women. They said silk thread does not break as often as cotton so it was faster to weave the scarves then the cotton sinhs.

I observed that many houses in the village have more than one loom underneath them. Mothers and daughters weave together or, if there are a number of daughters, they trade off weaving and doing other chores. One woman reported that between her and her

11-year-old daughter, they weave for about 18 hours a day! Several households had placed turbines in the river to power light bulbs so that women and girls could continue to weave after nightfall. Some women allocate the majority of their labor to weaving tasks.

For example, the nai ban’s wife no longer labors in the agricultural field. Instead, she stays around the house and weaves as much as possible.

N. Nan, a 20-year-old participant, has been weaving in Vientiane for eight years

(but was currently in the village because she was sick). She is not the only young woman from the village who has done migrant labor as a weaver; at least two others were mentioned. In Vientiane, she lives at the small factory where she works. It‘s a small business with only 11 looms on the ground level of the owner‘s house. The owners provide N. Nan housing and food and pay her 10,000 kip per item. She can weave about two and a half cloths in a day. She said that all the weavers are young girls from the countryside. As migrant laborers, they can send money home to their parents in the villages. N. Nan loves her job and especially likes living in the city. She expressed that

259 she was bored in the village and couldn‘t wait until she recovered from her illness so she could return to work in the city.

Women in Bouammi have found an income-generating niche with their woven fabrics. They enter into contracts with merchants from bigger towns, and someone representing the merchant is sent to collect the finished products; this is convenient for the local women because they don‘t have to worry about getting their product out of the village on their own. Because the road is impassable most of the year, people in

Bouammi don‘t rely on money from NTFPs, nor are they interested in planting cash crops. It is too difficult to get products to merchants or markets. Income generated from weaving activities makes Bouammi unique among the six research villages. Bouammi residents are only interested in growing subsistence crops for themselves and their livestock. In this way, the cultural activity of weaving affects agricultural decision making (discussed more thoroughly in the upcoming discussion section).

Photo Question-and-Answer Round Two: Traditional Beliefs

Questions asked for day two were:

1. What are your traditional beliefs about the land?

2. What are your traditional beliefs, and more generally about health and spirits?

As previously stated, Bouammi is the only research village composed entirely of

Tai people; previous discussions on traditional beliefs were from Khmu villages.

Answers presented here have some similarities with previous villages but also some noticeable differences.

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N. Veen

N. Veen, ―This [spirit house] represents the ancestors. Sometimes if we get sick we will bring our t-shirt to the shaman and he will find out by using the t-shirt what spirit is causing the sickness. [This is usually only if they believe the sickness is being caused by spirit ancestor and this is usually after they‘ve already gone to a clinic.] ―Usually sicknesses are from the ancestors. Only the husband‘s ancestors live inside people‘s houses. That is why we make these houses for the wife‘s ancestors.‖

T. Titd, ―The oldest child takes care of the parents‘ spirits, (but) only if the eldest is a boy83. Girls only go to ancestral spirits if they get sick and the shaman tells them to go.

The spirits live inside the house.‖

83 The fact that the eldest son must take care of the ancestral spirits and also the belief that that only the husband‘s ancestral spirits reside in a couple‘s house both reflect an origin of patrilineal descent. Scholars suggest that White Tai practice patrilineal descent and a system of semi- primogeniture wherein the eldest son inherits the family house and most possessions, with a few possessions given to each of the subsequent children (Lebar et. al. 1964:225). This is worth mentioning as a follow-up to the ethnicity discussion in Chapter Four; perhaps Bouammi residents are White Tai.

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When the spirit is identified, a chicken is killed and offered to the ancestors‘ spirit house while the person chants and asks forgiveness. After 30 minutes in the forest, the chicken is brought back to the house and eaten by the people.

Every year after harvest a chicken is killed and chanted over to honor the spirits.

N. Suh suggests that a tray is prepared for each deceased relative with chicken and kaowtome, or sticky rice, cooked in a banana leaf, and other snacks. This ritual is called

Boun kaow pa dap dtin.

T. Titd N. Nan

These two photos show the big tree Tone Mai Poh, which literally translates as

―father tree.‖ All participants suggested that this tree is the village temple. Villagers supplicate at the tree, as shown in the right photo. Supplication occurs if someone is sick or a child has gone away as a migrant worker and hasn‘t returned. People carry candles, rice, snacks, and in some cases items of clothing, to the tree and pray. A number of people have recovered from their illnesses and the migrant son eventually returned home, suggesting that miracles can happen with assistance from the father tree‘s spirit.

Additionally, one man and one woman mentioned bacis to cure people and for good luck; their answers yielded no variation from those in previously mentioned villages.

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T. Gam T. Titd

When looking for agricultural land, people go to the land, slash a little, and then ask for a good or bad dream. T. Titd explains, ―[If it‘s a] dream about digging in the ground or building a house, or if someone is wearing a red t-shirt, then it‘s a bad dream.

A good dream is about swimming.‖

If they don‘t have a bad dream, then they can weed the area. They always go back the day after they‘ve asked for the dream. If people want to make sure about the spirits‘ answer, there is an optional second step: They bring a candle and eight small bamboo ties, called a tok, to the land under question. The eight small pieces of bamboo are first tied together in the middle. Then the remaining eight loose ends are tied together, two at a time, until all are tied. Next, they take off the middle tie. If all eight pieces are tied together, creating a circle, this is very good luck and the spirits are happy. Sometimes the circle is tied in the center, making two small circles—this is okay, and people can still plant on the land, but they won‘t get a good yield. If the eight pieces are not joined and four or more are dangling alone, this is bad luck and people won‘t plant on the land in

263 question. N. Khamkhone suggested that every household does this, but the actual tying of the tok is a male job.

Two more traditional beliefs about the landscape included:

N. Gam, ―If a field has mud, we have to make sure the spirits don‘t live there because they like to live in mud. If we do a field there, we will get sick; we have to ask the shaman to help us get better.‖

T. Nin, ―When we weed any place, if there‘s a big tree, we think a spirit lives there.

Before cutting it we have to kill a chicken and ask the spirit to go away, and apologize.‖

Since most families are returning to fallow plots that have not had sufficient time to re-establish large trees, this rarely presents an issue. Elders or shamans who have a connection to the spirit world do not fear spirits in the trees. For example, we joined the elder Bouatang on a walk to his field and I noticed a large tree in the middle of it. He told me he‘s not afraid, the spirit doesn‘t bother him. People have told me that Bouatang is a shaman; however, when I asked him, he denied this. It is possible he is a shaman but perhaps not the most powerful in the region, so he is humble about his abilities. Through observation I recognized that he is a highly respected individual and all villagers voluntarily follow his leadership (i.e.: he does not coerce people to listen to him; they just do so willingly). As mentioned earlier, he organized the men‘s group to give different responses during photo discussions. He was an invaluable key informant, especially about village rituals.

T. Bounyong (nai ban) discussed how people test different rice varieties in their fields before planting. They go to the location where they will build their field hut. At each corner of the future field hut they plant a little of each rice variety they‘re

264 considering planting. (They first choose a good testing time depending on the Lao calendar.) After waiting a week or more, they can see which varieties are growing the best. He suggested that the ones that grow well are the ones the spirits like.

Elder Bouatang, the man in the left photo in the bright red shirt, is explaining ceremony details. Sang, my research assistant, is in the white shirt and blue jeans (Photos by Author).

Many participants discussed the boun kamban ceremony. This occurs after people weed but before they burn their fields. Everyone in the community contributes some chickens, rice and lao lao (homemade rice whiskey) so that the village spirits will take care of them for the following year. Boun kamban was explained in greater detail in

Chapter Four. During the photovoice workshop in Bouammi, I learned that this ceremony would take place in a few weeks and the village elders invited me and suggested I could

265 bring my family and friends, stating, ―The more people who come, the better the ceremony!‖

Elder Bouatang explained the Lao traditional calendar. People consult this ―five- time‖ calendar to decide the best time for certain activities like the harvest. This calendar repeats three times during one Lao month, which is approximately 15 days long depending on the lunar cycle. The best time to do anything is during the two-dot time which is referred to as two heads coming, or song hua ma. People try to plan all weddings and house building during the two-dot time. The second best time is four dots, which is referred to as four sweats, or see sum84. This time suggests there are many things to do at once, so people may have difficulty getting them accomplished. The third-best time or perhaps a neutral time, is the blank space called nothing, or pawdt85. If people are born during this time, they will have no money and generally nothing in life; however, they won‘t suffer from sicknesses, either. The time with one dot is called black face, or hua dam. This is a sad or angry time, as symbolized by the black face. The worst time is the x; this is the hunter, or paan. The only activity that is good to do during this time is hunting, whether for animals, plants or money (i.e. it‘s a good time to sell things). It is not good to do any other activities during this time for risk of being hunted by the spirits or ancestors. This calendar helps explain previous beliefs about babies being born at bad

84 It is possible that some of the words used in this calendar are derived from a dialect other than Lao. Perhaps some words stem from a Tai Kaow or other Tai dialect. For example, my translator told me that sum meant sweat but in the Lao-English dictionary, the word sum is translated as ―wet or soaked‖ (reference dictionary Becker 2003). 85 Likewise, pawdt was translated by my assistant as ―nothing,‖ but the dictionary translates it as ―lung.‖ There is no discrepancy in the other translations but worth noting that paan as a noun is ―hunter‖ and as a verb is ―to look for‖ (reference dictionary Becker 2003).

266 times. A baby who is born during the hunter time will most likely be hunted by the forest spirits and die.

The Five-time Calendar [1 a.m.] . : x :: [9 p.m.] : x :: . [4 p.m.] x :: . :

[11 a.m.] x :: . : Time starting at 6 a.m. moving up :: . : x through p.m.

Days 1 2 3 4 5

In addition to the calendar, T. Bouatang explained a myth about the hunter. In the past there was a hunter, and every time he said he was going hunting he always went-- even if it was raining or flooding, he still went. Some days he hunted only male animals while other days he hunted only female animals. When he died, the hunter became a forest spirit. Today people believe that if a girl is born on an even-number day (day 2, 4,

6, etc., of the 15-day traditional calendar), it is bad luck because the spirit will hunt for her. Similarly, if a boy is born on an odd-number day, he is hunted. However, the worst time for any baby to be born is the early morning because that‘s when the hunter leaves his house to hunt, generally around 6 to 7 a.m., after the sticky rice has been cooked.

One more belief, about rice in the granary, is explained by two narratives:

T. Phedt, ―When the rice is ready to harvest, depending on the Lao calendar [meaning the five-time calendar] we will pick a good time to go to the field and take a few pieces of

267 rice. Old people go with us to put the rice in the field house (granary), to ask the spirits permission to start the harvest and to bless the rice for good yields.‖

T. Thongjan (Houay Khone village)

T. Bouatang, ―Before harvesting we take a boiled egg to the empty granary. Then we start to harvest and put the rice in the granary. Then we take the egg and put it in a bowl with steamed sticky rice and walk around the field and ask the rice spirit to come stay in the granary. If there are spirits in the rice [in the granary], then it will last longer.‖

In other words, some rice husks are empty when taken out of the granary.

Therefore, enticing the rice spirits to remain in the grains after harvest will ensure that the husks are not empty and that there will be enough rice for the year to come.

Photo Categories

Two discussion rounds yielded 52 photos; the categories are shown in Table 5.6.

Although we learned a lot of information in Bouammi, people‘s photos did not always represent what they talked about. For example, in the above description about the

268 granary, people had only photos of their fields, not their granaries (hence the above photo is from Houay Khone village). And although we discussed traditional ceremonies, there were no photos of these ceremonies; obviously, for the traditional ceremonies that only happen once a year, it is difficult to re-enact them for the sake of taking a photo. More tangible items such as the school and road were photographed but not to the extent as in other villages. For example, in previous villages one photographer might take four photos of the school and school children, but in Bouammi people only took one photo of the school. As Table 5.6 demonstrates, the men‘s group used fewer categories than any other group. The group used broad categories that encompassed all of the answers to each of the four questions. Furthermore, they had a long discussion about where to put a teak tree photo. Some wanted to put it in the nature category because planting trees makes a forest, but others said it was development because teak wood helps build beautiful houses. In the end, it was placed in the development category.

Table 5.6 Bouammi Photo Categories

Men Women Nature Waterfall Development Need new house Beliefs about planting School Religion Water tank Changing the road Livestock Weaving Shaman About spirits About planting Sour fruit

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Houay Khone Village, March 10-12, 2010

Fourteen individuals--seven men and seven women--participated from Houay

Khone. We anticipated meeting four times with people here, once for the introduction and camera training and then three times for photo discussions. However, our schedule was thrown off balance during the first afternoon when the men were supposed to report back and give narratives; they told us they did not fully understand the questions, nor did they have enough time to go to their fields and take photos. Due to this delay, only two rounds of photo narratives were conducted with each group. Also, we tried a new tactic; men and women were given different questions to answer for the second round.

In the first discussion round, the women expressed concern that they had bad answers. They said this was the first meeting where they had to give these kinds of answers so at the next meeting they would have better answers for me. I reminded them that there were no right or wrong answers, just their own ideas about their lives.

Furthermore, the women‘s group was difficult to keep on task; they gossiped a lot and did not want to listen to their peers‘ narratives. The feeling was that, as the audience, they did not need to listen to the woman standing and talking; only the facilitators needed to listen.

Photo Question-and-Answer Round One: Conservation and Development

Day one discussions asked the development and conservation questions.

Participants in Houay Khone want to develop a bridge, paddy fields, water faucets and toilets; these are in addition to the common responses of livestock, school and crops. As described in Chapter Four, Houay Khone is a one- to two-hour walk from Muang Muay,

270 across a large river and over a sizable mountain. Crossing the river during the rainy season can be difficult especially for children commuting to school in Muang Muay.

Bridge construction was the number one development request. Another common request was water faucets. Currently, people collect water from the river, but in the rainy season the water gets muddy. They want to pipe water from a nearby spring for better-quality water year-round. Two men and one woman requested wet or flush toilets (porcelain squat-style toilets that require a bowl of water to manually flush). Although the village had a few dry toilets (pit latrines) outside the village fence, participants said they desire more modern toilets. Lastly, a number of participants want to develop more paddy lands; they say if a project can assist with irrigation pipes, then they would do the manual labor of leveling the slopes into flat fields.

A unique characteristic of Houay Khone is group effort. Recall that residents here spent 6,000 man-hours over a two-year time period to build their own road. They are the only village that suggested leveling their own fields to make paddy lands. By comparison, people in Bouammi want paddy fields but said it was necessary to have project support to bring in a tractor to level the fields.

The history of this village sheds light on the characteristic of group effort. People of Houay Khone relocated to this area from an area northeast of Luang Prabang where people were suffering from water shortages. Approximately 15 years ago, 20 households moved to their current location near the stream of Khone (hence the name of the village)86. Over the next few years, more households relocated, bringing the current

86 It is common for villages to be named based on the surroundings. For example, houay literally means ―stream,‖ and khone is the name of the particular stream that runs parallel to the village,

271 number of households to 46. Relocation occurred at the initiative of the current nai ban and community elders87 because they felt their lives could be better in this location near the stream. Residents appear to be content in this new location because they have plenty of water and land. Therefore, they want to conserve the surrounding nature and also keep the number of livestock they have for future livelihood needs.

One more story demonstrates the group effort characteristic of Houay Khone. In the past, the village did not have a school house or a teacher, but villagers wanted both. A young man from the village went to secondary school in Vieng Kham town and proved his intelligence to the other villagers by passing all of his classes. Since they wanted a teacher, they all pooled their money to send him to the teacher‘s training college in Luang

Prabang for one year, and he is now the village school teacher and one of the wealthiest people in the village (he owns a motorbike and, in addition to teaching, runs a small shop).

For the men‘s group in particular there was an underlying need to express their adherence to government policies about reducing slash-and-burn agriculture. This point was expressed through photo narratives and an impromptu discussion after the photos were categorized. The nai ban and nhoi pak made a point to discuss the village plan to reduce shifting cultivation by increasing livestock, gardens and paddy lands. They surmised that if they get irrigation, then approximately two-thirds of village households would have access to paddy fields and the other one-third would increase their gardens. hence the village name of Houay Khone. National park names are also often derived from their geographical features; for example, the national park in this area is Nam Et Phou Louey, literally ―River Et Mountain forever‖ referring to names of the main features in the park; the Et River and Forever Mountain (named so because it is so large it seems to go forever into the horizon). 87 As opposed to government-encouraged relocation efforts, which is currently the most common form of village relocation in the country.

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Although gardens, or suan, are initially slashed and burned, they are considered more permanent than rice fields because the fields don‘t necessarily need to be rotated on an annual basis. Many of the crops grown in the gardens have longer growing periods than rice, such as cassava, which can be left in the ground for more than a year. Two crops commonly grown in suans and used as cash crops in Houay Khone are galangal root and chili peppers. Both of these products are sold on market day in Muang Muay. Fish ponds are another food source that people want to develop in order to decrease shifting cultivation. While fish ponds are semi-permanent, they need a lot of water, and access to year round water for agricultural purposes is limited.

Photo Question-and-Answer Round Two: Traditional Beliefs, Pregnancy and Health

For the second round of discussion, the men‘s and women‘s groups were asked different questions. The men‘s group was asked about land beliefs and other traditional beliefs. The women‘s group was asked about pregnancy traditions, both during pregnancy and after the baby is born, and about village or individual health.

During the second photo narrative, the women digressed to the point that a new tactic was mandatory. Hence, a focus-group discussion was facilitated instead of individual narratives about traditional childbirth beliefs. Since most women in a single village have similar beliefs about childbirth, this question may be better suited to a focus- group discussion. Five of the seven women, on their own accord, brought in samples of medicinal plants to show while discussing traditional medicines. While this was a delightful surprise it also highlighted the need to assess what questions are best asked and

273 answered using photos. Although I took photos of the plants and wrote down descriptions about their uses, such tasks could easily be done with the researcher and a key informant.

In these cases, photovoice and the hours invested in training were not necessary.

N. Nok Mae Muan, pictured here, brought in six bundles of traditional medicines. She taught us the Khmu names, how to prepare them and talked about what ailments they treated. For example, the bundle she is holding, in phonetic Khmu, is hue am seem. It treats coughs, stomachaches and red eyes. The leaf juices can be squeezed out and mixed with salt to make a drink or the leaves and stems can be boiled in water to make an infusion.

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N. Janpheng discussed how the three plants on the left treat stomachaches when they are boiled to make an infusion. The four plants in the right photo can be used to treat swelling; they can be made into either a drink or an infusion that can be used in a bath.

On the left, N. Nok Mae Lahd explained how one can put the fern roots in water and boil with the other two plants to treat spots on the body and fever.

On the right, N. Phed explained how these four plants treat stomachaches and stop diarrhea. They‘re boiled into an infusion.

In addition to traditional remedies, women said that drinking water should be boiled to eliminate disease; hands must be washed before and after eating; dishes need to

275 be washed after eating; and livestock and human toilets need to be kept outside of the fence to keep the village clean. Houay Khone and other off-road villages have fences around them. The fences were built to keep the livestock out of the village or human living areas. This is done as a health and cleanliness mechanism to keep livestock manure out of the village area. People climb over ladders to get in and out of the village compound.

Childbirth traditions were addressed in a focus-group discussion. During pregnancy, a woman is allowed to eat all types of foods. After giving birth, though, there are some eating restrictions. She cannot eat water buffalo, cow, old pigs (ones that have given birth), or white chickens (they make the milk dry up). However, she can eat black chickens any time without problems. After 30 days, she can eat black buffaloes or pigs, but she must wait six months to eat any white animals. A woman must take from a week to 10 days of rest. The time period depends on whether the woman has gained her strength back or not. When the baby is born, the father cuts the umbilical cord with bamboo. After cutting the cord, it‘s placed into a bamboo tube and taken into the forest and tied around a tree. The women said they don‘t remember the meaning, but they do it because it‘s tradition. Also, the father warms the baby by placing him or her high above a pot of boiling water but does not say anything while doing this. Out of the six women, some said they did this, but others had not. Naming the baby and having a baci generally happens 10 to 30 days after birth. Lastly, women said they give babies steamed rice to chew on until the mother‘s milk comes in.

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Khmu people in Houay Khone believe that both the husband‘s and wife‘s ancestral spirits reside in the house88 (this differs from Bouammi where only the husband‘s ancestors resided in the house). The spirits are all around them but prefer to reside in the columns or stilts of the house. The villagers sacrifice animals and offer them to their ancestral spirits when confronted with a problem.

T. Bounleum T. Sivone

Traditional beliefs about land are similar to the aforementioned Khmu villages.

First, permission is asked of the land spirits. However, in Houay Khone, villagers do not need to start a fire and burn chilis or stick lac; instead, they just slash a little of the land.

The answer also comes through a dream or the sighting of an animal. Second, an offering is made to the spirits in the field. This includes a small sacrificial animal, a rice- harvesting basket, a jug of rice wine and a bowl of rice (the image on the left represents this small ceremony). The purpose of this step is to protect the people working in that field and to ensure a good harvest (called busa by villagers in Don Keo but puu haw in

88 This statement reflects a bilateral and/or cognatic descent pattern, as I suggested in Chapter Four. Although contrary to past research, which suggests a patrilineal descent pattern, my findings suggest that descent patterns among the Khmu (at least in Vieng Kham district, if not elsewhere) are changing.

277 phonetic Khmu). Third, before harvesting, villagers make an offering at the rice granary to ensure that the rice spirits will stay in the rice (similar to Bouammi). Finally, after harvest, the village celebrates Boun Podt Phi (the image on the right shows some items used for this ceremony). The ceramic jar with bamboo straws—seen in both photos--is the traditional lao hai, or rice wine jug. The wine is processed and fermented in the ceramic jar and consumed on special occasions. Many people drink from the jar together, hence the number of straws. While people drink, another person will add cupfuls of water to the jar; thus, as the celebration wears on, the alcohol gets weaker but not before doing its job of intoxicating the willing!

The harvest ceremony, or Boun Podt Phi, takes place on the mountain to the north of the village. The mountain is easily recognized by the numerous large trees on it because agriculture is not allowed in sacred areas. When the village first moved to this location, people were getting sick and dying. After about 10 years, they came to believe that there must be a spirit residing in the mountain that needed venerating. Now, once a year, they make a spirit house, sacrifice a pig and some chickens and offer foods and drinks to the mountain spirit. The purpose of the ceremony is to ask the spirit to protect the people and all aspects of village life. A 73-year-old man, T. Bounluem, said that in the past they also thanked their tools (i.e.: the machete that helped slash the field) during this ceremony, but they no longer practice this.

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T. Janthavone, showed the image above to discuss a wedding. First the bride and groom decide on a good day using the five-time calendar. Then, when the wedding feast is prepared the bride and groom‘s parents are offered ribs from the pig. T. Janthavone told me that each parent gets one rib except for the bride‘s mother. The bride‘s mother is given two ribs because she had eating restrictions after childbirth and since her daughter

(the bride) is still alive, it indicates that the spirits like her; this is why the bride‘s mother gets more ribs. (Interestingly, the groom‘s mother would have undergone the same eating restrictions; however, T. Janthavone did not suggest that she too, received extra ribs.)

Next, the groom and his parents pay money to the bride and her family in two steps. First, they pay with old money (a currency no longer used) called ngen mawn. The bride‘s parents receive seven mawn, which is about $41, and her brother or sister get four mawn, about $23. This old money is just for the house spirits, the huean phi. Then modern money and animals are gifted to the bride‘s parents. Wealthy people pay $3 million kip, or $353, and three pigs. Poor people pay $1.5 million kip, or $176, and three pigs. The pigs are for the wedding feast. Finally, they have a baci, eat, dance and finish the wedding.

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T. Veesai T. Bounluem

Both of these images are in reference to the shaman. If someone is sick but modern medicines did not help, then the family will ask the shaman for help. There are two inexpensive89 ways in which the shaman can identify which spirit is causing sickness. First, the shaman can light a candle and move it around the sick person‘s body to try to see the spirit. Otherwise, the clothes of the sick person as well as rice and banana leaves are put on a tray in front of the shaman (see T. Veesai‘s photo above). Next, the shaman asks if the perpetrator is a certain spirit and he picks up some grains of rice. To get his answer, he counts the grains of rice in his hand. If it‘s an even number, the spirit has been identified, but if it‘s an odd number, the shaman will continue picking up handfuls of rice until he gets an even number. If a family is poor and cannot afford a shaman or a baci for their child, the parents or grandparents can perform a ritual to call the sick child‘s soul back. First they fill a bowl with sticky rice, then they place raw eggs

89 Respondents say the shaman may cost between 5,000 and 10,000 kip (59¢ to $1.18) to identify the spirit, but if the spirit asks for animal sacrifices, this is when it starts to get expensive. Participants said there is not a shaman in their village. Also, two men said there is no guarantee with these kinds of rituals that the person will get better, so sometimes it‘s a waste of money and livestock.

280 on top of the sticky rice and put the bowl on top of the child‘s head to call the soul back.

Apparently this is a common ritual as both my Khmu and Lao research assistants had this done to them when they were young.

Photo Categories

Two discussion rounds yielded 56 photos; the categories are shown in Table 5.7.

Both of these groups had the least number of categories. Similar to the men‘s group in

Bouammi, they classified photos based on the answers to their questions. In the men‘s group, the nai ban adamantly wanted to name the general beliefs category as ―I don‘t like‖—he kept repeating his stand about not liking traditional beliefs. He wanted to make the point that he is modernizing. This is most likely because of government modernization agendas90 and because he sells the modern medicines in the village.

Table 5.7 Houay Khone Photo Categories

Men Women Keep the same Nature Develop Development Our religion About health General beliefs

Summary of Direct Findings

Information presented throughout this chapter demonstrates that photovoice is an appropriate qualitative method for both anthropological pursuits and participatory development processes. In some instances, photovoice yields quantitative data, as shown

90 Key informants in Muang Muay previously mentioned to me that some people may not identify themselves as shamans because the government disapproves of shamanic practices.

281 in Charts 5.2 and 5.3. Not only does it generate quality data, it yields a plethora of that data in a relatively short time. In summary, villagers‘ livelihoods are directly linked to the natural environment, whether it is cultivating crops, foraging livestock, gathering water at the riverside, fishing, gold mining, or collecting NTFPs. Even roadside villages, which have more modern infrastructure and merchants, still rely on the natural environment for survival. Merchants make money buying and selling available agricultural and natural products. People are also aware of their dependence on nature. They want to minimize their impact on it and conserve it for future generations. Additionally, villagers want to adhere to government policies. They believe they are helping keep the forests healthy and full of big trees and wildlife by reducing shifting cultivation and increasing permanent crops. Furthermore, they want their children to see nature as they‘ve seen it, with wild animals to hunt, fish to catch in the rivers, and big trees, foods and medicines in the forests.

Villagers, from both Khmu and Tai ethnic origins, honor their connection to nature through a number of animist rituals that take place in conjunction with the agricultural cycle. They believe that spirits own the land. Therefore, they seek permission to plant on a certain plot of land. Then they must make an offering to the spirits before they plant and after they harvest to ensure a viable cropping season. People believe spirits live in certain natural features such as caves, trees and mud holes. Villagers are afraid of such places, which as a result are void of agricultural and livelihood pursuits.

Furthermore, people are reliant on traditional beliefs to assist with illness and to promote health. Ancestral and nature spirits are venerated and supplicated to, either at an annual celebration like Boun kamban or as needed with bacis. People rely on their own

282 knowledge about natural herbal remedies to cure common ailments, such as stomachaches, headaches and breast milk production.

Villagers want more development, particularly infrastructure and modern conveniences such as a road, bridge, new school building, clinic, electricity, motorbike, or flush toilet. Agriculturally they want assistance to create more paddy fields and irrigate them. They seek to increase their education about new crops and cropping techniques.

There is a strong desire to increase livestock numbers and to attain more knowledge to better care for them. People also want more developed markets where they can sell their agricultural and natural products at fair prices. Simply put, all villages desire assistance from development organizations to modernize. Villagers are cognizant of their labor- intensive, agriculturally based lifestyles. And they hope their children won‘t need to work as hard in the future.

Direct findings yield a number of indicators for participatory monitoring and evaluation. For example, a locally identified financial indicator is the annual number of motorbikes per capita. Since motorbikes are a desired and relatively affordable commodity, it is likely that as people‘s incomes increase more households will purchase motorbikes. More examples of indicators include but are not limited to: 1) the annual area of paddy lands as a built indicator; 2) infant and child mortality rates as human indicators; and 3) annual tonnage of broom grass sold or annual tonnage of fish caught as natural indicators91. In addition to photovoice questions, emically selected photo

91 Natural indicators are currently being collected in the six research villages as part of the Developing More Effective Methods for Assessing Conservation and Livelihoods Outcomes in the Forest Landscapes Project.

283 categories allowed researchers to identify important local indicators for future use. Also, the photos themselves may serve as baseline data that illustrate change over time.

Additionally, the photovoice method helped clarify complex data. For example, the belief in natural spirits and the rituals that take place around the agricultural cycle were easily understood with the use of photos. Visually conceptualizing that belief helped elucidate details about the ritual such as sharpening the knife and burning chilies and stick lac in the forest. Details such as these could easily be forgotten in response to an interview question. The photos, albeit some posed for our benefit92, share images about concepts that are foreign to Western cultures (which is where most development funds come from), therefore photos can help outsiders gain a more thorough and complex understanding of other people‘s lives. To borrow a quote from the social documentary photographer Lewis Hine, ―If I could tell the story in words, I wouldn‘t need to lug a camera‖ (Wang and Burris 1997:372). In other words, photos are powerful communicative tools.

Summary of Indirect Findings

Through observation of the photovoice process, I collected more than verbal responses. For example, in Muang Muay, I noted that people did not work well together and quickly got the sense that the village was disjointed. Men were especially unhelpful toward women and demoralized them by heckling them when they were speaking. In Pak

92 Since our workshops did not correspond with certain agricultural rituals, a number of participants had the insight to pose the photos about asking the permission of spirits or giving thanks after a harvest. I am thankful to them for their creativity, as they made the communication process that much easier for all involved.

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Lao and Bouammi, however, men and women took the initiative to help one another with learning the cameras and understanding the questions asked. They worked as teams, which demonstrated village cohesion. In this way, the process of photovoice identified cohesive and segregated communities. Research projects could use such data to assess future communities to work with.

Village leaders were identified via the observation of group dynamics. Although official leaders were consulted prior to the workshops, natural leaders were not. Natural leaders are highly respected individuals that have an ability to organize and motivate groups. Identifying such leaders early on and building rapport with them would be beneficial for future project work; that is, a project would benefit from enlisting a community‘s natural leader and his or her motivating abilities. Furthermore, a clear understanding of group dynamics allows researchers to adjust their methods accordingly.

For example, if strong personalities become dominating and coercive in group settings, then group activities can be replaced by one-on-one activities. That is, instead of having a focus-group discussion, individual interviews could be conducted. Lastly, key informants can be identified through photovoice; a perfect example is that of T. Bouatang from

Bouammi village, who taught us about the five-time calendar.

More subtle observations also occurred. For example, in Vang Kham village, the men choose dog meat for the workshop dinner, but none of the workshop women ate dog meat. In fact, the women wouldn‘t even sit at the table because dog meat was being served, stating that the smell gave them headaches or it would make them vomit. This situation begs the question: Why did the men want to exclude the women? The most plausible explanation was because the men wanted to feast with the visiting nursing

285 students instead of their own village women. The nursing students, many of them young women, did not have a problem eating dog or sitting at the table with the meat while the village women served local whiskey around the table for all to enjoy. The village women took on the role of hostesses instead of invited guests. Assumingly, this was a role they felt more comfortable in and one that was expected of them by the village men, who obligingly sat drinking the rounds of whiskey.

Relating the Findings to Agricultural Decision Making

As an elicitation tool, photovoice helped me understand numerous details about the omnipresent beliefs and rituals of rural livelihoods that affect agricultural decisions, particularly details that constitute stage one, or the preattentive stage, of decision making.

For example, if the spirits don‘t allow a person to plant on a certain plot of land, then the villager must seek a new plot. The decision to look for a new plot is directly linked to the cultural belief that spirits own the land and they must give their permission to use specific plots. Although households are now limited to three swidden fields through land-use planning policies, households continue to practice this ritual.

Traditional beliefs help determine which crops to plant, in which field, and when to harvest. In Bouammi village, T. Bounyang said he tests what rice varieties the spirits like by planting a sample of a few varieties in the field. Whichever varieties grow the best are the ones he uses for the entire field. This agricultural decision is also directly linked to the belief in land spirits. Furthermore, the exact day to begin harvesting is also dependent on traditional beliefs. That is, people must consult the five-time calendar to

286 pick the most auspicious time to make harvest offerings to the rice spirits. And they can only harvest after making the offering. In this way, the day to begin harvesting is directly related to traditional beliefs.

The belief that spirits live in the mud, trees, caves and other natural features of the landscape directly affects agricultural land availability. Respondents will not clear land anywhere near a spirit‘s residence, which mandates that some lands are off-limit to agricultural pursuits. Traditional beliefs determine what land can be used for agricultural crops, the best day to start harvesting the crops and, in some cases, what varieties of crops are best suited to certain land plots. In this way, cultural beliefs greatly affect the first or preattentive stage of agricultural decision making.

For my research, photovoice was successful in eliciting deeply embedded cultural beliefs and rituals that may not have been articulated using other methods. Thus, I conclude that photovoice is a worthy method to assist in eliciting emic preattentive stages of the decision-making process.

Ethnic cultural practices can indirectly affect agricultural decision making. Cash crops and the gathering of NTFPs are not priority income-generating activities in

Bouammi village. Instead, weaving activities are the priority. Since Bouammi is composed of all Tai people, and it is traditional for women of this group to weave, they have an income opportunity that the non-weaving Khmu villages do not. Bouammi residents reported that they prefer the secure and consistent income from weaving activities. They know the price they will get per cloth item, and the merchant comes every 30 days. Growing cash crops is risky because they could succumb to disease or environmental constraints and after-harvest market prices fluctuate. The case is similar

287 with NTFP collection—prices always fluctuate and certain items may become scarce in the immediate environment, which means more labor hours to collect them. Therefore, income from cash crop production and NTFP collection is much less consistent and secure than weaving. However, some NTFPs fetch higher prices per hour of labor than weaving (e.g. bamboo worms, which sell for $4.24 per kilogram). In this way, profit maximization is traded for security. This finding correlates with socio-economic or

Chayanovian decision-making theories of utility maximization (discussed in Chapter

Three). The utility that villagers in Bouammi prefer to maximize is income security. In doing this, they discount their labor to pennies per hour. If it takes about 28 hours to weave a sinh and they get paid 10,000 kip for one, or $1.18, then they make about 4¢ per hour. Furthermore, this case points out that a lack of infrastructure greatly influences farmer decisions. Without a permanent road system, it is futile to invest labor in cash crops that won‘t make it to the market. From a rational standpoint, the planting of cash crops is risky for hard-to-reach non-roadside villages. However, weaving is less risky since the finished product does not perish and it maintains its value over time.

The Added Benefits of Photovoice

The novelty of photovoice is advantageous, especially in developing countries where the majority of people can not afford cameras. Because photovoice uses modern technology, it is an exciting activity for the entire village. Not only do the participants enjoy learning how to take photos, but in our experiences, other villagers enjoyed having their photos taken and looking at themselves in the photos. During our workshops, I observed many groups of people sitting around and viewing photos on the small camera

288 screen with much laughter and delight. The novelty and enjoyment of the technique breaks the ice quickly and helps build rapport with a large group of people over a short period of time. Furthermore, participants received the relatively instant and tangible reward of two printed photos. Viewing the printed photos creates a fun and momentous occasion, and the photos act as physical reminders of learning new skills and workshop enjoyment. This enjoyment aspect may be advantageous to workshop facilitators in future activities. For example, participants from the photovoice workshops expressed that they enjoyed working with me and my team of facilitators because we were fun. This expression came to fruition some months later when I was holding a workshop simultaneously with one being conducted by another research team within my project.

(The CIFOR Landscape Mosaics research team was large and covered numerous topics.

Although, we tried our best to correlate our schedules in order to avoid team overlap in the villages, occasionally it was unavoidable). Villagers came to my house expressing that they would rather come to my workshop instead of the other one. They knew, from past experiences, that I would treat them fairly. However, in their opinions, and to my surprise, they felt that some facilitators did not treat them well.

Empowerment can happen through the photovoice process. At the beginning of the workshops, the women‘s groups in both Vang Kham and Houay Khone villages discussed how ―stupid‖ they were and how they did not have ―good‖ answers. By the end of the workshops, though, they no longer addressed themselves negatively. Although measuring empowerment was not part of this research, I believe that women became more empowered by sharing their knowledge with outsiders and learning a new skill. I observed that individual women, who normally did not attend meetings, began attending

289 meetings more often after they participated in our photovoice workshops. In particular, a younger woman from Pak Lao village who rarely attended village meetings when we first met began joining district workshops by the end of the year. This was no small accomplishment since district workshops involve an invitation from the village head and travel to the district headquarters.

Photovoice is commonly used as an advocacy and needs-assessment tool to bring the voices of marginalized groups to policy makers (Wang and Burris 1997; Spira 2008).

We found that photos taken from local perspectives were beneficial to present information to government and development agencies. Through photos, marginalized groups have a voice. Their photos may be the impetus for negotiations. Photos from our workshops were used at meetings with government officials to share the needs and wants of the villagers. After seeing villagers‘ photos, district government officials agreed to include more indicators in their annual data collection. Since indicators record change over time, they help monitor how peoples‘ lifestyles are changing or remaining constant, and they serve as background data to attract future development projects. For example, few households have flush toilets, yet this form of infrastructure is desired and has the potential to decrease communicable diseases. If a development project seeking to increase child survival rates comes to Vieng Kham district and learns that less than 10%93 of households have flush toilets, then they may decide to allocate funds for flush toilets.

Although using photovoice as an advocacy tool was not our goal, indicators from our workshops have the potential to indirectly influence future developments. In this way,

93 This is a personal estimate.

290 local voices are heard. Lastly, our experience and findings further substantiate the applicability of photovoice as a needs-assessment tool.

Finally, although the photovoice method is applicable to a variety of topics that necessitate thorough inter-group understanding, facilitators must be aware of ethical dilemmas that may occur. Wang and Redwood-Jones (2001) warn that the privacy of people in photographs must be considered and the original intent of the photographer must not be construed to create new meanings, especially embarrassing or false meanings. Nor can profit be made at the expense of others.

Photovoice as a Participatory Tool

Although there are a number of benefits to using photovoice, it comes with an initial investment that, in some cases, may not be as cost effective as other participatory tools. For example, our question about development—What do you want to see change in your village in the next five years?—was also asked by researchers in the Landscape

Mosaics Project. They asked the question of villagers using a group-visioning activity that required only paper, pens and corn kernels. Villagers wrote a list of development projects they wanted in the next five years and then scored them with the corn kernels.

Both visioning and photovoice methods yielded the same results for development aspirations. For example, the top priority for villagers in Pak Lao and Bouammi was road construction. In Muang Muay, it was electricity (Watts and Kanyasone 2010).

The following questions were created to assist potential photovoice users to assess the applicability of the method to their specific goals:

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1. What kind of information will be collected? If one seeks to collect qualitative

and/or emic data, then photovoice is helpful, but if strictly quantitative data is

sought then another method will suffice.

2. Can the information be collected through a less-costly participatory tool (i.e.:

community mapping, community visioning exercises, etc.)?

3. Is a comprehensive understanding of the local situation sought? If yes, then

photovoice is advantageous.

4. How many communities will photovoice be used in? The more communities

or the longer the duration of the project, the more cost effective the cameras

become.

5. How, and with whom, will the collected information be shared? If it is for

advocacy, presentations, or to attract outside projects, then photovoice

images serve as powerful communication tools. If it is only to make

quantifications for a written report, then it is not worth the investment.

As researchers and facilitators we wanted to asses a number of aspects about the photovoice process. We did this by including variations within iterations. If conducting photovoice in a rural setting with one computer and supplying your own electricity, we recommend a group size of 12 participants and gender separation for the discussion rounds. Wait-time to upload photos is diminished with only six participants. Also, six participants is a good number to work with for the discussion rounds because it‘s not too big nor too small. People are willing to talk, yet they stay on task. Reducing the number to five was too small and participants got off task more easily. Also, a projector is heavy

292 and needs a lot of power; it is not necessary. Instead of projecting images, print them out and have participants hold them up as they give their narratives. Directly after the narrative, have the participant categorize his or her photo. This process is less confusing for the participant. Having just discussed their photo, the participant is more likely to categorize it based on its meaning rather than the physical image. Immediate categorizing is also more time efficient. If electricity and another computer are available, increasing the group size to 20 and maintaining gender separation is manageable.

Conclusion

Photovoice is a worthy qualitative research method to assist researchers in understanding local perspectives and local settings. I suggest adding it to the anthropological toolbox as a valid method for eliciting emic data. For my research, photovoice elicited details about beliefs and rituals associated with land ownership and use, which directly and indirectly affect agricultural decision making. Photovoice is an applicable participatory tool that has the potential to empower individuals from marginalized groups. Photovoice yields qualitative data, which creates a more comprehensive framework about local lifestyles than other methods. Equipment can easily be brought to rural settings, and images taken by local people can easily be transported to urban areas to serve as powerful communication devices in a number of research, academic, development and advocacy settings. It is through the image that discussions are generated, information is elicited, understanding is gained, cross-cultural beliefs are framed, and stakeholder groups‘ actions may be negotiated.

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Chapter 6 Ethnoecological Methods, Results and Limitations

Introduction

In this chapter I introduce ethnoecological methods and the research site of the

International Rice Research Institute, hereafter referred to with the IRRI. I explain the three ethnoecological methods of contrastive questions, pile sorts and ranking used to elicit emic agricultural perspectives. I discuss findings that seek to answer the following three research questions:

1. What do farmers, scientists, and agricultural extension agents94 perceive as the

most valuable crop characteristics? How do perceptions and values vary among

these different groups?

2. What are farmers‘ agricultural preferences (i.e.: to grow a fast-producing crop,

like rice, or to invest time and energy into a slower-growing crop, like mandarin

fruit trees, with the hope of future rewards, etc.)? What are the agricultural

preferences of external stakeholder groups, such as scientists and agricultural

extension staff?

94 Throughout this dissertation I refer to scientists and agricultural extension agents as ―staff.‖ I have done this because they are civil servants or ―government staff,‖ and within their work positions, they are expected to adhere to government agendas regarding agriculture. Although only staff from Luang Prabang‘s provincial and district offices participated in this research, their perspectives represent broader government agendas.

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3. Does ethnicity affect perceived values and preferences? Is there a noticeable

pattern of preference among the Khmu, Hmong, Tai-Lue95 , Lao, and other Tai

farmers that shows ethnic cultural differences, and, if so, what is it?

Ethnoecological Methods

―Ethnoecology is ‗a way of looking‘ at the relationship between humans and the natural world that emphasizes the role of cognition in framing behavior‖ (Nazarea

1999:1). The term ethnoecology was first introduced by the anthropologist Harold

Conklin in 1954 with his study among the Hanunoo in the Philippines. Since then, the term has taken on a number of definitions and fuelled academic thought about how ―non- literates know so much about nature,‖ a phrase borrowed from Brent Berlin (1992:5).

However, Toledo (2000:512) argues that there is no common agreement among authors about the definition of the term. Thus, I synthesize other researcher‘s definitions and posit a broad one as put forth by other anthropologists. Ethnoecology studies the relationships between organisms, including physical, biological and social factors, through the investigation of perceptions, cognition and uses of the natural environment

(Gragson and Blount 1999:vii; Nazarea 1999:8). Simply put, ethnoecological methods elicit indigenous knowledge about the environment, particularly how indigenous people categorize information; how they perceive relationships with other organisms and between other organisms; what plants and other environmental features they value the

95 Tai-Lue or ―Lao Lue‖ people, as they refer to themselves, are included in the Tai ethno- linguistic family. They are traditionally wet-rice cultivators and Buddhists. They have a bilateral kinship system with a matrilineal tendency (Chazee 2002:40). Lue women experience gender equality and, in some cases, have a higher standing than men (ibid).

295 most; and other specific ethnobotanical data (Martin 1995; Nazarea 1999; Sanga &

Ortalli 2003).

Underpinnings of ethnoecology stem from cognitive anthropology suggesting that culture can be seen as information that manifests as behavior. Hunn promotes ―a view of culture as a system of information that serves as a blueprint for a way of life and that is ultimately judged by how well it sustains and promotes that way of life‖ (1989:145). In the late 1950s, cognitive anthropologists concluded that culture is shared knowledge; that is, people are reservoirs of cultural knowledge and this knowledge helps them ―act as they do, make the things they make, and interpret their experience in the distinctive way they do‖ (Quinn and Holland 1987:4). Culturally formed cognitive schemas,96 or cultural models, ―are presupposed, taken for granted models of the world that are widely shared by members of a society and that play an enormous role in their understanding of that world and their behavior in it‖ (Quinn and Holland 1987:4). Kronenfeld (1996:17) suggests that cognitive schemas are individualized but that individuals with similar experiences may share similar , which may act as cultural models. Foregoing a detailed discussion of cognitive anthropology, what is pertinent to this research is the understanding that people, as members of cultures, unconsciously share an organizational structure for categorizing cultural knowledge. Scholars assert that cultural models have motivational force because not only do they describe and label the world, they also elicit or include desires and set forth conscious and unconscious goals (Strauss1992 citing

96 Cognitive schemas are ―learned, internalized patterns of thought-feeling that mediate both the interpretation of ongoing experience and the reconstruction of memories‖ (Strauss 1992:3).

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D‘Andrade 1981, 1984, 1990). Cultural knowledge, then, acts as a frame for decision making.

Toledo (2000) argues that cultural knowledge must not be separated from its productive or practical aspects. He argues that ethnoecology is an interdisciplinary approach that must take into account ―the kosmos (belief system or cosmovision), the corpus (the whole repertory of knowledge or cognitive systems) and the praxis (the set of practices)… to study the process of human appropriation of nature‖ (Toledo 200:514).

Photovoice, as mentioned in Chapter Five, discussed the kosmos, or belief systems, of people in Laos and how such beliefs affect agricultural decision making. In this Chapter,

I use ethnoecological methods to explore the corpus, or cultural knowledge and cognition, of farmers and staff in northern Laos. Pile sorts, ranking and contrastive question methods elicit both explicit and implicit preferences, values, and perceptions about traditional ecological knowledge that help frame decision-making behaviors

(Tucker 2007, Tucker 2007a, Tucker & Taylor 2007; Nazarea 1998 &1999; Nazarea et. al 1998; Fowler 1977; Johnson 1974). The Discussion in Chapter Five and in this chapter offer insights of praxis; that is, in both discussion sections, I relate how kosmos and corpus relate to and affect the praxis of farmers in Laos.

It is important to understand cognitive frames put around plants; this helps elucidate various groups‘ perspectives, which in turn may alleviate inter-group misunderstandings in the future. For example, farmers frame pigeon peas as a cash crop due to the use of their stems to grow stick lac insects97. Contrastingly, researchers frame

97 Stick lac is the common name for Laccifer lacca, an insect that creates a sticky substance used as a natural adhesive and dye.

297 pigeon peas as a green manure crop since these are nitrogen-fixing, fertility-enhancing plants. Because each group is framing the same plant differently, perceptions, attitudes, behaviors and actions in relation to the pigeon pea plant differ. For example, while staff promote the plant as fertility enhancing, farmers reject it as a poor cash crop (explained in further detail later in the chapter). In this scenario, the two groups are talking across one another, not understanding the knowledge or motives behind each other‘s actions.

Understanding divergent frames and how they affect behavior is pertinent for successful agricultural development projects.

By understanding local perspectives, more appropriate cash crops may be suggested to farmers. Recall that the government of Laos hopes to reduce shifting cultivation and is encouraging farmers to plant cash crops in order to increase the economy and decrease the rate of poverty throughout the country. Within the context of an encouraged agricultural transition, understanding local perceptions offers insights for future development collaborations between insiders (local farmers) and outsiders

(government agencies and international development organizations).

The Research Process

The research process first involved semi-structured interviews. These interviews were conducted on an individual basis (see Appendix 6A and 6B) with provincial and district staff and some farmers. Contrastive questions were asked as part of the farmers‘ semi-structured interviews (Appendix 6A). Contrastive questions are specific questions created for individual farmers based on a previous answer (in this case about agricultural

298 crops). For example, if a farmer said he had planted sesame, I might ask, ―Why do you plant sesame instead of paper mulberry?‖ (Further explained on pages 10-11).

Information from the initial 15 interviews coupled with village and market observations determined my list of 20 plants used for pile-sort and ranking activities (Appendix 6C).

Pile sorting is a task in which 20 cards with photos and plant names (in the Lao language) were given to farmers and they were asked to sort them into piles based on their own criteria (explained more on pages 19-20). Ranking involved the same photo cards but I separated them into a pile of 10 cash crops and five rice crops and then asked farmers to rank each pile based on their own preferences (explained more on pages 36-37). In total, there were five tasks to complete with farmers: an interview, contrastive questions, sorting the pile of 20 cards, ranking the cash-crop pile of 10 cards, and ranking the rice pile of five cards. To respect farmers‘ time we did our best to limit our sessions to about one hour; however within this time frame, not every respondent completed all five tasks.

Therefore, each research activity does not have an equal number of respondents, as tallied in Table 6.2.

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Table 6.2 Methods and the Number of Respondents from the IRRI Research Site

Method Number of Respondents

Interviews Total Farmers Staff

38 25 13

Contrastive Questions 22 (All farmers)

Pile Sorts Total Farmers Staff

33 20 13

Ranking Rice Crops Cash Crops

Total Farmers Staff Total Farmers Staff

34 24 10 28 20 8

Ranking Overall Total 62

The IRRI Research Area

In addition to the Muang Muay kumban villages, I conducted research in two villages near Luang Prabang town. These two villages—Ban Fai and Ban Silaleck—were chosen because they participate in research projects with the IRRI‘s Luang Prabang office.

A rapport was already established between these villages and the IRRI, and the Non-

Government Organization (NGO) permission to work within the villages was extended to me. The Lao-IRRI project, created in 1990, works in close collaboration with the National

Agriculture and Forestry Research Institute (NAFRI) and the Northern Agricultural

Research Center (NAFReC) to develop new rice varieties and alternative livelihood options for upland farmers (Shrestha et.al. 2006). I had a brief collaboration with the Lao-IRRI

300 during the months of August and September 2009. The collaboration with the IRRI was not in my research proposal but comprises a significant amount of my ethnoecological data.

The villages of Ban Fai and Ban Silaleck are located in opposite directions from

Luang Prabang town. Ban Silaleck is located approximately 50 kilometers (~ 31 miles) southwest of Luang Prabang town in the Xieng Nguen District. It is situated on the side of a poorly maintained dirt road that is a thoroughfare to the larger town of Sayabuli. Ban

Silaleck, composed of Khmu (Lao Theung) and Hmong (Lao Soung) peoples, is comprised of 147 households. Ban Fai is located in the Pak Ou District, approximately 60 kilometers (~37 miles) north of Luang Prabang town along National Highway 13, a tarmac and well-travelled road. The village is nestled between the roadside and the Nam

Ou River. Ban Fai is comprised of 50 households, all of which are ethnic Tai-Lue (Lao

Loum). The ethnic composition of these two villages represents the popular tripartite classifications as discussed in Chapter Two. Although representation from each group is low, I conducted some inter-ethnic comparisons. In addition to the two research villages, research activities were conducted with agricultural staff, specifically the agricultural extension staff from the District Agriculture and Forestry Offices (DAFO) of the Xieng

Nguen and Pak Ou districts and with rice and crop researchers from the NAFReC regional research station. Most ethnoecological methods were conducted within the IRRI research area. While the bulk of this chapter refers to the villages of Ban Fai and Ban

Silaleck and district and provincial staff, it also includes some data from the Muang

Muay kumban villages.

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Although an equal number of male and female respondents were requested from each village, only four females participated in Ban Silaleck (as opposed to eight in Ban

Fai). The reason may be that during the months of August and September the women are busy with rice weeding, sesame harvesting and other agricultural tasks. Many people— both women and men—were working and unable to devote time to a research event. Ban

Silaleck was quiet in the morning, with only older people and children milling about. In the afternoon, the village became more active as the middle-aged and younger people

(laborers or able-bodied people) returned from the fields. Also, the low number of female participants may have been due to a language barrier. Though Lao is the national language and taught in schools, the Khmu and Hmong have their own languages, and although many of the Khmu and Hmong men speak Lao, a number of the women cannot.

The nai ban complained he could not find enough Hmong women for the interviews because they did not speak Lao. This may be due, in part, to the fact that prior to their forced resettlement six years ago education facilities were not easily accessible that would have facilitated learning the Lao language98. So, to reiterate, due to time and financial constraints99 the majority of my research activities in Ban Silaleck were conducted with men. Nonetheless, as a researcher and a woman, I strongly believe it is important to include women in research activities, especially those pertaining to natural environments, since in many cases women are the more active collectors of natural products and equal laborers on family farms. However, research strategies do not always come to fruition when in the field, and in this case, I was happy to accept any respondent

98 Hmong residents used to live higher up the mountains; however, due to government village consolidation policies (discussed more in Chapter Seven) they were resettled to the roadside and merged into the Khmu village of Ban Silaleck six years prior to my research. 99 I had a specific budget for fuel expenses and research-assistant fees.

302 who came my way. Finally, worth noting is that Ban Silaleck is about a 20-minute drive southeast of the Regional Research Center, and because of this proximity, it suffers from project saturation, which contributed to the challenge of getting respondents100.

Education

I assumed that villages closer to secondary education facilities would have a higher percent of educated adults compared to rural villages; however, that was not the case with these IRRI research villages. Table 6.2 demonstrates that farmers residing in the IRRI villages are not more highly educated than adults residing in the rural Muang

Muay area. This is most likely due to the more recent national emphasis (within the last

15 years) put on education and the construction of more education facilities throughout the country. However, most of the farmers I interviewed are too old to have benefitted from this increase in education facilities.

An educational disparity exists between staff and farmers. All staff members have studied a minimum of three years at one of the agriculture and forestry colleges101.

In addition, staff members receive training from projects and the government.

Contrastingly, farmers have minimal formalized education. In the past, school was not

100 Although Ban Silaleck is on the side of a dirt road and near the research station, it still felt like a remote village especially when one sees the assortment of wildlife sold on the roadside. The following is a list of wildlife I saw being sold: a large muntjac, commonly referred to as ―barking deer‖ from the genus Muntiacus; a large monitor lizard, genus Varanus; a number of bamboo rats, the Cannomys badius; and bags of crickets of the Gryllidae family. Generally speaking, a larger variety of wildlife products are found in more rural, less-populated marketplaces, thus it was surprising to see a muntjac for sale in this location. 101 There are five colleges maintained by the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry they are in the following provinces: Luang Prabang (northern), Bolikhamxay (central), Savannakhet (southern), Champasak (southern), and Thangone Irrigation College in the capital city of Vientiane (Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry 2008).

303 accessible to everyone, least of all rural people living far from the roadsides. Of the 23 farmers questioned, the highest level completed was the sixth grade while some stated

―bo kuey pai hean,‖ which is, ―[I] never went to school‖ (see Table 6.2). One middle aged Tai-Lue woman expressed embarrassment about her low education level, stating,

―Before, we only needed to know how to read, but now they [children] have to study and have a high education.‖

Today, every farmer with school-age children sends them to school. This is no small feat and it demonstrates their commitment to education. Parents must purchase school uniforms and pay school fees; based on respondents‘ answers, the price of sending a child to school for one year ranged from 250,000 to one million kip102 ($29.40 to

$117.60). The divergent education costs stem from whether or not the child attends primary school within the village or whether that child must relocate for school. These reported school expenses are not small considering that farmers report annual cash incomes between six and 20 million kip ($705.00 to $2,353.00). Given these figures, a household could potentially spend one-sixth of its annual cash income on education costs.

102 Recall that kip is the official currency of Laos and the exchange rate used throughout this dissertation is 8,500 kip to 1 USD.

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Table 6.2 Adult Education Levels in the IRRI Research Area

Grade Ban Fai Ban Silaleck

Never went 1 3

1st and 2nd 2 1

3rd 3 1

4th 0 0

5th 7 3

6th 0 2

Total 13 10

The Contrastive Question Method and Results

Contrastive questions help farmers articulate information they use to make decisions, which in turn enhances researcher understandings about ranking choices. Past researchers suggest that contrastive questions assist with elicitation of detailed information that is not generally offered in interview settings (Johnson 1974; D‘Andrade

1976; Fowler 1977; Gladwin & Murtaugh 1980). For this research, contrastive questions were used to more fully understand farmers‘ agricultural preferences and perceptions and more generally the complexity of traditional ecological knowledge.

Each farmer had a unique contrastive question. Since each farming household plants a variety of different crops, we first had to understand what crops a household had in its fields (Appendix 6A). We began by asking how many parcels of land the household

305 had and what crops were planted on each. Once we had this information, we created a unique contrastive question for each respondent. And in many cases, more than one contrastive question was asked per respondent. For example, someone who had a field of

Job‘s tears was asked: Why do you plant Job‘s tears instead of paper mulberry? The answer to such a question includes an assortment of detailed knowledge about crop choices as is demonstrated through the following example with Tao (T.) Khammee, a 27- year-old Khmu man from Ban Silaleck:

Researcher: ―Why do you plant Job‘s tears instead of sesame?‖

T. Khamme: ―My land is on the roadside, and we can‘t plant sesame here because after they grow some, caterpillars will come to eat the leaves. Sesame can only be planted in the uplands, not the roadside.‖

Researcher: ―Why do you plant Job‘s tears instead of peanuts?‖

T. Khamme: ―Because my land is not suitable for peanuts or soy beans. I chose Job‘s tears because the price is good and on my land I get high yields. They need a lot of water and (my land) has a river nearby.‖

Researcher: ―Why do you plant Job‘s tears instead of paper mulberry?‖

T. Khamme: ―Because it is difficult to take out the skins [bark] of the mulberry. When I compare my land to others, mine is near the river, so it‘s not good for mulberry. Others who plant mulberry away from rivers have beautiful plants. I have a few mulberries, but last year the price was so low I left it—I didn‘t harvest it. Sloping land is not good for

306 mulberry, only flat lands. For Job‘s tears, flat land is better, but it can also grow on slopes. I‘ve never planted pineapple.‖

This conversation not only shows T. Khamme‘s knowledge about his landholdings and the environmental requirements of certain crops, but it shows that he weighs household labor allocation vis-à-vis market prices. For example, he decided the market prices were too low for paper mulberry, so he did not allocate labor for stripping the bark and just left it in the field. Furthermore, growing at least some paper mulberry is a security measure in case the other crops fail or the family is short of cash; when that happens, the farmer can strip the bark and sell it. The demand for paper mulberry bark is consistent since unique and touristy paper products are made with it and sold in Luang

Prabang, Vientiane and Thai handicraft markets.

Contrastive questions, coupled with other interview questions and ranking activities, yield an even larger assortment of detailed data. The following paragraph is an example of the type and amount of information that one interview with contrastive questions and a cash crop rank yielded.

Nong (N.) Tuey is 21 years old and has a fifth-grade education (a rather high education level for a village woman in Laos). She lives with her husband and child, her in-laws and her husband‘s grandparents, or a total of six adults and one 5-year-old child in the household. The household makes about 15 million kip ($1,765) of cash income per year, which puts them in the wealthy category103. They make money by selling livestock,

103 Villagers use the following criteria to rank the socio-economic status of households: the number of large livestock holdings, the ability to hire day laborers, annual rice sufficiency, and

307 rice and Job‘s tears. No one works off the farm for a cash salary. At the time, the family had two water buffalo, five cows, eight adult pigs and 18 baby pigs (though they planned to sell the baby pigs because the price of pig food was getting too expensive104). The household has three parcels of land. Teak trees and Job‘s tears are planted on the first parcel, upland rice on the second and lowland rice on the last parcel. When asked the contrastive question, ―Why do you plant Job‘s tears instead of sesame?‖ N. Tuey‘s response was, ―Our land is not suitable for sesame because the soil is not good. If you plant sesame this year, then the soil becomes poor. [You] can‘t plant again on the same land for up to three years, and then the soil gets better.‖ Thus, the land must lay fallow for three years before one can start to plant rice again. However, one doesn‘t have to wait three years to grow corn because it can grow in poor soils (but rats like to eat it). She goes on to say that Job‘s tears can grow in any soil, but peanuts like flat land, so the household only grows a little for personal consumption since its land is not flat. With regard to pineapples, she doesn‘t like to weed them because the spikey leaves hurt, but her grandma planted some near their teak trees. Old people are better at caring for pineapples because they‘re more patient than young people, N. Tuey said. Also, she doesn‘t like pigeon peas because they are not marketable and have no other use. Paper mulberry is difficult to process because the bark has to be stripped twice and it gets your hands sticky, but pigs eat the leaves and the wood can be used for firewood. The family the ability to purchase new clothes when the old ones are tattered (McAllister et. al. 2000). Compared to N. Tuey, a farming household without any livestock holdings and rice deficiency for three months would be ranked poor. 104 Rice bran, which pigs eat, is getting expensive; at the time of my research, the price was 20,000 kip for 15 kilograms‘ worth. However, pigs can eat corn, sweet potato leaves, paper mulberry leaves, cassava, etc., so it‘s not necessary to buy rice bran, as other farmers explained.

308 also has banana trees that the previous generation planted, but the field is far away and the bananas are heavy to carry so they don‘t sell a lot of them. In the future, she wants a

Hyundai truck so her family can become merchants and make money that way. If they make money as merchants, they will stop growing rice in the uplands and only grow teak trees on their upland parcels. She does not like rubber trees because young trees need to be weeded frequently and foraging livestock like to eat the leaves. The household decided to leave its trees to nature because there was no time to care for them.

This example demonstrates that farmers in Laos, including young female farmers, hold an abundance of complex data about their farming systems. They evaluate land holdings, soil type, labor allocation, price, marketability, and distance from the field to the house when deciding which crops to grow. Initially, N. Tuey did not mention rubber or banana trees. This is in part because farmers categorize large lands as agricultural (hed hai or hed na) but smaller lands, such as kitchen gardens, as gardens (suan), thus she did not include these in her response to the first question about household landholdings.

Although not discussed in N. Tuey‘s interview, farmers who completed the rice rank also talked about the flavor of rice varieties as a deciding factor in whether to grow it or not.

Interviews and contrastive questions lead to highly descriptive data. Table 6.4 below is a summary of crop characteristics mentioned by farmers in both Ban Fai and Ban Silaleck in response to contrastive questions. In the table, I only give detailed descriptions about uncommon crops, such as paper mulberry and Job‘s tears. I assume that readers have an understanding of the more common plants such as corn and pineapple.

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Table 6.4 Farmer Responses to Contrastive Questions

Cash Crop Ban Fai—10 responses Ban Silaleck—12 responses Sesame  Easy to thresh  Easy to thresh Sesamum indicum  Good price  Good price  Only weed two  Weed one time times or one time if  Caterpillars eat if lazy planted in the  Can get caterpillars lowlands  Only plant in  Seeds float away uplands because during the rain they don‘t like a lot  Sometimes no seeds at of water harvest  Thresh easy but have to dry them and winnow a lot Job‘s Tears105  High yielding  Weed three times Coix lachrymal-jobi  Fair price  Monocrop  Weed three to four  Need good soil but times can grow on hard soils  Can plant near  Grows better on flat sesame and rice lands; on sloping  Hard to thresh Lands, the plant grows  Easy to keep the well but no seeds seeds to plant the inside next year  Likes water  ―Hmong people don‘t grow this,‖ said one elderly Hmong man Paper Mulberry106  Difficult to process;  Difficult to process; a

105 This plant originated in Indochina, where it was grown in areas suitable for upland rice (Purseglove 1975:134). It is an ancient cereal crop. The hulled grain can be used like rice or made into flour or used in soups like pearl barley. The name comes from the tear-shaped false fruits, which have a hard shell. Its most common color is gray but Job‘s tears can also be ivory, rose, black or brown. The tear-shaped fruits are used ornamentally, sewn onto clothing or made into jewelry. A common way to eat the grains in Laos is to boil them and crack them out of their shells as finger snacks. 106 This is a small tree whose leaves feed silk worms and whose bark is used to make paper products. Bark is stripped from the tree, and then the outer layer of bark is stripped from the cambium, or inner layer. This inner layer is dried in the sun to decrease the chance of mold. In factories, it is boiled and made into a pulp to create various paper products for tourist markets. Young bark, between six and 24 months old, is considered the highest quality. Paper mulberry is a pioneer species in fallow fields but also grows easily under domesticated cultivation. See www.tabi.la/lao-ntfpwiki/index.php/Porsa.

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Brousonnetia papyrifera a lot of labor lot of labor  Easy to sell  Broom grass is easier  Always a market for  Needs a lot of land these but sometimes and water a low price  Doesn‘t grow on steep  Grows in nature slopes  Weed one time  Can harvest whenever one has the time  Can leave to the next year

Peanut  Easy to sell  Easy to sell Arachis hypogeal  Weed one time  Weed one time  Good to eat  Good to eat  Monocrop  Likes all kinds of  Needs flat land weather—rain or sun  Ants and rats like to  Monocrop eat  Needs flat land and soft soil Corn  High yield  Pigs get fat! Zea mays  Short growing  If not enough rice, season people can eat it  Grows in poor soils  Can sell  Feed to pigs  Weed two times  Can sell but low  Doesn‘t grow well on price steep slopes  Can‘t plant with rice—it makes rice grow bad  Can grow in hard soils Teak Tree  Not a lot of labor  Weed one time for Tectona grandis  Can leave for many first three years, then years leave it  Children can benefit  Government policy is  Government policy to plant trees to plant trees  Long time to get  Can build houses or money sell  Can sell all at once  Used to have a high and have a lot of price, but now it‘s money lower  Can build houses  Can give to children

311

 Can‘t grow at high altitudes (maybe it‘s too cold)

Rubber Tree  Can intercrop with  Can intercrop with Hevea brasiliensis rice for first two rice for first two years years  Hope to get a lot of  Can get money money in the future faster than with teak  Government policy to trees plant trees  Weed a lot when  Government and young Chinese company  Hope to get a lot of encourage us to grow money in the future  Government encourages us to grow  Can get rubber and use the wood  Too lazy to get up early in the morning to tap the rubber Fruit Trees  Good to eat  Need to eat for Photos on this card  Don‘t like rocky vitamins included: Banana, Musa soils  Can sell some, but acuminata or Musa  Weed a lot mostly eat balbisiana; Mango,  I plant bananas Mangifera indica; and because I know how Lychee Trees, Litchi and I don‘t have to chinensis buy seeds, but if I want to plant mango, I have to buy the seedlings Pineapple  Hard to weed  Hard to weed Ananas comosus  Price is low  Price is low and hard to sell; can only sell on roadside  People steal from the field

312

Pigeon Pea107  Can‘t sell the peas  Can grow stick lac Cajanus cajan  If I grow stick lac  Can feed the beans to on pigeon pea the pigs stems, I can‘t sell it  I like to eat, but some  Wasps eat the stick years there are beans lac insects and other years there‘s  It‘s itchy and no none beans inside  Needs a lot of labor  I‘ve never planted  I don‘t know this plant Soy Bean  Planted once but no  Old people like to eat seeds  Low price  (Farmers here say  Needs good soil they don‘t plant this,  Plants don‘t produce so it was removed seeds in this area from the pile) (maybe it‘s too hot here) Other  Chili peppers,  Broom grass, peppers, cucumbers and cucumbers and NTFPs bananas were were also mentioned frequently as income earners. mentioned crops. One woman One woman sells mentioned growing cabbages to the cassava that she feeds market and many to her pigs. collect NTFPs.

Characteristics listed in Table 6.4 are variables farmers consider when making agricultural decisions, especially decisions about cash crops. Contrastive questions were only asked about cash crops since it‘s a given that the majority of farmers are planting rice. As a side note, even wealthy households that reside in the town of Luang Prabang

107 Stick lac, or Laccifer lacca, are insects that produce hard shells that are harvested and made into adhesives and dyes. Dyes were traditionally used in woven fabrics and the adhesives used to attach machete and other iron tool blades to wooden handles. Shellac is produced from the lac, which is put into lacquers around the world. Lac insects grow on over 20 types of host trees; however, in the uplands of Laos, pigeon peas were promoted as stick lac host trees. Lac produced in Laos is exported to China and Thailand. Pigeon peas originated in Asia. The peas are edible and a high source of protein; they‘re eaten green, dried or made into flour. Agriculturally, the plants can be alley cropped or made as hedgerows, which helps control soil erosion, improve soil nutrients and creates wind blocks for rice and other agricultural crops.

313 generally keep rice fields in their home villages or on the edge of town. They pay day laborers to care for their rice crops. I was told that this method is less expensive than purchasing large quantities of rice from the market.

Contrastive Questions and Decision Making

Contrastive questions contribute information to both the preattentive and attentive stages of decision making. Preattentively, farmers hold a plethora of knowledge about the climate, altitude, soil type, soil nutrients, expected water content, etc., of their landholdings. This information is necessary background information. Many crops are eliminated based on farmers‘ preattentive traditional ecological knowledge prior to reaching the attentive stage of decision making. Once farmers actively consider crops, then variables such as labor, price and function (i.e.: the use of the plant, as a food, cash crop, animal fodder, etc.) are weighed and considered. Thus, contrastive questions help elucidate both stages of farmer decision making.

Although the majority of variables compiled in Table 6.4 are ecological and utilitarian, there was a specific cultural variable mentioned. T. Shoyang, a 41-year-old

White Hmong man, said that Hmong people don‘t plant Job‘s tears. An analysis of my

Hmong interviews shows that, in fact, no Hmong farmer reported growing Job‘s tears during the interview season. Since Job‘s tears are a cash crop and other farmers make money selling them, it was surprising that Hmong do not grow it. The Hmong are well known throughout Southeast Asia for their intensive agricultural patterns, thus not growing Job‘s tears seems contrary to their agricultural style. Unfortunately, I did not

314 realize the significance of T. Shoyang‘s answer until I left Laos; I will inquire about it on my next trip.

The Pile Sort Method and Findings

Pile sorting is an activity wherein respondents are given slips of paper with names and/or pictures of items and asked to sort them into piles (Borgatti 1999:131; Nazarea

1998; Fowler 1977). Borgatti suggests that people tend to think of items as bundles of attributes, and when asked to sort them, people do so based on perceptions of similar or dissimilar attributes (1999:135). My purpose for using pile sorts was mostly to understand local ethnic groups‘ plant categories, and also to compare them with other stakeholder groups‘ categories.

A total of 20 cards with photos (to accommodate illiterate respondents) and plant names, written in the Lao language, were shown to individuals (Appendix 6C). Some of the selected plants were of high cultural saliency, such as the rice species, sesame and corn. Also, some less-salient plants were selected, including research crops and naturally occurring grass and fallow species. The purpose of choosing less-salient plants was to understand if the crops recommended by researchers were making it to farmers‘ fields and to understand farmers‘ and researchers‘ evaluation of plants that—in my cultural model—fit into different categories. (It goes without saying that no matter how much we try to conduct unbiased research, we are adding bias by the mere fact that we are doing it.)

315

We administered single free-pile sorts (De Munck 2009:70). This means that respondents were given the pile of 20 cards and asked to look at the plants and sort them into piles based on their own criteria. After cards were arranged into piles, respondents were asked to explain their criteria/reasons for the piles. In some cases, if large piles were presented (i.e.: 10 out of 20 were in one pile) and the reasoning was unclear, respondents were asked to further separate the large pile into two or more smaller ones, a task termed successive constrained pile sorting; however, this was only requested if necessary.

Pile Sorts and Education

Some respondents could not be taught to understand the pile sort activity. If this was the case, the activity was skipped. Four men (one from each ethnic group) and five women (one Hmong and four Tai-Lue; no Khmu women were asked) did not learn to do the pile sort. One middle-aged Khmu man remarked, ―Viack nyack,‖ or, ―It‘s hard work.‖

Interestingly, this highlights the difference between the researcher‘s perspective and the farmers‘ perspective of the method. Prior to field work, I tested this method with four

American108 middle-class farmers and it appeared to work well. Although the task involves thought, it was not viewed as ―hard work.‖ This may be due to the fact that all the American farmers had at least completed high school. The U.S. school system orients students to categorize and sort objects based on classification systems. American farmers automatically classified plants by characteristics they were trained to identify as similar or different. On the contrary, farmers in Laos mentioned it was ―hard work‖ presumably

108 Lao and American farmers were not given the same cards to sort. Crops for each group were specific to their farming systems.

316 because they were asked to think about crops in a way they had not been asked before. As one can see from Table 6.2, farmers in this research area are not highly educated and therefore I assume they are less familiar with Western-style classification systems and sorting tasks. Although farmers categorize plants on an unconscious (cultural model) level, it is not something they often do consciously. Previous research suggests that all cultures classify information based on their own cognitive domains, although there is recognition of universal biological categories or ―natural systems‖ across cultures109.

Furthermore, and ―participatory research clearly indicate that lay understandings about natural entities, phenomenon and processes are very sophisticated‖

(Gragson and Blount 1999:x). Farmers in Laos have a deep understanding of their environments and the overall needs of their crops, but this information is acted upon at such an unconscious level that it‘s rarely verbalized or discussed in detail. Hence, they had to think about what characteristics (soil preference, shape, speed of growth, harvest style, etc.) they wanted to use to categorize the selected plants, causing them to expend more mental energy than higher educated individuals who engage in formal classification and sorting tasks more often. Additionally, once farmers had classified their plants, they had to articulate their choices to us, which at times was difficult. Furthermore, higher educated individuals familiar with a standardized classification system, such as the

Linnaean one, only needed to classify based on previously learned and utilized criteria.

109 Ethnobiological data suggests that humans are capabale of recognizing distinct pattern‘s innature‘s structure but generally a single pattern stands out from all the rest within local flora and fauna (Berlin 1992:9). ―This overall pattern has been referred to by syetematic biologists as the natural system. The natural system becomes manifest presumably because of the human ability to recognize and categorize groups of living beings that are similar to one another ion varying degrees in their overall morphological structure, or morphological plan. This pattern- recognizing ability is probably innate‖ (Berlin 1992:9).

317

Due to the exposure to formalized education and classification systems, higher educated individuals expended less mental energy and refrained from comments similar to ―this is hard work.‖ To further support this idea, 10 staff persons were asked to complete pile sorts, and all 10 completed the task in a timely manner. Researchers from the Regional

Research Center commented that they could further break down their categories based on more specific criteria, indicating the use of a formalized classification system. Lastly, findings presented in this chapter demonstrate that staff considered the species criterion more often than any other criteria, supporting the notion that formal education influences sorting tasks. To put it another way, the task of classifying plants is more familiar among the staff culture than the farmer culture (i.e.: staff classify more often on a conscious level).

I suggest that individuals, from any culture, who have completed a high level of formal education (equivalent to a high school graduate) will classify based on formalized classification systems. That is, once they learn about the Linnaean system, they will most likely continue to classify based on that rather than their own cultural domains. While this may seem somewhat contradictory to cognitive anthropological ideals, it is an idea worth pursuing. Although people learn to classify information based on their cultures, they also learn it through their educational systems. To assume that an indigenous person with a university degree will continue to classify information based on his or her cultural domains instead of the dominant ones used in educational institutions may be an oversimplification. Furthermore, classification results linked to education were also found in Brazil. Byrne and Forline (1997:21-22) found that individuals with 12 or more

318 years of education reached a higher group consensus about racial classifications than less educated groups. Presuming that the majority of formalized education epistemologies stem from European ideals, which were spread during colonialism, then one could say that the formalized classification systems used in higher education facilities around the world stem from Westernized concepts. I hypothesize that as individuals in any culture become more educated in a Western manner, they begin using the dominant system of binomial , or they move back and forth between their cultural domains and institutional domains depending on the situation.

Pile Sort Hierarchical Clusters

Thirty-three pile sorts from the IRRI research area were analyzed using

ANTHROPAC110. Hierarchical clustering analysis of aggregate, farmer and staff responses are shown in Appendix 6D; for explanatory purposes, the aggregate cluster is also shown below as Figure. 6.5. Respondents clustered information based on their own criteria of similarity. Clusters are not formed around a central point but rather created based on emic features of similarity. Hierarchically, the analysis shows how clusters are nested within larger, more inclusive clusters, representative of a taxonomy (De Munck

2009:90). The cluster charts may be read in a top-to-bottom or bottom-to-top orientation.

The most inclusive groups are at the bottom while the most exclusive groups are at the top. The numbers to the left on the vertical axis represent the percent of times that plants were grouped together. For example, in Figure 6.5 below, the black box shows that

110 ANTHROPAC is a software program for cultural domain analysis.

319 upland glutinous rice (UPGTRIC) and black rice (BLARIC) were clustered together 85% of the time, more than any other crops.

Figure 6.5 Aggregate Hierarchical Cluster Chart

J P P R N C O I I P U Y H I L L B G S N F A B T A O M O U U O S S E O P E R P B E K D P W B P P W E T O Y E A U E E A E O E S S L G S G S C E N B A P I R R K E R R T M A T M T A O A P E N P T M T T N A A Y R R R R R M R R E A U L R U R R E T T L I I I I I E N S A N T E E L E E E A A O C C C C C

1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 Level 7 5 9 4 0 2 8 3 1 6 4 2 1 3 5 6 7 8 9 0 ------0.8485 ...... XXX . . 0.8384 ...... XXXXX . 0.8182 ...... XXXXXXX . 0.8053 ...... XXXXXXXXX 0.7879 . XXX ...... XXX . . . . XXXXXXXXX 0.7576 . XXX ...... XXX . XXX . XXXXXXXXX 0.7273 . XXX . XXX . . . XXX . XXX . XXXXXXXXX 0.6667 XXXXX . XXX . . . XXX . XXX . XXXXXXXXX 0.5152 XXXXX . XXX XXX . XXX . XXX . XXXXXXXXX 0.5051 XXXXX . XXX XXX XXXXX . XXX . XXXXXXXXX 0.5051 XXXXX . XXX XXX XXXXX XXXXX . XXXXXXXXX 0.3434 XXXXX XXXXX XXX XXXXX XXXXX . XXXXXXXXX 0.3333 XXXXX XXXXX XXX XXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.2746 XXXXXXXXXXX XXX XXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.2374 XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.1106 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.0702 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 0.0485 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Legend: The top categories read vertically. From left to right they are as follows: sesame, corn, Job‘s tears, pigeon pea, soy bean, peanut, pineapple, fruit tree, paper mulberry, rubber tree, teak tree, nya kee nee (a naturally occurring grass species), Chromolaena odorata (a naturally occurring bush, shown as CHODORATA), Imperata cylindrica (a naturally occurring grass species, shown as IMPERATA), stylo (a livestock forage), lowland steamed rice (shown as LOWSMRIC), black rice (BLARIC), upland glutinous rice (UPGTRIC), upland steamed rice (UPSMRIC) and lowland glutinous rice (LOWGTRIC).

The above Figure 6.5 shows averages between the farmer and staff stakeholder groups. While averages are interesting, in this case they are too general. For example, in

Figure 6.5, corn and Job‘s tears are clustered together 79% of the time, but if we look at the staff chart in Appendix 6D, they cluster these together 100% of the time. Thus, the

320 following discussion focuses on the specific farmer and staff charts for my purpose of understanding stakeholder group differences.

The Most Inclusive Clusters of Farmers and Staff

The most inclusive groupings from both farmer and staff hierarchical clusters are analyzed herein. Looking at the farmer clusters in a bottom-to-top orientation, the two most inclusive groupings are: 1) species that grow in the rice fields, including rice and non-rice species; and 2) cash crops, including potential cash crops, such as soy beans and pigeon peas (i.e.: green manure crops). The most inclusive groupings for staff are: 1) cash crops; and 2) plants that grow in the rice field, including green manure crops. The biggest difference between farmer and staff clusters is that staff members distinguish a green manure111 cluster while farmers do not. Farmers place the green manure crops in their cash crop cluster—except for stylo, which is separated because it‘s a forage crop. Staff members consider ―green manure‖ crops as crops in the rice field, but farmers consider them ―cash crops.‖ Furthermore, pigeon pea is an outlier on the farmer chart. Many farmers did not know this plant and others suggested it was a plant without much worth because they don‘t eat it and it wasn‘t a cash crop. Only one older Hmong man said he ate the peas, a point I find intriguing. The peas themselves are a high protein food source and can be eaten green or dried for the future112. The peas are found in an assortment of

111 Potential green-manure crops include all of those in the leguminosae family because they are nitrogen fixers. Legumes included in our pile sort activity are pigeon peas, soy beans, stylo and peanuts. 112 Pigeon peas are a well-known agro-forestry species in tropical and semi-tropical climates because of their many uses. Humans can eat the peas, animals can eat the leaves, the woody stems can be used as firewood, and the roots put nitrogen into the soil. As an agro-forestry extension

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Indian food dishes and many African peoples eat them, too. It could be that farmers in

Laos don‘t perceive them as food. Through observation, I have found that people are generally reluctant to try new food items, so it can take a long time before a newly introduced food crop is accepted into the regular diet; because of this, the pigeon pea crop might never be adopted. However, pigeon peas are also a livestock-fodder crop, thus it appears farmers would be interested in planting it. There must be enough other crops fulfilling the needs that pigeon peas could, but with less labor input. Since farmers prefer to maximize their labor, they would rather collect naturally occurring fodder plants in the wild instead of cultivating one, which requires more labor.

Staff Clusters

The most exclusive groupings are viewed from a top-to-bottom orientation. That is, any two items with three x‘s near the top of the chart were placed together the most often. Staff lumped Job‘s tears and corn together 100% of the time while sesame, corn and Job‘s tears were clustered together 85% of the time. Staff stated that these are

―industry crops‖ with short growing seasons. Additionally, they‘re food crops. A staff member from the Pak Ou District reported that, according to the district recorder, Job‘s tears was planted by more farmers than any other cash crop in the district. Sesame is placed with corn and Job‘s tears 17% less often due to two factors: 1) Job‘s tears and corn plants have similar leaves (parallel venation is a common trait of monocots) and they grow to about the same height, so they are morphologically similar; and 2) while

Job‘s tears and corn can be eaten on their own as snacks, and also be used to feed agent in Malawi, Africa, I grew this crop in my maize field and promoted it to local farmers. The peas are delicious!

322 livestock, sesame is most often mixed with other foods and used especially for its oil content.

Rice varieties were also exclusively grouped by staff 92% of the time. They are separated only 8% of the time. One rice researcher separated black rice and lowland glutinous ―aerobic‖ rice because they are different than the other three varieties. He suggested that aerobic rice is different because it has a shorter growing season, meaning it is one of the first rice crops to be harvested, and greatly beneficial to rice-deficient households. And black rice stands out as a traditional variety that can be grown both in the uplands and lowlands. At the same 92% level, peanut and soy beans are clustered because they are both tua, or beans, and people can eat them. Although pigeon pea and stylo are also nitrogen-fixing legumes, pigeon peas are not a common human food and stylo can only be eaten by livestock and, as such, the two are clustered together less often.

Teak and rubber trees are also clustered together 92% of the time by the staff.

First, because they‘re trees, and second, because they have long maturation periods

(seven or more years); thus, they are long-term investments. Paper mulberry is clustered with teak and rubber trees 59% of the time, again because it‘s a tree; however, it‘s a smaller tree with a shorter period of maturation. Farmers may earn income as soon as six months after planting paper mulberry and then continually for 10 to 15 years from new stem growth. Fruit trees and pineapple are clustered together 77% of the time since they are both ―fruits.‖ Closer to the right side of the chart, Imperata cylindrica (a grass) and

Chromolaena odorata (a woody-stemmed plant), both naturally occurring fallow species,

323 are clustered together 85% of the time. Although nya kee nee is also a naturally occurring fallow grass, it is clustered together with the other two only 64% of the time since it serves as livestock forage. Chromolaena odorata is a beneficial fallow species; research indicates that fallows with this species have higher rice yields and can suppress the growth of I. cylindrica. Furthermore, I. cylindrica acts as an indicator species of poor soils while C. odorata is an indicator of decent soils; therefore, these two may be clustered together most often because of the relationship they have with one another and the fact that they‘re both indicator species, as noted by both staff and farmers (Roder

2001:81).

Farmer Clusters Compared to Staff Clusters

The most exclusive farmer grouping, at 80% of the time, was upland glutinous and black rice. All five rice species were clustered together only 71% of the time, indicating that farmers use criteria other than ―species‖ for their piles. In fact, some farmers created piles based on which plants grow together in the same field (explained more thoroughly in the proceeding paragraphs). The 9% of farmers who split the rice pile did so based on planting location; that is, 4% separated upland and lowland varieties while an additional 5% clustered upland glutinous and black rice together because they can be grown next to each other in the same upland field. The next most-exclusively clustered items, at 70%, are teak and rubber trees, and I. cyclindrica and C. odorata.

These groupings and the reasoning behind them correlate with staff findings (i.e.: trees and indicator species—explained above). Moving down the column, farmers grouped all four tree species together 42% of the time. Farmers included fruit trees in the tree cluster;

324 this placement varies from staff results since staff most commonly clustered fruit trees with pineapples. Such a clustering indicates that the length of growth is a more salient topic among farmers than staff and it is a criteria farmers use to categorize crops.

Pineapples are separated from other cash crops 61% of the time because they‘re difficult to weed due to the spikes on their leaves; this difficulty makes pineapple an outlier.

Farmers cluster stylo and nya kee nee together 45% of the time whereas staff do so only 6% of the time. These divergent clusters indicate that salient crop characteristics differ for farmers and staff. Farmers value the livestock foraging quality of stylo and nya kee nee whereas staff first and foremost classify stylo as a green manure crop. Staff members mentioned that stylo is a livestock forage but this is not the most salient feature they considered when creating piles.

Farmers cluster Job‘s tears and corn together 65% of the time. In addition to staff reasons for this cluster, farmers like the diverse uses of these plants; they mention that corn can be used to feed livestock and as a snack for people and that it grows in poor soils. Farmers like the ease of growing corn and its many uses, including selling it as a cash crop if the price is right or if money is needed when the price is low. Job‘s tears has similar qualities, except the selling price is higher than corn, so most of it gets sold.

Sesame is clustered with Job‘s tears and corn 55% of the time, a similar inclusiveness found with staff clusters. The inclusiveness is based on the fact that all three crops are cash crops; however, sesame is split from Job‘s tears and corn based on its consistently good selling price and, specifically from the farmer group because it is easier to thresh, implying less labor commitment. Soybean and peanut are clustered together 60% of the

325 time because they are both tua, or beans, similar to staff results. In summary, the most salient criteria used by staff members to cluster plants are species and green manure. For the farmer group, the most salient criteria are time to maturation, plant use, and what crops can be grown in the same field.

Farmer Clusters by Ethnic Group

Farmer data can be broken down further into ethnic-group clusters; these charts are included in Appendix 6D. Ideally, a larger number of farmers from each of these groups should have been obtained in order to draw a more representative sample. The discrepancy in the number of pile sorts for each ethnic group is a result of informants skipping the activity because they did not understand the process and the difficulty in getting informants from Ban Silaleck. Respondents from Ban Silaleck represented both

Khmu and Hmong ethnic groups, thus the difficulty in getting results from this village affected both of these sample populations. For example, only four Khmu farmers completed pile sorts, and some did not include all 20 plants in their sorts. That is, if farmers said they were unfamiliar with a plant, they could put it to the side and not include it in their piles. This meant that not every crop was sorted 100% of the time; therefore, the highest percent that any two crops were lumped together was at 75% on the

Khmu cluster chart. Five Hmong farmers and 11 Tai-Lue farmers completed the pile sort activity.

Although the number of respondents is low for each ethnic group, it still seems worthwhile to analyze the information. The Tai-Lue clustered C. odorata and I. cyclindrica together 90% of the time while the Hmong clustered it 80% of the time and

326 the Khmu only 22% of the time. Khmu farmers responded that I. cyclindrica grass is used as roofing material and this is why they preferred to cluster it separately (although Tai-

Lue and Hmong also thatch their roofs, neither group mentioned this in our discussions).

The charts from all three ethnic groups reflect the aforementioned common clusters of corn with Job‘s tears, and tree species clustered together. While Tai-Lue farmers clustered teak and rubber trees together most often, at 82%, Khmu farmers clustered fruit trees and paper mulberry together most often, at 75%, and Hmong farmers clustered all trees together, at 67%. A Hmong farmer suggested that teak, fruit and paper mulberry trees can all be planted together in warm areas while rubber trees can be planted within the rice field for the first two years; this was his criteria for splitting the trees.

Hmong respondents made a distinction between rice varieties more often than other groups. They only clustered all together 46% of the time compared to the Tai-

Lue, who clustered rices together 83% of the time. The Hmong clustered the two steamed rice varieties together 60% of the time, which supports their ethnic preference for steamed rice, as discussed in the upcoming Rice and Culture section of this chapter.

Pineapple has the most variation in how it‘s clustered by each ethnic group. Khmu isolate it 75% of the time, and Tai-Lue cluster it with fruit trees 45% of the time. Hmong lump it with pigeon pea 40% of the time for different reasons. That is, two Hmong respondents explained that they cluster pigeon pea and pineapple together because: 1) they can be planted together during the first year; and 2) if you plant a little, you can eat them, but if you plant a lot, you can sell them. The other three Hmong respondents did

327 not lump these together. Due to the variation in responses, I consider both pigeon pea and pineapple outliers on the Hmong and Khmu charts.

On the Khmu chart, pigeon pea and rubber tree are lumped together 50% of the time. However, being that this chart is the result of only four respondents, the two who placed these together did so because: 1) they can be planted together; and 2) they are all trees (pigeon pea is a perennial that can grow into a small tree). These are also the reasons why fruit tree and paper mulberry are lumped together 75% of the time on the

Khmu chart. Finally, pigeon pea is an outlier for the Tai-Lue; as expressed by a number of respondents, they think it is a worthless crop because they don‘t consider it a cash or food crop. Although it was promoted as a cash crop by way of growing stick lac insects on the plant stems, wasps ate the stick lac insects before they produced lac. Also, as previously discussed, farmers in Laos don‘t perceive pigeon peas as a food crop, thus it appears useless.

The Hmong clustered soy bean and sesame together 80% of the time. This finding differs from all other charts. Respondents suggested that these two crops, along with others, can be planted in separate areas of the same field, meaning they require similar climactic and environmental settings. This clustering correlates with the commonly used criterion of ―plant together,‖ as discussed in more detail below. Furthermore, the separation of peanuts and soy beans indicates that ―plant together‖ is a more salient criterion than ―species‖ for Hmong farmers.

Finally, Tai-Lue clusters correlate the most with staff clusters, inferring that staff, regardless of ethnicity, have become part of the government culture, a government that

328 represents and hopes to reflect the majority Lao population (Lao Loum or ethnolinguistic

Tai), of which the Tai-Lue are a part. Therefore, staff answers reflect the dominant cultural domains for the plants, not staff members‘ individual cultural preferences. For example, one Hmong rice researcher ranked ―laboun,‖ a glutinous upland rice variety, as the number one rice because he knows that ―Lao‖ people prefer glutinous varieties. Thus, he did not consider the Hmong preference of steamed rice; rather, he evaluated it based on government cultural preferences.

Non-metric multidimensional scaling (MDS) was also run on pile sort data using

ANTHROPAC software. I used this feature to try to understand the underlying logic of similarities used by pile sort respondents. This discussion is in Appendix 6E.

Criteria Used by Pile Sort Respondents

In reading through pile sort responses, I noticed that six criteria were used by all respondents to sort piles. These include: time to maturation, harvest techniques, planting together in the same field, function (i.e. eating, selling, livestock food and soil preferences), species, and morphological similarity. Also, at least seven respondents were marked as ―don‘t understand‖ (40 people were asked to participate in pile sorts but only

33 were eventually conducted). Respondents commonly used more than one criterion to arrange their piles. Fifteen of the 33 respondents, or 45%, used ―function‖ and an equal percent used ―species‖ as part of their criteria. Seventy percent of staff and 38% of farmers used species as a criterion. It is no surprise that 70% of the college-educated staff used species as their main pile-sort criterion since, as previously discussed, higher education influences sorting criteria (or cognitive domains).

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The second most-common criterion was ―plant together‖; eleven respondents, or

33%, used this criterion, including only one staff person. It is not surprising that 10 farmers used ―plant together‖ as their categorizing criterion. Referring to the discussion about decision-making theories in Chapter Three, the ―plant together‖ organization of piles is an example of satisficing. Recall that satisficing is when individuals search among available alternatives until they find a satisfactory one. This alternative is chosen, even though a more desirable alternative may still exist that has not yet been searched out. By settling for the first satisfactory alternative, an individual saves the costs of searching further (Simon 1957:204-205). Since all farmers were recently in their fields, the pile-sort photos triggered images of their fields; thus, it was easy or satisfactory to categorize based on what they ―plant together.‖ If farmers did not feel satisfied with the

―plant together‖ criterion, they could have spent more time or mental energy thinking of other criteria. Likewise, staff members were satisfied to categorize based on species.

As mentioned above, the majority of respondents combined two criteria to create their piles. For example, function and species were used together by 26% of respondents while morphological similarity was used in combination with other criteria by 23.5% of respondents. This finding adheres to the fundamental number of two to three categories people use to classify information as proposed by Broadbent (1975) and as discussed in

Chapter Three.

Although six criteria were used, the three most salient were function, species and plant together. These criteria share correlations with hierarchical clusters and multidimensional scaling outputs. First, the inclusive piles, the ones near the bottom of

330 the hierarchical clusters, also share a theme of ―plant together.‖ For the species criteria, both the farmer and staff hierarchies show that species such as teak and rubber trees and soy beans and peanuts are clustered together a higher percentage of time than other crops.

The clustering of Job‘s tears and corn a high percentage of time is based on their similar functions and morphological similarity. Second, when analyzing farmer data through multidimensional scaling (Graph 1 Appendix 6E) I found that farmers used a function dimension along the vertical axis, moving from long-term cash crops to short-term cash crops to subsistence crops. Furthermore, staff findings (Graphs 2 and 3 in Appendix 6E) correlate with the species criteria, moving from herbaceous to woody-stemmed plants along the horizontal axis.

A Pile Sort Test

Since ―plant together‖ was a common criterion used by farmers, I decided to test this further. I thought it is possible that people categorize based on the overall agricultural processes that occur on a plot of land. Recall that swidden upland fields, in particular, are part of an agro-ecosystem where numerous activities take place and, as mentioned in previous chapters, these fields are slashed, burned, planted and harvested. Then volunteer fallow species grow, large livestock range freely on crop stubble and fallow species, and people collect saleable fallow species, with this process repeated several times over.

Considering this process, I added seven photo cards to the pile sort activity. They included slashing, or tang hai; burning, or juedt hai; paddy field, or na; water buffalo, or dtho kwai ; cow, or dtho ngua ; pig, or dtho mu ; and chickens, or dtho gai. I tested the updated card pile with four key informants in Muang Muay village to understand if

331 categories might reflect not only what‘s ―planted together‖ but other activities within the same agro-ecosystem.

Information from these four pile sorts was not analyzed with ANTHROPAC and therefore is only qualitatively discussed here. I found that people in Muang Muay did not lump cards based on agro-ecosystem activities. Rather, they grouped them based on species or functions, just as respondents from the IRRI research area did. That is, they clustered the four types of livestock, the five rice varieties, slashing and burning, and trees or long-term cash crops together (in this way farmers in Laos also conform with the universal biological categories suggested by ethnobiologists e.g., animals, rice plants etc.). This leads me to conclude that farmer perceptions differ the most about annual or short-term cash crop species, which is reflected in the diverse way that farmers arranged these plants in the pile sort activity. Since farmers reside in variable micro-environments, no two agro-ecosystems are the same. And since farmers live in locations with divergent infrastructure, they do not all grow the same short-term cash crops. These factors, combined with ever-changing market demands, leads to individualized perceptions about short-term cash crops. On the most inclusive level, short-term cash crop perceptions may be shared within a village but broadening them beyond this scope is dubious.

Pile Sort Limitations

Pile sort data yielded interesting results that can assist in understanding how plants are framed by different stakeholder and ethnic groups in Laos. However, analyzing pile sorts requires ANTHROPAC software, and if there are technological problems in the field then researchers may endure a long wait period before understanding the results.

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Furthermore, a delay in generating and analyzing outputs may create a quandary for researchers. That is, I am unable to test the face validity of dimensions via a profit analysis because Lao citizens are not accessible in Reno, Nevada, where I analyze and write.

In reference to time, pile sorts may take longer than other methods, especially if respondents don‘t understand the task. On more than one occasion, I sat for 10 to 15 minutes while farmers thumbed the cards over and over thinking about the task, only to finally hear them say, ―I don‘t understand‖ or ―Can you explain this again?‖ In retrospect, constrained pile sorts would have been easier for respondents to understand. If I conduct pile sorts again in Laos I will suggest the categories, such as: cash crop, livestock forages, weeds, staple crops, etc., and I will be more specific about the criteria; that is, I will ask respondents to sort piles based on similar features. Because I was educated under a

Western system, I naturally thought that non-specified piles were the best way to limit researcher bias when conducting pile sorts, thus I made no specifications and asked people to sort the cards into piles based on their own criteria. I purposely kept the directions vague so that respondents could ―feel free‖ to create piles in any way possible, the idea of ―freedom‖ imposed from my Western up-bringing. However, I soon learned that more specific directions are needed for respondents in Laos, especially those with little to no formal education. I do not say this to belittle any respondent, as I know each has a plethora of traditional environmental knowledge, but this task of conscious categorizing, which stems from a Western formal educational perspective, proved to be difficult and perhaps mentally taxing for farmer respondents. Lastly, some elderly farmers suffer from poor vision and were physically incapable of completing pile sort or

333 ranking activities. (Reading glasses are not sold in village stores and optometrists are extremely rare in the country.)

Ranking Method and Results

While pile sorts are an attempt to elicit a shared cultural model, ranking activities seek to elicit individual opinions, such as crop preferences and values. For example, the

Food and Agricultural Organization (FAO) states that ranking ―is a tool which encourages people to make, and then evaluate, choices. It is a simple and inexpensive tool for obtaining information about how people make choices, why people make choices, and what choices they make‖ (1989:91). Ranking and sorting can be used for a number of purposes such as identifying needs and priorities, monitoring preference changes, comparing preferences and priorities between groups, and evaluating the success of projects or activities (FAO 1989:90). For this research, the main purposes of ranking are: 1) to understand values and preferences and compare them across stakeholder and ethnic groups in order to elucidate similarities or differences; and 2) to gain an understanding of farmer values that can be applied to future research projects.

Two piles of cards were ranked in both the IRRI and Muang Muay research sites.

The ranking piles came from the same 20 cards used for the pile sort activity. However, I chose 15 cards and labeled them as: 1) cash crop rank; and 2) rice rank. The rice rank pile included all five of the rice varieties listed in Appendix 6C. The cash crop pile included: corn, sesame, pineapple, Job‘s tears, paper mulberry, peanut, fruit trees, pigeon peas, teak and rubber trees. For each pile, respondents were asked to rank cards from their most to

334 their least favorite, based on their own criteria. It generally took respondents 10 to 15 minutes to rank both piles. However, it took between 20 and 40 minutes for people to discuss the reasoning behind their rankings.

Cash Crop Ranks

In the IRRI research area, 28 respondents (24 farmers and four staff members) completed the cash crop rank. Rank criteria involved price 68% of the time. Labor came in second at 54% and crop value (i.e.: numerous uses and few environmental needs) third at 46% of the time. These three criteria were often used in combination with one another and with flavor preference (i.e.: if fruit tastes good) and maturation-time criteria. For example, sesame was ranked first by 32% of respondents (seven farmers and two staff) for two reasons: 1) because it consistently fetches ―laka dee,‖ or a good price; and 2) because it‘s easy to harvest (after drying in the sun, the seeds readily fall out upon threshing). Sesame is not as labor intensive as paper mulberry (strip the bark twice) or

Job‘s tears (difficult to thresh). Regarding sesame, an older Tai-Lue woman said, ―It‘s not yet ready to harvest but the merchant is already waiting at my house!‖ Furthermore, since corn grows on poor soils, has a short growing time, is easy to care for and can be used as food for both people and animals, it was consistently ranked in the top three.

Graph 6.6 shows the highest- and lowest-ranked crops by the farmer stakeholder group. As shown, sesame was ranked first by 33% of farmers whereas teak trees were ranked first by only 25% of farmers. Pigeon pea was consistently ranked last, by 37.5%, or nine farmers. Although not shown on the graph, and in accordance with previous findings, none of the staff ranked pigeon pea last due to its green manure qualities.

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Rubber trees were ranked last by 21% of farmers. Rubber trees were ranked low because farmers are uncertain about future market prices and inexperienced with this cash crop.

Farmers in Luang Prabang Province have just recently started planting rubber trees; therefore they do not know what the market price will be when they begin to tap the trees and sell the raw rubber over the next three to five years. Furthermore, rubber tree plantations are being promoted by Chinese companies foreseeing future factory demands in China. The northern province of Luang Namtha, which shares a border with China, has demonstrated success in planting and selling rubber to Chinese merchants, and farmers in

Luang Prabang Province are anticipating an equally successful situation; however, critics argue that the soil type and cool climate of Luang Prabang Province are not the most suitable for growing good quality rubber. Due to the uncertainty of prices and yields, the conversion of 350 hectares of rice lands into rubber trees in Pak Ou District is considered risky behavior.

Graph 6.6 Percentages of Highest- and Lowest-ranked Crops by Farmers 40

30 The four highest-ranked 20 crops (corn and fruit trees were both 17%) 10 The three second-ranked crops 0 The three lowest-ranked crops

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Cash Crop Ranks from the Muang Muay Research Site

In the Muang Muay research site, cash crop ranks were completed with a total of

11 farmers. After residing in Muang Muay village, I observed two key cash crops that were not included in my original rank pile—broom grass, or kheme, and pueak mueak, the bark that is used in incense manufacturing—so I added these to the cash crop rank pile for this research site. Jatropha113 was also added (See Appendix 6C) since it was being discussed as a new cash crop promoted by an agribusiness that wants to buy the seeds as an alternative fuel source. Although farmers in Laos have grown jatropha as live fencing for decades, they have not viewed it as a cash crop. The company is attempting to re-frame this crop in farmers‘ minds.

Graph 6.7 shows the highest-ranked cash crops for the Muang Muay area. I observed that few farmers in the six research villages grow fruit trees; therefore, I think farmers ranked fruit trees high since they have seen the potential of earning money from observing elsewhere. Peauk Mueak and broom grass are two of the biggest cash earners for this area and, not surprisingly, were the two highest-ranked crops. As the graph shows, broom grass was also ranked last by 18%, or two, respondents. The dichotomous ranking of this crop emphasizes individual preferences. Two farmers did not have a

113 As part of the Euphorbiaceae family, the genus Jatropha contains over 175 succulent plants, shrubs and trees which contain toxic chemicals. Jatropha curcas is a deciduous tree, native to Central America that has been used for centuries as live fencing around agricultural plots to deter crop pests due to the foul-smelling toxins it exudes. More recently Jatropha curcas seeds have been tested and hailed as a green biodiesel fuel source. Reportedly, this tree grows in ―soils and climates that are poorly suited to grow edible crops‖ (The Research Council of Norway 2011). Therefore, the production of it would limit competition with food resources, unlike corn-produced ethanol does. It is estimated that one acre of Jatropha curcas trees can produce six tons, or one hectare could produce 15 tons of biodiesel per annum (The Research Council of Norway 2011).

337 preference for broom grass, most likely because they only own paddy lands and broom grass grows in fallow upland fields, thus it is inaccessible to them.

Graph 6.7 Percentages of Highest- and Lowest-ranked Crops from Muang Muay Site

45 40 35 The three highest-ranked 30 crops 25 20 The two second-ranked 15 crops 10 5 The three third-ranked 0 crops The three lowest-ranked crops

The two research sites rank sesame differently. While sesame is a preferred crop in the IRRI villages, it is not a main cash earner in the Muang Muay area. There is no local market demand for sesame in the Muang Muay area and the distance to the Luang

Prabang market is far. Furthermore, farmers in the IRRI villages and other villages close to Luang Prabang town are meeting the market demands for sesame.

Naturally occurring NTFP species are the biggest income earners (other than livestock) in the Muang Muay area. The six kumban villages are rural and still have access to forests (although some of these are degraded) where an assortment of NTFPs are collected. In comparison, lands in close proximity to Ban Fai village in the IRRI research area are mostly agro-ecosystems; the limited forest lands are more degraded than

338 in the Muang Muay area, and have restricted access due to land-use planning policies.

Thus, NTFPs that are readily available in the Muang Muay villages may be scarce in Ban

Fai. Furthermore, the majority of products bought by merchants in the Muang Muay villages are commonly sold and exported to China for industrial purposes. Products purchased from the IRRI villages are just as likely to end up in the Luang Prabang or

Thai marketplaces as they are to end up in Chinese factories. Out of all the villages, Ban

Fai residents were the most influenced by Luang Prabang markets because they are easily accessible via National Highway13. Infrastructure, accessibility to forest products, and village location all affect individual preferences. These influences are not surprising but, rather, suggest the rationality of farmers in Laos.

Furthermore, farmers value and prefer cash crops that are low in labor, have an established market, and sell for good prices, although the order in which they consider these criteria is unsystematic. These findings suggest that there is not a correlation between culture or farmer ethnicity and cash crop values and preferences (except possibly with Job‘s tears, but this needs further research).

Rice and Culture

There were five cards included in the rice rank activity. Each card represented a different style of rice grown in a different agro-ecosystem. These include glutinous or sticky rice (kaow niaow) and non-glutinous or ―steamed‖ 114 rice (kaow chao), which are

114 Although both glutinous and non-glutinous varieties can be steamed when cooking, the common way to distinguish non-glutinous varieties in Laos is to refer to them as ―steamed.‖ I will use this term to refer to non-glutinous varieties.

339 grown in either an upland swidden ―dry rice‖ agro-ecosystem or a paddy ―wet rice‖ agro- ecosystem. (Fields at higher elevations that are terraced are still referred to as paddy, or lowland, fields in contrast to upland fields where rice is planted on the sloping hillsides.)

Therefore, the five rice cards included: lowland steamed, lowland glutinous, upland steamed, upland glutinous, and a traditional glutinous ―black‖ rice variety that can be grown both in the uplands and lowlands (Appendix 6C).

In Asia, colored rice comes in an assortment of shades, namely red, brown or purple. In Laos, 459 varieties of colored rice have been identified but they‘re commonly referred to by two names: kaow kam or kaow dam (Appa Rao et. al. 2006:175). These names literally reference the dark pericarps, or sheaths, around the rice grains (Appa Rao et.al. 2006). The category of black rice that I used in the pile sort cards does not include red-colored varieties. Red-colored varieties have different names and fewer taboos and ritual uses associated with them than black rice varieties. For example, black rice is associated with a number of animist rituals but red rice is not (Appa Rao et. al.

2006:176).

Culture or ethnicity plays a role in how farmers choose their rice crops. The

Hmong prefer non-glutinous, or steamed kaow chao, rice varieties while the Khmu and

Tai-Lue groups prefer glutinous, or sticky kaow niaow, varieties. These findings correlate with previous research by Schiller et.al. (2006). In the IRRI research area, 23 out of 34 farmer and staff respondents, or 68%, made reference to ethnic preferences for rice.

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Statements were short, direct, and similar to the following three: ―We are Lao115 people.

We eat kaow niaow.‖; ―We are Khmu people. We eat kaow niaow.‖; and ―We are Hmong people. We eat kaow chao.‖ One older Hmong man replied, ―I am Lao Soung. From our parents‘ generation we eat kaow chao. Every year I have enough to eat.‖ Other Hmong responses included: ―Steamed rice is softer and good for the body,‖ ―Sticky rice is hard to chew and can only be eaten when it‘s hot,‖ and ―People can‘t eat sticky rice when they‘re sick because their stomachs are already weak and sticky rice will make them sicker.‖

However, Hmong respondents reported that they sometimes eat sticky rice and black rice for ceremonies. In contrast, a number of responses from Tai-Lue, Lao, other Tai groups and Khmu respondents conveyed the message that kaow chao is only eaten when people run out of kaow niaow, or by poor people. A Lao staff person suggested, ―Lao people like to eat sticky rice because Lao people believe if they eat kaow chao they‘re not strong

(and its) easy to get tired when they go to work.‖ A Tai-Lue farmer, in reference to the aerobic rice variety, stated ―not many people eat because it‘s steamed rice and we‘re not foreigners!‖ These statements demonstrate that different ethnic groups prefer different types of rice and that myths and stereotypes are attached to what type of rice people eat as their staple crop (e.g., only poor people eat steamed rice; if you don‘t eat sticky rice, you‘ll get tired, etc.). Although some ethnic groups in Laos (like the Hmong) prefer non- glutinous varieties, they are a minority; Laos has the highest per capita consumption of glutinous rice in the world, at 174 kilograms per year (Schiller et.al. 2006:205).

115 Here, I am repeating the words of respondents. Lue people will call themselves ―Lao‖ and in some cases they specify ―Lao-Lue.‖ Some staff said they were ethnic ―Lao.‖ While ―Lao‖ are part of the wider ethnolinguistic Tai family, in this instance I think it is important to specify the terms used by respondents. And, in this case it is likely that some staff persons are actually ethnic Lao.

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Furthermore, research suggests that Laos and the northern regions of Thailand are the center of origin for glutinous rice varieties (Schiller et.al. 2006:203). In 2002, 85% of all rice production in Laos consisted of glutinous varieties (Linquist et.al. 2006:32).

Black kaow kam rice holds special cultural significance for all ethnic groups.

Seven respondents claimed, ―It‘s the most traditional rice‖ and ―It‘s used to make snacks for ceremonies and celebrations.‖ Because of this cultural significance, the rice yields a high market price. From Ban Silaleck, Khmu and Hmong responses demonstrate an active belief in the power of this rice to please the rice spirits. A number of respondents indicated that every year they had to plant this rice; if they did not, then the spirits would be angered and for the next few growing seasons they would see low yields in their rice fields116. However, an older Tai-Lue man reported, ―Bo bpen nyang,‖ or ―It‘s no problem‖ if he doesn‘t plant black rice, as nothing will happen.

An older Khmu farmer said, ―This kaow kam is from the father‘s and mother‘s generations to appease the spirits. We just plant in a small area, maybe one square meter.

At harvest time, we must harvest other rice first and black rice last; if not like this, the spirits will get angry.‖ Other respondents correlated his statement, suggesting that black rice is ―the parent rice,‖ and even though it is low yielding and hard to thresh, they must plant it every year. Since Laos and northern Thailand are hypothesized as the area of origin for glutinous rice varieties117 and the majority of black rice is glutinous, I speculate that the same area serves as the biogenetic matrix for black rice varieties. Laos ―has one of the most extensive collections of traditional black rice germ plasm of any single

116 For further discussion on this topic see Sengxua 2006; Simana and Preisig 2006. 117 Archaeological evidence from Thailand suggests that glutinous varieties were domesticated at least by 2,000 BC (see Schiller et. al 2006:204, for a number of references).

342 country‖ (Appa Rao et.al. 2006:184). The abundance of black rice in the region, probably for thousands of years, is linked to the cultural salience and traditional spirit-related beliefs about this crop. The local idea of a ―parent plant‖118 may stem from the dark color leaching from the black rice onto white rice when they‘re steamed together; as one staff person explained, ―When we cook, if we do one cup black rice and two cups sticky rice, all will become black. That‘s why this is the parent rice.‖

Statements about black rice from Muang Muay respondents differ from the ones above. In Muang Muay village, four Khmu farmers suggested that people do not need to plant black rice to appease the spirits and that few households plant it anymore. Those who do plant it only plant a small amount, usually to make Lao sai dtoe, a whiskey that is sweeter than ones made from white rice and is traditionally consumed at ceremonies.

Respondents commented that people use black rice to make snacks for blessing ceremonies and that the selling price is twice the amount of other kinds of rice. Muang

Muay farmers told me that even Vietnamese merchants come to buy black rice to make an assortment of gourmet snacks for markets in Vietnam. Given that black rice fetches a high market price and is sought for international markets, it seems that it would behoove farmers to grow more. However, it is difficult to thresh, and this labor-intensive aspect hinders people from growing larger quantities.

Black rice also has other uses. A female Khmu woman added that it can be mixed with other natural products to become a medicine used for stomachaches. Also, the stalk of the plant can be used as an emetic in the event someone eats poison. A 51-year-old Tai

118 Contrastingly, in over a thousand years of existence, black rice has most likely hybridized or shared its genes with other types of rice, which offers a more scientific reasoning behind the term ―parent plant.‖

343 man said, ―Lao loum usually plant at least one kilogram‖ and conduct a ceremony during their rice harvest by putting some black rice grains on top of the white rice in the granary; this dupes nature spirits into thinking the rice is dirty and they won‘t take the grains from the granary. He added, ―For Khmu, it‘s different; they grow to make Lao sai dtoe!‖ (a local rice whiskey) The same respondent said, ―Lao people like to eat sticky rice, not steamed.‖ But, in the event that steamed rice is more productive than sticky rice, he plants 25% of his paddy field with a steamed rice variety. The implicit food-security measures of this action are further discussed in the Farmers Adapt and Diversify section of the Conclusion. For the purposes of this section, qualitative data has been presented to explore the relationship between ethnicity and rice preferences.

Rice ranks were conducted with 34 respondents at the IRRI research area, including farmers and staff, and 13 farmers in the Muang Muay research site, for a total of 47 ranks. Graph 6.8 shows the percentages for the highest- and lowest-ranked rice varieties. Overwhelmingly, the upland glutinous rice ―laboun‖ was ranked first while black rice was ranked last. For the IRRI research area, staff and farmers of Tai-Lue, Lao, other Tai groups, and Khmu descent ranked upland glutinous first 50% of the time.

However, only one out of six Hmong farmers (17%) ranked upland glutinous first while

50% ranked lowland steamed rice first. These findings support a strong correlation between ethnicity and rice preferences.

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Graph 6.8 Rice Ranks

54 52 Highest ranked: Upland 50 glutinous 48 Lowest ranked: Black rice 46 44 42 IRRI area Muang Muay area

Staff members embrace governmental directives and rank crops according to their work culture (the dominant culture) instead of their individual cultures. That is, three Hmong staff ranked ―laboun‖ first. They expressed that it had been tested by the research station and IRRI for years so the germ plasm was perfected. Additionally, it is high-yielding, grows in poor soils, is flavorful, has a soft aroma, and a growing season of about four months. Staff reported that ―laboun‖ has been evaluated by farmers on a number of occasions and that farmers like this glutinous variety that grows well in the uplands.

Farmers generally say they‘ve planted ―laboun‖ rice for many years because it is gin sep, or tastes delicious, and it can always be sold because it‘s a sticky rice. Moreover, farmers express that upland glutinous rice tastes better than lowland glutinous varieties and it ―grows more‖ when soaked. Glutinous rice varieties must be soaked in water anywhere from four to 12 hours before being steamed. Farmers notice that grains from upland glutinous rice absorb more water and become bigger than lowland glutinous

345 grains. The expansion of grains makes farmers feel like they are getting more food, a characteristic they like. From a Western perspective, it‘s similar to putting one box of crackers in the pantry and waking up to three boxes in the morning. (Most people soak their rice overnight, so when they wake up in the morning it has doubled in size and is ready to steam over the fire). I can‘t think of anyone who wouldn‘t like this seemingly effortless increase of food (unless one is dieting). Agronomically speaking, crops that grow in stressful environmental conditions (such as higher altitudes or during droughts) put more energy into their reproductive parts (flowers and seeds), the result of which is an enhancement of positive characteristics, such as more flavor. Additionally, higher yielding fields dilute certain plant characteristics; thus, rice grown in higher yielding paddy fields produces less flavor than rice grown in lower yielding upland fields

(Linquist 2011). While flavor is an important characteristic to farmers in rice-eating regions everywhere, historical evidence suggests it is weighted more heavily by farmers in Laos than in other rice-growing countries. From 1977-1990, during the green revolution and with assistance from Vietnam, improved rice varieties were introduced in

Laos. While rice farmers in India, Vietnam and the Philippines (to name a few) accepted these less flavorful but higher yielding improved varieties, farmers in Laos rejected them because they lacked aroma and flavor119 (Schiller² et.al 2006:13).

119 Laos is also sparsely populated compared to most Asian nations, so it is possible that the rejection of such high yielding varieties in Laos may in part be due to the lack of pressure to produce for the masses (since, comparatively speaking, Laos does not have ―masses‖). Furthermore, growing rice in Laos (away from the Vientiane plain) was most commonly done for subsistence purposes, not for income-generating purposes, especially from 1977-1990. Therefore, if farmers were producing enough flavorful rice for their families, then there was no need or desire to adopt a higher yielding, less flavorful variety. Furthermore, growing lower yielding, more flavorful rice varieties requires more labor per unit of food produced, which again exemplifies the importance of the flavor trait to famers in Laos.

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Steamed rice is ranked in the middle; in particular, ―chao do‖ (an upland variety) was ranked second by 50% of respondents at the IRRI research area. The ―chao do‖ variety literally translates as ―non-glutinous, early maturing,‖ which reflects its short growing season, typically 90 days to maturity (Appa Rao et. al. 2006²). Farmers report that ―chao do‖ is easy to sell since it‘s the first variety harvested and many families need rice at the beginning of the harvest season (September). It also grows in poor soils.

―Aerobic,‖ a glutinous lowland rice, and ―palawan‖ a steamed lowland rice120, are high yielding but farmers don‘t like the flavor as much as that of the other varieties. However, farmers report that they can easily sell these varieties for noodle making. Although black rice sells for a high price and is associated with religious beliefs, it was consistently placed last in the rice rank. This is because it has low yields and is difficult to thresh.

Farmers do not evaluate or rank rice using a systematic criterion order. They consider the following variables in no particular order: type (glutinous or steamed), yield, flavor, maturation time and selling price. This finding adheres to Tversky‘s lexicographic model whereby he suggests that each aspect (variable) does not have a fixed order but is weighted relative to the other remaining criteria (refer to Chapter Three). That is, farmers may first evaluate rice based on flavor, but after the most flavorful rice is ranked first, they use a different aspect to rank the second one and so on. For example, one farmer may use income earned while another uses maturation time as the second aspect

120 A researcher colleague helped label the pile sort cards, and the names reflected here represent what was written in Lao on the cards. However, I later learned from farmers that both of these varieties of rice—aerobic and palawan--could also be grown in the uplands. Although there is flexibility in the agro-ecosystem requirements for these two varieties, I continue to refer to them and use them analytically based on their written labels, i.e.: ―lowland glutinous‖ and ―lowland steamed.‖

347 considered. Since each rice variety is evaluated using different criteria, the results from the rice rank appear contradictory. For example, why is ―laboun‖ ranked first based on flavor and ―chao do‖ ranked second based on yield time? Or why is ―aerobic‖ or

―palawan‖ ranked third based on selling price and black rice ranked last even though it sells for a high price and has the most desirable flavor for making snacks and alcohol associated with traditional ceremonies? If we look at these findings in relationship to

Tversky‘s lexicographic model, we can infer that flavor is the most important criterion farmers use to evaluate rice. However, the flavor of black rice is weighted against its low yields and labor intensive threshing requirement. Even still, this low ranking of an important religious and ceremonial rice seems contradictory.

I interpret these seemingly contradictory results in a few ways. First, religious and ceremonial uses of black rice are changing; therefore, it‘s not as important as it once was for farmers in Laos. Anecdotal evidence from Khmu farmers in Muang Muay supports this changing tradition. Second, the various kinds of white rice are framed as staple crops (steamed varieties for Hmong, glutinous varieties for Tai and Khmu). Black rice is not a staple crop, yet it was placed in the pile with other staple crops, thus it was evaluated as such. It is ranked low because it produces very little household food. Third, white rice varieties are first ranked by flavor. Thereafter, rice varieties are ranked on various functions such as supplying a food deficit, making noodles and making money.

When compared to white rice varieties, small amounts of black rice are grown. Therefore the same ―function‖ criterion was not considered when evaluating it. Even though black rice sells for a high price, if a farmer only has a total of 20 kilograms to sell compared to

100 kilograms of white rice, then the income from black rice still remains lower than

348 income from white rice varieties. Finally, black rice is a valuable ceremonial food and is cognitively framed as such. Farmers were unsure of how to evaluate it when compared to other rice varieties in the pile that fit the cultural domain of staple crops. These seemingly dubious findings are somewhat expected since past scholars theorize that elimination by aspect accounts for inconsistencies in decision making based on individuals‘ opinions and changing states of mind from one moment to the next. As individuals, people consider different aspects in divergent orders (discussed in Chapter Three).

Reflections about Ranking Activities

Although some inconsistencies are expected, results for the rice rank lead me to believe that I was too vague in my instructions by stating, ―Rank this pile of rice varieties based on your own preferences.‖ Or, ―Rank this pile based on what one you like the most and what one you like the least.‖ Instead, I could have been more specific and perhaps completed a series of rice ranks based on a series of questions such as: ―Rank these types of rice based on flavor preference;‖ ―Rank these types of rice based on yield preferences;‖ ―Rank these types of rice based on ceremonial importance;‖ ―Rank these types of rice based on earned income,‖ etc. Although a series of specific instructions may have led to less-ambiguous results, it would have taken a lot more time for respondents to complete. What I learned is that in the future I must be more specific about what preference I want ranked, i.e. income or eating-quality preference.

Results from cash crop and rice ranking activities evince that each set of cards was evaluated with different sets of variables. This is reasonable since rice is framed as a priority subsistence crop while cash crops are framed as secondary, money-making crops.

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Black rice is an anomaly since it‘s not framed as a staple or cash crop. If it was being framed as either, then farmers would plant more than one to two square meters of it.

Since black rice consistently sells for a high price, it may behoove farmers to re-frame it as a cash crop. Then again, they would have to weigh the selling price to the extra labor involved in threshing it; needless to say, a consistently high price is a desirable cash-crop trait as evinced in the high ranking of sesame in Ban Fai and Ban Silaleck.

Environmental Constraints

In addition to ethnoecological methods, interviews were conducted to contribute specific information to the IRRI project. Thus, the following questions were included in farmer and staff interviews (Appendix 6A & 6B) for the IRRI research area:

What do farmers perceive as their environmental limitations? How do these perceptions affect farmer choices and behaviors; in other words, how do farmers cope with these limitations? What do agricultural extension agents and scientists perceive as farmers‘ environmental limitations? What coping mechanisms do they contribute to farmers? How do farmers react to outsider suggestions?

Table 6.9 compiles information about environmental constraints stated by both stakeholder groups. The two most-mentioned environmental constraints stated by both stakeholder groups are weeds and pests. Both of these are major concerns for those

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Table 6.9 Common Constraints Noted by Stakeholder Groups

Grass Pests Soil Climate Water Suitability Labor Land Virus Total and weeds Farm- 14 10 3 2 4 3 9 8 1 24 ers Staff 8 10 4 4 6 0 0 3 2 14

Legend: Pests include mice, rats, birds, caterpillars, locusts, grasshoppers, and other insects. Water includes either too much or too little rain. Suitability includes many aspects of the natural environment and other phenomena farmers couldn‘t explain, such as plants not producing seeds. Land includes steep slopes, land that is too flat, or a plot that‘s too small. Virus includes kinds of viruses on the plants while they‘re growing and harvesting.

farming the uplands of Laos, and researchers continue to explore solutions121. Currently farmers weed by hand or cut unwanted plants using machetes or weeding blades.

Weeding upland rice accounts for the majority of farm labor, which is estimated at 150 labor days per hectare (Roder 2001:9). Two farmers stated they want to buy ―the machine to cut the grass‖ or a weed whacker122 (prices range from 750,000 kip, or $88.28, to 2.4 million kip, or $282). Staff members advise farmers to use chemicals to kill weeds and pests yet concede that none are 100% successful123. With chemicals ranging in price from

121 For discussions about weed dispersal see de Rouw et.al 2006. 122 A store owner in Luang Prabang reported that she began selling weed whackers about four to five years ago. They were first sold in Vientiane, the capital city, about eight years ago. At first, prices were more expensive because the machines only came from Thailand, but now, less expensive Chinese ones are sold in Laos. Thailand created a new machine that cuts weeds and helps harvest rice, which has been available in Laos for about two years. It is the most expensive kind of machine and accounts for the $282 figure above. 123 Not to mention that improper use and overuse of agricultural chemicals can have deleterious effects on the environment such as polluted and degraded soils; polluted waters that kill fish and other marine life (i.e., food sources); the killing of beneficial insects, which often results in an increase of harmful insects; and human health issues. In Laos, the limited use of chemical agents

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30,000 to 900,000 kip per hectare ($3.50 to $106), it is no surprise that farmers are not using them. In other words, not a single farmer who was interviewed reported using chemicals for weed or pest control. Staff advice is not adopted due to low farmer incomes, low chemical success rates, and farmer preferences to minimize cash inputs on the farm.

Farmer innovations offered the best solutions for two of the pest problems.

Farmers made traps (i e.: they dug holes around their fields) for mice and rats to fall into

(the larger ones are eaten by the local populace). They also made scarecrows to frighten away birds. Another strategy farmers used to scare birds was to stretch string or wire across the field (above the crops) on two bamboo poles. Then, two people walk on either side of the field with a pole in hand and continually shake the pole, which jiggles the string or wire and scares the birds away. Alternatively, one person moves around the perimeter of the field and shakes a bamboo pole with a plastic bag attached to the end.

Obviously, both of these strategies are labor intensive, but near the time of the rice harvest it is common to see family members taking turns to scare away the pesky birds.

The third most-mentioned constraint by farmers is labor. Farmers are constantly thinking about how they can save labor. No staff person mentioned labor as a constraint; perhaps in thinking about environmental constraints, they were not thinking about the people within the environment. However, when farmers think of their environments, they include themselves, demonstrating the close connection they have with their natural

in agricultural fields should be viewed as beneficial, and in the near future it may enable Lao farmers to market their agricultural products as ―organic.‖ Although organic labels are not entering the Lao marketplace at this time, they are taking hold in neighboring Thailand, which has the capacity to be a future importer of organic products from Laos.

352 surroundings. Furthermore, since staff members receive monthly incomes, they can afford to hire day laborers. They don‘t include labor as a constraint. Therefore, staff perceive water as the third-biggest constraint. Recall that in the upland dry rice agro- ecosystem, irrigation is dependent on the rainy season, which presents a number of problems such as: too little rain, too much rain, or a rainy season that starts too late or too early. All of these problems can kill rice plants and other agricultural crops, i.e. dehydration, flooding, the washing away of seeds, or mold that has grown on plants, etc.

The remaining six constraints mentioned by stakeholder groups are biophysical in nature. Details about biophysical constraints differed from village to village. For example, farmers in Ban Silaleck reported not growing many peanuts because they need

―flat land‖ and ―soft land‖ whereas farmers in Ban Fai reported their flat land was ―too small‖ and ―too new‖ (meaning not as fertile as the older paddy lands). Ban Fai, having suitable areas to create terraces, recently constructed some more paddy lands with the assistance of World Vision using the Food for Work strategy124. Farmers reported that all households in Ban Fai have na, or paddy fields. Ownership of na has the potential to increase livelihoods since rice yields are at least two times higher on rain-fed na than rain-fed hed hai, sloping lands (IRRI unpublished data 2009). Contrarily, Ban Silaleck has limited na, causing the majority of households to farm hed hai.

124 Food for Work is a tactic used to subsidize development projects in less-developed nations. For example, the men and women who helped construct terraces in Ban Fai were compensated for their labor time in bags of rice.

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Differing Perspectives on Environmental Constraints

The most noticeable discrepancy between staff members‘ and farmers‘ perceptions of their environments concerns soil fertility125. All staff members mentioned the need for soil improvement, specifying that legumes increase soil fertility, but no farmer specifically mentioned a plant used for soil fertility. For example, the pigeon pea

(Cajanus cajan) is promoted as a soil-improving plant but many farmers are unaware of this quality. The farmers who knew it thought of it as a potential money maker since pigeon pea stems are used to grow stick lac. As a cash crop, pigeon pea is faltering; farmers complained that wasps eat the stick lac insects and that no traders come to buy the adhesive. In farmers‘ eyes, the pigeon pea is useless. One staff researcher clearly understood the situation. He explained, ―Scientists want farmers to plant legumes to increase soil fertility, but farmers don‘t get many benefits so they just want to plant rice instead… Farmers are unsure about soil fertility from legumes [because they can‘t see the effects right away].‖

Since farmers are still able to grow enough crops on their lands, they are not concerned with something they can‘t see. Nor are they willing to increase their labor for crops that don‘t appear to have immediate benefits. However, farmers do recognize variability in their soils as was demonstrated by N. Tuey‘s contrastive-question response.

Another female Tai-Lue farmer explained that she rotates her rice in a three-year cycle on her plots of land. When asked why she leaves the land fallow instead of growing cash crops (as many other farmers reported doing), she responded, ―If I plant on all three

125 See Lestrelin and Giordano 2007 for a discussion about the political ecology of environmental discourse via a case study from the Lao PDR.

354 lands, then next year I can‘t plant rice because the soil will become poor.‖ Therefore, research findings suggest that farmers do connect lower crop yields to poor soil.

However, they don‘t phrase it as ―soil fertility.‖ And since they are managing it with a rotational system, there is no need to learn about soil-improving plants. At this time, farmers are not connecting soil improvement with the planting of legumes. However, previous research shows that planting rice/pigeon pea/rice in a three-year rotation yields

2.1 tons/hectare (t/ha) of rice. Following a rice/fallow/rice cycle, the yields were ~ 2.0 t/ha; while rice/maize/rice produces a lower rice yield in year three at only ~1.6 t/ha; and planting rice three seasons in a row gives the lowest yield at ~ one t/ha (Linquist et.al.

2005:7). Although farmers are not necessarily familiar with these scientific findings, their anecdotal information is congruent with them; the majority of farmers leave a field fallow for at least a year prior to planting rice.

Political Constraints and Trees

The Government of Laos emphasizes its plan to stabilize and decrease shifting cultivation by the year 2015. Six staff members mentioned government policies to reduce shifting cultivation. One man stated, ―About hed hai (upland dry rice), we have the government policy to encourage people to stop hed hai so we don‘t offer any solutions

[to farmer problems or constraints]. We only encourage them to stop.‖ Due to land-use planning policies, land parcels under slash-and-burn agriculture are becoming more limited. As a result, farmers are becoming more interested in planting trees for timber and fruit production. Five farmers specifically mentioned government policies about decreasing hed hai and planting trees. One middle-aged Tai-Lue man reported that if a

355 permanent crop was planted on an upland field, then when the government came to allocate lands, people got to keep those fields in addition to the three for shifting cultivation. Since he knew of this rule, he planted teak trees because ―they require little labor but stay for a long time.‖ An older Hmong man stated, ―I know Lao government policy [is] to stop cutting trees in the forest, so they encourage people to plant wood. This is why I chose to plant rubber trees.‖ Two farmers and one staff person said they planted trees because they ―wanted to give trees back to the forest.‖ Others said they planted teak because there is currently a shortage of trees in the forest and people will need teak to build houses in the future. Four farmers stated that if they died, their children would benefit from the trees. An older Hmong man said, ―If I get rubber and good money [from it], I won‘t plant rice anymore.‖ Statements presented here demonstrate that farmers are aware of government policies and consider such policies when making land-use and crop decisions.

Furthermore, district and village politics influence a farmer‘s decisions. For example, a Tai-Lue woman said that she didn‘t like to plant paper mulberry but if someone with higher power (presumably the village chief) told her to plant it, then she would. In some cases, the decision to plant a crop is made by others and becomes an order once it reaches the farmer. I found this to be the case in my 2004 field research wherein the head of the Pak Ou District Agriculture and Forestry Office ordered farmers with lands near the roadside to plant certain crops so his district would ―look good‖ to other officials driving through on National Highway 13 (Roberts 2004). Farmers also contend with societal pressures, especially uniformity as discussed in Chapter Five. In particular, a number of farmers said they plant rubber to ―follow others‖ in their villages.

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When asked about the notion of ―following others,‖ a Khmu woman explained that her field is in the middle of other fields where people planted rubber trees. Because of the rubber saplings, she can no longer burn her field to prepare it for rice, thus she‘s obliged to plant rubber.

Staff and Farmer Relations

Embedded in the title ―extension staff‖ is the act of extending information to others. However, in Laos, the extension of information from staff to farmers is not happening. While farmers are requesting more agricultural extension126 to increase their technological knowledge, extension staff, who get paid per diems to attend trainings and learn technological knowledge, are not completing the cycle of information dissemination. For example, since farmers are not speaking about soil fertility, it suggests that extension staff members are not disseminating soil fertility information to farmers in their districts (even though soil fertility research has been conducted in Laos for well over a decade). This is in part due to the low frequency of staff visits to the villages. For example, a district staff member from Pak Ou reported visiting villages twice a month but only if there was a problem or project. Contrastingly, six villagers from Ban Fai suggested that the frequency of staff visits was dependent on the season. In the dry season, a staff person might only come once in three months. But during the growing season, or if there was a project, a staff person might come twice a month.

126 State Planning Committee 2001: vii.

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I propose two explanations for the lack of extension. First, not enough funds are being allocated to extension activities. Many extension staff complained that they don‘t have fuel money for their motorbikes, which would allow them to get to their work villages more frequently; therefore, they cannot make routine field visits. Second, knowledge implies a certain amount of status, thus extension staff members are reluctant to share all of their agricultural knowledge with farmers for fear of diminishing their rank within the social hierarchy. That is, if farmers and staff possess equal agricultural knowledge, then staff and farmers may become more equal within the social hierarchy.

Staff responses reflect that they stereotype farmers as ―lazy.‖ This is in part conceived of because farmers don‘t always follow staff directions about crop technologies. Staff members view farmers as hard-headed non-listeners and question why they should share their knowledge with non-compliant people. On the other hand, farmers complained that staff members don‘t consider their labor inputs. For example, staff advised farmers to count the number of rice seeds they put into each hill at the time of planting, but farmers expressed that they could not take the time to count the seeds, that only staff could because no matter how they spend their time, the staff still earn a salary. In fact, the seed- counting idea was hilariously re-enacted to us by two female respondents. The women‘s‘ mocking of the staff members‘ idea, indicated how unacceptable (ludicrous) it was to the farmer stakeholder group.

Additionally, district staff reportedly promote one crop a year and a number of farmers follow their recommendation. Ironically, and contrary to the perception of ―lazy farmers,‖ staff suggested it was a problem that so many farmers listened to them and grew the promoted crop because it caused prices to fall due to market saturation.

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Subsequently, farmers would not adopt the promoted crop due to the low prices they received during the first year of production.

In the Muang Muay kumban villages and other IRRI villages127, I observed district staff creating friendships or partnerships with higher-status households. This is somewhat expected since staff and all official visitors must report to village leaders upon entering a village. Also, if the village is far from a town, then staff and official visitors must sleep in the village. Only wealthier households have extra blankets and sleep pads to accommodate visitors. As a result, district, provincial, national and other official visitors, like my research staff and I, usually slept at the nai ban’s or school teacher‘s homes in kumban villages128. As expected, eating meals and resting in a certain house builds friendship and rapport between staff members and household individuals. Such a friendship has the potential to bring more benefits to the few befriended households. As mentioned in Chapter Four, in Muang Muay village, the nai ban’s household is the only one that grows watermelons; this happened because the family had the opportunity to enter into a partnership with a district staff member. Furthermore, nai bans and their wives were never shy to request items they desired from Luang Prabang town, either to me or my research assistant. We generally obliged affordable requests, such as small packets of agricultural seeds for Chinese cabbage (pak galumpi) or other bitter greens

(pak gadt). The point is that outsiders, including district extension staff, identify more with higher-status households, which are then put in advantageous positions to reap more

127 The villages of Houy Kha and Houay Luang, where I conducted MA research in 2004. 128 We slept at our own house in Muang Muay village, and if we were working in Don Keo or Vang Kham, the other roadside villages, we would return to our Muang Muay residence. However, I was the only researcher with a home in any of the six villages. Other staff and researchers from the Landscapes Mosaics project always slept at villagers‘ homes.

359 benefits than other village households. (I have not experienced non-elite villagers expressing resentment about this issue as it is directly related to the social hierarchy, which is accepted.) This pattern is neither surprising nor unexpected as the scholarly literature on development suggests that households with access to more resources, including positions of power and status, benefit more than resource-poor households.

Unfortunately, there is no simple solution to this phenomenon because researchers need the support and logistical assistance of village leaders.

Conclusion

To conclude, I revisit the three research questions presented at the beginning of this chapter and summarize findings from the preceding contrastive question, pile sort, ranking and interview discussions.

1. What do farmers, scientists, and agricultural extension agents perceive as the

most valuable crop characteristics? How do perceptions and values vary

among these different groups?

Regarding cash crops, both farmers and staff value the selling price of annual crops; the higher the monetary return, the higher it is ranked. However, farmers also value crops with low labor requirements, fewer environmental requirements, and multiple uses. An example is corn, which grows in poor soils, can be sold, used as food for people and livestock, and can be made into whiskey. Another characteristic valued by farmers is harvesting flexibility. That is, farmers prefer crops that don‘t have to be harvested exactly at a given time. For example, farmers like cassava because it can be harvested between

360 six to nine months and used as a food for people or be left in the ground for up to two years and then used as a livestock food. As another example, farmers suggested they liked bananas because the fruit is available various times throughout the year. Potentially, a household could have bananas every month of the year, whereas mangoes have a harvest season and all fruits are mature within a short time period. Farmers worry that fruits will rot on the trees if labor is not available, or that fruits will rot at the market if people don‘t buy them in a timely manner (a rational concern of farmers the world over).

Additionally, prices may be low because of market saturation during the harvest season.

Furthermore, farmers don‘t like to grow pineapples as a cash crop because they require extra time to weed (to avoid the spikes) and they all fruit at the same time, again requiring a lot of labor and increasing the chances of rotting. While farmers are concerned with labor input, staff are not; in fact, several district extension staff suggested that farmers are lazy129.

Staff value green manure crops that replace soil nutrients and increase soil fertility but require extra farm labor. Farmers do not see the value of green manure crops at this time. They will not plant a crop just for the sake of soil health; there must be a tangible benefit for farmers, such as cash income or food for people or livestock. From the farmers‘ perspective, they are managing to grow rice and other crops within the government-imposed (via land-use planning), three-year rotational system, thus green

129 My observations dispute this claim, especially during the rainy season when farmers are in their rice fields planting, weeding or harvesting on a daily basis. During the daylight hours of the rainy season, people are scarce in the villages—most are out in the fields working. During the dry season, farmers rise at 4 a.m. to go to their fields and feed their chickens or ducks, etc., so they can arrive back at the village before the piercing sun of mid-day. Then they nap, weave or fix fishing nets. I have yet to see a ―lazy‖ farmer in the countryside of Laos. A lazy farmer would not have any food to eat!

361 manure crops are not a pertinent component of their agricultural decision making at this time. That is not to say this won‘t change if soil fertility becomes unmanageably depleted, but for the time being, farmers don‘t see the need for green manure crops. In this case, farmers and staff have divergent frames about certain crops. As mentioned at the beginning of the chapter, pigeon peas are valued by staff because they‘re nitrogen fixing and, as such they are framed as a green manure crop. Contrastingly, farmers frame pigeon peas as cash crops because they grow stick lac insects on the stems. However, wasps eat the stick lac insects resulting in no income for the farmer. In turn, farmers don‘t value pigeon pea plants because they receive minimal direct benefits for their labor efforts. This sentiment is echoed in an older Lue woman‘s words, ―If we plant but can‘t sell, we don‘t like it. We only like what we can sell.‖

The divergent frames of farmer and staff stakeholder groups affect their behaviors; farmers won‘t grow pigeon peas, but staff members continue to research and promote them, thus the efforts of each group are otiose. Elucidating these divergent frames to each stakeholder group has the potential to increase intergroup communication, which in turn has the potential to increase intergroup collaboration in working toward the goal of sustainable ecosystems including forest and agro-ecosystems—an explicit goal of the government and an implicit goal of farming livelihoods.

2. What are farmers‘ agricultural preferences (i.e.: to grow a fast-producing crop,

like rice, or to invest time and energy into a slower-growing crop, like

mandarin fruit trees, with the hope of future rewards, etc.)? What are the

362

agricultural preferences of external stakeholder groups, such as government

staff?

Farmers diversify agricultural activities as a form of security. First and foremost, they allocate labor to rice crops. If, after rice chores, a labor surplus exists, it is preferably allocated to some annual crops such as sesame or broom grass and some long-term crops such as teak. In this way, farmers have some income every year but plan to get a lump sum of money the year they sell their teak trees. This expected large sum of money may only occur on a 15- to 20-year basis, and it acts like a savings account. Another savings account for farmers is livestock; the greater quantity of large livestock a household owns, the wealthier they are. But villagers also invest in livestock as a status symbol and for future cash needs, including medical emergencies. Smaller livestock, such as pigs and chickens, are important for annual blessing ceremonies and for wedding ceremonies.

External stakeholder groups have different concerns. To begin with, the

Government of Laos prefers permanent cash crops, specifically trees. During land-use planning, farmers with fields of trees were allowed to keep these plots in addition to the mandated three agricultural fields per household. As a result, it is common for a farm household to hold land titles for up to five plots of land. Furthermore, some staff suggested that they don‘t help farmers having rice problems on sloping lands because of the government policy to eliminate swidden systems. Finally, farmers and staff both prefer paddy fields because they produce twice as much rice as the same amount of land in a dry rice agro-ecosystem. However, labor and technological inputs to create paddy fields are limited.

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In summary, farmers are most interested in food security and making money, both in the short and long term, while government agencies are most concerned with maintaining forest cover by planting tree crops and limiting slash-and-burn agriculture to three fields per household. Due to the three-field land-use policy, government agencies are concerned with maintaining environmental balance on the shortened fallows through green manure crops (i.e. intensification). Similar to the previous answer, it‘s implied that both stakeholder groups stand to benefit by sustaining certain ecosystems; the state benefits economically by sustaining forests while farmer survival depends on sustaining agro-ecosystems. Thus collaboration can be beneficial to all involved—if it works.

3. Does ethnicity affect perceived values and preferences? Is there a noticeable

pattern of preference among the Khmu, Hmong, Tai-Lue, Lao, and other Tai

farmers that shows ethnic cultural differences, and, if so, what is it?

Rice preferences in Laos directly correlate with ethnicity. Tai (including Lao and

Tai-Lue groups) and Khmu groups prefer glutinous rice varieties while Hmong prefer steamed rice varieties. All three groups expressed that rice preferences are part of who they are as a people. For example, Khmu respondents said, ―We are Khmu. We eat sticky rice.‖ This is a blunt and direct statement showing the deeply rooted cultural connection to this staple agricultural crop.

No noticeable cultural preference for cash crops was observed. Since the goal of growing cash crops is to make as much money as possible—with the available environmental, land, and labor resources—it is reasonable that little correlation exists between cultural preferences and cash crops. Furthermore, many cash crops are recently

364 introduced species, thus cultures in Laos do not have a historical connection to them.

Job‘s tears, an ancient cereal crop originating in Southeast Asia, is the only exception. As previously mentioned, the Hmong people reportedly do not grow this crop, though the reason behind this behavior is currently unknown. Finally, many cash crops cannot be eaten or (as in the case of fruits) stored and have no value except to be sold. Planting them is, therefore, always a gamble.

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Appendix 6A Interview for the IRRI Site Villages Ban Fai and Ban Silaleck

Date______Village______Respondent‘s Name______Age_____ Ethnicity______

Number of adults (age 17+) in the household______Children______

Children going to school______Number of agricultural laborers______

Number of people working off the farm (receiving a cash salary) ______

Subjective wealth status ______Estimated annual cash income______

Note to self: Cash crops to consider: paper mulberry, Job‘s tears, maize, sesame, cardamom, rattan, pineapples, fruit trees? Can also ask about plantation species such as teak, rubber, eaglewood or lacquer wood.

1. Do you have lowland rice? Yes-1a. Do you eat or sell the rice you produce on it? 1b. Do you have an upland area? Do you plant crops on it? What crop/s? Why did you choose this crop instead of another? (Insert the name of crops in the underlined areas. Can go through this question using various crops to understand how farmers are evaluating certain crops, i.e.: Why do you plant Job‘s tears instead of sesame? Or Why do you intercrop sesame with corn, etc?) No-1c. Do you plant crops other than rice in your upland field? What crop/s? Why did you choose this crop instead of another? 1d. What are the benefits of planting the chosen crop? What are the disadvantages? (Trying to understand farmer tradeoffs here. Are they choosing less labor-intensive crops that earn less money, or crops whose seeds cost less, etc?) 2. Have you planted any other crops in your upland fields in the past 2 years? Does rice grow differently if intercropped or planted after another crop? (Try to extract information from people to understand if they connect some plants with improving soil fertility. That is, do they rotate various cash crops; do they notice a difference in the soil, etc.?) 3. Are there constraints/limits on what crops you can plant in your upland field? Yes-What are these constraints? No-Then you can plant any crop you want in the uplands? Have you tried planting pineapple? Explain why you have or have not. (If farmers don‘t know about pineapples, then ask about other cash crops like vegetables or garlic, pak tiem, etc.) 4. What, then, are your environmental limitations?

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5. What technologies/activities have recent projects brought to your village? How do you evaluate them? (If farmers are having a hard time thinking of activities, maybe prompt them with some of the following—but note that they had to be prompted: planting rice seedlings closer together; planting fewer rice seedlings per hill (they suggest three per hill); new varieties of rice. Ban Fai: Green manures as fertilizer replacements in the lowlands? Ban Silaleck: The use of rice terraces?) 6. What are your social obligations/responsibilities (I.e.: send child to school, pay for child‘s wedding, have a baci or other socio-religious ceremony)? How much do these/this social obligations cost you? How many months/years must you save for this event? Have you changed your agricultural patterns to prepare for this expense ( I.e.: trying to grow cash crops, selling off livestock instead of keeping it or acquiring livestock to sell several at one time, etc.)? 7. What are your household goals for the next year? 8. What are your household goals for the next five years? How do you plan to attain this/these goal/s? (If increase of wealth is not specifically identified by the respondent, then ask them question #9; otherwise, it can be skipped.) 9. What are your ideas for increasing your household wealth in the next five years? In the next 10 years? 10. Do you want another project to come to your village? What types of activities do you want them to bring? Photo of a Village Interview Setting

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Appendix 6B Interview for IRRI Site, DAFO and NAFReC Researchers and Extension Agents

Date______

Respondent‘s Name______Age______Ethnicity______

Work Position______

1. What environmental limitations do farmers face in the uplands of Laos?

2. Do these same limitations apply to the farming villages of Ban Fai and Ban Silaleck?

3. What are farmers‘ limitations (in the aforementioned villages) when farming in the uplands?

4. What coping methods have been offered to farmers in order to deal with these limitations

(i.e.: What are some of the more recent projects NAFReC is working on)?

5. How have farmers reacted to the aforementioned methods? What types of activities do

you think farmers prefer? Have you noticed any patterns in farmer adoption or rejection

of methods?

6. What future project activities do you think will help farming households increase their

livelihoods?

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Photo of Crop Researcher Conducting a Pile Sort

Appendix 6C Species List for Pile Sort and Ranking Activities

Note: for the following list first I give the Lao name, however I did not italicize it since it would run into the scientific names which must be italicized. The last term, is the common .

1. Chromolaena odorata, a weedy fallow species that does not hinder the growth of rice130 2. Nya kee nee, Panicum maximum, or Guinea grass used for animal fodder 3. Nya kha, Imperata cylindrical, a local grass used for roof-thatching purposes 4. Mak tua hey, Cajanus cajan, the pigeon pea 5. Sali, Zea mays, corn/maize 6. Tone yangpala, Hevea brasiliensis, the rubber tree

130 Roder et.al. 1995, reports that farmers in Laos consider this a ―good‖ fallow species, and scientific research suggests that it does not have negative effects on rice crops. For more details, see the article ―Chromaleana odorata in slash and burn rice systems of northern Laos,‖ Agroforestry Systems 31:79-92, 1995.

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7. Mak nga, Sesamum indicum, sesame 8. Mak nadt, Ananas comosus, pineapple 9. Mak duey, Coix lachrymal-jobi, Job‘s Tears, a cereal crop native to Asia 10. Mak tua luang, Glycine max, the soy bean 11. Posa, Brousonnetia papyrifera, paper mulberry 12. Mak tua dtin, Arachis hypogeal, peanut 13. Fruit trees: This card had an assortment of fruit trees including, mango, banana and lychee 14. Mai Sak, Tectona grandis, the teak tree 15. Stylo, Stylosanthes hamata or Stylosanthes guianensis, animal fodder 16. Palawan rice, non-glutinous lowland; all rice varieties are variations of Oryza sativa 17. Kaow kam, black rice, traditional glutinous variety 18. Laboun rice, traditional glutinous upland 19. Chao do, non-glutinous upland rice 20. Aerobic IR 55423, improved variety of non-glutinous rice

This list of plants was compiled using data from farmer and staff surveys and conversations with my IRRI colleague Sommai Yasongkua, who has been working in the uplands of Laos for more than eight years and has lived in the area his entire life.

Plants added for Muang Muay research villages:

21. Pueak mueak, Boehmeria malabarica Webb, sapan from the Urticaceae family, whose fibers are milled into a powder and used as a glue to make incense sticks and mosquito repellants in Chinese factories. Lao villagers use the sap as medicine and the fibers in construction. Naturally propagates in the forest and in fallows that are two years old (or older). Needs three years to grow before harvesting and prefers rich, moist soils. Large NTFP export for northern Laos: In 2000, some 685 tons were exported from Oudomxay Province to China at$0.33/kilogram (Lao-ntfpwiki 2011).

22. Kheme, Thysanolaema maxima, broom grass, a naturally occurring fallow species, a semi-domesticate and, in rare cases, a domesticate. The grass is used to make brooms; it is the second-largest NTFP exported from Laos; in 2000, some

370

200 tons were exported to Thailand (Foppes and Ketphanh 2000; Lao-ntfpwiki 2010).

23. Mak Nyao, Jatropha curcas L., jatropha, is traditionally planted as a hedge or live fence. Current interests in Laos want to use the seeds as a cash crop as the oils can be used as a diesel fuel. Various parts of the plant have numerous uses: the leaves can be used for food, the bark for dye, seeds for medicine, and seed oil as a polish, fuel, soap, candles, etc. Originated in Central America but is found all over the tropics; grows in dry and poor soils (Lao-ntfpwiki 2010).

Photo of Farmer Conducting a Pile Sort

371

Photo of Farmer Conducting a Rank Activity

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Appendix 6D Hierarchical Clusters from Staff, Farmer and Ethnic Group Pile Sorts

Aggregate Hierarchical Cluster

Aggregate JOHNSON'S HIERARCHICAL CLUSTERING ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ

Input dataset: C:\APAC\AGPROX Method: AVERAGE Type of Data: Similarities

HIERARCHICAL CLUSTERING

J P P R N C O I I P U Y H I L L B G S N F A B T A O M O U U O S S E O P E R P B E K D P W B P P W E T O Y E A U E E A E O E S S L G S G S C E N B A P I R R K E R R T M A T M T A O A P E N P T M T T N A A Y R R R R R M R R E A U L R U R R E T T L I I I I I E N S A N T E E L E E E A A O C C C C C

1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 Level 7 5 9 4 0 2 8 3 1 6 4 2 1 3 5 6 7 8 9 0 ------0.8485 ...... XXX . . 0.8384 ...... XXXXX . 0.8182 ...... XXXXXXX . 0.8053 ...... XXXXXXXXX 0.7879 . XXX ...... XXX . . . . XXXXXXXXX 0.7576 . XXX ...... XXX . XXX . XXXXXXXXX 0.7273 . XXX . XXX . . . XXX . XXX . XXXXXXXXX 0.6667 XXXXX . XXX . . . XXX . XXX . XXXXXXXXX 0.5152 XXXXX . XXX XXX . XXX . XXX . XXXXXXXXX 0.5051 XXXXX . XXX XXX XXXXX . XXX . XXXXXXXXX 0.5051 XXXXX . XXX XXX XXXXX XXXXX . XXXXXXXXX 0.3434 XXXXX XXXXX XXX XXXXX XXXXX . XXXXXXXXX 0.3333 XXXXX XXXXX XXX XXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.2746 XXXXXXXXXXX XXX XXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.2374 XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.1106 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.0702 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 0.0485 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Partition-by-actor indicator matrix saved as dataset PART Elapsed time: 1 second. 4/19/2011 2:49 PM. ANTHROPAC 4.983/X Copyright 1985-2002 by Analytic Technologies.

373

Farmer Cluster

Farmer JOHNSON'S HIERARCHICAL CLUSTERING ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ

Input dataset: C:\APAC\AGPROX Method: AVERAGE Type of Data: Similarities

HIERARCHICAL CLUSTERING

P P J R C N I I O P U H I Y L L G N B S A F B T O M A U U O O E E S S O P P R B E D P K P B P W W O A E T Y E E U E A O E E S G L S S G N P S C E B A R I R K R R E T T A M M T P P A O A E N M T T T A A N Y R R R R R E L M R R A U U R R R T T E L I I I I I A E E N S N T L E E E A A E O C C C C C

1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 Level 4 8 7 5 9 0 2 1 3 6 4 1 3 2 5 8 7 9 6 0 ------0.8000 ...... XXX . . . 0.7500 ...... XXXXX XXX 0.7133 ...... XXXXXXXXX 0.7000 ...... XXX XXX . . XXXXXXXXX 0.6500 . . . XXX . . . . XXX XXX . . XXXXXXXXX 0.6000 . . . XXX XXX . . XXX XXX . . XXXXXXXXX 0.5500 . . XXXXX XXX XXX XXX XXX . . XXXXXXXXX 0.4500 . . XXXXX XXX XXX XXX XXX XXX XXXXXXXXX 0.4167 . . XXXXX XXX XXXXXXX XXX XXX XXXXXXXXX 0.3944 . . XXXXX XXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.3250 . XXXXXXX XXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.2600 XXXXXXXXX XXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.2444 XXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.0907 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.0572 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 0.0452 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Partition-by-actor indicator matrix saved as dataset PART

Elapsed time: 1 second. 4/19/2011 5:32 PM. ANTHROPAC 4.983/X Copyright 1985-2002 by Analytic Technologies.

374

Staff Cluster

Staff JOHNSON'S HIERARCHICAL CLUSTERING ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ

Input dataset: C:\APAC\AGPROX Method: AVERAGE Type of Data: Similarities

HIERARCHICAL CLUSTERING

J P R P N C O I P U I Y H I L L B N F A B T G S A O M O U U O S S E R P B E E O P K D P W P P B W E T A U E E A O Y E S E O E S S G L G S C E P I R R K N B A T E R R M M T A T A O A P T M T T P E N Y N A A R R R R R M R R L R U R R E A U L E T T I I I I I E N S E E L E E A N T O E A A C C C C C

1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 Level 7 5 9 8 3 1 6 4 4 0 2 5 2 1 3 6 9 8 7 0 ------1.0000 . XXX ...... XXXXX XXX 0.9231 . XXX . . . XXX . XXX . . . . XXXXXXXXX 0.8462 XXXXX . . . XXX . XXX . . XXX XXXXXXXXX 0.7692 XXXXX XXX . XXX . XXX . . XXX XXXXXXXXX 0.6410 XXXXX XXX . XXX . XXX . XXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.5897 XXXXX XXX XXXXX . XXX . XXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.5641 XXXXX XXX XXXXX XXXXX . XXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.4038 XXXXX XXX XXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.2115 XXXXX XXX XXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 0.1795 XXXXXXXXX XXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 0.0929 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 0.0639 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 0.0314 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Partition-by-actor indicator matrix saved as dataset PART

Elapsed time: 1 second. 4/19/2011 5:38 PM. ANTHROPAC 4.983/X Copyright 1985-2002 by Analytic Technologies.

375

Tai-Lue Farmer Cluster (11 respondents)

TAI-LUE JOHNSON'S HIERARCHICAL CLUSTERING ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ

Input dataset: C:\APAC\AGPROX Method: AVERAGE Type of Data: Similarities

HIERARCHICAL CLUSTERING

J P R P N C O P I U I Y H I L L S B A N F B T G A O M O U U O O P S S P E R B E E K D P W B P P W Y E E T E A U E A O E O E S S L G S G B A S C E R P I R K N E R R T M A T M T E N A O A M P T T T P N A A Y R R R R R A U M R R U L R R R E E T T L I I I I I N T E N S L E E E E A E A A O C C C C C

1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 Level 0 2 7 5 9 1 8 3 6 4 4 2 1 3 5 6 7 8 9 0 ------0.9091 ...... XXX . XXXXX XXX 0.8343 ...... XXX . XXXXXXXXX 0.8182 ...... XXX . . XXX . XXXXXXXXX 0.6364 . . . XXX . . . XXX . . XXX . XXXXXXXXX 0.6061 . . XXXXX . . . XXX . . XXX . XXXXXXXXX 0.5758 . . XXXXX . . . XXX . . XXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.5455 XXX XXXXX . . . XXX . XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.4545 XXX XXXXX . XXX XXX . XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.3636 XXX XXXXX XXXXX XXX . XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.2955 XXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXX . XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.2727 XXX XXXXXXXXXXX XXX XXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.1970 XXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.0801 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.0707 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 0.0390 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Partition-by-actor indicator matrix saved as dataset PART

Elapsed time: 1 second. 4/19/2011 4:25 PM. ANTHROPAC 4.983/X Copyright 1985-2002 by Analytic Technologies.

376

Hmong Farmer Cluster (5 Respondents)

Hmong JOHNSON'S HIERARCHICAL CLUSTERING ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ

Input dataset: C:\APAC\AGPROX Method: AVERAGE Type of Data: Similarities

HIERARCHICAL CLUSTERING

C R P P J N H I U P I I O Y L L O M B F A T G N S B A U O U O D P B R P E E E S O S P K P B W P W O E E U E A O A E Y T E E S G L S S G R R R I R K N P S B C E A E T T A M M T A A T T M T P P A E O A N N Y R R R R R T T R R U R E L M A R R U E L I I I I I A A E E L E A E E N N S T E O C C C C C

1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 Level 1 3 6 3 1 4 4 8 7 0 5 9 2 2 5 8 7 6 9 0 ------0.8000 XXX XXX XXX . . XXX . . . . . XXX . . . 0.6667 XXX XXXXXXX . . XXX . . . . . XXX . . . 0.6000 XXX XXXXXXX . . XXX XXX . . . XXX XXXXX 0.5333 XXX XXXXXXX . . XXX XXXXX . . XXX XXXXX 0.4800 XXX XXXXXXX . . XXXXXXXXX . . XXX XXXXX 0.4622 XXX XXXXXXX . . XXXXXXXXX . . XXXXXXXXX 0.4000 XXX XXXXXXX XXX XXXXXXXXX XXX XXXXXXXXX 0.3397 XXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXX XXX XXXXXXXXX 0.1429 XXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXX 0.1333 XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXX 0.0938 XXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 0.0494 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Partition-by-actor indicator matrix saved as dataset PART

Elapsed time: 1 second. 4/19/2011 5:34 PM. ANTHROPAC 4.983/X Copyright 1985-2002 by Analytic Technologies.

377

Khmu Farmer Cluster (4 Respondents)

Khmu JOHNSON'S HIERARCHICAL CLUSTERING ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ

Input dataset: C:\APAC\AGPROX Method: AVERAGE Type of Data: Similarities

HIERARCHICAL CLUSTERING

P J P R C N I O P I U I H Y L L N S B A F G B T M O A O U U O E S O P S P R E B E P D K W P P B W A E Y E T E U O E A E O E S S S G L G P S B A E C R I N R K R R E T M M T A T P A E N A O M T P T T A A N Y R R R R R L M A U R R U R E R R T T E L I I I I I E E N T S N L E A E E A A E O C C C C C

1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 Level 8 7 0 2 9 5 1 3 4 6 4 3 1 2 5 6 9 8 7 0 ------0.7500 . . XXX XXX XXX ...... XXX XXX 0.5000 . XXXXX XXXXXXX XXX . . . . . XXXXXXXXX 0.4167 . XXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXX . . . . XXXXXXXXX 0.3167 . XXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXX . . . . XXXXXXXXX 0.2500 XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXX . XXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.2167 XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.0848 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.0464 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX 0.0112 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Partition-by-actor indicator matrix saved as dataset PART

Elapsed time: 1 second. 4/19/2011 5:27 PM. ANTHROPAC 4.983/X Copyright 1985-2002 by Analytic Technologies.

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Appendix 6E Pile Sort Non-Metric Multidimensional Scaling Results and Graphs

Pile sort data was also analyzed by ANTHROPAC via non-metric multidimensional scaling (MDS). See the farmer and staff graphs below for outputs. Non- metric multidimensional scaling is a ―visual map of semantic proximities of the terms131 as judged by the pile sort informants‖ (De Munck 2009:81). Non-metric means that the distance between terms is not a metric distance132 but rather a correlational distance. The graphs below may be analyzed via clusters, similar to the charts in Appendix 6D; however, reiterating clusters is not my purpose for using an MDS analysis. In addition to clusters, an MDS graph may indicate dimensions, or the underlying logic that informants use to assess similarities among pile sort plants. Antonyms usually represent poles of the dimensions; that is, weak-strong may be the extremes, but fit and sickly, etc., may be found along the gradient between the two poles (De Munck 2009:81). Dimensions are always vertical and horizontal and most easily interpreted on a two-dimensional scale as long as the stress133 level remains below 0.18. De Munck suggests that in some cases dimensions may not exist and in all cases they are inferred. Generally, the inferred dimensions ―have face validity because they make sense to other people interpreting the MDS‖ (De Munck 2009:82).

Findings from Farmer Multi-Dimensional Scaling

The stress level was low for the farmer chart—at 0.101—denoting that Graph 1 below visually represents the data with minimal distortion. On the horizontal x axis, peanut is furthest to the left while nya kee nee is furthest to the right, clustered with the other naturally occurring fallow species. My interpretation of this data is that the x axis represents the environmental neediness of plants. Plants on the left, with the exception of

131 Or, in our case, plants represented by pictures and terms. 132 For example, the distance between Reno, Nevada, and Carson City, Nevada, is a metric distance because it can be measured in meters; however, the difference between pigeon pea and pineapple on the charts in Appendix 6E cannot be measured with meters. 133 ―Stress refers to the amount of distortion in the visual representation‖ (De Munck 2009:83).

379

Job‘s tears,134 need the most specific growing environments while plants on the right are the least needy and appear to grow anywhere. On the left are peanuts, which farmers say need particular growing areas with flat soft lands and moderate amounts of water. In contrast, on the right are the naturally occurring fallow species that grow anywhere—in all types of environments, be they steep slopes, flat, dry or wet lands. Pigeon pea is spatially represented as a ―loner‖ crop near the center of the chart. This loner or ―outlier‖ quality of pigeon pea is not surprising and correlates with the above hierarchical cluster charts (Appendix 6D). Farmers separate pigeon peas from plants that are perceived as more useful.

On the vertical y axis, leaving out pigeon pea and moving from a top-to-bottom orientation, the dimension could be woody to herbaceous stemmed plants. Although I could infer this, I don‘t think it‘s the most salient dimension farmers were considering. Instead, if I leave out the cluster of fallow species to the far right on the x axis, I infer a dimension of long-term cash crops to short-term cash crops to subsistence crops along the y axis. According to farmers‘ responses from all research activities, this is the most likely dimension. Although rice is also a cash crop, it is first and foremost the staple crop and, thus, most saliently considered a subsistence crop. However, many paddy farmers make a lot of money selling their surpluses (as well as upland farmers who are lucky enough to have surpluses).

134 Job‘s tears are not as environmentally nor climate specific as other crops, such as soy beans, that are clustered on the left of the graph. This comment comes from Dr. Bruce Linquist, an agronomist with IRRI who has been in Laos for over eight years; he briefly reviewed my inferred dimensions in an attempt for me to test their face validity (Linquist 2011, personal communication).

380

Farmer Output Graph 1 NON-METRIC MULTIDIMENSIONAL SCALING ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ

Input dataset: C:\APAC\AGPROX

Starting config: TORSCA Type of Data: Similarities

1 2 ------1 CHODORATA 1.10 -0.09 2 NYAKEENEE 1.26 0.27 3 IMPERATA 1.16 -0.02 4 PIGEONPEA -0.01 0.05 5 CORN -0.59 0.37 6 RUBBERTRE 0.03 1.01 7 SESAME -0.85 0.03 8 PINEAPPLE -0.90 0.25 9 JOBSTEARS -1.07 0.38 10 SOYBEAN -0.79 -0.33 11 PAPERMUL -0.23 0.80 12 PEANUT -1.22 -0.33 13 FRUITRE -0.45 0.72 14 TEAKTRE 0.07 1.14 15 STYLO 1.16 0.44 16 LOWSMRIC 0.22 -0.86 17 BLARIC 0.26 -0.99 18 UPGTRIC 0.36 -0.81 19 UPSMRIC 0.15 -0.99 20 LOWGTRIC 0.34 -1.02

Coordinates saved as dataset COORD Stress 0.101 after 22 iterations.

Dim 2 ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÁÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÁÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÁÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÁÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÁÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ 1.07 ´ Ã ³ TEAKTRE ³ ³ ³ ³ RUBBERTRE ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ PAPERMUL ³ ³ FRUITRE ³ 0.58 ´ Ã ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ STYLO ³ ³ JOBSTEARS CORN ³ ³ ³ ³ PINEAPPLE NYAKEE ³ ³ ³ 0.08 ´ Ã ³ SESAME PIGEONPEA ³ ³ IMPERATA ³ ³ CHODORATA ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ PEANUT SOYBEAN ³ -0.41 ´ Ã ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ LOWSMUPGTRIC ³ ³ ³ -0.90 ´ UPSMRICIC Ã ³ LOWGTRIC ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÂÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÂÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÂÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÂÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÂÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ -0.95 -0.46 0.02 0.51 1.00 Dim 1

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Stress in 2 dimensions is 0.101

Elapsed time: 1 second. 4/19/2011 5:33 PM. ANTHROPAC 4.983/X Copyright 1985-2002 by Analytic Technologies.

Findings from Staff Multi-Dimensional Scaling

For the Staff Graph 2 below, the x axis is more easily inferred than the y axis. Considering pineapple an outlier, the x-axis dimension is based on plants‘ physical characteristics, moving from herbaceous to woody stemmed perennial species. However, it is more difficult to infer a dimension for the y axis. Although the two-dimension visual representation of the Staff MDS has a low stress level—of 0.072—I decided to run it three dimensionally to see if the visual would trigger a more obvious dimension. However, Graph 3 below does not reveal anything new that cannot be observed in Graph 2. This finding suggests that staff may not have considered another dimension, or if they did, it was extremely subtle.

Staff Output Graph 2

NON-METRIC MULTIDIMENSIONAL SCALING ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ

Input dataset: C:\APAC\AGPROX

Starting config: TORSCA Type of Data: Similarities

1 2 ------1 CHODORATA -0.98 -0.29 2 NYAKEENEE -0.90 0.15 3 IMPERATA -1.05 0.08 4 PIGEONPEA 0.26 0.32 5 CORN -0.04 -0.29 6 RUBBERTRE 1.61 -0.26 7 SESAME 0.09 -0.41 8 PINEAPPLE 0.42 -1.32 9 JOBSTEARS -0.04 -0.29 10 SOYBEAN 0.40 0.09 11 PAPERMUL 0.88 -0.49 12 PEANUT 0.44 0.04 13 FRUITRE 0.76 -1.24 14 TEAKTRE 1.56 -0.32 15 STYLO 0.33 0.77 16 LOWSMRIC -0.75 0.69 17 BLARIC -0.75 0.69 18 UPGTRIC -0.75 0.69 19 UPSMRIC -0.75 0.69 20 LOWGTRIC -0.75 0.69

Coordinates saved as dataset COORD Stress 0.072 after 25 iterations.

382

Dim 2 ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÁÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÁÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÁÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÁÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÁÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ 1.40 ´ Ã ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ 0.81 ´ Ã ³ ³ ³ STYLO ³ ³ LOWGTRIC ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ PIGEONPEA ³ 0.23 ´ Ã ³ ³ ³ IMPERATAEENEE SOYBEAN ³ ³ PEANUT ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ CHODORATA JOBSTEARS TEAKTRET ³ -0.36 ´ SESAME Ã ³ PAPERMUL ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ -0.94 ´ Ã ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ FRUITRE ³ ³ PINEAPPLE ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÂÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÂÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÂÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÂÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÂÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ -1.00 -0.42 0.15 0.73 1.31 Dim 1 Stress in 2 dimensions is 0.072

Elapsed time: 1 second. 4/20/2011 9:32 AM. ANTHROPAC 4.983/X Copyright 1985-2002 by Analytic Technologies.

383

Staff Output Graph 3 (Three Dimensional MDS) NON-METRIC MULTIDIMENSIONAL SCALING ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ

Input dataset: C:\APAC\AGPROX

Starting config: TORSCA Type of Data: Similarities

1 2 3 ------1 CHODORATA -0.98 -0.24 -0.37 2 NYAKEENEE -0.86 0.30 -0.61 3 IMPERATA -1.05 0.07 -0.34 4 PIGEONPEA 0.30 0.38 -0.35 5 CORN -0.06 -0.16 0.34 6 RUBBERTRE 1.56 -0.10 0.01 7 SESAME 0.14 -0.28 0.38 8 PINEAPPLE 0.31 -1.17 0.48 9 JOBSTEARS -0.06 -0.16 0.34 10 SOYBEAN 0.28 -0.25 -0.37 11 PAPERMUL 0.91 -0.30 0.44 12 PEANUT 0.31 -0.39 -0.46 13 FRUITRE 0.73 -1.13 0.41 14 TEAKTRE 1.49 -0.09 0.20 15 STYLO -0.16 0.01 -0.99 16 LOWSMRIC -0.57 0.70 0.18 17 BLARIC -0.58 0.70 0.18 18 UPGTRIC -0.57 0.70 0.18 19 UPSMRIC -0.57 0.71 0.18 20 LOWGTRIC -0.58 0.70 0.18

Coordinates saved as dataset COORD Stress 0.011 after 50 iterations.

Dim 1 ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÁÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÁÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÁÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÁÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÁÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ 1.37 ´ RUBBERTRE1 Ã ³ TEAKTRE20 ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ 0.82 ´ PAPERMUL44 Ã ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ FRUITRE41 ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ 0.27 ´ PINEAPPLE48 PEANUT-46 PIGEONPEA-35 Ã ³ SOYBEAN-37 ³ ³ SESAME38 ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ JOBSTEARS34 ³ ³ STYLO-99 ³ ³ ³ -0.27 ´ Ã ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ LOWGTRIC18 ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ -0.82 ´ NYAKEENEE-61 Ã ³ CHODORATA-37 ³ ³ IMPERATA-34 ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ³ ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÂÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÂÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÂÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÂÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÂÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ -0.87 -0.33 0.21 0.74 1.28 Dim 2 Stress in 3 dimensions is 0.011

384

Elapsed time: 1 second. 4/19/2011 5:39 PM. ANTHROPAC 4.983/X Copyright 1985-2002 by Analytic Technologies.

Limitations of Multi-Dimensional Scaling

Both farmer and staff MDS graphs may be revisited in the future to see if different dimensions are recognized. I would also like to present these charts to other researchers in Laos to understand what inferences they make. As stated earlier, dimensions are only inferred but usually hold face value when tested among other people. My problem is that I am no longer in Laos, and most people around me (in Reno, Nevada) are not familiar with Lao crops. Although I purchased ANTHROPAC in 2009 and attempted to analyze pile-sort data in the field, this proved to be unsuccessful due to numerous technological problems in getting the software to work properly. Therefore, until I return to Laos, I cannot test the face validity of the dimensions offered herein. Ideally, asking participants follow-up questions about what would shape the domains would allow researchers to run property-fitting analysis (i.e.: test-face validity). For the time being, I can only infer from the presented visual charts and proceed with my analysis on crop perceptions. Additionally, my software problems yielded two more actions. First, I read through each pile sort activity, analyzed responses and assigned a code to each respondent about what criteria they considered when creating their piles. Second, because I did not recognize a sorting pattern to respondents‘ piles, I decided to abandon using this method in the Muang Muay research site (except in one instance, which is explained below). I did this since I was uncertain what findings the pile sorts would yield and because it was the most difficult and time consuming research task for farmers to complete.

385

Appendix 6F Consensus Analysis and Outputs

Using the consensus analysis tool in ANTHROPAC, I looked at agreement between individual respondents. Instead of measuring differences between items, as above with specific crops, consensus analysis measures relationships between people, focusing on similarities between individual respondents (De Munck 2009:126). Culture is shared knowledge, and that is basically what a consensus analysis measures. Consensus analysis outputs are found in Appendix 6F. The eigenvalue135 is one of the most important values to understand if a high level of agreement exists between respondents. De Munck states that an eigenvalue must be a minimum of 3.0 to constitute a culture. Thus, the high 19.886 eigenvalue of my research is a statistical boon, indicating that my 33 respondents do indeed constitute a culture; that is, respondents retain a high percentage of shared knowledge. To further explain the eigenvalue, we can look at the competence scores in Appendix 6F (these scores are located after the agreement between respondents output) of each individual respondent. Every individual has a value associated with his or her name. For example, 1PrasitSL23136 has a 60% competence score, indicating that his pile sort responses correlate with overall group (aggregate) responses 60% of the time. This percentage value is termed ―loading,‖ which ―represents the relation of the pattern of answers of one individual to the aggregate pattern of answers‖ or, to ―put it another way, a loading is the score that represents the fit of one individual‘s profile of answers to the aggregated profile of answers‖ (De Munck 2009:130). In the list of competence scores, there are two individuals who scored 95% (7LeusaSH26 and 13SeesavathSL31), indicating that these two individuals have the most ―fit‖ profiles when compared to the aggregated profile (which acts like an answer key). It is not surprising that they are both

135 ―An eigenvalue is the sum of the squared loadings of each factor. A factor is some underlying concept that accounts for some percentage of the pattern of answers, i.e.: ―culture‖ (De Munck 2009:129). ―Loadings refer to the degree to which one individual‘s overall responses (a coefficient) agree with the overall factor (a measurement model)‖ (De Munck 2009:130). 136 This is my data code, explained as: 1 is the code for the respondent; Prasit is the respondent‘s first name; S= staff; L= Lao ethnicity; and 23 is the age of the respondent. Other codes after respondents names are F= farmer; H=Hmong; K=Khmu; E=Lue. An additional F after ethnic group indicates a female respondent.

386 staff members. In fact, reviewing the list of competence scores shows that seven staff members (out of 13, or 53.8%) and eight farmers (out of 20, or 40%) scored 80% or higher competence scores. This means that, while there is consensus among the overall group, staff responses are more heavily weighted in the aggregate pattern because as a group they have a higher percentage of consensus to begin with (also demonstrated in the hierarchical clusters). ANTHROPAC uses an individuals ―loading‖ (competence score) to weigh the frequency of responses. (This is shown below, after the list of competence scores). Thus, an individual with a 95% loading is assumed to be more representative of the culture. Hence, the pattern in which a person lumps or splits any two plants is weighted more heavily than an individual with a 58% loading. In Example A below, fruit trees and paper mulberry trees were not clustered together (a score of 0 under ―response‖) by 18 respondents (frequency). But these trees were clustered together by 15 respondents. The right column shows the ―Weighted Frequency,‖ which takes into account individual competence scores or ―loadings.‖ The loading of someone with a 95% competence would count for more than one point. This is demonstrated with the 19.42 score of 18 respondents.

Example A: Response Distribution

ITEM 77: FRUITRE-PAPERMUL Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 18 19.42 1 15 13.58

CONSENSUS ANALYSIS ------

Type of data: Proximities: Square symmetric matrix for each resp Analytic model: Multiple choice Input dataset: INDPROX (C:\APAC\INDPROX) Competence scores: competence (C:\APAC\competence) Answer key: answerkey (C:\APAC\answerkey) 2nd factor loadings: loadings_on_2nd_factor (C:\APAC\loadings_on_2nd_factor) Agreement matrix: agreement (C:\APAC\agreement)

Agreement among respondents

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 1Pra 2Jon 3Jho 4Een 5See 6See 7Leu 8Kha 9Jan 10Th 11So 12Bo 13Se 16Th 18th 19Jo 20Kn 21An 22Th 24Sa 25Sa 26Si 27Kh 28Bo 29Je 30Kw 32Pa 33Du 35Xi 36Oe 38Ja 41Vw 42Ni

387

------1 1PrasitSL23 1.00 0.52 0.32 0.47 0.23 0.32 0.58 0.63 0.59 0.56 0.38 0.42 0.58 0.40 0.53 0.38 0.57 0.52 0.42 0.45 0.55 0.37 0.60 0.38 0.41 0.54 0.43 0.46 0.40 0.60 0.44 0.52 0.33 2 2JongkawanFH56 0.52 1.00 0.39 0.64 0.43 0.49 0.54 0.63 0.54 0.57 0.30 0.30 0.54 0.54 0.49 0.39 0.53 0.49 0.49 0.35 0.53 0.37 0.56 0.46 0.45 0.50 0.49 0.27 0.50 0.54 0.32 0.53 0.42 3 3JhongpaFH62 0.32 0.39 1.00 0.27 0.36 0.37 0.48 0.47 0.41 0.48 0.31 0.26 0.48 0.53 0.54 0.39 0.52 0.48 0.35 0.42 0.37 0.46 0.46 0.35 0.50 0.42 0.42 0.22 0.41 0.51 0.36 0.56 0.27 4 4EenFK32 0.47 0.64 0.27 1.00 0.60 0.38 0.54 0.54 0.65 0.52 0.47 0.60 0.54 0.31 0.49 0.44 0.47 0.47 0.43 0.59 0.45 0.36 0.52 0.43 0.36 0.54 0.54 0.49 0.54 0.58 0.41 0.42 0.58 5 5SeeFK38 0.23 0.43 0.36 0.60 1.00 0.36 0.43 0.36 0.45 0.43 0.30 0.30 0.43 0.32 0.49 0.32 0.41 0.38 0.27 0.45 0.36 0.41 0.43 0.27 0.36 0.43 0.32 0.21 0.41 0.47 0.49 0.47 0.32 6 6SeemesighSL26 0.32 0.49 0.37 0.38 0.36 1.00 0.59 0.62 0.58 0.57 0.20 0.24 0.59 0.65 0.52 0.58 0.58 0.69 0.85 0.39 0.66 0.46 0.55 0.85 0.58 0.59 0.53 0.31 0.56 0.57 0.61 0.50 0.34 7 7LeusaSH26 0.58 0.54 0.48 0.54 0.43 0.59 1.00 0.86 0.82 0.94 0.55 0.57 1.00 0.73 0.84 0.78 0.82 0.83 0.65 0.71 0.78 0.75 0.89 0.69 0.75 0.89 0.73 0.51 0.69 0.94 0.65 0.88 0.54 8 8KhamdokSH36 0.63 0.63 0.47 0.54 0.36 0.62 0.86 1.00 0.83 0.80 0.41 0.43 0.86 0.77 0.73 0.67 0.73 0.74 0.68 0.72 0.77 0.61 0.80 0.73 0.69 0.76 0.63 0.49 0.60 0.80 0.59 0.76 0.51 9 9JansukSLF37 0.59 0.54 0.41 0.65 0.45 0.58 0.82 0.83 1.00 0.86 0.47 0.49 0.82 0.61 0.72 0.73 0.73 0.74 0.66 0.75 0.79 0.65 0.86 0.66 0.67 0.78 0.63 0.54 0.71 0.80 0.63 0.78 0.46 10 10ThongkamSL34 0.56 0.57 0.48 0.52 0.43 0.57 0.94 0.80 0.86 1.00 0.61 0.57 0.94 0.70 0.80 0.77 0.80 0.83 0.63 0.67 0.80 0.79 0.94 0.63 0.75 0.85 0.68 0.48 0.69 0.92 0.61 0.88 0.47 11 11SomphetSL35 0.38 0.30 0.31 0.47 0.30 0.20 0.55 0.41 0.47 0.61 1.00 0.92 0.55 0.44 0.59 0.46 0.49 0.44 0.26 0.60 0.41 0.63 0.55 0.26 0.46 0.53 0.36 0.16 0.41 0.57 0.43 0.59 0.21 12 12BounmaSH24 0.42 0.30 0.26 0.60 0.30 0.24 0.57 0.43 0.49 0.57 0.92 1.00 0.57 0.42 0.57 0.51 0.47 0.44 0.33 0.67 0.45 0.59 0.53 0.33 0.46 0.59 0.38 0.22 0.47 0.59 0.50 0.54 0.23 13 13SeesavathSL31 0.58 0.54 0.48 0.54 0.43 0.59 1.00 0.86 0.82 0.94 0.55 0.57 1.00 0.73 0.84 0.78 0.82 0.83 0.65 0.71 0.78 0.75 0.89 0.69 0.75 0.89 0.73 0.51 0.69 0.94 0.65 0.88 0.54 14 16ThongvangFK52 0.40 0.54 0.53 0.31 0.32 0.65 0.73 0.77 0.61 0.70 0.44 0.42 0.73 1.00 0.75 0.63 0.79 0.72 0.77 0.51 0.68 0.67 0.70 0.77 0.75 0.66 0.51 0.35 0.54 0.71 0.64 0.75 0.42 15 18thatFE47 0.53 0.49 0.54 0.49 0.49 0.52 0.84 0.73 0.72 0.80 0.59 0.57 0.84 0.75 1.00 0.73 0.92 0.80 0.61 0.66 0.67 0.71 0.85 0.59 0.75 0.79 0.61 0.47 0.70 0.88 0.65 0.93 0.52 16 19JoyFE31 0.38 0.39 0.39 0.44 0.32 0.58 0.78 0.67 0.73 0.77 0.46 0.51 0.78 0.63 0.73 1.00 0.72 0.74 0.63 0.63 0.64 0.67 0.74 0.65 0.65 0.75 0.67 0.42 0.66 0.75 0.57 0.73 0.49 17 20KnowFE48 0.57 0.53 0.52 0.47 0.41 0.58 0.82 0.73 0.73 0.80 0.49 0.47 0.82 0.79 0.92 0.72 1.00 0.84 0.68 0.60 0.71 0.69 0.86 0.64 0.79 0.76 0.61 0.47 0.64 0.84 0.64 0.95 0.48 18 21AngsangFEF46 0.52 0.49 0.48 0.47 0.38 0.69 0.83 0.74 0.74 0.83 0.44 0.44 0.83 0.72 0.80 0.74 0.84 1.00 0.74 0.65 0.65 0.73 0.81 0.69 0.67 0.77 0.64 0.44 0.67 0.85 0.61 0.80 0.45 19 22ThanFEF44 0.42 0.49 0.35 0.43 0.27 0.85 0.65 0.68 0.66 0.63 0.26 0.33 0.65 0.77 0.61 0.63 0.68 0.74 1.00 0.44 0.75 0.51 0.63 0.96 0.66 0.63 0.46 0.41 0.54 0.67 0.68 0.58 0.34 20 24SanglodtFEF24 0.45 0.35 0.42 0.59 0.45 0.39 0.71 0.72 0.75 0.67 0.60 0.67 0.71 0.51 0.66 0.63 0.60 0.65 0.44 1.00 0.54 0.67 0.67 0.46 0.56 0.71 0.51 0.44 0.66 0.68 0.59 0.63 0.42 21 25SavathSH33 0.55 0.53 0.37 0.45 0.36 0.66 0.78 0.77 0.79 0.80 0.41 0.45 0.78 0.68 0.67 0.64 0.71 0.65 0.75 0.54 1.00 0.59 0.82 0.75 0.76 0.74 0.55 0.41 0.64 0.76 0.74 0.74 0.38 22 26SievonSL42 0.37 0.37 0.46 0.36 0.41 0.46 0.75 0.61 0.65 0.79 0.63 0.59 0.75 0.67 0.71 0.67 0.69 0.73 0.51 0.67 0.59 1.00 0.73 0.51 0.66 0.68 0.49 0.29 0.53 0.73 0.64 0.74 0.33 23 27KhalekSL 0.60 0.56 0.46 0.52 0.43 0.55 0.89 0.80 0.86 0.94 0.55 0.53 0.89 0.70 0.85 0.74 0.86 0.81 0.63 0.67 0.82 0.73 1.00 0.63 0.74 0.81 0.66 0.46 0.72 0.87 0.66 0.95 0.49 24 28BounmaSL24 0.38 0.46 0.35 0.43 0.27 0.85 0.69 0.73 0.66 0.63 0.26 0.33 0.69 0.77 0.59 0.65 0.64 0.69 0.96 0.46 0.75 0.51 0.63 1.00 0.66 0.63 0.51 0.37 0.54 0.63 0.68 0.58 0.38 25 29JewhoyangFH45 0.41 0.45 0.50 0.36 0.36 0.58 0.75 0.69 0.67 0.75 0.46 0.46 0.75 0.75 0.75 0.65 0.79 0.67 0.66 0.56 0.76 0.66 0.74 0.66 1.00 0.78 0.52 0.35 0.62 0.75 0.61 0.76 0.41 26 30KwangsuFK23 0.54 0.50 0.42 0.54 0.43 0.59 0.89 0.76 0.78 0.85 0.53 0.59 0.89 0.66 0.79 0.75 0.76 0.77 0.63 0.71 0.74 0.68 0.81 0.63 0.78 1.00 0.66 0.53 0.74 0.89 0.63 0.80 0.49 27 32ParnFE25 0.43 0.49 0.42 0.54 0.32 0.53 0.73 0.63 0.63 0.68 0.36 0.38 0.73 0.51 0.61 0.67 0.61 0.64 0.46 0.51 0.55 0.49 0.66 0.51 0.52 0.66 1.00 0.38 0.61 0.66 0.43 0.65 0.54 28 33DuangFE25 0.46 0.27 0.22 0.49 0.21 0.31 0.51 0.49 0.54 0.48 0.16 0.22 0.51 0.35 0.47 0.42 0.47 0.44 0.41 0.44 0.41 0.29 0.46 0.37 0.35 0.53 0.38 1.00 0.37 0.57 0.36 0.37 0.38 29 35XingeenFE45 0.40 0.50 0.41 0.54 0.41 0.56 0.69 0.60 0.71 0.69 0.41 0.47 0.69 0.54 0.70 0.66 0.64 0.67 0.54 0.66 0.64 0.53 0.72 0.54 0.62 0.74 0.61 0.37 1.00 0.69 0.58 0.70 0.53 30 36OeunFEF47 0.60 0.54 0.51 0.58 0.47 0.57 0.94 0.80 0.80 0.92 0.57 0.59 0.94 0.71 0.88 0.75 0.84 0.85 0.67 0.68 0.76 0.73 0.87 0.63 0.75 0.89 0.66 0.57 0.69 1.00 0.63 0.86 0.52 31 38JanpingFE43 0.44 0.32 0.36 0.41 0.49 0.61 0.65 0.59 0.63 0.61 0.43 0.50 0.65 0.64 0.65 0.57 0.64 0.61 0.68 0.59 0.74 0.64 0.66 0.68 0.61 0.63 0.43 0.36 0.58 0.63 1.00 0.66 0.33 32 41VwogerFH45 0.52 0.53 0.56 0.42 0.47 0.50 0.88 0.76 0.78 0.88 0.59 0.54 0.88 0.75 0.93 0.73 0.95 0.80 0.58 0.63 0.74 0.74 0.95 0.58 0.76 0.80 0.65 0.37 0.70 0.86 0.66 1.00 0.49 33 42NieayuvongFH40 0.33 0.42 0.27 0.58 0.32 0.34 0.54 0.51 0.46 0.47 0.21 0.23 0.54 0.42 0.52 0.49 0.48 0.45 0.34 0.42 0.38 0.33 0.49 0.38 0.41 0.49 0.54 0.38 0.53 0.52 0.33 0.49 1.00

No. of negative competencies: 0 Largest eigenvalue: 19.886 2nd largest eigenvalue: 1.677 Ratio of largest to next: 11.858

The large eigenratio and the lack of negative competenceetence scores indicates a good fit to the consensus model.

Competence Scores:

1 ----- 1PrasitSL23 0.603 2JongkawanFH56 0.606 3JhongpaFH62 0.533 4EenFK32 0.617 5SeeFK38 0.491 6SeemesighSL26 0.681 7LeusaSH26 0.950 8KhamdokSH36 0.872

388

9JansukSLF37 0.880 10ThongkamSL34 0.933 11SomphetSL35 0.581 12BounmaSH24 0.603 13SeesavathSL31 0.950 16ThongvangFK52 0.799 18thatFE47 0.895 19JoyFE31 0.809 20KnowFE48 0.891 21AngsangFEF46 0.874 22ThanFEF44 0.753 24SanglodtFEF24 0.751 25SavathSH33 0.833 26SievonSL42 0.771 27KhalekSL 0.927 28BounmaSL24 0.754 29JewhoyangFH45 0.810 30KwangsuFK23 0.896 32ParnFE25 0.715 33DuangFE25 0.516 35XingeenFE45 0.765 36OeunFEF47 0.939 38JanpingFE43 0.733 41VwogerFH45 0.911 42NieayuvongFH40 0.548

ITEM 1: NYAKEENEE-CHODORATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 9 12.40 1 16 20.60

ITEM 2: IMPERATA-CHODORATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 6 6.05 1 25 26.95

ITEM 3: IMPERATA-NYAKEENEE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 7 9.56 1 17 23.44

ITEM 4: PIGEONPEA-CHODORATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 27 28.06 1 5 4.94

ITEM 5: PIGEONPEA-NYAKEENEE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 20 26.80 1 5 6.20

ITEM 6: PIGEONPEA-IMPERATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 27 28.79 1 4 4.21

ITEM 7: CORN-CHODORATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 30.45 1 3 2.55

ITEM 8: CORN-NYAKEENEE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 21 28.06 1 4 4.94

ITEM 9: CORN-IMPERATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 27 29.10 1 4 3.90

ITEM 10: CORN-PIGEONPEA

389

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 23 23.51 1 9 9.49

ITEM 11: RUBBERTRE-CHODORATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 32 32.36 1 1 0.64

ITEM 12: RUBBERTRE-NYAKEENEE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 25 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 13: RUBBERTRE-IMPERATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 32.27 1 1 0.73

ITEM 14: RUBBERTRE-PIGEONPEA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 26 27.55 1 6 5.45

ITEM 15: RUBBERTRE-CORN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 31 31.22 1 2 1.78

ITEM 16: SESAME-CHODORATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 32 32.30 1 1 0.70

ITEM 17: SESAME-NYAKEENEE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 24 32.07 1 1 0.93

ITEM 18: SESAME-IMPERATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 31 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 19: SESAME-PIGEONPEA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 24 24.66 1 8 8.34

ITEM 20: SESAME-CORN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 13 11.72 1 20 21.28

ITEM 21: SESAME-RUBBERTRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 32 31.94 1 1 1.06

ITEM 22: PINEAPPLE-CHODORATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 33 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 23: PINEAPPLE-NYAKEENEE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq.

390

------0 25 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 24: PINEAPPLE-IMPERATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 31 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 25: PINEAPPLE-PIGEONPEA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 27 28.48 1 5 4.52

ITEM 26: PINEAPPLE-CORN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 23 23.29 1 10 9.71

ITEM 27: PINEAPPLE-RUBBERTRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 29 29.48 1 4 3.52

ITEM 28: PINEAPPLE-SESAME

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 23 22.47 1 10 10.53

ITEM 29: JOBSTEARS-CHODORATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 31 31.45 1 2 1.55

ITEM 30: JOBSTEARS-NYAKEENEE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 23 30.94 1 2 2.06

ITEM 31: JOBSTEARS-IMPERATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 29 31.38 1 2 1.62

ITEM 32: JOBSTEARS-PIGEONPEA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 24 24.18 1 8 8.82

ITEM 33: JOBSTEARS-CORN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 7 6.68 1 26 26.32

ITEM 34: JOBSTEARS-RUBBERTRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 32 32.32 1 1 0.68

ITEM 35: JOBSTEARS-SESAME

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 10 8.56 1 23 24.44

ITEM 36: JOBSTEARS-PINEAPPLE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------

391

0 24 24.01 1 9 8.99

ITEM 37: SOYBEAN-CHODORATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 31.26 1 2 1.74

ITEM 38: SOYBEAN-NYAKEENEE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 24 32.07 1 1 0.93

ITEM 39: SOYBEAN-IMPERATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 31 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 40: SOYBEAN-PIGEONPEA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 18 18.77 1 14 14.23

ITEM 41: SOYBEAN-CORN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 23 24.14 1 9 8.86

ITEM 42: SOYBEAN-RUBBERTRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 32 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 43: SOYBEAN-SESAME

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 19 20.78 1 13 12.22

ITEM 44: SOYBEAN-PINEAPPLE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 26 27.24 1 6 5.76

ITEM 45: SOYBEAN-JOBSTEARS

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 22 23.05 1 10 9.95

ITEM 46: PAPERMUL-CHODORATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 33 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 47: PAPERMUL-NYAKEENEE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 24 32.05 1 1 0.95

ITEM 48: PAPERMUL-IMPERATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 32.27 1 1 0.73

ITEM 49: PAPERMUL-PIGEONPEA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 28 29.15

392

1 4 3.85

ITEM 50: PAPERMUL-CORN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 24 24.42 1 9 8.58

ITEM 51: PAPERMUL-RUBBERTRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 19 17.51 1 14 15.49

ITEM 52: PAPERMUL-SESAME

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 26 25.93 1 7 7.07

ITEM 53: PAPERMUL-PINEAPPLE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 29 29.46 1 4 3.54

ITEM 54: PAPERMUL-JOBSTEARS

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 23 23.42 1 10 9.58

ITEM 55: PAPERMUL-SOYBEAN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 26 27.30 1 6 5.70

ITEM 56: PEANUT-CHODORATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 31 31.35 1 2 1.65

ITEM 57: PEANUT-NYAKEENEE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 25 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 58: PEANUT-IMPERATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 31 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 59: PEANUT-PIGEONPEA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 22 21.95 1 10 11.05

ITEM 60: PEANUT-CORN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 25 25.36 1 8 7.64

ITEM 61: PEANUT-RUBBERTRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 31 31.57 1 2 1.43

ITEM 62: PEANUT-SESAME

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 24 24.19 1 9 8.81

393

ITEM 63: PEANUT-PINEAPPLE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 25 25.36 1 8 7.64

ITEM 64: PEANUT-JOBSTEARS

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 24 24.30 1 9 8.70

ITEM 65: PEANUT-SOYBEAN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 8 7.14 1 24 25.86

ITEM 66: PEANUT-PAPERMUL

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 29 29.04 1 4 3.96

ITEM 67: FRUITRE-CHODORATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 33 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 68: FRUITRE-NYAKEENEE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 25 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 69: FRUITRE-IMPERATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 32.27 1 1 0.73

ITEM 70: FRUITRE-PIGEONPEA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 28 29.53 1 4 3.47

ITEM 71: FRUITRE-CORN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 25 25.86 1 8 7.14

ITEM 72: FRUITRE-RUBBERTRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 24 24.24 1 9 8.76

ITEM 73: FRUITRE-SESAME

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 28 28.03 1 5 4.97

ITEM 74: FRUITRE-PINEAPPLE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 16 15.15 1 17 17.85

ITEM 75: FRUITRE-JOBSTEARS

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 26 26.58 1 7 6.42

394

ITEM 76: FRUITRE-SOYBEAN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 26 27.33 1 6 5.67

ITEM 77: FRUITRE-PAPERMUL

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 18 19.42 1 15 13.58

ITEM 78: FRUITRE-PEANUT

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 29 29.08 1 4 3.92

ITEM 79: TEAKTRE-CHODORATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 33 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 80: TEAKTRE-NYAKEENEE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 24 32.05 1 1 0.95

ITEM 81: TEAKTRE-IMPERATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 32.27 1 1 0.73

ITEM 82: TEAKTRE-PIGEONPEA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 29 29.92 1 3 3.08

ITEM 83: TEAKTRE-CORN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 29 29.68 1 4 3.32

ITEM 84: TEAKTRE-RUBBERTRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 7 5.37 1 26 27.63

ITEM 85: TEAKTRE-SESAME

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 31 31.00 1 2 2.00

ITEM 86: TEAKTRE-PINEAPPLE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 32 31.94 1 1 1.06

ITEM 87: TEAKTRE-JOBSTEARS

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 31 31.42 1 2 1.58

ITEM 88: TEAKTRE-SOYBEAN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 32 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 89: TEAKTRE-PAPERMUL

395

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 15 14.56 1 18 18.44

ITEM 90: TEAKTRE-PEANUT

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 33 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 91: TEAKTRE-FRUITRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 24 24.46 1 9 8.54

ITEM 92: STYLO-CHODORATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 18 20.75 1 11 12.25

ITEM 93: STYLO-NYAKEENEE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 9 12.40 1 15 20.60

ITEM 94: STYLO-IMPERATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 19 22.31 1 9 10.69

ITEM 95: STYLO-PIGEONPEA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 21 24.30 1 8 8.70

ITEM 96: STYLO-CORN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 28 31.68 1 1 1.32

ITEM 97: STYLO-RUBBERTRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 28 31.87 1 1 1.13

ITEM 98: STYLO-SESAME

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 27 31.32 1 2 1.68

ITEM 99: STYLO-PINEAPPLE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 29 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 100: STYLO-JOBSTEARS

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 29 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 101: STYLO-SOYBEAN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 23 26.18 1 6 6.82

ITEM 102: STYLO-PAPERMUL

396

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 28 32.19 1 1 0.81

ITEM 103: STYLO-PEANUT

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 23 25.74 1 6 7.26

ITEM 104: STYLO-FRUITRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 29 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 105: STYLO-TEAKTRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 26 30.15 1 3 2.85

ITEM 106: LOWSMRIC-CHODORATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 27 29.62 1 4 3.38

ITEM 107: LOWSMRIC-NYAKEENEE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 20 28.53 1 4 4.47

ITEM 108: LOWSMRIC-IMPERATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 26 28.29 1 5 4.71

ITEM 109: LOWSMRIC-PIGEONPEA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 24 26.55 1 7 6.45

ITEM 110: LOWSMRIC-CORN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 26 28.97 1 5 4.03

ITEM 111: LOWSMRIC-RUBBERTRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 32.25 1 1 0.75

ITEM 112: LOWSMRIC-SESAME

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 28 30.61 1 3 2.39

ITEM 113: LOWSMRIC-PINEAPPLE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 29 31.54 1 2 1.46

ITEM 114: LOWSMRIC-JOBSTEARS

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 27 29.72 1 4 3.28

ITEM 115: LOWSMRIC-SOYBEAN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq.

397

------0 27 29.91 1 4 3.09

ITEM 116: LOWSMRIC-PAPERMUL

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 32.29 1 1 0.71

ITEM 117: LOWSMRIC-PEANUT

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 32.17 1 1 0.83

ITEM 118: LOWSMRIC-FRUITRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 29 31.54 1 2 1.46

ITEM 119: LOWSMRIC-TEAKTRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 31 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 120: LOWSMRIC-STYLO

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 27 32.19 1 1 0.81

ITEM 121: BLARIC-CHODORATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 29 30.40 1 3 2.60

ITEM 122: BLARIC-NYAKEENEE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 21 29.49 1 3 3.51

ITEM 123: BLARIC-IMPERATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 26 28.29 1 5 4.71

ITEM 124: BLARIC-PIGEONPEA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 24 26.45 1 7 6.55

ITEM 125: BLARIC-CORN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 28 29.86 1 4 3.14

ITEM 126: BLARIC-RUBBERTRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 31.45 1 2 1.55

ITEM 127: BLARIC-SESAME

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 31 32.19 1 1 0.81

ITEM 128: BLARIC-PINEAPPLE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------

398

0 30 31.57 1 2 1.43

ITEM 129: BLARIC-JOBSTEARS

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 29 30.60 1 3 2.40

ITEM 130: BLARIC-SOYBEAN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 29 31.47 1 2 1.53

ITEM 131: BLARIC-PAPERMUL

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 31.35 1 2 1.65

ITEM 132: BLARIC-PEANUT

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 32 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 133: BLARIC-FRUITRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 31.57 1 2 1.43

ITEM 134: BLARIC-TEAKTRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 32 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 135: BLARIC-STYLO

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 28 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 136: BLARIC-LOWSMRIC

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 4 3.47 1 27 29.53

ITEM 137: UPGTRIC-CHODORATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 28 29.74 1 4 3.26

ITEM 138: UPGTRIC-NYAKEENEE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 20 28.50 1 4 4.50

ITEM 139: UPGTRIC-IMPERATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 26 28.29 1 5 4.71

ITEM 140: UPGTRIC-PIGEONPEA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 25 27.21 1 6 5.79

ITEM 141: UPGTRIC-CORN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 28 29.64

399

1 4 3.36

ITEM 142: UPGTRIC-RUBBERTRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 31.53 1 2 1.47

ITEM 143: UPGTRIC-SESAME

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 31.23 1 2 1.77

ITEM 144: UPGTRIC-PINEAPPLE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 31 32.31 1 1 0.69

ITEM 145: UPGTRIC-JOBSTEARS

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 28 29.64 1 4 3.36

ITEM 146: UPGTRIC-SOYBEAN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 29 31.47 1 2 1.53

ITEM 147: UPGTRIC-PAPERMUL

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 31.57 1 2 1.43

ITEM 148: UPGTRIC-PEANUT

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 31 32.34 1 1 0.66

ITEM 149: UPGTRIC-FRUITRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 31 32.31 1 1 0.69

ITEM 150: UPGTRIC-TEAKTRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 31.30 1 2 1.70

ITEM 151: UPGTRIC-STYLO

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 27 32.17 1 1 0.83

ITEM 152: UPGTRIC-LOWSMRIC

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 4 3.29 1 27 29.71

ITEM 153: UPGTRIC-BLARIC

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 4 3.27 1 28 29.73

ITEM 154: UPSMRIC-CHODORATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 28 29.74 1 4 3.26

400

ITEM 155: UPSMRIC-NYAKEENEE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 21 29.49 1 3 3.51

ITEM 156: UPSMRIC-IMPERATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 26 28.29 1 5 4.71

ITEM 157: UPSMRIC-PIGEONPEA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 26 28.04 1 5 4.96

ITEM 158: UPSMRIC-CORN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 28 29.79 1 4 3.21

ITEM 159: UPSMRIC-RUBBERTRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 31 32.34 1 1 0.66

ITEM 160: UPSMRIC-SESAME

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 31.38 1 2 1.62

ITEM 161: UPSMRIC-PINEAPPLE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 31 32.31 1 1 0.69

ITEM 162: UPSMRIC-JOBSTEARS

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 28 29.79 1 4 3.21

ITEM 163: UPSMRIC-SOYBEAN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 28 30.64 1 3 2.36

ITEM 164: UPSMRIC-PAPERMUL

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 31.35 1 2 1.65

ITEM 165: UPSMRIC-PEANUT

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 31.53 1 2 1.47

ITEM 166: UPSMRIC-FRUITRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 31 32.31 1 1 0.69

ITEM 167: UPSMRIC-TEAKTRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 32 33.00 1 0 0.00

401

ITEM 168: UPSMRIC-STYLO

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 28 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 169: UPSMRIC-LOWSMRIC

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 4 3.51 1 27 29.49

ITEM 170: UPSMRIC-BLARIC

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 5 4.15 1 27 28.85

ITEM 171: UPSMRIC-UPGTRIC

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 4 3.54 1 28 29.46

ITEM 172: LOWGTRIC-CHODORATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 28 29.68 1 4 3.32

ITEM 173: LOWGTRIC-NYAKEENEE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 20 28.53 1 4 4.47

ITEM 174: LOWGTRIC-IMPERATA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 26 28.29 1 5 4.71

ITEM 175: LOWGTRIC-PIGEONPEA

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 25 27.31 1 6 5.69

ITEM 176: LOWGTRIC-CORN

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 29 30.60 1 3 2.40

ITEM 177: LOWGTRIC-RUBBERTRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 32 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 178: LOWGTRIC-SESAME

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 31.47 1 2 1.53

ITEM 179: LOWGTRIC-PINEAPPLE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 30 31.49 1 2 1.51

ITEM 180: LOWGTRIC-JOBSTEARS

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 29 30.60 1 3 2.40

ITEM 181: LOWGTRIC-SOYBEAN

402

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 28 30.74 1 3 2.26

ITEM 182: LOWGTRIC-PAPERMUL

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 31 32.31 1 1 0.69

ITEM 183: LOWGTRIC-PEANUT

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 32 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 184: LOWGTRIC-FRUITRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 31 32.31 1 1 0.69

ITEM 185: LOWGTRIC-TEAKTRE

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 32 33.00 1 0 0.00

ITEM 186: LOWGTRIC-STYLO

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 27 32.19 1 1 0.81

ITEM 187: LOWGTRIC-LOWSMRIC

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 4 3.56 1 27 29.44

ITEM 188: LOWGTRIC-BLARIC

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 5 4.25 1 27 28.75

ITEM 189: LOWGTRIC-UPGTRIC

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 7 5.83 1 25 27.17

ITEM 190: LOWGTRIC-UPSMRIC

Response Frequency Wtd. Freq. ------0 5 4.06 1 27 28.94

403

Answer Key

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 CHOD NYAK IMPE PIGE CORN RUBB SESA PINE JOBS SOYB PAPE PEAN FRUI TEAK STYL LOWS BLAR UPGT UPSM LOWG ------1 CHODORATA 1.00 1.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 2 NYAKEENEE 1.00 1.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 3 IMPERATA 1.00 1.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 4 PIGEONPEA 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 5 CORN 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.00 0.00 1.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 6 RUBBERTRE 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.00 0.00 0.00 1.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 7 SESAME 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.00 0.00 0.00 1.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 8 PINEAPPLE 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 9 JOBSTEARS 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.00 0.00 1.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 10 SOYBEAN 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 11 PAPERMUL 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 12 PEANUT 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 13 FRUITRE 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 14 TEAKTRE 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 15 STYLO 0.00 1.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 16 LOWSMRIC 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.00 1.00 1.00 1.00 17 BLARIC 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.00 1.00 1.00 1.00 18 UPGTRIC 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.00 1.00 1.00 1.00 19 UPSMRIC 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.00 1.00 1.00 1.00 20 LOWGTRIC 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 1.00 1.00 1.00 1.00

Competence scores saved as: competence (C:\APAC\competence) Answer key saved as: answerkey (C:\APAC\answerkey) 2nd factor loadings saved as: loadings_on_2nd_factor (C:\APAC\loadings_on_2nd_factor) Resp-by-resp agreement matrix saved as: agreement (C:\APAC\agreement)

404

Chapter 7 The Dynamics of Development in the Lao PDR

My dissertation research explored methods to elicit emic (insider) perspectives and actual agro-ecologic perspectives of stakeholder groups in the northern region of the

Lao PDR. This research was intended to elucidate the importance of incorporating local perspectives in development plans. If local people are the beneficiaries of development agendas, then their voices should be part and parcel of development plans. However, it is not only insider perspectives that affect farmer decision making. Farmers around the world operate in varying circumstances that are shaped by a multitude of factors.

I have partly substantiated my hypothesis of ―culture affects agricultural decision making.‖ While culture does affect agriculture decision making and it is important to understand local perspectives about agriculture and to include them in agricultural development schemes, it is equally important to understand how wider forces also shape the circumstances of agricultural decision making. In today‘s globalized world, even subsistence-based farmers living in remote villages in Laos are connected to the world marketplace and its forces. Below I summarize my findings on how culture directly affects agricultural decision making, after which I discuss some broader forces that shape farmer choices. Although I have alluded to external or outside influences throughout the previous chapters, I have not paid them the attention they deserve. Both emic perspectives and broader outside forces must be considered in order to create a holistic

405 understanding of farmer decision making in Laos. Emic information contributes farmer‘s beliefs, preferences and variables weighed by individuals such as labor, crops‘ time to maturation, income capacity, and plant usefulness, while outside forces highlight the practicality of farmers in Laos. Through a discussion of broader outside forces, I demonstrate that farmers in Laos make rational decisions. Farmers in Laos are motivated by tradition (a substantivist perspective) and practicality (one that seems universal within the framework of ―the moral economy of the peasant‖ as explained by James Scott 1976).

Farmers in Laos comply with Chayanov‘s finding of utility maximization; however, depending on the purpose of the crop, they maximize different utilities. For the staple crop of rice, farmers first consider flavor and style (glutinous or non-glutinous) preferences. In addition to these, they also seek food security in rice. But some farming households run out of rice. Even still, they will input as much labor as necessary to the point of self-exploitation and they will diversify the varieties of rice planted in their fields; both actions minimize risk and increase security. However, for cash crops, farmers want to maximize profit. Growing cash crops is secondary to family subsistence crops.

Therefore, cash crops are only grown if there is enough labor and extra land after rice has been planted. The choice of which cash crop to grow is dependent on how labor intensive it is and how well it consistently sells for a ―good‖ price137. If a farming family does not have extra labor, appropriate lands, or it is too labor intensive and the market price is unpredictable, then that family will not grow a cash crop. Alternatively, after the labor- intensive rice season is finished, farmers will collect available forest products to generate

137 The evaluation of a good price is relative to a farmer‘s economic situation; this is why $1 for 2.2 pounds of sesame is considered a good price to most farmers.

406 cash. Thus farmers evaluate subsistence and cash crops using different criteria. Flavor and style preference of rice demonstrate that culture influences agricultural choices, which contributes toward ―substantivist‖ decision-making theories. However, maximizing returns per unit of labor with cash crops demonstrates that farmers consider strict economic principles, such as a cost-to-benefit analysis as suggested by ―economic‖ decision-making theories. By bridging these theories, farmers in Laos exemplify what past scholars have suggested, in that subsistence farmers make ―rational‖ economic choices and they partake in actions to better their positions within their local cultural contexts (Leach 1954; Shultz 1964; Barth 1967; Firth 1967, 1969; Ortiz 1967; Rappaport

1968; Mynt 1969; Mellor 1969; Johnson 1971, 1974; Cancian 1972; Scott 1976; Rutz

1977; Ganjanpan 1982; Rhoades 1989, 1995; Netting 1993; Tanaka 1993; Negi 1994;

Tchewa 2000; Finnis 2006). Farmers in Laos also comply with peasant risk-avoiding behavior and the ―safety first‖ principle (ideas of Roumasset as discussed by Scott 1976:

15-17). Both principles mean that ―the cultivator prefers to minimize the probability of having a disaster rather than maximizing his average return‖ (Scott 1976:18). These principles underlie the ―moral economy of the peasant‖ which, when explained in microeconomic terms, shows the rationality of peasant farmers (Scott 1976).

Culture Affects Decisions

Culture directly affects agricultural decision making. In Bouammi village, Tai women allocate the majority of their labor to weaving tasks instead of cash crops or collecting forest products. This contrasts with the other kumban villages, which are

407 comprised mostly of non-weaving Khmu who allocate their labor to crop production and collection; that is, because weaving is a Tai cultural tradition, it has afforded Tai individuals a cash-generating opportunity that other non-weaving cultures do not have.

Since an alternative to cash crops and collecting is available to Tai individuals that is not available to non-weaving Khmu, this cultural tradition affects agricultural choices.

Rice preference is cultural. Hmong groups prefer non-glutinous rice varieties, or kaow jaow, while Tai-Lue, Lao, other Tai groups and Khmu prefer glutinous varieties, or kaow niaow. All ethnic groups, however, believe in the spiritual power of black rice for ceremonies. They make a whiskey or snacks from it to offer to the spirits and, in doing so, make the ceremony more powerful.

Traditional animistic beliefs also influence agricultural decision making. Farmers believe that all land is owned by spirits. Farmers must ask the spirits‘ permission to plant crops on designated land parcels. The spirit answers through a dream or an omen, such as the sight of an unusual animal. If the spirit refuses a farmer‘s request, then the farmer must seek land elsewhere. People also seek the most auspicious day to begin harvesting to ensure a good harvest. The exact day to begin harvest is mandated by the traditional five-time calendar. The overarching goal of adhering to these traditional beliefs is to have a good harvest.

Traditional ecological knowledge138 affects farmer choices both preattentively

(unconsciously)139 and attentively (deliberately). Through the accumulation of traditional

138 Traditional ecological knowledge is a combination of shared and individual knowledge. Shared knowledge is passed from generation to generation through language

408 ecological knowledge (or wisdom)140, farmers have a deep understanding of their agricultural lands that allows them to assess and categorize their land as wet, dry, hard, soft, too steep, too flat, etc. They use this knowledge accordingly to plant crops that are most suitable for their specific land features. Farmers also use the knowledge to utilize their natural resources in a way that they perceive as the most appropriate (norms) for their productive purposes (goals). This knowledge is often incorporated into the unconscious stage of decision making. However, it is also deliberately applied to decide which crops to plant based on labor, seed availability, land holdings, and security.

Broader Outside Influences

The Burden of History

Laos has had a turbulent history. At the end of World War II, the Japanese retreated and modern Laos was, for the first time, declared an independent nation in

September 1945 (Pholsena 2006:1). However, in less than a year, the French returned and

Laos did not regain its independence again until 1953. The Cold War and the First and

Second Indochinese Wars greatly challenged any form of national unity within Laos.

From the late 1940s through 1975, a civil war divided the country. The Royal Lao and actions. Individual knowledge is gained through experiences as a social group, a household and individually. 139 Preattentive processes ―refer to any information processing that is outside of a decision maker‘s ordinary attention and awareness‖ (Gladwin and Murtaugh 1980:117). For example, most people drive a car without thinking about their body movements and coordination. 140 Some authors interchange the word ―wisdom‖ with the term ―traditional ecological knowledge.‖ Merculieff advocates the use of wisdom instead of traditional ecological knowledge, suggesting that it encompasses the ―multi-dimensional aspects of traditional ways of knowing‖ (2000:525).

409 government, struggling against , was supported by the United States, while the Pathet Lao (Lao communists) were supported by the communist Democratic Republic of Vietnam and to a lesser extent by the People‘s Republic of China (Stuart-Fox 1997;

Pholsena 2006:2). The Second Indochinese War, which lasted from 1964 to 1975, brought the most severe armed conflict. Massive air raids were conducted over the Plain of Jars141 by Americans to deter communist control of the area142. Bombs, napalm, booby traps, land mines, and Hmong ground troops were used in the Plain of Jars and also in the eastern part of the country where the Ho Chi Minh Trail crossed into and moved through

Lao territory. Although Laos was supposed to be neutral, as designated with the signing of the Geneva Agreements in 1962, it was not able to maintain this position. The war in

Laos is often called ―the secret war‖ because the American and European publics were not informed. To Lao citizens, especially those along the eastern border, the routine bombings, ground troops and guerilla tactics were no secret. To this end, Laos holds the

141 The Plain of Jars refers to the archeological site of large ancient stone jars left on the plains in northeastern Laos near the Vietnamese border. It is one of flattest areas in Laos, and so control of it during the war was advantageous to either side. 142 A number of explosive units were used including rockets, artillery shells, mortars, anti-aircraft rounds and cluster bomb units known as ―bombies.‖ Bombies, which remain in northeastern Laos as unexploded ordinance, have had the most devastating effect on locals. Bombies could be delivered by aircraft, rocket or artillery projectiles. The most common form used in Laos was the CBU (cluster bomb unit) 26, which is a large bombshell containing 670 tennis ball-shaped bomblets, each containing 300 metal fragments. If all bomblets detonate, then 200,000 steel fragments are dispersed over an area the size of several football fields, creating a killing zone. However, many of the bomblets did not detonate and now they litter the land. Children find them and because they look like small yellow balls, they throw them at each other; this has resulted in thousands of casualties since the end of the war. Farmers are also susceptible to explosions when they prepare their fields for planting. It is estimated that 580,000 U.S. air missions were flown over the Plain of Jars (http://plainofjars.net/UXO.htm; Bombies a film by Jack Silberman 2001 Bullfrog Films; http://archive.itvs.org/bombies/bombs.html).

410 unfortunate title of being the most bombed country on a per capita basis in the history of the world, with an estimated two tons of bombs dropped per civilian

(http://plainofjars.net/UXO.htm).

These turbulent times are still active in the living memory of older Lao citizens.

On the local level, and as I mentioned in Chapter Four, an elderly woman told me about seeing her sister die when a bomb came crashing down, after which she and her remaining family members found refuge in the forest. Her story is not unusual. I have visited many villages in the northeastern part of Laos wherein individuals have told of similar experiences. Likewise, Stuart-Fox (1997:140) reported that many people in southeastern Laos also found refuge in the forests. They were forced to abandon their villages, agricultural fields, and basic social lifestyles. It is estimated that over half of the villages in the country were forced to move during the years of war143 (Evrard and

Goudineau 2004:942). Only after the Vientiane cease-fire agreement was signed in

February 1973 did people come out of the forests and begin to rebuild their lives. The majority of villages that I have worked in, from 2004 onwards, were settled in their current locations in the 1970s. This lack of continuity and security has influenced farmers‘ investment decisions; that is, upland farmers in Laos do not want to invest extra labor or cash into their farms. Although the government is limiting farmers‘ land access to three parcels and encouraging farmers to intensify their farming activities by terracing

143 Evrard and Goudineau (2004:942) citing Taillard (1989:95) give the following estimates: 27,000 people were displaced in 1958; 90,000 in 1960; 125,000 in 1962; 730,000 in 1973; and over 300,000 in 1975 after the regime change (these were mostly trained technicians and highly skilled individuals who fled to Thailand and later immigrated to the United States or France).

411 fields, using some chemical pesticides and fertilizers and planting permanent crops, upland farmers have not been accepting these suggestions (with the exception of permament tree crops as discussed in the Farmer Choices and Government Pressure section below). Given the recent history of village abandonment, farmers are not willing to spend cash to purchase cash crop seeds, chemical inputs, or apply extra labor on lands that they may not have in the future. Instead, farmers prefer to spend their cash on modern items such as televisions and electrical turbines, things they can carry with them in the event that they need to move. I recognize that poverty and traditional swidden systems also influence farmers‘ decisions. That is, traditionally, swidden farmers did not invest cash or extra labor into their lands because they would just move to new lands.

However, given the modern context of limited land accessibility in Laos and the government‘s recommendation to change swidden farming systems, farmers in upland

Laos are resisting this intensification process. It is true that many upland farming households are ―cash poor‖ but those households who do have some cash are reluctant to put it back into their farms. Instead, they would rather spend their money on modern material objects.

Livestock are an exception. They are perceived as even more valuable than agricultural products since they represent household wealth and prestige, and they are necessary for religious ceremonies. Livestock can also be moved into the forest with people or be sold if cash is needed. Therefore, livestock are a more secure investment than terraced lands or agricultural chemicals. Investment in the accumulation of livestock is not hindered by past political experiences. However, the district livestock technician

412 complained that farmers are not willing to spend money on vaccinations for their livestock. I don‘t think poverty is to blame for this decision, since households with large livestock holdings are wealthy by village standards. The irony is that farmers will spend millions of kip to buy a water buffalo but they won‘t spend 20,000 kip to protect it from disease. Since livestock are important to upland livelihoods, the decision not to purchase vaccinations may exemplify a lack of education or lack of extension about vaccinations.

Furthermore, since farmers are used to relying on themselves and they have used natural medicines and remedies in the past to care for their livestock they may be unwilling to spend cash on vaccinations. (Although it may only cost 20,000 kip for one vaccination this must be multiplied by the number of animals a farmer has, which can easily put the cost at over 100,000 kip.)

Socialism

In December 1975, the Lao People‘s Revolutionary Party or the communist Pathet

Lao, took power and began implementing socialist doctrine. The party‘s goal was to

―advance, step by step, to socialism without going through the stage of capitalist development‖ (The Foreign Broadcast in Information Service, March 24, 1976, as cited by Stuart-Fox 1997; 169). A number of tactics were carried out including the removal of senior bureaucrats to various remote locations for political re-education; the appointment of and their relatives to government positions at all levels (national, provincial and district); and the regulation of movement, especially from major towns, whereby people had to show passes at road blocks. All independent publications were closed and

413 all information was strictly controlled by the party. Furthermore, villagers and townspeople were expected to attend public meetings to learn socialist propaganda, and

Buddhist monks were recruited to discuss similarities between socialism and Buddhism

(i.e., compassion for the exploited and poor and an end to suffering). The creation of agricultural cooperatives was encouraged and in some cases enforced (Stuart-Fox

1997:171-181). Lao villagers resisted the agricultural cooperatives by destroying their crops, slaughtering their livestock and migrating to Thailand (180). Villagers also displayed passive non-cooperation by signing papers agreeing to be part of a cooperative but continuing to claim usufruct rights of their own fields. In 1985, the United Nations estimated that up to 90% of farmers in Laos maintained their own landholdings, averaging 1.5 hectares (192). Furthermore, resistance groups instigated a number of violent uprisings in various locations throughout the country.

This shift to socialism created a climate of fear and suspicion at both the local and government levels. The party feared resistance fighters and rural uprisings while villagers feared being singled out as non-sympathizers to the communist cause. This fear was especially deeply embedded when a friend or relative was sent to a re-education camp and either not seen for several years or never seen again. Effects of socialism on the local level included the military station in Muang Muay village, farmer conformity, and the appointment of nhoi paks in each village. Reportedly, the government still has a military presence in Muang Muay because of past resistance movements among the Hmong

(discussed in Chapter Four). Although rarely discussed, and perhaps less necessary today than in the past, it appears that there is a party representative in each village under the

414 title of nhoi pak. I say appears because whenever I inquired about the duties of the nhoi paks, I was given vague answers. Although the details of this position are kept secret, I assume it is this person‘s duty to report all village matters to the party, especially any suspicious anti-government activities. Although not openly discussed, villagers fear being singled out for any accusations against the party and thus find security in group conformity. Politics has come a long way in Laos and perhaps some of these fears are currently unwarranted; however, the farmers‘ memories and experiences with fear affect their choices. That is, farmer choices are influenced by the need for self preservation and so believe it is safer to conform to group ideas.

The Failure of Socialism and its Current Effects

Economically and culturally, socialism failed in Laos. Although politicians ―pay lip-service‖ to Marxist-Leninist doctrine, politically the country is an authoritarian one- party state (Stuart-Fox 2006:64). Economic hardships led to market liberalization as early as 1979; however, a formalized policy did not emerge until 1986 with the New Economic

Mechanism (Stuart-Fox 1997:180-191). Even so, economic reform was slow to arrive due to the deeply embedded political culture of patronage. Within this system, government officials promoted and hired only their friends and relatives, who were either part of their own or another official‘s patronage network. Friends who had money to invest were quickly welcomed into the patronage network, and corruption ran rampant. A number of government officials ran state industries and used state funds to secure their own positions of power. Not wanting to lose their power, many government officials

415 were opposed to the acceptance of a capitalist economy (187-191). Nevertheless, because

Laos was so poverty stricken, the nation was forced to borrow money from international lending institutions such as the World Bank and the Asian Development Bank. These outside institutions, coupled with less corrupt government officials, pushed to formalize economic reforms in the 1980s and beyond.

Unfortunately, despite economic reforms, the system of patronage is still alive and well in Laos. Stuart-Fox (2006) argues it is historically embedded in Lao political culture144. Patronage extends back to the original kingdoms, or meuangs. Within the meuang, commoners were personally committed to their rulers, who granted them protection and welfare in exchange for their labor and military services—thus a relationship of patronage and loyalty was formed (Stuart-Fox 2006:66). Patronage continued through Siamese domination (1779-1893), French colonialism (1893-1953), and the Royal government (66). Its historical continuity makes it a default system since people learned long ago that gift-giving gets things done. Stuart-Fox argues that the

Pathet Lao government, from the time of its assumption of power up to today, has never been in a position to change this historical system. It is a never-ending cycle that sustains itself wherein ―built-up networks of patronage… reinforce the power of those in a position to construct them‖ (2006:64).

I personally experienced corruption in Laos when the police came to my house in Luang Prabang to extort money from me, alleging that our passports had been stamped

144 Hewison (2001:220) suggests that corruption, lack of transparency, collusion and cronyism (all of which are part of the patronage system) are more generally Asian values.

416 incorrectly145. However, as a foreigner I was somewhat removed from the bigger picture of patronage but I did observe it happening around me. It was apparent that some employees within the Agriculture and Forestry Offices, from the national level down to the district level, were in their positions by virtue of their heritage. In particular, one provincial staff person was paid by the CIFOR project as a staff member but seemed to do nothing. No foreigner within the project knew what he did to earn a project paycheck.

The obvious conclusion was that he was connected through a patronage network146. At the district level, there was an intern who was quickly promoted to a staff position and then to a management position within the year. Contrastingly, there was another intern who remained just that—an intern—and never received a penny from the district office.

This is yet another example of the patronage system. The individual who was promoted was done so based on his father‘s connections and the one who was not promoted either had no connections or a very weak one.

Villagers fear government officials. One would not want to openly cross a staff member for fear of the consequences. That is, if a villager needed a government service

145 The local police in Luang Prabang came to my house twice when I was at work and talked to my husband, each time demanding $500, which is an extreme amount of money. He told them he didn‘t understand and that they should talk to me. Aware of the patronage system, I used it to the best of my ability. That is, I had two administrators from my two projects accompany me to the police station, and I figured one, if not both of them, must know someone else in a higher position that the police would defer to. In the end, I paid $12. I was told there was a new tax that foreigners had to pay in order for the police to ―take care of them‖—them being foreigners. Ironically, our house had been broken into two weeks prior, indicating that the police were not really ―taking care of us.‖ While paying the tax I made a complaint and they said they would patrol the area better (which, I never personally saw them do). 146 At risk of jeopardizing the project, no one pursued the question of this employee‘s responsibilities and the individual continued to collect his salary for the duration of the project.

417 but had bad relations with a staff person, that person could obstruct the villager‘s access to the service by way of the patronage network. Likewise, someone who befriended a government employee might be privy to future favors. Thus, it is always in one‘s best interest to outwardly agree with government policies and officials who relay messages at the village level. The cultural idea about ―losing face‖ instills a culture of non- confrontation, which the patronage network uses advantageously on all levels of government. ―Traditional attitudes of acceptance and respect for hierarchical political and social relationships‖ and orders from the top are never questioned, just followed (Stuart-

Fox 2006:68). Furthermore, ―The mass of the population tends to accept [the patronage] system with resignation‖ (68). This does not mean there is no resistance but that it is

―poorly articulated… and carried out in a surrogate manner‖ (Hirsch 2001:238). Hirsch suggests that if resistance movements are clearly organized, then national authorities respond in a more repressive manner—something that is feared at the local level (238).

As previously noted, the Lao military has the reputation of being the country‘s biggest exploiter of natural resources for its own benefit. Stuart-Fox (1997:195) suggests this goes back to 1985 when the president at the time, Kaison Phomvihan, wanted to introduce more liberal economic policies, some of which his congress was opposed to.

Two military generals (Khamtai Siphandon and Sisavat Kaeobunphan) supported his liberalization measures but at the cost of gaining timber contracts and trading rights

(195). At the local level, this military control of timber was exemplified by my difficulty in getting a house in Muang Muay village because the local military leader wanted me to pay his soldiers to collect the raw timber needed for new house construction (versus

418 villagers collecting it for a minimal fee). Hodgdon (2007) gives a descriptive case study of a community forestry project in the southern district of Sekong that was discontinued by government officials because they did not want to share the wealth of timber concessions with local villagers. He states that villager involvement in sustainable forestry management literally meant ―…less money flowing into the pockets of officials in the forestry bureaucracy‖ (Hodgdon 2007:68). In this case, the provincial government, undoubtedly in cahoots with the military, negated the signed documents from the previous year that testified to their commitment. This is not an isolated case; Hirsch

(2001:242) cites a similar struggle with the internationally funded Forest Management and Conservation Project (FOMACOP) that ended because government authorities did not want to share timber royalties with villagers147 whose forests were being cut.

Examples such as these illustrate that ―provincial administrations are the virtual fiefdoms of powerful provincial governors‖ (Stuart-fox 2006:63). Despite recentralization efforts in the 1990s and the anti-corruption decree of 1999, the national government is reticent to control corruption on all levels but especially at the provincial level where some of the most blatant corruption occurs (Stuart-Fox 2006). Finally, another personal experience exemplifies the attitude that the government can do what it wants. As mentioned in Chapter Four, when I inquired about the legalities of the gold

147 The World Bank website‘s final report from 2001 directly states that the project outcome was ―unsatisfactory.‖ http://www- wds.worldbank.org/external/default/main?pagePK=64193027&piPK=64187937&theSite PK=523679&menuPK=64187510&searchMenuPK=64187283&siteName=WDS&entityI D=000094946_0107240402599

419 mining operation in Muang Muay village at a project meeting, the national representative in attendance stated, ―If it‘s happening, it‘s legal.‖

Government Policies and Resettlemnt

The New Economic Mechanism encourages, and in some instances forces, farmers in the uplands (who are usually ethnic minorities) to reduce subsistence farming and increase cash cropping. Party leaders discussed the need to develop the mountainous areas as early as 1968 (Evrard and Goudineau 2004:944), and since that time a number of policies have been implemented with the goals of poverty reduction, rural development, and nation building (Baird and Shoemaker 2007:869). Official government agendas to reach these goals have included five pathways: 1) the reduction of shifting cultivation; 2) security (better control of remote populations, especially after the war); 3) access to services (particularly health care and education); 4) cultural integration and nation building; and 5) opium eradication (Evrard and Goudineau 2004:942; Baird and

Shoemaker 2007:870).

Each pathway, on its own, justifies a process of displacement. However, in most cases it is a combination of such pathways that leads to an authoritative decision to resettle upland villages (Baird and Shoemaker 2007:870). Three initiatives are directly linked to this resettlement process: Focal Sites, Village Consolidation, and Land Use

Planning and Land Allocation (874). Focal Sites concentrates large numbers of ethnic minority families into selected areas so the government can ―streamline‖ development efforts (874). Such developments are usually infrastructure such as schools, health

420 clinics, roads, irrigation, market facilities, etc., all of which have made the Focal Site strategy popular on all levels of the government and with outside funding agencies (875).

At least 83% of the U.S. $115 million spent on Focal Sites was obtained from foreign funds148. Village Consolidation is similar to Focal Sites in that it combines smaller, scattered villages into larger permanent settlements so they can be administered more easily by the government. One government document suggests that lowland villages should have a population of at least 500 and upland villages should have at least 200 residents (876). Finally, Land Use Planning and Land Allocation was implemented to improve natural resource management by stopping deforestation,149 intensifying agricultural production and collecting land taxes more efficiently (Lestrelin and Giordano

2007:69-71). The goal of the government was to eliminate or stabilize150 shifting cultivation by the year 2010 (Vandergeest 2003:52). The result of such policies was that

148 The United Nations Development Program actively assisted the Lao government in appealing to donor agencies for development funds supporting this Focal Site strategy (Evrard and Goudineau 2004:946; Baird and Shoemaker 2007:875 respectively. 149 Remember that the government sees shifting cultivation as the number one culprit of deforestation while other researchers suggest that commercial logging is the main problem (Fujisaka 1991; Thapa 1998; and Anonymous, as cited by Vandergeest 2003:53). The of one of these authors should convey to the reader the necessity to read between the lines on this controversial issue. It also exemplifies my previous discussion about the need to conform as a strategy for self-preservation. 150 The terms ―eliminate‖ and ―stabilize‖ seem to be a matter of semantics that have spurred numerous debates about what exactly the government means. In January 2004, I attended a workshop titled ―Poverty Reduction and Shifting Cultivation Stabilization in the Uplands of Lao PDR: Technologies Approaches and Methods for Improving Upland Livelihoods in the Lao Context.‖ At this conference I observed a government official unable to directly answer a researcher‘s question about what ―stabilization‖ meant. Although earlier government documents such as the National Socioeconomic Plan of the Government of Laos (National Agriculture and research Institute 2000) use the term ―eliminate,‖ I believe it has been realized, for some years now, that eliminating slash- and-burn agriculture or dry-rice systems is a futile goal. Thus, ―stabilizing‖ slash-and- burn refers to the elimination of pioneer shifting cultivation, but lands already under the system will remain.

421 approximately one-third of all highland villages in six districts were displaced (Evrard and Goudineau 2004:946). In some districts, such as Long District in Luang Namtha, estimates were as high as 50% (Evrard and Goudineau 2004:946). Although the exact number of displaced people may never be known, there was a 1989 estimate that 900,000 people should be ―established in permanent settlements‖ (Lao Upland Development

Project 1991:8 as cited in Evrard and Goudineau 2004:944).

Despite development goals, numerous studies have reported the negative effects of resettlement. For example, approximately 30% of people resettled from the highlands to the lowlands die in the first year of resettlement151 (Evrard and Goudineau 2004:949).

One of the most devastating statistics was reported from Long District wherein mortality rates increased by 70% (Romagny and Daviau 2003 cited by Evrard and Goudineau

2004:949). Conflicts over resource access and ethnic differences arise between the settled group and the newcomers. (Land access was the main concern of Hmong villagers in the

CIFOR project village of Phadeng and the purpose for the project meeting at the district governor‘s headquarters in Vieng Kham, as mentioned in Chapter Four and discussed more thoroughly by Watts et. al. 2011). In the northern provinces, resettlement was not linked to opium eradication and in some cases it encouraged new methamphetamine addictions (Lyttleton 2004 cited by Evrard and Goudineau 2004:950). Furthermore, a

Participatory Poverty Assessment conducted by the State Planning Committee acknowledged the negative effects of Land Use Planning and Land Allocation (2001).

Limiting farmers to three agricultural plots forced them to shorten their fallow cycles,

151 Negative health impacts are often caused by pathologies such as malaria (ibid).

422 which resulted in soil depletion and decreased rice yields for the same amount of labor inputs (61). Farmers also mentioned that habitat loss through varied fallow forest types caused a loss of biodiversity (and thus less plant foods, medicines and animals for consumption152), excessive gathering of available forest products (i.e., tragedy of the commons), and over-hunting of predatory wildlife (61). The same document suggests that poverty in the uplands is a ―new-poverty,‖ the cause of which is linked to Land Use

Planning and Land Allocation (79).

The effects of resettlement on local populations have been far-reaching, as expressed by a number of the authors cited above. Although resettlement was not a direct part of my research, it affected my research; I was not allowed to work in Phadeng, the

Hmong village in the Muang Muay research area, because it was undergoing resettlement. Resettlement continues to affect rural populations throughout Laos. In my experience, I saw how village consolidation benefited Tai groups, especially in Muang

Muay village where only 27 out of 168 (Tai and Khmu) families had access to paddy lands. A higher percentage of Tai families had access to paddy lands in part because they were the early founders of the village and had helped construct the paddy fields.

Likewise, they retained access to better lands and lands that were closer to the village.

Newcomers were limited to lands far from the village, which caused them to expend more energy to work in their fields (some fields are a three-hour round-trip walk from the village). Ethnic separation occurred in Muang Muay, and Ban Silaleck, the only research

152 Delang 2007 and Tayanin 2007 both discuss the traditional Khmu 11-year fallow cycle and its importance in fostering various successions of usable plant species and its contribution to an increase in biodiversity and diet.

423 villages composed of mixed ethnic groups. In Muang Muay, as discussed in Chapter

Four, Khmu and Tai people lived and did the majority of their socializing within their ethnically distinct village enclaves. At the IRRI research site, Hmong were forced to resettle to Ban Silaleck, a Khmu village. The Hmong also lived in their own hamlet of the village and reported that they had fewer amenities (such as toilets and electricity) than their Khmu neighbors.

Passive resistance tactics are used by all villagers in Laos. For example, relocation and consolidation of villages throughout the rural areas in Laos is part of the government policy to bring modern services to its citizens (although, as seen through many examples in Southeast Asia, critics contend it is a measure to ―domesticate‖ upland farmers, meaning minority groups in most cases153). Thus, a number of villages have been moved from remote locations (only accessible by walking trails) to roadside locations. In Muang

Muay village, this consolidation resulted in a population increase from approximately 50 households to 168 households or 956 people. However, the majority of villagers have land and houses in sanam 154. Upon visiting some of the village sanam areas, I realized they were actually small former villages that were supposed to have been abandoned when village consolidation occurred. However, many Lao villagers prefer to live more remotely and notably closer to their agricultural fields; hence, people kept their old houses as sanam, and built new houses in the village to comply with government

153 See the edited volume by McCaskill and Kampe (1997), Development or Domestication? of Southeast Asia. Also, Evrard and Goudineau 2004:959 conclude a similar finding. 154 Sanam is the area where a field house is built, crops are grown and livestock range freely.

424 consolidation policies. Because many villagers prefer to live in sanam instead of the main village, there is a government rule that at least one person from each household must report back to the village every 10 days. This rule affords flexibility. For example, the family I rented my house from simply moved to their sanam house for the eight months I occupied their village house155. I also noticed that some families split their household members between the village and sanam. For example, one of my elderly female neighbors and her granddaughters resided in the village house, while her daughter and son-in-law resided in sanam. Furthermore, the sanam becomes a refuge in the case of village or individual disputes. For example, when the gold mining company first came to

Muang Muay village, the majority of the village leaders including Pawnkham, head of the Women‘s Union, openly spoke out against it. Through time, other village leaders

(with the enforcement of the district governor) eventually acquiesced to the company‘s presence, realizing it was an investment opportunity. When this happened, I could not find Pawnkham in the village for over a week. Upon her return, she said she went to sanam to let tensions ease because people were saying bad things about her. This example demonstrates 1) that sanam can be a refuge and 2) the culture of conformity. In this case, Pawnkham became the sacrificial goat for community actions against the

155 It was not my intention to ―displace‖ a family. When I inquired about where the owner and his family would live, they said they‘d move in with their relatives, two houses away. The owner was an opportunist and was making a smart economic choice by renting his house to me, thus being accommodated by relatives seemed natural. However, over time I noticed that the owners and their children were rarely in the village. One day I saw the female owner at her house in sanam. I was surprised to see that the house in sanam even had a TV and satellite dish! Since their house in the village did not even have these modern technologies, it made me realize the family‘s preference to reside away from the village, something that I unknowingly assisted them in legitimizing, at least for a short time.

425 mining operations. Finally, one other example shows the refuge aspect of sanam. A very poor156 woman told me that her husband stays in sanam because he has tuberculosis. She and her five children live in the village house and they are poor because she is the only able-bodied laborer for the entire household (though her oldest children will soon be able to contribute more labor).

Farmer Choice and Government Pressure

The Land Use Planning and Land Allocation program has directly influenced farmer choices. With decreased fallow periods, farmers must contribute more labor days per year for the same or fewer rice yields. This affects how they allocate the rest of their household labor, which is reflected in their preference to gain the most from the minimal amount of labor investment. Thus, they seek out crops that have low labor requirements such as corn, teak and rubber trees. Although trees can simply be considered an investment, there are a number of other practical reasons for planting them. First and foremost, it demonstrates compliance with government agendas about planting permanent cash crops. Second, if a farmer has a plot of trees, then s/he is allowed to control that plot in addition to the three designated agricultural plots. Thus, planting trees secures control of more plots of land. Third, trees require minimal labor inputs when compared to other cash crops such as Job‘s tears. The first year is the most labor intensive, the second and third years require some weeding, but after that, if labor is needed elsewhere, a household

156 She told me that she was poor and that the family suffers from rice deficiency. At the time I interviewed her, in October and before the rice harvest, she and her children were subsisting off of forest foods and I observed they were only eating bamboo shoots that day.

426 can forego the annual weeding. Fourth, planting trees exemplifies a farmer‘s future hopes about maintaining control of his lands and having a more stable future. Although this point seems contrary to my previous discussion about farmers minimizing farm investments, tree planting involves minimal labor (especially when calculated over the years of growth) and serves a number of beneficial functions. By planting trees, farmers are maximizing their land holdings, showing compliance with government policies and securing long-term land tenure as long as they are free to do so (i.e., no new wars or land policies).

Farmers who continue to practice shifting cultivation may not get the technical assistance they need as reflected in one staff person‘s words, ―About hed hai (upland dry rice), we have the government policy to encourage people to stop hed hai, so we don‘t offer any solutions [to farmer problems or constraints]. We only encourage them to stop.‖

Also, farmer narratives and discussions in the photovoice workshops reflected government agendas about reducing shifting cultivation practices. That is, farmers talked about how they wanted to create more paddy lands to save the forests, plant more trees to help the forests, have nice forests to maintain natural water levels, and to create fish ponds and bigger gardens for consumption and to grow things to sell. Implicit in these farmer responses was the notion that if farmers participate in these alternative livelihood activities, they will decrease their shifting cultivation activities, which is what the government wants.

Although natural resource allocation is supposed to be followed by all Lao citizens, government officials on all levels are the ones who disregard it most frequently,

427 as demonstrated above with the forestry examples. There is one more local example that remains strong in my memory. In one of the kumban villages, a villager complained that district and provincial officials told them they had to create a fish conservation area on the Nam Seuang River, a place where villagers would abstain from fishing. But whenever government officials came to the village, the conservation zone was, in fact, where they would go to fish; hence the complaint. Seemingly, the rule about fish conservation was only in place to ensure that visiting government officials would have success when fishing in village waters.

Ethnic Influences

Ethnic dominance and an authoritarian top-down approach go hand in hand.

Article 8 of the constitution states:

The State will carry out a policy of unity and equality between various ethnic

groups. All ethnic groups have the right to preserve and improve their own

traditions and culture and those of the nation. Discrimination between ethnic

groups is forbidden. The State will carry out every means in order to continue to

improve and raise the economic and social level of all ethnic groups (Lao PDR

1991).

But ample evidence indicates that the ethnic Lao157 dominate politics and hold most of the wealth. Poverty is also inextricably linked to ethnicity, and the rate of poverty

157 The Ethnic Lao only make up 30% of the overall population of Laos (State Planning Committee 2001:37), but when they‘re combined with other Tai-speaking groups (Lao

428 is the highest among Mon-Khmer speakers, at 56% (State Planning Committee 2001:45).

This should come as no surprise since ethnic Lao hold the majority of political positions and make up the majority of the party members. Therefore, policies that support the patronage system also support the elite class of party leaders and old aristocratic families

(Stuart-Fox 2006). In this way, ethnic Lao are in the most advantageous positions to reap benefits from the patronage system while ―the political influence of minorities has steadily decreased‖ (Stuart-Fox 2006:68). Not only are minority groups diminished in politics, they‘re also diminished in economic and educational terms and they suffer from poor healthcare (Rigg 2005:67).

Although the preamble to the constitution starts with the statement, ―The multi- ethnic Lao people…‖ (Lao PDR 1991) and while there are laws against discrimination based on ethnicity, widespread ethnic prejudices persist throughout the country. Some authors argue that the use of the tripartite ethnic classifications (Lao Loum, Lao Theung and Lao Soung) was a nationalist attempt to unite all people within the country as ―Lao‖

(Ovesen 2004). However, changing ethnonyms has had mixed results. Although many people in Laos refer to themselves using the tripartite classification terms, it does not mean that they feel as if they are ethnic ―Lao.‖ However, in some cases people consciously forget their original ethnic affiliations and begin referring to themselves as

―Lao.‖ Recall that this was part of my dilemma in understanding exactly who some of the

―Lao Loum‖ really were in the Muang Muay research area. Forgetting is advantageous

Loum), they become the majority, making up between 50-60% of the population depending on the reference.

429 and can be considered an assimilation strategy, which affords forgetful individuals more opportunities.

The lowland wet rice-cultivating Tai Buddhists, or the ethnic Lao, continue to feel superior to the upland swidden-cultivating animists, or non-Lao. Lestrelin and Giordano

(2007:70) suggest that ―the upland/lowland dichotomy is almost institutionalized in Laos, and references, both official and informal, to the duality between ‗modern lowlands‘ and

‗backwards uplands‘ are recurrent.‖ The environmental discourse of swidden cultivation being linked to deforestation, land degradation and poverty have made the upland areas targets for various environmental conservation measures such as land-use zoning (70).

Such a discourse sits well with environmental concerns worldwide, and international aid agencies have assisted the Lao government with the creation of conservation plans.

However, this environmental discourse has ―provided ideal grounds for the Lao leadership to expand its control over the upland territory, in the guise of development interventions‖ (70) and, as we have seen, to resettle villages at will.

Ideologies of the dominant ethnic Lao affect agricultural decision making. Upland villagers told me they want ―more paddy lands‖ and seek outside support to help create terraces in their upland villages. This is in part a reasonable desire since higher rice yields are obtained on paddy fields. But more than that, it is a desire influenced by the dominant ethnic Lao. After all, it was upland glutinous rice that was reportedly the most flavorful and preferred variety by non-Hmong upland farmers. Therefore, giving up the favored staple crop seems irrational. However, once such a choice is situated in the larger contexts of ethnic dominance and environmental discourses, it becomes understandable.

430

If a wants acceptance from the dominant Lao, then they will voice their desires to convert or actually convert to a paddy system. Conversion to paddies outwardly shows compliance with government policies.

The goal to have fish ponds is also influenced by the dominant ethnic Lao

(although this practice originally diffused from Thailand). Commercialized fish ponds are most commonly seen on the outskirts of Vientiane and other large . Government officials and other high-status individuals frequent such establishments in their leisure times. In this way, fish ponds have become a symbol of modernization on a number of levels. First, they comply with good environmental practices because they help protect natural fisheries. Second, they are an alternative food source and indirectly represent a decrease in dependence on shifting cultivation if they are constructed in upland villages.

Third, they create an atmosphere of recreation and leisure. However, having a fish pond is also a way of being a ―modern‖ Lao person, one who follows government agendas and cultural ideologies.

Globalization

Global and regional interests put pressure on Laos‘s natural resources. The country‘s landlocked geographical position makes it directly accessible to Thailand,

Cambodia, Vietnam, China and Burma. Thai, Vietnamese and Chinese markets have put the most demands on Lao politicians and farmers alike. As the most-forested country (for its size) in Southeast Asia, Laos‘s natural resources expedited its entrance into the world economy (but only to the benefit of the elite). Timber and hydropower exports have

431 dramatically increased, both of which were greatly influenced by successful environmental movements in Thailand158. The 1989 logging ban in Thailand had regional effects. This ban saw a rapid increase in logging exports from Laos, Cambodia and

Burma (some legal, others illegal). Other environmental movements in Thailand, such as the cancellation of dam sites, made Thai electricity interests look across the border to

Laos. The Nam Thuen-Hinboun Dam is a 210-megawatt hydropower project built on the fourth-largest of all Mekong tributaries located in central Laos (Hirsch 2001:243). It was completed in 1998 and cost $240 million. The cost of the dam was paid with international monies, the bulk coming from the Asian Development Bank (ADB) but also other international investors. The resulting Thuen-Hinboun Power Company is owned 60% by the Lao Government and 40% by the Thai GMS (Greater Mekong Sub-region) Power

Company and Nordic Hydropower, a Scandinavian company. The rationale for the dam‘s construction was Thailand‘s predicted future power deficits159. It is no surprise that the bulk of power produced from this dam is exported to Thailand (Hirsch 2001:243). Lao villagers are literally left in the dark, even though they express the desire to be part of an electrical grid. The dam caused numerous villages to relocate160 and has had devastating effects on fisheries and riverside gardens downstream. The negative effects of the dam

158 When one country tightens its environmental regulations, it looks elsewhere to exploit other countries‘ natural resources—this is a common course of action seen the world over. NIMBY (Not In My Backyard) is a common acronym that explains the phenomenon. 159 The 1997 financial crisis drastically decreased Thailand‘s expected electricity needs (Hirsch 2001). 160 The dam was advertised as ―eco-friendly‖ because of its ―run of river‖ structure, meaning the headpond is small so flooding a large area was unnecessary. However, people downstream are relocating because peak-hour flows are eroding river banks, which are widening river channels. Furthermore, villagers unaware of peak-hour flows have had many children drown (Hirsch 2001:243-244).

432 were suppressed by ADB efforts but came to a head at a meeting in Sydney, Australia, in

2000, wherein a ―senior ADB staffer admitted that the ADB had ‗dropped the ball‘ in the way it had dealt with these dams161‖ (Hirsch 2001:246). Thuen-Hinboun Dam is only one out of a number of dams that are complete or currently underway. Laos has entered into agreements to export more electricity to Vietnam and China and to increase exports to

Thailand (Lawrence 2008). The effects of such dams will be absorbed by poor local farmers, who so far have been meagerly, if at all, compensated (Lawrence 2008).

Although regional pressures influence Laos to sell its natural resources, it is the larger capitalist global markets that are the ultimate driving force. China, Vietnam and

Thailand all need more electrical power to fuel their ever-growing industrial sectors, which produce items for global markets. While dam sites contribute to the larger picture of globalization, they are beyond my research scope. My intent in briefly discussing them is to connect broader global forces to local farmer choices in Laos. For example, international rubber demands caused Chinese traders to make deals with Lao governors to convert agricultural lands into rubber trees. In the Pak Ou District, 350 hectares of rice lands162 were converted into rubber trees at the urging of the district governor. Thus farmers were forced to accept a risky crop because of global demands. (Risky because

161 The plural ―dams‖ refers to the number of proposed dam sites in Laos, of which there are well over 30. Although the ADB has been an active supporter of hydropower development since the start, more recently other international corporations and governments have become investors including Russia, China, Vietnam, Thailand and . The ADB is continually criticized for its lack of social and environmental standards on Lao dam sites (Lawrence 2008:14-17). 162 Land Use Planning and Land Allocation had already occurred in Pak Ou District, therefore farmers who converted lands into rubber trees had to use lands that were already allocated to them. Responses form Ban Fai villagers indicate that they converted one of their three agricultural plots into rubber trees.

433 rubber has a seven-year maturation period and it is impossible to know what rubber prices will be that far into the future. It‘s also risky because converting one out of three agricultural fields implies more agricultural demands on the remaining two fields, resulting in more labor for less rice.) Likewise, farmers in Laos allocate labor to collect various Non-Timber Forest Products (NTFPs) such as broom grass, pueak-mueak, stick lac, and paper mulberry, based on international market demands. As discussed in Chapter

Four, not a single farmer in the Muang Muay kumban villages knew what the end product was for the pueak-meuak bark they spent days collecting, signifying that the bark is only collected for the market163. In these ways, farmers have changed some aspects of their agricultural systems to become involved in the world marketplace. That is, farmers in the past would not have spent their time collecting pueak-mueak if they had no use for it themselves, but now they allocate labor to collect it in order to generate cash.

Lao farmers are not isolated from regional or international market demands. They prefer cash crops with multiple uses, as exemplified with their preference for corn. In

2005, Thai and Vietnamese companies contracted with Lao farmers to grow corn.

Farmers quickly adopted this crop because it grows on poor soils, is not labor intensive, and sold for a fair price—one kilogram (kg) sold for 1,500 kip, or 17¢, in 2007

(Yasongkua 2010). But world corn prices drastically fell in 2008, causing the price to fall to 500 kip, or 6¢, for one kg (Yasongkua 2010). This international decline, caused by the

2008 financial crisis in the United States, has had repercussive effects on farmers in Laos to this day. That is, at the time (in 2008), many Lao farmers decided not to sell their corn

163 Recall from Chapter Four it is used as a natural adhesive in the production of incense sticks.

434 for such cheap prices and instead fed it to their livestock or ate it themselves. Since that year, farmers in Laos have not relied on corn as a cash crop but rather only grow enough for household consumption. These brief examples of rubber, NTFPs and corn demonstrate how even some of the most remote farmers in the world are affected by regional and global capitalism.

The Asian financial crisis was seen by some as evidence for the failure of capitalism. This sparked numerous criticisms about neoliberal policies with suggestions of a Western conspiracy to dominate other countries around the world164 (Mahathir

Mohamad, Former Prime Minister of Malaysia, as cited by Hewison 2001:219-220). A discussion of neoliberal policies and their aftermath are also beyond the scope of my dissertation, but a brief discussion about localism contributes to my analysis. That is, after the financial crisis, there was a regional movement emphasizing localism. In

December 1997, the king of Thailand made a speech suggesting ―a return to a self- efficient (sic) economy‖ (Hewison 2001:222). Other localism advocates have called for rural self-sufficiency for food, housing, health care and clothing needs. Such a system of self-reliance would free farmers from depending on the market, decrease damages caused by market fluctuations, and help to regain a moral economy (222). Some suggest that localist movements are anti-development and anti-capitalist while others suggest they are about sustainable development and local rights (Hewison 2001). Any producer should have the right and ability to refuse coercive and unfair agreements proposed by

164 This idea does not stray far from the world-systems theory suggesting that the wealthy Western nations control the productive resources of the ―periphery‖ (less-developed) nations for the benefit of the wealthy, as proposed by Immanuel Wallerstein.

435 international firms. While advocates in Thailand were calling for a return to self- sufficiency, farmers in Laos had, to some extent, maintained it all along. That is, although upland farmers in Laos do experiment with cash crops, the majority continue to rely on subsistence farming. It is this subsistence system that has saved upland farmers in Laos from detriment in a number of situations historically and presently. And, ironically, it is this exact subsistence system that the government and some environmental advocates want to change. Currently, subsistence patterns cushion upland farmers in Laos from international market fluctuations; losing this security could harm the entire nation.

Farmers in Laos are not the only example of farmers who want to hold onto their subsistence patterns in the face of agricultural transition. Cramb et. al. (2009) cite a number of case studies from Indonesia, Vietnam, Thailand and the Philippines that discuss the various ways that farmers have used shifting cultivation as a form of security.

Farmers entering commercialized agriculture hold onto swidden plots, farmers who mostly rely on commercial agricultural products convert back to swidden when the market crashes (an example is coffee growers in Vietnam), and farmers who are confronted with environmental disasters (forest fires, logging, transmigration) also look toward traditional swidden for their salvation (as happened in East Kalimantan,

Indonesia). These authors argue that shifting cultivation systems are complex and that

―active involvement of local people is essential in planning, implementing, monitoring and evaluating development and conservation programs in swidden lands‖ (Cramb et.al.

2009:343). By elucidating emic perspectives of Khmu, Tai, Hmong, and Lao ethnicities in Laos, it was my intention to emphasize the need for active local involvement in such intricate ecological systems.

436

Chapter 8 Conclusion

The broader outside forces I discussed in the previous chapter seem to create a bleak future for upland farmers in Laos. It is almost amazing that they survive at all given the ocean of constraints flooding their doorsteps. However, upland farmers are actually in a better position than many other Asian farmers, partly by default; they‘ve only ever been able to rely on themselves for survival. Because of their turbulent war-torn past, internalized politics of socialism, lack of infrastructure, and late entrance into the world market system, farmers in Laos have, for the most part, a plethora of traditional ecological knowledge. Furthermore, because of Laos‘ sparse population density farmers have been able to have access to enough land and natural resources to sustain themselves through difficult times. The isolation of some upland and highland villages has also been advantageous in regard to land access; although this is now changing with Land Use

Planning policies. Farmers implement risk avoidance strategies by 1) continuing to grow subsistence crops, 2) approaching commercial agriculture cautiously by experimenting with different crops on small parts of their land, and 3) by outwardly conforming to government policies and agendas. In other words, farmers in Laos are trying to balance reliable subsistence with cash crops and what the government wants. Even though the government tries to monopolize the natural resource sector (forests, water resources,

437 mining, etc.), many rural farmers are not yet165 in dire straits since they still have access to enough land and other natural resources to be able to subsist. Although upland farmers are getting squeezed on all sides—from their government, regional interests and international demands—they are able to negotiate and strategize to provide for themselves.

Self-sufficiency is a security net for Lao farmers. First and foremost, labor, land and other resources are allocated to subsistence crops. Only after subsistence crops are taken care of will farmers consider allocating resources toward cash crops. If a household faces labor or land scarcity, it will not grow cash crops. However, household members can still earn cash by collecting NTFPs after the rice is harvested. In this way, farmers in

Laos are following the ―safety first‖ principle (Roumasset as cited by Scott 1976). As long as farmers in Laos continue to cultivate their own foods with minimal cash inputs, and maintain the knowledge to collect forest foods and pass all of this onto younger generations, they will be able to support themselves in times of need (even if they don‘t improve their current agricultural systems). However, just because upland farmers in

Laos can survive in their current situations does not imply that they don‘t want other things. Upland farmers do want to improve their farming systems (i.e., less labor for more products) and they do want more modern amenities such as tarmac roads, bridges, electricity, clinics, and better public transportation.

165 Cramb et al. (2009) fear that the allocation of only three agricultural plots per farming household may create struggles for farmers in the near future. However, Vandergeest (2003:54) reported that the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry suggested it was not strictly enforcing swidden restrictions where lands were insufficient for permanent agriculture.

438

Although there are numerous international development agencies in Laos—and they are valuable to a certain extent—they are not able to fulfill as many villager requests as they could due to the political culture of patronage. Millions of dollars from donor nations must first be given to government elite to get permits and agreements signed allowing the agency to work in the country. Then more money must be allocated to hire specified government civilians to work with the project; however, these people are afraid to make decisions without talking to the elites and many months can pass without any actual work occurring. Ironically, the presence of international non-government agencies actually assists elite party officials and ethnic Lao in maintaining their hierarchical positions. That is, the of development is important for the Lao government because that is how they get a large percentage of their money. As mentioned in Chapter

Three at least half of the nation‘s budget comes from international agencies (Cooper

2009:185). Despite corruption, real GDP growth ran at 6-7% from 2001-2007, the bulk of which was a result of the hydropower and mining sectors (The World Bank 2011). Stuart-

Fox (2006:73) contends that party officials are adept negotiators, and if most stakeholder groups are satisfied, there is no need to change the current system of patronage.

Although, the system may be producing impressive numbers about development and growth such numbers do not reflect contentment because the gap between rich and poor continues to widen.

Development funds are entangled in a web of patronage and avarice. But, some money is used for the people it was intended to support. For example, five of the six

Muang Muay kumban villages had donor funded concrete school buildings constructed

439 within the last 10 years. Bouammi, the one village without a concrete school building, had received support for one that was reportedly built after I left in 2010. The Lao-

American project graded a dirt road between the villages of Muang Muay and Bouammi in the early 2000‘s. However, the road was not maintained and eventually it washed-out over the course of a few rainy seasons. Photos from Chapter Five show water spouts and water holding tanks that were built in some of the research villages by a European Union sponsored project. These tangible examples of development demonstrate that some funds are trickling down to the most marginalized groups; that is, remote dry-rice farmers in upland and highland villages who are often part of ethnic minority groups. However, development efforts could be making more contributions if the bureaucracy was more willing to work with them in an efficient manner. There are disgruntled and frustrated development workers who must sit and wait for months, or even years, to see their project take shape. It takes a patient person to persist through the delays and navigate through the web of patronage to get work done. I have witnessed a number of international development workers leave the country out of frustration166.

It may appear that upland farmers in Laos are resistant, but their livelihood systems are complex and they constantly adapt to changes within the local and broader outside context.When the circumstances are right, farmers are willing to try new agricultural crops and techniques. However, given the politically repressive and volatile market system that they operate within, they are making practical decisions by

166 This aspect of development is not only found in Laos. I personally witnessed frustration and inefficiency in a number of development projects in Malawi. Furthermore, I have talked to development workers from other African nations whose projects were often delayed, for seemingly no good reason.

440 maintaining their subsistence agricultural practices. On the basis of what we know, and even though I am not a villager in Laos, I would make the same decisions given their circumstances. That is, I would not solely depend on market forces for my livelihood needs. I would try to keep a low profile and outwardly conform to all government agendas. I would depend on myself and my household members‘ ecological and agricultural knowledge and labor to feed the family. I would not jeopardize this self- reliant system to any outside imposed constraints. I would grow some cash crops on an annual basis and plant some trees for long-term investment to demonstrate my compliance with state policies and to make some cash in the short and long term. I would prefer cash crops with multiple uses, such as corn and sesame, so my labor would not be wasted if the market crashed. All of these choices demonstrate the rationality of farmers in Laos. Within the context of broader outside forces, such choices are not tradition- bound; rather, they make practical sense. And farmers will continue to adapt and negotiate their strategies as circumstances change. Furthermore, farmers are part of the cash economy and they desire imported items such as TV‘s, polyester blankets, plastic cups and plates, mosquito nets, turbines, and radios that only the market provides. They are not opposed to markets; they just prefer to cushion themselves from market fluctuations that adversely affect their livelihoods. Finally, although rice is first and foremost perceived as a staple food crop it is also a cash crop. Farming households with rice surpluses stand to gain economic status since they can either sell or loan out their excess rice at up to a 50% interest rate, as discussed in Chapter Four.

441

Change in and of itself may be inevitable, but it can be guided by conscious efforts. The most beneficial and accepted changes are ones that are discussed and accepted by local people. It is their actions that turn development plans into lived realities. And if the purpose of development funds is to support successful outcomes, then local perceptions must be considered; if local voices are hushed, then development efforts may be futile. The current economic downturn of Western powers such as the United

States means there is less money being allocated to international development issues.

Therefore, the money that is available needs to be used responsibly and efficiently.

International researchers should take the time to dig deep and uncover the multitude of forces, both emic and broader outside ones, that influence farmer choices. Then, and only then, can a holistic understanding occur. Once a holistic understanding is gained, prospects increase for successful development projects. Finally, my research contributes specific methods and information about agricultural decisions in Laos that fit into the broader picture of human welfare and cross-cultural development trajectories around the world.

442

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