Tourism is the main economic activity of Luangprabang province. Luang Prabang city itself is a UNESCO World Heritage Site[i] and attracts close to 10% of the total foreign visitorship to Laos[ii]. As such, it is useful for local Lao residents to speak the languages that tourists use: English, Korean and, increasingly, Chinese. This helps them get employment in tourism-related jobs, such as tour guiding, receptionists at tour companies, or service staff at hotels, guesthouses and restaurants.

 

Educational institutions offering Chinese or Korean languages to Lao students may be quite niche in Luangprabang. For example, a primary school offers Chinese language classes for interested students only during the summer vacation. Vacancies to study Chinese at the Confucius Institute of Souphanouvong University are also limited. This is probably because the Chinese are a relatively new, albeit increasingly huge, tourism demographic in Laos. English, being an international language, has so far served the Lao population well in communicating with Korean, European and other tourists.

 

Hence, within Luang Prabang city, several educational centres have been set up on the premise of offering better-quality English education to the local Lao youths. They also invite tourists or long-term visitors who are fluent in English to volunteer to teach English to the students, as this provides their students more opportunities to listen to English spoken by foreigners. English language centres include: ARDA Language Centre[iii], Sunrise Classroom[iv], Big Brother Mouse and Big Sister Mouse[v].

 

However, while there are ample opportunities for learning English in the city, opportunities are limited in rural villages. Lao children do not learn English until they reach secondary school (though they do have an enriching curriculum or Lao language, mathematics, the sciences, etc.). When Lao children start to learn English in secondary school (which is several kilometres away for some villages), English classes are typically about one hour a week. For Thapene village and the villages near to Kuang Si waterfall, an iconic tourist destination for tourists visiting Luang Prabang, this puts youths at a disadvantage as they are unable to communicate with the tourists passing through their village. Moreover, they will also find it difficult to find jobs at the tourism sites (e.g. The Living Land Company[vi], Luang Prabang Elephant Camp[vii], Laos Buffalo Dairy[viii], Kuang Si Rafting[ix], Butterfly Park[x]) set up along the road to Kuang Si waterfall.

 

In 2018, Mr Sai stepped in to fill this gap. Originally from Chomphet district, he moved to Thapene village after 6 years working for Luang Prabang’s Traditional Arts & Ethnology Centre (TAEC)[xi] to live with his wife and children. Having a college certificate in English, he started teaching his children English in addition to coaching them on their primary school subjects. Word spread around the village, and his children’s friends started to join his classes. His work experience at the TAEC also gave him the idea of setting up Fasay Garden[xii], a homestay experience where tourists can experience local culture, Lao food, and volunteer to help him with the English classes. Today, he offers classes to children from his village and neighbouring villages (as far as 8km away)  at almost no fees. Children who attend his classes range from 6 to 16 years old. Because some of his students help their parents with family-run businesses servicing the tourism industry (e.g. restaurants, gift shops), his classes are early in the morning (~7-9am) or in the early-evening (~5-7pm) – before and after work hours. Concurrently, Mr Sai uses his family’s land for an organic garden to teach his students about traditional local games as well as planting fruits, herbs and vegetables. The latter is a useful self-subsistent skill that should be retained despite many families’ transition from agriculture to tourism-related jobs in the past 10-20 years.

 

Here is a video of Mr Sai introducing what he does in Thapene village:

 

As is typical of rural-urban migrations, most people from the countryside would want to settle in the city for better-paying jobs and the conveniences of city life. Mr Sai’s story is unique in that he has, instead, moved back to the countryside with the serendipitous mission of giving rural children a leg-up through English language tutoring. This is whilst keeping them connected to traditional games and gardening (important for environmental know-how) amidst the backdrop of their villages transiting towards a more tourism-dependent economy.

 

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[i] http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/479

[ii] In 2018, Luangprabang province received 576,610 foreign visitors, out of the total 6, 553,315 foreigners who visited Laos. Source: Tourism Research Division, Tourism Development Department, Ministry of Information, Culture and Tourism, ‘Statistical Report on Tourism in Laos, 2018’, available at: http://tourismlaos.org/files/files/Statistical%20Report%20on%20Tourism%20in%20Laos/ACKNOWLEDGEMENT%2020184-update.pdf (accessed 30 July 2019)

[iii] http://www.ardalaos.com/

[iv] https://www.facebook.com/sunrise.classroom

[v] http://www.bigbrothermouse.com/volunteer.html

[vi] http://www.livinglandlao.org/

[vii] http://www.luangprabangelephantcamp.com/

[viii] http://www.laosbuffalodairy.com/

[ix] https://www.facebook.com/Luang-Prabang-Kuang-Si-Rafting-%E8%A7%82%E6%BA%AA%E6%BC%82%E6%B5%81-%E0%BA%A5%E0%BB%88%E0%BA%AD%E0%BA%87%E0%BB%80%E0%BA%AE%E0%BA%B7%E0%BA%AD%E0%BA%AB%E0%BB%89%E0%BA%A7%E0%BA%8D%E0%BA%8A%E0%BA%B5-379812915906080/

[x] http://tourismluangprabang.org/things-to-do/nature/kuang-si-butterfly-park/

[xi] https://www.taeclaos.org/

[xii] https://fasayhome.wordpress.com/

When my husband and I first visited the Lao PDR briefly in December 2016, we learnt about China’s growing influence in the country. In Luangprabang province, my Lao friend told us that there were plans for a railroad from China going through Luangprabang, to be completed in the early part of the 2020s. We frowned at the idea of more Chinese people coming into Laos, perhaps reflecting the then-widespread suspicion over China’s growing influence.

 

Fast forward 2.5 years later, and I am in Luangprabang doing my fieldwork. During my first weekend here, I heard a few stories from a tour guide about how Chinese businessmen literally buy Lao women as their wives – some who are less willing than others. Hence, as a Singaporean of Chinese ethnicity, I found it more comfortable to identify myself as a Singaporean who happens to speak Chinese, rather than as a Chinese person from Singapore. I grew up in multi-racial, English-speaking Singapore, and while I’ve had my dose of education and exposure about Chinese culture, I am biophysically Southeast Asian (for example, I abhor cold weather). Having studied the struggles of nation-building in post-colonial Southeast Asia, I am also frequently irked by those of my parents’ generation who identify more with the Chinese diaspora community than with fellow Southeast Asians. What is Chineseness, anyway[i]?

 

So, when we travelled from Luang Prabang city to cross the Lao-Chinese border at Boten (in Laos) and Mohan (in China), I was quite guarded when interacting with fellow Chinese travellers on the bus, although many were, simply, Chinese construction workers going home for a visit. As we approached the border, we saw massive construction works as well as a part of the built Special Economic Zone. I think this will serve as the future interchange for the China-Lao railroad. There were lots of banners with Chinese and Lao words proclaiming how the Chinese and Lao people are building a common future together.

During our next two nights in China, I warmed up to interacting with Chinese people. Being fluent in the language definitely helps to get things done faster – although I still struggled with some Chinese vocabulary! We saw some shops selling rosewood and ironwood from Laos.  According to some Chinese people we spoke to, whereas much of China’s land has been intensively used for urban development or for agriculture, Laos is seen as the ‘untouched hinterland’.

 

Yet, I was still happy to return to Laos. Perhaps it was the relaxed feel of the country that enticed me, as compared to what seemed like the monetisation of Chinese life. (Or perhaps I just understand less of the Lao language, so I am ‘shut-off’ from an overload of information?) Compared to the Chinese immigration officer, the Lao immigration officer seemed more trusting of my Southeast Asian passport. ASEAN <3 <3!!!

 

In our group was one Lao citizen crossing the border into Laos. He seemed out of place at the Chinese immigration checkpoint, but after crossing the Lao checkpoint he looked a lot more relaxed. Yet, he was decked in what looked like newly-bought apparel from China, and he looked quite proud to be bringing his shopping home. While we waited for our bus at the Lao side of the border, he bought something from a Chinese man selling Lao SIM cards, and they conversed in the Lao language. Seeing them communicate was quite touching: one of the reasons why many Lao people view the Chinese with suspicion is because of the language barrier (learning Chinese is difficult), but here is an example of a Chinese man who, albeit for practical reasons, has mastered the language and is able to communicate with the Lao people.

 

On the bus, we conversed with some Chinese travellers. Several of them said that they were trying to explore new fortunes in Laos, because they found that living in China has become too competitive and cut-throat. During the lunch stopover at Oudomxay, they stayed in their own group. They somewhat reminded us of old stereotypes about American travellers – how they stay within their package tours and do things that resonate with their own culture. But I think this behaviour is quite human: cautious of interacting with people whose language they do not understand.

 

2019 is Visit Laos-China Year[ii], and it remains to be seen what impact increasing Chinese tourism will have for Luang Prabang, whose visitors have until now mainly comprise Europeans and South Koreans. Will the nature of tourism change to suit the preferences of Chinese tourists? For example, given that wildlife tourism in Thailand has evolved to suit Chinese tastes[iii], would wildlife tourism in Laos evolve likewise?

 

And what major changes will the railroad bring, once it is ready to ferry car-loads of Chinese travellers and businessmen through the mountains of northern Laos? There is a nascent concern about this, and it is reassuring to hear that there are forums being organised for SMEs to discuss how they can cope with increasing Chinese influence[iv].

 

For me, there is no more opportune time to leverage on my Chineseness. Some Lao people I’ve met already understand a little Chinese, but they have to also balance this with understanding English, Vietnamese, and even Korean – in addition to local ethnic languages such as Khmu and Hmong. Not easy! So I have started offering to practise Chinese with those who are interested. The more bridges we can help build through better communication, the less the risk of mutual misunderstanding and suspicion.

 

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[i] While some in the Chinese diaspora community hold on tightly to their Chinese cultural practices, I was introduced to ‘Chineseness’ as an identity concept when a group of students from NUS Chinese Studies shared about their research during a teaching workshop in mid-2018. For a more in-depth exploration of the concept, one can refer to publications such as Allen Chun (2017)’s ‘Forget Chineseness: On the Geopolitics of Cultural Identification’ (publisher: State University of New York, USA).

[ii] http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/a/201901/24/WS5c496905a3106c65c34e6538.html

[iii] https://www.nationalgeographic.com/magazine/2019/06/global-wildlife-tourism-social-media-causes-animal-suffering/

[iv] Personal communication, meeting with CDE Bern in Vientiane, 25 June 2019.