Watch Out

“I also wish to reject all claims that some of the Hmong have been killed or starved to death by our military. There is not a single reason for our Armed forces to do so because the Hmong population is our own citizens and there is neither any policy nor any scheme to kill the Hmong. In contrary [sic], the Hmong are even over-represented in the Party, Government or military hierarchies.” And he went on to name some high-ranking Hmong politicians and members of the armed forces.

So why are the people on these pages dying? In April this year there were unsubstantiated reports of at least 26 Hmong deaths in Laos, just 20 kilometres from the town of Vang Vieng, popular with tourists. Apparently, they were searching for food away from their hiding places when the government troops launched an assault. In May this year, Hmong sources reported that five Hmong teenagers – four girls and a boy – had been mutilated and murdered by the Lao military. They claimed the girls had been raped before they were killed. On June 4 last year, 173 Hmong – many elderly, some children – from the group Blenkinsop visited gave in to the Lao authorities. Their fate is unclear.Two Hmong men, Thao Moua and Pa Fue Khang, were sentenced to 12 and 15 years’ imprisonment respectively in June 2003 for helping other foreign journalists report on the situation. On July 6 this year, 46 sickly Hmong women and children “surrendered” (it is unlikely they had ever taken up arms) in the Xaysomboune village of Van Pha. The group’s leader, a woman called Maixia Thao, called an uncle now living in the US and told him more than 100 members of her group were also willing to come out but were waiting to see how the women and children would be treated. Her husband had died in the nine-day walk down the mountain. The Lao authorities arrived and took them into custody and nobody knows where they are now.

The US government, which is now attempting to build bridges with southeast Asia for economic reasons, has said that in its quest to “normalise trade relations” between the US and Laos, it will take a dim view of any Hmong action where Lao civilians are involved. The Hmong claim they are now simply defending themselves, though the truth is murky. In the first few years after the war came reports of bombs in marketplaces. Two years ago, Matthew Daley, deputy assistant secretary for East Asia and Pacific Affairs, told the St Paul Pioneer Press, based in Minnesota, where many Hmong immigrants live: “We know that in Laos there have been planned attacks on civilians in the past year, and we regard those as acts of terrorism.”

In a recent report, the United Nations’ Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination stated that it was “concerned” by the persistent allegations of conflict between the Lao government and “certain members of the Hmong minority”, and recommended that UN agencies provide emergency humanitarian assistance. “The committee was also concerned about reports of violence that had been perpetrated against members of this group… ” How comforting for the remaining Hmong holed up in the Lao jungle to know that the western world’s largest and supposedly most influential political body is “concerned”.

Blenkinsop is a seasoned photojournalist with 17 years’ experience. He has often shared the lives of people locked in a battle for survival. Often he is left wondering what happened to the people he photographed. This time he knows, and that knowledge is hard to bear. “I sit here in Bangkok as intelligence comes in and cross Hmong names off like dates on a calendar,” he says. “One by one, the people I shared those days with succumb to hunger or are picked off by rockets from Lao helicopters, mortars or AK-47s.”

Last year he had a call from one of the Hmong, Moua Toua Ther, via a satellite phone from his hiding place in the mountains. Blenkinsop enlisted the help of a neighbour who speaks a little Laotian. The words that were slowly translated were devastating: “Philip, we are dying. Please, you must help us. Today we are running and have been mortared and attacked by helicopters. Today we lost five people, two women and three children.” Had he not had a translator at all, he says, the tears and desperation would still have been enough to depress him utterly.

“Had I been able to converse more effectively,” says Blenkinsop, “I probably should have told him that, while foreign governments were aware of their situation, no one cared enough to take action and insist on an independent team from the UN, Amnesty or MSF [Médecins Sans Frontières] being given access to confirm or deny allegations of their continued persecution. Or rather, I should have said that Laos was not financially interesting enough in terms of foreign trade to warrant the intervention that could save a paltry 12,000 lives.”

The morning Blenkinsop left the camp, at first light, a crowd of women had gathered, infants strapped to their backs, meagre possessions, a pot or a pan, hanging from their sides, spindly fingers clutching at his arms and clothes, imploring him to lead them out. He had to prise open their fingers to get away from them. The route out was long and depressing. Hiking out of the mountains over the next days, he was shot at twice. “In parting I offered my hiking companion and M-79 [grenade launcher] operator, Thao Ut, my old worn toothbrush and a pair of old river-crossing-soaked boxer shorts. He hugged me with tears in his eyes. I could feel his gaze long after I turned to leave.”

There is no reproachfulness in the faces of the Hmong on these pages. But they linger in the mind – even those we now know to be dead. “A lot of people have said to me, ‘It’s just a story; forget about it,’” says Blenkinsop. “That attitude sickens me. I feel a great responsibility on my shoulders. The exhibition in Paris was a last-ditch attempt to embarrass western governments into action.” In his view, the Lao government just wants to get rid of this problem quickly – by getting rid of the people involved. Then all the embarrassment will be over and forgotten for good.