In this part of the world, the monsoon rains mean everything. This is an agrarian culture, and the seasonal rains provide the sustenance for the rice crop and everything else that renews life in Laos . I'm not scientist enough to play the global warming card in this instance, but the monsoon is late this year, the heat is oppressive, and people are suffering from it.
It has been over 100 degrees pretty much every day for weeks and weeks. It's hotter than hell with no respite. I was talking to one of my students this week about the situation.We were sitting outside and chatting before class at 7:50 in the morning...I was mopping my face like Brother Love after a Salvation Show, and beads of sweat stood out on Bounleuam's forehead.
"My parent are farmers. It's terrible for them. Without rain there is nothing."
I can only imagine. Working in a rice field or herding buffalo, I'd be clinically dead in 90 minutes, tops. The humidity climbs each day without any corresponding drop in temperature. Han lai...freaking hot, dude.
Today it rained a bit in the afternoon and when I went down the street to eat dinner this evening, it was sprinkling gently, and the air was remarkably cool and fresh.
Hallelujah! I was taking in huge gulps of air and waving my arms joyfully - it felt wonderful.
The monsoon is not here yet because we haven't had a kickass, barnburning, streetflooding storm yet - not even close. I ask the locals, "When is it going to start raining?"
"June", they muse.
"July, maybe".
I really hope it's tomorrow.
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