Visiting the Laos Unexploded Ordnances Center in Luang Prabang is a sobering experience. Per capita, Laos is still the most heavily bombed nation in the world. Even now, one person almost every day is injured or killed by unexploded ordnances in Laos – sometimes by a bomb that has been there for fifty years.

During the Vietnam War, both sides agreed that Laos would be off limits. That changed when the Viet Cong and Northern Vietnamese decided to run their supply trail, the Ho Chi Minh trail, through Laos to get supplies and men from Hanoi to the south. The trail was bombed in order to keep these supplies from reaching their destination. Laos got caught in the crossfire when the North decided to involve the country regardless of any promises it made otherwise.

At the center, they had an actual collection of bombs and bombies (submunitions from cluster bombs). Of the more than 270 million bombies dropped in Laos from 1964 to 1973, 30% failed to detonate. There were examples of the educational tools they use to teach children and adults regarding protocol and awareness. There was also a walk through of what it takes to either detonate or disarm and remove the munitions.

There were also several sad stories of personal loss. As you can imagine, each story is devastating – and those were only the few that were told in this small space. A farmer reached his hand down in his own rice paddy, where he had been farming for years, and knocked a bombie around that he didn’t know was there. The ensuing explosion blew off his arm. His wife discussed the hardship now placed on her and their children in order to replace the amount of labor and income he provided for the family – some of their children had to leave school to work the fields. He teared up as he talked about the emotional toll it takes on a man when he can’t provide for his family, and how he can’t even do household chores properly.

One story that really stuck with me was that of a young boy, visiting a village from the city. This urban child had not grown up with UXO awareness and training. He was out playing with some of the village boys, when he ran across a shiny ball kind of thing. He picked it up to show his new pals, who recognized the UXO immediately and started screaming “get rid of it, don’t touch it, drop it!” as they all took off running. Confused, he threw the bombie on the ground and was killed in the resulting explosion.

Later that night, I asked my pal Chai if he had ever seen a bomb. He told me that there are still three bombs in the village where he grew up. “Why don’t the detonator guys care of them – isn’t that their job?” I asked. “It’s too rural,” he replied, “it’s a five hour hike through the mountains to get there.”

“What do you do about it, how do you live?” I asked. “Nobody goes near them – that’s all we can do,” he said.

Then he grimly asked, “you know who most of those bombs are from, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” We looked at each other, and then changed the subject.

Four weeks later, my heart is still breaking over these stories and that conversation. What must it be to live in fear for your self, your family and friends every day? And for the cause of this fear to be something not only beyond your control but for many of those affected, it is something from a generation or two before you. A leftover from a different time.

All facts and figures can be found here.