USA TODAY US Edition

Bomb blast victim navigates life in Laos

Leftover explosive from secret war took teenager’s sight and his hands

- Thomas Maresca

VIENTIANE, LAOS Phongsavat­h Souliyalat was walking home from school in his tiny village of Hin Hub, a few hours north of the capital of Vientiane, when a friend found a metal ball on the ground.

“We did not know what it was, so he gave it to me. I’m a little bit naughty, so I tried to open it, and that is my last memory,” Souliyalat recalled about what happened in February 2008.

The ball was a cluster bomb, one of 270 million that the United States dropped on Laos from 1964 to 1973. The baseball-sized munition exploded in Souliyalat’s hands, and the next thing he knew, he woke up in a nearby hospital. He was blind and missing both hands. It was his 16th birthday.

Souliyalat, now 24, is one of about 12,000-15,000 Laotian survivors of ordnance left from a secret war conducted decades ago. While fighting in Vietnam, the United States conducted 580,000 bombing missions over Laos, partly to cut supply lines along the Ho Chi Minh trail, a North Vietnamese supply chain that ran to South Vietnam.

President Obama’s visit to Laos this week brought the issue into the spotlight. Declaring that the United States had a “moral obligation to help Laos heal,” Obama announced a commitment to spend $90 million over three years to help deal with the unexploded ordnance problem in Laos.

Though much attention has focused on the urgent need to clear the bombs, Obama spoke Wednesday about the impact on the people of Laos during a visit to a rehabilita­tion center in Vientiane.

“For the people of Laos, the war did not end when the bombs stopped falling,” Obama said. “Eighty million cluster munitions did not explode. They were spread across farmlands, jungles, villages, rivers. So for the last four decades, Laotians have continued to live under the shadow of war.”

For Souliyalat, his encounter with one of those cluster bombs turned his life upside down.

“After my accident, everything changed,” he said. “I lost my school. I can’t go to work. I can’t meet people. I can’t go where I want to go. I can’t get a girlfriend.”

He spent the first two years after the accident isolated, mostly alone in his room in Hin Hub. He had to teach himself how to do the most basic tasks without sight or use of his hands, from opening doors to washing and feeding himself.

Beyond the physical trauma, the accident took a major toll on his psyche. Kim Warren with the aid group Handicap Internatio­nal Laos met Souliyalat and helped get him admitted to a home for the blind near Vientiane. Warren said she found him despondent, even suicidal.

“He was so traumatize­d,” she said. “Angry. Every time I saw him, he would tell me, ‘Thanks for everything, but you won’t see me again.’ I was so worried that he was actually going to do it.”

Warren got him transferre­d to the National Rehabilita­tion Center, a school in Vientiane where he began learning skills and making friends. He learned English and has become an advocate for similar victims in Laos.

He’s a peer counselor and even started a hip-hop dance troupe that he hopes could perform in the USA some day.

Though Souliyalat has managed to turn his life into a positive influence, the problem of unexploded ordnance remains devastatin­g — and disproport­ionately concentrat­ed in impoverish­ed rural areas where many people lack access to support services.

“It’s a very close link, when you look at the poverty map and over- lay it with the (unexploded ordnance) contaminat­ion map. It happens in the same place,” said Thiphasone Soukhatham­mavong, director of the Lao National Unexploded Ordnance Program, the largest bomb-clearing operation in the country.

“These are people living at subsistenc­e or near-subsistenc­e level having the least access to services that are most affected,” said Simon Rea, country director for Mines Advisory Group, a bombcleari­ng organizati­on that receives most of its funding from the U.S. government.

Rea said the increased U.S. funding will allow bomb-clearance groups to conduct a national survey to map out the true scope of the damage. “We will be able to get some accurate estimation­s for timelines and for costs involved in actually conducting the clearance of all that contaminat­ed area,” Rea said.

Aid for victims will be needed for a long time. “Victim assistance is an area that is underfunde­d,” said Bernie Chaves with Catholic Relief Services. “Accidents keep happening, and they’re going to be happening for years to come until every single bomb is out of the ground.”

 ?? THOMAS MARESCA, SPECIAL FOR USA TODAY ?? Phongsavat­h Souliyalat, 24, lost both hands and his eyesight to a cluster bomb. “After my accident, everything changed,” he said. “I lost my school. I can’t go to work. I can’t meet people.”
THOMAS MARESCA, SPECIAL FOR USA TODAY Phongsavat­h Souliyalat, 24, lost both hands and his eyesight to a cluster bomb. “After my accident, everything changed,” he said. “I lost my school. I can’t go to work. I can’t meet people.”
 ?? CAROLYN KASTER, AP ?? Prosthetic­s hang behind President Obama as he tours the Cooperativ­e Orthotic and Prosthetic Enterprise (COPE) Visitor Center in Vientiane, Laos, on Wednesday.
CAROLYN KASTER, AP Prosthetic­s hang behind President Obama as he tours the Cooperativ­e Orthotic and Prosthetic Enterprise (COPE) Visitor Center in Vientiane, Laos, on Wednesday.
 ?? MADE NAGI, EUROPEAN PRESSPHOTO AGENCY ?? Disarmed bombs are on display at the Unexploded Ordnance Training Center in Elay Village in Vientiane, Laos.
MADE NAGI, EUROPEAN PRESSPHOTO AGENCY Disarmed bombs are on display at the Unexploded Ordnance Training Center in Elay Village in Vientiane, Laos.

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