 I had an unexpected business trip to South East Asia. Prior to the coronavirus outbreak the region has been doing well. International supply chains have wanted to diversify their operations out of China. Private Chinese investment has also been massive. In addition, tourism from both East and West has been expanding. Despite the coronavirus setback, long term prospects for the region remain good. One social effect of economic growth has been to stimulate the movement of people from rural areas into towns and cities. Governments have been supportive. Services are easier to provide. However, in a part of the world extremely rich in different ethnic presences, I was keen to take a break and see a traditional hill community before the way of life disappears completely.  My Hmong guide took me to a Hmong village he was familiar with, located in the hill area in the border region between Laos and Northern Thailand. The forested landscape has a slight covering of smoke haze from traditional slash and burn agricultural practices. The haze will worsen as the dry season advances. In theory, the loss of rural communities will make it possible for governments and park services to introduce different forest management techniques and to reduce seasonal smoke and fires. However, the net benefit depends on the actual implementation of new management techniques.  The village, up a track about one mile off a road, contains houses for between 12-15 families as well as assorted outbuildings. Water, gathered in containers, comes directly from streams running out of the hillsides. The traditional pit-fired earthenware water storage jars stand outside each house. Long-drop toilets are in out-houses. There is no electricity.    At this time of day, most of the men, and many of the women of the village, are absent working on upland rice cultivation. There are more animals present than people. Horses are tethered, pigs sleep, a prize bull forages in a ditch. He will have his moment in bull fights at the village festivals. Everywhere there are chickens and dogs. Life is hard, particularly for the women. Traditionally, locally grown opium provided some palliative relief. Inevitably, it was accompanied by a proportion of villagers who became addicted.  The traditional Hmong village house consists of one large room with a beaten earth floor. A partitioned area separates the fireplace, cooking and seating area from the sleeping area. In the main part, a parental bed occupies a corner. It is curtained. Traditionally, the valence would display the sewing skills for which the Hmong are famous in addition to their batik weavings. In the opposite corner of the room there is a bed for the children. In another corner, rice is de-husked. The houses have two entrances. One is for everyday use by family and friends and leads into the cooking, seating area. The other is the spirit door. Good spirits are welcome to come in. Malevalent spirits are encouraged to leave.  Countries in this part of the world are mainly Buddhist. Buddhism in practice can be as intolerant and militant as other major religions. However, in the absence of a god figure, it allows for a variety of other spiritual intermediaries to find a space alongside its own bodhisattvas. In this part of the world, ancestor and snake gods are important. But alongside these are the spirit gods attached to place – the house, the village, the forest, the rivers. The village shaman provides the bridge between worlds. He is the first responder if someone falls sick, and, in addition to exorcising, will prescribe herbal remedies. The shaman in the house I visited showed me his spirit shrine which provides the focal point for his chanting and ceremonies.  This village, like many others, will soon be gone. The houses will quickly be overtaken by jungle. In a town there may be a job to be had in tourism, better access to a school for the children, a better house, piped water, electricity, internet and TV. In this urban world, ethnic identities will remain important but skill-sets change. Animal husbandry is no longer needed. Back-strap weaving has already largely disappeared. The shaman will occupy a secondary role, displaced by more orthodox doctors and medication. But the spirit world will remain. Buddhist temples are at hand. But, alongside ritual offerings to figures in the Buddhist pantheon are other offerings, symbols of other practices.  The passing of hill village life in a community such as I visited is to be accepted without nostalgia. It is the fortitude of previous generations that is to be respected.
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