CHAMPASSAK WAS ANIMATED despite the sweltering heat of mid-morning.
            Women dressed in sarong-like skirts and white blouses converged on
            the community hall that overlooks the palm-shaded river meandering
            through the town. The women of Champassak had been cooking for
            several days now; enough rice, fish, pork and poultry to feed the
            whole town and its guests. Many of the men were inside the hall
            awaiting the arrival of a group of visitors from Vientiane. They had
            seen the orange dust cloud in the wake of the vehicle bearing the
            visitors long before it came to a halt in front of the community
            hall. The group of men and women who emerged--Laotian, American,
            Indian, Bulgarian and English--had all been waiting for this moment:
            their first glimpse of Wat Phou, the legendary temple that had been
            built in this remote corner of Laos in the days of the Khmer Empire.
           
            While the elders led the visitors into the community hall, an
            orchestra struck up an undulating rhythmic song played on
            traditional instruments: flutes, clarinets, xylophones with bamboo
            cross-pieces, drums, cymbals, and the khen, a hand-held pipe organ
            that is the national instrument. In a large room about 70 men sat
            around a centrepiece in the form of a tree made from banana leaves
            and flowers and surrounded by symbolic foods. The baci ceremony,
            marking the importance of the occasion, was about to start. While a
            lay priest intoned benedictions and prayers, the hosts tied cotton
            strips around the wrists of their guests, symbolizing good health,
            prosperity and happiness.
            At the banquet that followed the baci, women served steaming dishes
            of fish, pork and chicken and the staple of all Laotian
            meals--sticky rice. There were toasts in lau lao, the potent
            locally-brewed rice liquor, followed by speeches dedicated to the
            purpose of this gathering: the restoration of Wat Phou.
            Built by the Khmer kings on the slopes of the mountain that emerged
            from the forest surrounding this small provincial town, Wat Phou is
            in ruins. Champassak was celebrating the fact that it was about to
            be saved from the tidal wave of vegetation in which the heavenly
            dancers of its bas-reliefs were drowning. The visitors represented
            years of effort by the Government of Laos and the international
            community to save this national treasure, efforts that had now
            culminated in UNDP and UNESCO agreeing to finance and assist in the
            renovation work, and in the establishment of a museum in Champassak
            to house some of Wat Phou's more vulnerable artefacts.
            Two hundred years older than Angkor Wat in Kampuchea, Wat Phou was
            built in the second half of the fifth century. At that time it was a
            centre of kingly power on the lower Mekong River, one of a
            collection of principalities stretching along the coast but
            extending inland to encompass what is now southern Laos. The temple
            was the site of a cult closely associated with the Indianized
            monarchies of ancient Indochina, part of the vast Khmer Empire that,
            some two hundred years later, made Angkor its capital.
            The speeches over, the group from Vientiane, accompanied by town
            elders, drove the short distance through the forest to the temple. A
            long causeway led them into the centre of an architectural
            composition whose ancient stones were bathed in the golden light of
            the late afternoon.
            Rising above the Mekong River, Wat Phou is a majestic ruin covered
            with a mantle of vegetation, a symbol of what the Laotians
            themselves had suffered and withstood--invasions, colonialism and
            wars. Nowadays, Wat Phou's battle is against the vegatation that
            relentlessly attacks its ancient stones. The conflict is between the
            ruins and the jungle which has overrun them.
            At the end of the causeway, two exquisite rectangular pavilions made
            of sandstone stand near a large artificial lake, believed by the
            Khmers to have possessed extraordinary purificatory powers. For the
            god-kings of the Khmer Empire Wat Phou was a favourite royal bathing
            place, with its grand approach, its majestic flight of steps flanked
            by statues of lions and mythical animals. Today the lions are
            faceless and the statutes have lost their heads. Buffaloes stand
            motionless in the waters of the lake, only their heads showing.
            The rectangular pavilions used to be temples for segregated
            worship--one for women and the other for men. Roots follow the
            outlines of the masonry along the temple walls, mimicking the
            architectural motives which they cover. A whole section of wall is
            cracked and prevented from disintegration by the roots' embrace.
            Ferns and underbrush have attached themselves to walls, screening
            the idealized representations of the Khmer aristocracy, while
            beneath the onslaught of vegetation, the powerful Brahman gods of
            the Khmer Empire--Krishna, Vishnu and Indra riding the elephant
            Airavata--are slowly suffocating.
            A wide avenue leads from the temples to a majestic stairway carved
            into the side of the mountain. At the top is the sanctuary which had
            once housed the idol of the cult. Here time has wrought wonders with
            the sandstone, and the sun and rain have softened the decorative
            instincts of the Khmers. Local legend has it that the Emerald Buddha
            which now sits in Bangkok is a fake and that the authentic one is
            hidden here.
            Behind the sanctuary the side of the mountain rises perpendicularly
            to the skies. From here it is easy to imagine the beauty of this
            site in its prime. The view spreads out harmoniously from mountain
            to plain. First the sanctuary, then the immense staircase
            interspersed by large terraces, the esplanade with the two
            rectangular temples, the artificial lake, the park, the forest and,
            beyond it, the course of the majestic Mekong flowing towards the
            horizon.
            By the time the party of visitors had climbed down the stairway and
            reached the forecourt, the day was waning. A group of boys strolled
            through the ruins. They had come to this once exclusive place to
            burn incense-sticks at a small Buddhist shrine made of sticks and
            paper. It was all that was left from a festival that had been held
            in the previous month. For four days Wat Phou had basked in some of
            its ancient splendour, with processions and fireworks and hundreds
            of people from the surrounding regions chanting and praying to the
            rhythm of the khen and the deep sounds of gongs.
            In just over an hour night would descend over the mountain
            sanctuary. The last rays of the sun lit up the growth of tropical
            vegatation, highlighting the deterioration of the buildings. The
            task of restoration is immense and greatly exceeds the resources of
            the Government of Laos. In associating itself with the efforts of
            the Laotian people, the world community will help to conserve a
            monumental site which is not only the work of a particular people,
            but also belongs to the common heritage of mankind.
            Photo: A legendary temple in a remote corner of Lao People's
            Democratic Republic . . .