When Susie Martin and her family left Singapore for a one-year sabbatical in Luang Prabang, they had no plans to start a dairy farm – let alone Lao PDR’s first buffalo dairy.
But a futile quest for buffalo milk sparked a bold idea: a social enterprise that could produce high-quality cheeses and ice cream for tourists and hotels, while also improving rural livelihoods. “It wasn’t just a business opportunity,” Martin recalls. “It was a chance to make a meaningful impact on rural livelihoods.”
Today, Laos Buffalo Dairy partners with over 200 farmers, who benefit from the Dairy’s breeding support, animal care training, and nutrition programmes for mothers and children. They’ve won awards like the 2020 WTM World Responsible Tourism Award in the Neighbours and Employees category. And thanks to the quality dairy produced on-site, the Laos Buffalo Dairy is a major tourist attraction on its own.
We talked to Susie about building trust with farmers, turning buffalo milk into a tourism draw, and why the future of the farm lies in both expansion and deepening community roots.
This project was described in CNN as a “midlife crisis with a purpose instead of a Porsche.” What triggered the shift from corporate life to buffalo farming in Lao PDR?
“We certainly didn’t set out with a plan to build a dairy farm, and it wasn’t what we imagined when we first arrived in Luang Prabang. We were living in Singapore and decided to take a one-year break from corporate life, thinking we’d run a small guesthouse and show our children another part of Southeast Asia.
While running the guesthouse, we tried to make yogurt and remembered how good buffalo milk yogurt was in Sri Lanka. We asked around for buffalo milk, only to realize there were no dairies in Lao PDR, no infrastructure, no knowledge of milking, and certainly no milk supply.
That’s when the idea of starting Laos Buffalo Dairy was born: not just a business opportunity, but a chance to make a meaningful impact on rural livelihoods.”
What was the biggest challenge in introducing the concept of milking buffalo in a country where they’ve traditionally been used for plowing?
“It’s hard to single out just one challenge because they all layered on top of each other.
First, we had to build trust with farmers, assuring them their buffalo would be well cared for. Then we had to convince government stakeholders that a completely new agricultural model could benefit Lao PDR, economically and socially.
On the customer side, hotels and restaurants had to trust we could deliver consistent quality, and on the tourism side, we had to create an experience that was engaging, ethical, and educational. The entire system, farming, production, tourism, had to be built from scratch, with the added complexity of being something completely unfamiliar to the region.”
How does the “rent-a-buffalo” model work in practice, and why was it important for you to create an income stream for farmers?
“In many villages, buffalo are no longer used for plowing and have become what we call “walking bank accounts.” When families need to pay for school fees, medical expenses, or weddings, they sell a male buffalo, earning around USD 800 to 1,000. They keep the females to produce more calves. Our original idea was to buy milk from farmers and turn it into cheese and yogurt. But when we realized no one had experience milking buffalo and we didn’t either, we looked at it differently and introduced a rental model: like “Uber for buffalo.”
We now work with over 200 farmers across 20 villages. The rental program works like this:
- Farmers bring us a pregnant buffalo around 8 months into gestation.
- The calf is born on the farm, and we let it drink all the milk for the first 3 weeks.
- After that, we milk the mother once daily while the calf continues to feed freely.
- We never separate the mother and calf, unlike conventional dairies.
- Near the end of the milking period, the buffalo is enrolled in our breeding program to improve genetic diversity and health outcomes.
- After the cycle, both mother and calf are returned to the farmer.
This model delivers real benefits:
- We pay farmers around USD 100 per rental, equivalent to a full month’s salary for many.
- Their buffalo and calves receive vaccinations and are well-fed.
- Calves born in villages have a 30% mortality rate before six months; on our farm, it’s under 3%.
- And perhaps most importantly, it’s a dignified, sustainable way for farmers to earn supplementary income from livestock they already own.”
Beyond milk and cheese, the Dairy has a hand in breeding, animal husbandry, and even child nutrition. Was this holistic model part of the original plan?
“Not at all, this evolved organically as we built trust and relationships in the community. As more farmers joined the program, they began asking for advice on animal care. That led us to offer animal husbandry training: vaccinations, parasite control, nutritional feed options like cassava silage, and breeding practices.
Then we learned more about the bigger issue: 35% of Lao children are chronically malnourished. Buffalo milk has 20% more protein and 50% more calcium than cow’s milk. It’s also easier to digest due to the A2 protein structure. So we began integrating nutritional education into our training, showing families how to use buffalo or goat milk in locally adapted recipes.
With support from the Australian Business Partnership Program, World Bank, and GIZ, we’ve run programs in both Lao PDR and Cambodia focusing on nutrition, food access, and sustainable livestock practices. The goal isn’t just better milk. It’s healthier kids, stronger farmers, and more resilient communities.”
What changes have you seen in local livelihoods and attitudes since the dairy started operations?
“At the beginning, farmers were sceptical, some even thought we might be buying their buffalo to BBQ. In our first year, we could only rent 10 buffalo, and we had to buy 10 more ourselves to meet production needs. But by 2019, over 200 farmers were participating, and our database included more than 400 buffalo.
That shift in participation reflects a shift in mindset from suspicion to trust, and from tradition to innovation. Many now see the dairy not just as a business, but as a partner in long-term growth.”
How do you balance tradition and experimentation when developing new cheeses or ice cream flavours using buffalo milk?
“Broadly speaking, we start by understanding local tastes and traditions, and then experiment with ingredients that honour that palate. We balance artisanal technique with regional flavour preferences to keep the product authentic yet unique.”
What has surprised you most about the tourist response to buffalo mozzarella, lemongrass ice cream, and other offerings?
“Buffalo mozzarella is well known in Europe, but quite rare in Asia. Once we started producing it, we realized it was the ice cream, made from rich, creamy buffalo milk, that really captured people’s attention. Lemongrass, mango, coconut, it became an experience, not just a product.
Our café and ice cream shop have become a stop-off point on the way back from Kuang Si Falls, with tuk-tuks and tour vans lining up daily. It’s wonderful to see how something niche became such a beloved part of the Luang Prabang experience.”
What’s your long-term vision for Laos Buffalo Dairy? Do you see it expanding beyond Lao PDR, or deepening roots in the community?
“Both, ideally. Before COVID, we were exploring exports to Japan. We’re revisiting that now, and with the opening of the China-Lao PDR railway, we’re looking into opportunities in China. If demand grows, that could mean opening a second farm in Lao PDR.
At the same time, we’re running nutrition and husbandry programs in Cambodia, where similar challenges exist. Any expansion we pursue will stay true to our mission: to create sustainable, scalable models that improve rural livelihoods, support child nutrition, and build agricultural capacity. Time will tell, but the roots are strong and the need is real.”
—–
The Laos Buffalo Dairy shows how one bold idea can ripple out to strengthen communities, improve livelihoods, and create new experiences for travelers. It is a reminder that tourism, when rooted in purpose, has the power to nurture both people and place.
