A UW-MADISON PROJECT SPONSORED BY THE CENTER FOR HUMANITIES

Like Any Other Hmong Woman

by Yer Thor

She wipes the sweat from her forehead. Her face has darkened over time from the hours she spends in the garden with the hot sun beating down aching back and neck. She would much rather be indoors but this is the only way she knows how to support her family. She is just like any other Hmong girl. She cooks. She cleans and she tends to the garden. But…

She is also a school girl. She carries a notebook and pencil around. She raises her hand to answer her teacher’s questions. Instead, the other Hmong girls spend their days at the family garden. She is a Hmong girl but she is also a school girl.

She rises with the rooster's crow. It’s time for chores. After rinsing the stench of the pigs and chickens she fed each morning off her hands, she gathers her notebook and pencil and heads to school. When she recites lessons in front of the class, she vocalizes each word flawlessly. Essays are her weak point though. She always has so much going on in her mind, thinking about her chores at home and dreaming about her goal of becoming a nurse, that her tiny fingers can't keep up with her thoughts.

She returns home and prepares dinner for her family. She had learned to steam rice from silently observing her mother. First, rinse the rice. Second, level the rice and steam it. Be sure there is water in the bottom so the rice will not burn. Third, prepare another pot of boiling water to rinse the rice. Fourth, once the rice is slightly cooked, rinse it with just enough hot water to slightly wet each rice grain and steam it again. That's how she cooks her rice.

She follows this routine daily, passing each primary grade. Wanting to help people who are sick, she decides to pursue nursing. But this meant moving far from her family and living on her own. Hesitant, she sits on her school chair, her short legs dangling, swinging back and forth, contemplating her future. Standing up, feet planted firmly on the ground, she gathers her courage, packs her clothes and school supplies. She heads off to a village far from home, with the full support of her family.

She lives in the dorms with 30 other girls, sleeping like sardines in a can. Each morning, they gather wood or carry water for the cooks. Once the lunch bell rings, she waits in line. Lunch isn't always the best. Sometimes the rice had sand in it; other times it was undercooked. She tries hard to hide the grimace on her face, starving herself on these days. After lunch, she often loops hands with her flock of friends, giggling over gossip. They had all travelled far from home, chasing dreams.

She never felt different from her peers. Some were Hmong, like her. Some were poor, like her. She remembers going to her friend’s house one weekend and feeling completely welcomed. In their eyes, she wasn’t Hmong; she wasn’t a savage from the mountains. She is often mistaken as Lao. But she always shakes her head politely. She dreams of returning to her village to help her people, who had nursed her, raised her, fed her rice.

She didn’t always receive success. Dreams and hard work could only take her so far in this broken society. The meager income her family earned wasn’t enough to get her into nursing school. Right in front of her, her dreams were whisked away. Disappointment, confusion, and anger rushed over her like the currents of the Mekong, drowning her in sadness. But she wouldn’t let this stop her. She is placed into the dental hygienist program and she accepts this new opportunity.

She took her knowledge back to her village. Although not a licensed health practitioner, she would use the practices she’d learned to help her family and relatives. She was proud she could help. Once, back at home, she cleaned the cups and kettle her family used with boiled water, so that her family could drink clean water. When other villagers saw what she did, they did the same in their own homes. Seeing how she could impact her community, she was determined to do well in her education.

She never finished school though. It was 1987, and her family thought about seeking asylum in Thailand. It was no longer safe for them to stay in Laos. Her parents eventually decided to stay in Laos, but she ran to Thailand with her sister and uncles. It was one of the scariest times of her life. She wondered if she would survive the chase and the bullets from Lao and Vietnamese soldiers.

She ran for 9 days and 9 nights, eating the small packets of rice her mother had packed in banana leaves. One dark, dark night, they reached a path when shots began firing. Instinctively, she ran for cover. The group she was travelling with scattered throughout the jungle, escaping for their lives. She got separated from her sister and her uncles. She was all alone. She thought they were all dead. She thought she was dead. She thought she would never see or speak to her parents again.

She followed other Hmong people she met to Thailand. For two days, she traveled with them. When she got to the Mekong River, she was worried because she did not know how to swim. But the men prepared floating tubes and a bamboo raft to help everyone cross the river. She arrived at Ban Vinai Refugee Camp in Thailand where she was reunited her with her uncles and her sister. She lived in Ban Vinai refugee camp for two months, and then moved to Chiang Kham refugee camp.

She was very poor in the camps. She had no money to buy new clothes and she had no way to grow her own food. She became completely dependent on the United Nations to provide food and supplies. Everyone received a small portion of rice, vegetables, and chicken, but it was never enough. Many refugees also suffered from dysentery. She slept like she did in the dorms – like sardines. She could not leave the refugee camps. Her freedom and her goals were taken away.

She did not have time to think about school. Instead, she had to think about how to earn money for rice, or for clothes. Without her parents in the camps, she had to rely on herself to provide for herself. If there was no rice one day, she would starve. She observed the other women in the camps and saw that they sold paj ntaub to earn money. They taught her paj ntaub, and gave her cloth to start earning money.

She was just starting to get used to life in the refugee camps when she got married. When a Hmong woman gets married, she must then live by her husband’s directions and choices. Her duty now was to serve her husband and his family. Her husband decided to go to America, a land where everything would be new to them. But they knew they had to provide their children with freedom and opportunities. They filled out the paperwork, choosing to leave their family behind.

She packed her clothes, a few kitchen utensils, and a few packets of rice in a small suitcase. It was time to leave. Wiping tears, she said goodbye to her uncles and sister. She did not know when she would see them again. With a heavy heart, she stepped onto the bus. The engine roared, blasting black smoke. She looked back at the camp. She looked at the waving hands. She looked over the land where she had suffered. She looked to the sky, prayed for her parents’ health. She took one last glimpse.