Office by Alex Penny
SEARAC wants to know: “What have your grandparents taught you?”
In recognition of the significant contribution of elders, we are collecting photos and stories of grandparents or other important elders in your lives.
To participate, simply submit a photo of your grandparents (or other elder) and answer the question: “What have your grandparents or elders taught you?”
Questions? E-mail us at searac@searac.org.
Life Lessons from a Hmong Grandfather to His Granddaughter
“Wake up, kids! It’s 6:30!” my grandpa said as he pulled off the blanket that covered my head. I moved around, pretending to stretch and then curling back into a ball. Through my squinted eyes, I could see that my siblings were still lying next to me. I popped my head up and looked at the alarm clock across the room. It read: 6:10. This was my daily routine growing up. I grew up with my grandparents taking care of me and my siblings since my parents were always so busy working. For as long as I can remember, my grandpa was always the one taking me and my siblings to school every morning, and picking us up every afternoon once school got out. We numbered a total of eight kids at the time who were all attending elementary, middle, and high school. My grandpa always said that once he dropped us all off at school, within an hour or so, he would have to start picking us up again. This was true given the fact that we were in almost every grade level.
I never knew if my grandpa ever grew tired of doing the same thing every day because he never complained about us. Instead, he always dropped us off 30 minutes before the school bell rang and would always be waiting at the same spot to pick us up before school got out. He was never late and always made sure he got all the kids back home safe and sound. He even made sure that we took care of each other once we were at school. “Don’t mess around, and make sure you big kids watch out for the little kids,” he would say every morning when he dropped us off at school.
Because I spent my whole childhood with my grandpa, I got to know and love him very much. I admired the fact that he never gave up on himself. As a refugee from Laos who arrived in the U.S. in 1990, he did his best to quickly adjust to America. He managed to teach himself how to drive, which gave him a whole lot of freedom. And even though he only knew two English words: “yes” and “no,” he managed to find junk yards where he could buy metals and other materials to make his own tools and furniture, putting the blacksmith skills he had brought with him from Laos to good use.
I am thankful that my grandpa taught me to love because he raised all twelve of his grandchildren out of pure love: taking us to school every morning, picking us up from school every afternoon, and making sure that we were safe and sound. He also taught me courage because even though he did not speak any English, he managed to be independent in his own way in America. Growing up, I learned so much from this man and I wished that I could have had more time with him. Now, he is at rest and may his soul be at peace. Mus zoo, kuv yawg. I will always remember all the great memories we shared together. Thank you for everything.
-Bao
I’ve been to Việt Nam twice, once for two weeks in 1993 when I was 7 years old and a second time in 1998 for another two weeks. I will forever remember my paternal grandfather, ông nội.
I cherished and will always cherish our time together, though limited, in the fields harvesting foods and in the kitchen cooking. I learned a lot of traditional foodways, including what to add in thịt kho/meat stew, how to nấu cơm/cook rice (fo’ real), and when giấm dừa/coconut vinegar is added to nước chấm/dipping sauce.
It would be those inbetween or repetitive moments in the kitchen - the simmering stew, herbs doused in water ready to be served, or chopping vegetables - that I fell more and more in admiration with ông nội.
Why? Ông nội would tell me stories of helping to orchestrate the kitchen during major celebrations like weddings, funerals, Tết/the Lunar New Year. That this orchestration - preparing feasts with family, friends, and community, like life, is like a dance - a balance of emotions, circumstances, and flavors. These stories, I have and continue to value so deeply as I orchestrate and dance in kitchens, farms, and markets fighting for food justice.
-Võ Hải
Hi all!
We came across this amazing Kickstarter campaign and wanted to share it here. An Rong Xu is raising funds so that he can hold a photography exhibit featuring his grandfather. You can watch the video below, and then click on the link to reach the project page!
From An Rong Xu’s website:
My grandpa was an active and crafty man who spent his time building small stools from leftover woodblocks, making Hmong knives and tools in his backyard, biking around the neighborhood, and watching nyuj sib nraus (bullfighting). He was a handsome and wealthy man in Laos, but in America, he spoke about loneliness and often longed for and reminisced about his life in the old land. My grandpa has taught me to appreciate the warmth of home and company of family, and…to not dye my hair brown because it would result in a scolding. Hahaha.
-Liang
My grandmother has taught me how to be a strong, independent and brave woman. She has gifted me with wisdom and stories that capture the journey of being a Lao woman who has traveled across the globe and found a way to cope and make the most of what was handed to her. She represents determination, tenacity, and the courage to always speak her truth, regardless of what others might think of her. In my opinion, she is one of the most honest and courageous women in the world. She is my guiding star and she means the world to me and to her family.
-Mali
Cross-posted from: http://www.diverseelders.org/
SEARAC provides technical assistance to a number of Burmese and Bhutanese community organizations in the US to build strong, local ethnic community-based organizations and faith-based organizations. For this blog post, we interviewed Chum Awi, a key leader and elder in the Chin community, an ethnic minority from Burma. Chum is based out of Lewisville, Texas and works with the Chin Community of Lewisville.
(Chum Awi and Chin families in Lewisville, Texas at a gathering to meet with SEARAC.)
Tell us a little bit about yourself. When did you come to the United States? And why did you need to leave your country?
My mother told me I was born after the Japanese rulers left Burma, so I am about 67 years old. I have a law degree from Rangoon University, did my theological training at the Burma Institute for Theology, and earned my Doctorate degree in the Philippines in 1987. I worked as President of Chin Theological College (1977-1985), and was also the General Secretary of the Zomi-Chin Baptist Convention (1992-1996), the largest institution of the Chin living in the Chin State.
The Burmese government, the State Peace and Development Council, wanted me and my organization to help negotiate a ‘peace talk’ between the Chin National Front and the government. We rejected this proposal, because we did not want to be used for political purposes. This caused a lot of friction between us and the government. I realized that going against the government in that way was not safe for me, so I came here in 1996. Once I arrived in the United States, I worked with others to provide testimony with different politicians, including the Texas House of Representatives. Starting from 1997, Country report released by State Department of the USA was a basic element for Chins to become refugees.
What is one thing that Americans should know about the Chin people?
The Chin people are an ethnic minority in Burma, who mostly live in the Chin State in the Northwest of Burma, the remote and mountainous region along the border with India and Bangladesh. Almost 90% of the Chin people are Christians. The Chins are the poorest group in all of Burmese society and economically underdeveloped. Much of this is recent; the current education system suppresses Chin identity and dialect. The government has a policy of “One Race, One Language, One Religion.” The government favors Buddhists while Christians are discriminated against.
As refugee/asylee, what did you find hard to adjust to in America?
Generally, the language and culture, the ways of eating and living all took getting used to. For instance, I was a chaplain resident at Baptist Hospital in San Antonio (1996-97) and the Methodist Hospital in Houston (1997-98), the language was a huge barrier. Moreover, the standard of living is so high in the USA and for a person coming from undeveloped country, it was not easy to be acclimated soon. Most of all, the USA is a business-making country where you need capital money. If we do not have a business, we have to work like slaves under the control of “bosses”, but no chance of having enough money to run even small business.
What are some issues facing Chin elders in the community today?
The Chin elders are in a big cultural shock. It is difficult for them to adapt to the new life, to learn the language – even for daily living. Many elders can’t work; it is hard for elders to find jobs, and many need skills training. The Chin elders are lonely and isolated – there are no close relatives nearby, and there is no transportation for them. In Texas, you have to drive everywhere.
Where do you see the future of the Chin community?
It will be important for us to learn about the American system, and learn how to navigate the American system. It is so different from the Burmese culture, we are needing to learn about economic system, legal system, education system, daily life system, and organization system. Unless we start to do something for younger generations, it will be too late for the well-being of Chin people in general.
SEARAC recently completed a needs assessment of the Burmese and Bhutanese communities. To learn more about SEARAC’s work with the Burmese and Bhutanese communities and our Training and Technical Assistance portfolio, please view our website here.
Ivy Ngo is a Policy Advocate for the Southeast Asia Resource Action Center (SEARAC). The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of the Diverse Elders Coalition.
My Ba Ngoai has lived in the same house for over six decades in Hai Phong, Vietnam. What I remember most from our 5am morning tea sessions is my grandmother lamenting on how much she’s suffered throughout her entire life - from losing her mother at the age of 9 and her father at the age of 11 to giving her life savings so that her youngest child, my mother, could flee to the U.S. I’ve held my Ba Ngoai close through stories I’ve heard from my mother and family members in Vietnam. I know very little her yet I feel deeply connected to her. It’s the kind of kinship that transcends language and distance. One of my worst fears is happening at this very moment - her memory is deteriorating rapidly and her fragile 50lb frame may not hold her spirit much longer. The last time I saw my grandmother was in 2010 on a life changing trip. On my last day with her, she held me for the first time in my life and wept. I knew it was her final goodbye to me. As I held her, I could feel an entire history of resilience and fight on her shoulder blades. She’s lived through two wars, famine, poverty, and countless tragedies that make it hard for her re-tell her experiences. Each time I’ve asked her to share her story she’s begged me to not make her re-live those memories. It took me some time this weekend to find a blessing in disguise - maybe now as her memory is fading she won’t have to hold on to so much of her pain. What I wish for more than anything is to be held by my Ba Ngoai again.
-Diana
My grandma taught me how to be fierce. Her parents died when she was pretty young and she had to take care of her younger siblings. Then, her husband (my grandpa) died during the wars in Southeast Asia and she had to take care of 4 young children on her own. When she came to the states, she started working in sweatshops where she screen printed shirts all day and then came home to do piecemeal garment work at night. In this photo, she’s telling me that if she was born in the U.S. like me, she wouldn’t have gotten married or had kids . . she would have been wandering around trying to find something bigger too. My grandma taught me how to be fierce but she also taught me how to care about not just myself but others too. I only hope that I could take care of her half as well as she took care of everyone else in her life. — Monica Thammarath
Thank you to everyone who submitted beautiful, moving, and inspiring photos of the elders and grandparents in your lives. Reading the stories and posting the pictures was an absolute pleasure and highlight of our day. All the stories and photos can be viewed together at Grandparent Wisdom project.
Part of the project was a contest: the photo with the most Facebook “likes” wins a SEARAC t-shirt, valued at $30. Congratulations to Monica Thammarath for her winning submission!
In the coming months, aging issues will become an even more important part of the presidential elections. We have already heard of the proposals to reform Medicare and Social Security. We need to ensure that programs critical to elders’ health and well-being are strengthened, not cut, and that the voices of our elders are uplifted and heard.
Even though Grandparents’ Day is now behind us, we will keep our Grandparent Wisdom tumblr page up as a constant reminder of how important it is to champion the cause of our elders. We hope that you will continue to submit pictures and stories to add to our growing collection and to help SEARAC strengthen our advocacy messages. Thank you!
For more information on our Aging program and policy priorities, please contact ivy@searac.org.
-Cat
In the fall of 2010 I set up a makeshift portrait studio in my grandmother’s garage in Stockton, California. My grandmother, then in her late 70s, sat in stone silence for a portrait after having, for the first time in her life, recounted to me in heartbreaking detail my family’s experience during the Killing Fields in Cambodia. During the portrait session I was overcome with an overwhelming sense of history, of connecting to a past that has largely defined the lives of my immediate family. Every movement I made—the adjustment of the lights, the loading of the film, the metering of her face—was endowed with an incredible sense of gravity.
-Pete
