Lao Vision Magazine - Summer 2003

My parents were not rich, educated, or a high profile political figure, but they understood the value of a good education. Mom never attended school, she could not read or write, but she could count money as fast as any college graduate. Dad probably finished third grade during the Thai invasion era. They both worked hard, particularly Mom who farmed and sold vegetables to supplement Dad's humble income. Poverty never came to my mind even though we rarely had enough to eat or proper clothes to wear. I was happy and felt lucky, because many of the neighborhood girls did not have the chance to go to school, especially private school.

Life has not been easy for me. Nonetheless, through all my hardships, obstacles and tears, I became a stronger person; appreciate life more, and best of all I am able to support the rest of my family

that remain in the homeland. Many of my American friends often ask me if I ate dogs or cats. I respond, "No, not dogs nor cats but we did eat rats, snakes, spiders, all kinds of bugs, worms and lizards, but for now I would rather have seafood or steak on my plate. When people ask me "how much do you know about the Vietnam War?" I reply, "I lived through it and survived, but not everyone was as lucky. Many people I knew died, including my own Mother."

By the time I finished elementary school, I was looking forward to studying in general education and later abroad. My first exam was a disaster, even though I was one of the top students in my class, I somehow managed to fail. June is a rainy month in Laos, and it rained so much that morning; the roads were wet, muddy and full of potholes. Dad had dropped me off at school. As the school administrators called roll to enter the exam room, I suddenly realized I had forgotten my entry ticket. It would take me hours to return home for it! A good friend had loaned me her bicycle and I peddled in the rain and mud, and was drenched from the rain and my own tears. I asked myself, "How could I be so stupid?" Thoughts of an old saying flashed through my mind, "You grow rice for the whole year, then burn down your own rice shack?" Weeks before the exam, I had over heard Dad contemplate with Mom whether he should bribe to the school officials just in case I failed. Bribing was a common practice. Nonetheless, I was furious for I knew could have easily passed. I had full confidence in myself, why did my parents doubt me? I was sure Dad didn't pay the bribe, and I would fail due to my own mistake. Upset and disappointed, I took an alternate plan by skipping the exam and went to a local elite Catholic school. Remember, we were not rich, but my parents put every effort to make sure they afforded me a good education. I worked hard to make them proud and remained top of my class.

In a few years, our country experienced the darkest era in Lao history. Government workers were sent to re-education camps (prison camps) in the remote northern part of Laos. Some had escaped the persecution and the frustration by fleeing to Thailand, but many were killed or jailed. Our family was also affected; my husband was chased out of his office and ordered to leave town within 24 hours by his brainwashed employees. As each day passed, more of my students were missing, and I had no idea of their whereabouts. I was sad to see my students working hard in the rice field or woods all day under the hot sun instead of learning in the classroom. I also did not blame those who sought freedom and liberty, as I did the same in 1979; it was then that I found many of my missing students in the refugee camp in Nongkhai, Thailand and some I found later in the United States. Life in the refugee camp was difficult. Our future was not clear but we were thankful everyday for being alive and having each other. Besides working to bring food for the family, I took time to take sewing classes in hopes of finding work in the US. That skill would provided a steady income later.

At last, in December of 1980, in the midst of the cold winter and the white fluffy snow, we arrived to our new home, the land of the free. For the next 6 years, we tried to make our life better: from packing cookies to meat cutting, walking, biking, and commuting via public transport to work, my husband and I had managed to take our family out of the welfare system in 3 months. Even though we didn't have much, we were so proud of ourselves. We celebrated when we purchased a new television set and again with a new car. We were so proud of the fruits of our labor, but remembered that there is always room for growth. We moved to North Carolina at the end of 1986, seeking a better life and there we found our niche. The weather is warmer in the south; we had more friends from home and fell in love with the town.

My husband and I were working a lot, and our daughter was growing up in a better environment. I remembered her telling me that she was glad we moved away from the public housing community in Illinois, because the urban neighborhood was a bad influence, and she had nearly engaged in fights everyday. Despite discouragement from unbelieving friends and my full schedule, I found time to attend beauty school and graduated with honors, earning respect from the school officials, fellow students, and clients. By then, our life was supposed to be better, but somehow life continues to test our strength and endurance. In the winter of February 1996, our home burned down and we lost everything we had worked for. As the saying goes, when one door closes, another one opens and again, we survived the loss.

Life continues to bring me a lot of challenges and prejudice. Nonetheless, I am able to rise above the challenge and small minded. I believe my strong academic upbringing, honesty, sincerity, and hard work are the key elements to my success. I now own my own beauty shop and "THE REWARD" I receive today is worth more than what money can buy. "I AM WHO I AM," a strong and independent Lao woman!