Let Us Meet Again

Written and Photographed by Washy Yang

There is no direct translation for goodbye in Hmong, but in place, we say sib ntsib dua, “meet again.” It is a phrase said to bid farewell to our guests, family, and friends

At a young age, my parents had to say goodbye to their homes after the communist forces overtook Laos After the Secret War, the Hmong people were targeted by the overthrown Lao Government for helping the US Army fight. To escape persecution, thousands of Hmong left their homes, crossed the Mekong River to the Thailand border, and settled in refugee camps

In these camps, many Hmong families and clans would live close to each other, for they were all they had left of home. Being together was all that mattered to them at that moment Although the camps were cramped, scarce in food, and unsanitary, they had their family. It was the place where my mother and father met and got married. The camps became the new homes for the Hmong people. Cultivating a new life together, the Hmong refugees stayed in those camps for more than twenty years.

When Thailand would no longer house the Hmong refugees, they were to either immigrate elsewhere or go back to Laos.

Sponsored by multiple organizations in Minnesota, many Hmong refugees (including my family) received the opportunity to start a new life in the US. Instead of returning to their homeland, my family decided to take a chance and go to America.

Leaving the camps was the choice a majority of the refugees made, but many had hope that Laos could still be their home. My father's sisters were a few of those who remained in the camps. Because of their marriages, they were to abide by their husbands' choice to return to Laos. Without my aunts, my parents and their families packed up and departed for America.

"Sib ntsib dua os,” my father must have said to them

Let us meet again.

As a gift for completing high school, my parents decided to take me to see Laos. I was scared to go. I didn't know the first thing about Laos. What fun was there in Laos? And for a month? I was afraid I would miss my home and that I wouldn't enjoy being there. Not wanting to disappoint them, I agreed and booked the flights.

It was my parents’ third trip back to their homeland, four years since they last saw each other. When it was time to meet up with my aunties, my parents were overjoyed. My aunties cried and embraced my parents, welcoming them back home. It was the happiest I’ve seen my parents.

Throughout my stay in Laos, I learned how captivating the country was. The trees towered over us, bright green and fresh from the monsoon rains. The mountains were high and rigid, perfect for climbing with a rewarding view. Stray dogs would roam and scavenge for food and shelter, while cattle were in barbed wire fences, feeding on freshly rained-on grass. We would go up so high into the mountains, it was as if we were in the clouds.

The majority of my relatives resided in the mountains, in wooden houses with straw roofs (metal if you were on the richer side). There were several different buildings for separate purposes – one for cooking, one for sleeping, one for bathing, and one for storage.

Children ran around freely, playing with each other in mismatched sandals that were either too big or too small for their feet. Their clothes had faded-out cartoon characters on them, and their hair was dark, smooth, and always neatly put away. To attract tourists, share their culture, and earn a little side cash for some candy, some Hmong children would dress up in traditional wear.

With no photos to see what my mother and father looked like, I could imagine the little faces of my parents as kids while watching the children play. Just two curious Hmong kids who would cheer at the sight of my candy and ask what America was like. It was like I had gone back in time.

Being in Laos felt no different from being at home. It was always humid, hot, and rainy – just like Oklahoma in the summer. But not just that. The food tasted the same, the people were so kind, and they were not as different from me as I thought The night I remember the most was bonding with my cousin's wife over a seafood buffet because my parents were taking us out. Our differences were far less than our similarities.

As much as I missed my home, I knew I would miss this place just as much. I met so many important people in my life in such a short time that it was difficult to say goodbye.

Before going home, my family received a blessing ceremony from my aunt. Relatives and locals were invited to come feast and give their blessings to me and my family. During the ceremony, my aunt tied a red string on my right wrist for protection from negative spirits and energy.

Then, friends, relatives, and guests lined up and tied white yarn strings onto my and my parents’ wrists for good luck and blessings.

“Congratulations on finishing school,” my aunt said as she tied a white string to my wrist.

“Travel back home safely, take your spirit with you, and don't leave it because it doesn’t belong here. Don’t miss us so much, but be sure to remember the memories you made here with us.”

Cias peb sib ntsib dua nawm mog.

Let us meet again, dear.