ABSTRACT
Shou Cha remembers. He sees the young boy, walking quietly through the jungle, hunting squirrels and monkeys with a crossbow. He sees the red, the yellow, the purple flowers blooming on the mountain walls of Laos. He listens: Far off are the sounds of war, a land mine exploding, killing a brother, American bombs dropping along the Ho Chi Minh Trail, then a silence. He sees quiet figures of refugees moving through the shadows of night, heading for the Mekong River and an unknown future. He remembers the faces of Hmong warriors, America’s “secret army” in Laos, now unwilling captives inside Thai refugee camps. He hears the sound of the shaman’s prayer, now challenged by the preaching of the missionaries, and the strange sounds of a new language he must learn: “Good morning. Please take a seat.” He remembers getting on the “bus to America,” and the “plane to America,” and eventually, getting to America. He sees the young father working three jobs, trying desperately to keep a growing family and extended relatives together in a new land. He sees the father holding a baby and watching six other children while the mother works at a factory. He sees himself and his wife, tired from their various jobs, yet encouraging their children to learn English, to study hard, and to never forget the important traditions of their family, clan and people.
