A Journey To Hope
Story: by Chuckua Yang
1960-1975
I was born Koua Neng Yang on June 12, 1960 to my parents Mr. Soua Yee Yang and Mrs. Va Vang in a small village called Namchao, Mouang Khamker in the province of Khammouag in the Southern part of Laos. It was just a little over a decade after the WWII and about the time the Vietnam War started in Indochina. I had twelve siblings, six sisters and seven brothers, including me, but we lost two sisters and a brother to the War.
Now we six brothers and four sisters, all live in the United States of America and each have our own family. A younger sister and her family of nine live in St. Paul, Minnesota; the youngest sister and her family of eight live in Santa Ana. One younger brother and his family of six live in Atlanta, Georgia,; two youngest brothers and their family of four each live in Sacramento. The oldest sister Vang and In-law Nouchang Vang’s family of fifteen, the younger brother Zongchang’s family of eight, a youngest (a twin) sister and her family of eight, and another younger brother Joey and Tracy family of eight also live in Oroville. Most of my siblings were born along the Journey place to place from 1960-1976.
My parents were killed in a matter of months by poison while they went to gather foods for the family in a farm. The chemical called Yellow Rain, which was dropped by airplane from the Lao People’s Democratic Republic (LPDR) government who were trying to get rid of all the Hmong people who were hiding out in the jungles for fear of torture, imprisonment or death when captured. Most of the family members were soldiers of General Vang Pao who’ve served under the U.S. Secret War (the CIA operation) to protected their homelands, downed American Pilots and most of all to block the Ho Chi Min Trail.
Since I can remember my family had no real place to live (no permanent home). We’ve lived in makeshifts cover with the banana and palm leafs to hide out. We did not stay long at any place, as the elderly have said, “We have not lived in that banana tent till it leaves wither and dry out.”
I don’t recall much about farming during those years. Our main foods was rice from the sky. Any children who grew up during those times knew them only as foods from the sky. We depended on General Vang Pao and the CIA for food and supplies. During the journey my parents always taught us children how to get ready along with our belongings at all of the time because at any hours we could move again. Our journey to hope was to the north. Within that ten-year period we moved place to place routinely. Because of the War there were limits to the boundaries where we could live. Therefore you have to move on often onto the next safer place, sometimes by night, I remember we started to walk when there was a heavy gun battle. At the time, I could only carry a water pot and hang by a cousin whose parents were killed. He was part of the family. My father carried some rice on the back, a gun on his shoulder and a baby on his chest. My mother also carried some foods on her back and the other twin baby on her chest, because we were blessed with a twin sisters just born a couple days ago to our family.
We came out from the jungles to a road where service trucks can transport people to a safer place and an airport where we’ve flew in a C-120 US Air Force cargo plane to an urban town called Moungcha, Chiangkhouang province which belonged to the Soldier Regional Two.
In 1970, I could enroll to enter the first grade, and was the first ever to attend school. There, my family continue to received support with food, supplies, medical care and education for some time, my parents were able to enjoy their farming and the life they wished. People lived with the wonderful, safer and happier life – that was 1975 which “A Journey to Hope” was about to over due to the communist regime taking over Laos.
Again! Another journey started: Where do we go from here? Where is the journey to hope? Please look for the “A Journey to Hope” Part Two in the next April Article. Thanks.
