A Journey To Hope
Story by: Chuckua Yang
1978-1980
In a cold windy day at the outskirts of the jungles of Mount Phu Bia — the highest Mountain in Laos at nearly 10,000 feet — where the Hmong people took refuge since the Communists took over Laos. My siblings, five brothers, three sisters were at a small village called Thongcan, Meuangaum Kaan on February 10, 1978, where the journey started. Along with us were those who escaped and aimed for the west to Thailand for the unknown. Words held promise that many Hmong people have reached Thailand with their lives.
I took full responsibility for my siblings after our parents were killed in the past year. I was 18 at the time with my younger sister Bla, 16, and brother Zongchang, 14. We the older carried our belongings, looked for any possible food — such as young bamboo, wild banana, roots and leaves — for the family along the way. I remember my family almost got killed by some inedible poisonous roots.
The two youngest, twin 12-year-old sisters Ya & Chou, carried each on their backs the two youngest brothers, Lue, 3, and Chao, 1 1/2. We followed a group of about 350 people. Our group was targeted by the Pathetlao Armies (LPDR) by ambush, trial bombs. More people died from starving, disease, illness and drowning in the Mekong River. When we crossed the Mekong to the Thailand shore, we were ambushed once again by the Thailanders, who took money, silver, gold, and all of our valuable belongings. Some people were beat to death due after refusing to surrender.
The night of April 19, 1978, we crossed the Mekong River. That was the last time I saw it. At the morning, when the sun was rose along the Thailand shore, we were found by the Thai army and police officers. We were on our way to the
refugee camp of Nongkhai, Thailand, which housed about 20,000 Hmong who recently escaped from the jungles of Laos. We were there until August 1979, when the Thai government closed the camp, and the refugees were transferred to Ban Vinai Refugee Camp of Pakchon, Loei, Thailand.
In the camp, we were kept safe by the surrounding barbed wire fence with only a two way gate guarded by police officers. No one was allowed to exit the camp unless they had medical emergency that required more assistance or to depart from the third world only with a validate permission or passport visa.
People could not have survived without the help from the United Nations, United States, Canada, France, and other counties’ support. They could not live the life they wanted, whether it was farming, working, or running a business to support themselves and their own family. As some of the elderly have said, “We’re not much different from chickens in the coops which waiting for the owner to come out and feed their chickens and find some were sick and some were dead.”
But, the best of all, I met my wife Poyee there — we were united. She was the best mother at all times for my siblings. She took good care of them and the family even though we were far below poverty and hungry. Finally I was so grateful that my beautiful happy family of nine included our first blessed new born son on November 8, 1980, in Ban Vinai Refugee Camp of Thailand.
