In 1964 Ia Moua is born in Laos. Her entire life her country has been at war with Vietnam but it didn't directly affect her much as her family lived higher in the mountains where they grew "dry" rice in their small village. When Ia is 13 she finds out that her parents have promised her in marriage to a much older man. Unhappy about this, she decides to marry on her own secretly to Chou Lor a local villager who is 16. This is not a marriage for love but the only way Ia can have any say in her own future. Not long after they are married the conflict comes closer and they are forced to leave their village and attempt to flee to Thailand. Ia tries to get her parents and younger brother to come with them but they are separated - Ia will never see her father again and it will be 20+ years before she sees her mother again. Ia gives birth to 8 children over 15 years in a Thai refugee camp before the family is able to move to the US. Here they have more opportunity but also encounter enormous challenges including racism, language and cultural barriers, poverty, and separation from extended family. With no English and limited skills, Ia finds land and starts cultivating rice - the rice she grew up eating and this becomes what bridges Laos and America for her and the displaced Hmong community living in the US.
I thought this would be a cool story of this immigrant woman who makes it to the US against crazy odds and finds success growing rice that connects her to her Laotian history. But, Ia's story while remarkable is extremely sad and depressing. Her husband was a dick and cheated on her throughout their marriage. Her family back in Laos saw her as "rich" because she was living in the US and constantly asked her for money. When they would go back to Laos and provide a huge feast Ia and the other women would still eat last because women are at the bottom culturally in Laos. Damn if I would come back and feed all these people and still be last to eat! Her younger brother was also a dick who expected her to fund his whole life while he laid around barely doing anything. Her farming in the US was also frustrating because she used SO MANY chemicals because the area was not really suited for farming at all - especially rice. She often would source illegal chemicals because they "worked better." I wouldn't be surprised if the health issues she and her husband both suffered from were 50% from the trauma they endured before coming to the US and 50% the chemicals they were exposing themselves to in their farming.
I think this book does a great job of highlighting just how hard being an immigrant is. Ia and Chou Lor escaped a war zone, lived for 15 years in a refugee camp (they had to wait for his father to die because he didn't want to come to the US where men weren't at the top of the social/cultural hierarchy), and very much struggled to acclimate to living in the US. Ia lives in two worlds - she still believed the Laotian customs and continued to live by those cultural standards in many ways but she was also almost single-handedly pulling her huge family out of poverty in the US by finding ways for all of them to work together and make it. Overall, I do think she is an interesting and inspirational person but this was not a fun read by any stretch.
Some quotes I liked:
"There was a postal service of sorts, but neither Ia nor her mother knew how to read or write. Now, with the purchase of these recorders, there would be a delicate magnetic tape like an umbilical cord pulsing across the Mekong...Her mother was too poor to buy new cassettes; each time, she would record over her daughter's message and send the tape back that way. But Ia bought a new one every time, so that she could keep the recordings her mother had sent. On days when Ia missed her the most, she would play back an old cassette." (p. 94-95)
"In fact, they had received their initial clearance for resettlement as soon as they arrived at Ban Vinai [the Thai refugee camp], in 1979. Because Ia's father-in-law refused to go - and no one dared defy him - they gave their registration materials to a relative...For older men, not the least important of these elements was the accepted hierarchy that placed them at the top of an immovable pyramid...without translatable skills, these men who had always been self-sufficient farmers became financially dependent on government handouts. How without English, they became socially dependent on their grandchildren to communicate with the larger world. Should those men sign the resettlement papers and board a plane, what remained of the traditional power structure would crumble, and they would be lost in the rubble." (p. 105-106)
"After roughly a year [of adult school for refugees], he was deemed work-ready and placed at a McDonald's. He washed dishes, cleaned the deep fryer, scrubbed the bathrooms, and mopped the floors. For the first three months, the state paid his wages. After that, the paychecks stopped, even as Chou Lor continued working five days a week and was transferred to a new location across town. He didn't understand the system well enough to know this was not right, much less to protest or ask for his back pay. Instead, assuming that working for free was the requirement so that his family of eleven could continue to receive public assistance, he just kept showing up. This went on for a year, until one day the manager called him into the office. No one had taught Chou Lor how to use the time clock, and since there was no record of his having punched in and out for his shifts, the manager accused him of having skipped work. He was fired." (p. 115) [Even though Chou Lor was a dick this makes me hate McDonald's even more - he worked for free for a year and you think they didn't know?!]
"The rice was a medium for memory, a spiritual bridge on which her heart could walk across all that longing and return to when she was with them both in person. It happened when the first green shoots poked through the soil, then when the leaves grew thick and the wind rushed through them. When the plants miraculously flowered and then fill out the stomach of each little grain, the past that felt so far away came surging back...At the farm, she could touch them again - almost. And there was the bittersweetness: the rice brought her closer to them, while at the same time clarifying just how far away each of them really was." (p. 130)