“Why you don’t have baby?” the 10-year-old asked with a sidelong look, surprised that after more than six years of marriage we have no children.
“I do have babies. Just because they’re hairy and a little retarded doesn’t mean I don’t love them.”
Long pause. “We have a dog and a cat.” Silence. Deadpan is dead here, I thought.
The little girl, smart as a tack, a bright little bulb, redoubled her efforts.
“You don’t have babies, who take care of you when you’re old?”
“Hmm.”
“You don’t have baby, who respect you when you’re old?”
“Hmmm. Probably no one. Just like now.”
“You know what I think I think maybe you trouble.”
“I think maybe you right.”
“You selfish.”
“Now I know you’re right.”
Thus ended the exchange. The girl, about 3 feet from the ground foot to head and dressed smartly in the traditional black Hmong tunic with red, white and green beadwork, gave up trying to sell me a bracelet or mouth harp or indigo-stained pillowcase and edged away.
Our guide in Sapa, Ma Yai, had somewhat less traditional views. She is a 19-year-old Hmong with a very modern outlook on sexual politics. “I have boyfriends,” she said, emphasis on the plural. “But I don’t let them marry me. I don’t want to get married. Then I won’t be able to do what I want to do.”
What she wants to do is continue her thriving business as a guide, at which she makes a few hundred dollars a week, a very comfortable living. That keeps her from having to sell trinkets to tourists. But it doesn’t stop her from flirting all day on her cell phone with boy admirers.
But she refuses, rightly, to settle down. Not just yet.
From north to south, from rural villages to urban centers, Vietnam is on the cusp, economically and politically, of becoming a dominant regional power. By some measures it’s already there. With that change naturally comes a reassessment, a readjustment, of social mores.
It was fascinating to see this stage of Vietnam’s development: the brimming modern city of Hanoi, the sweeping mix of culture and history and rapid change – and then run to the hills, where economic and social change has been much slower in coming – but where it has incontrovertibly taken hold.
We hopped an overnight train north out of the capital city, leaving the honking horns behind, and woke up on the Chinese border. Piling into a bus, we climbed the twisting roads for an hour-and-a-half deep into the territory of Vietnam’s indigenous peoples, among them the Hmong and Zay, toward Sapa which in the last ten years has become a tourist destination almost beyond its capacity.
Sapa is an idyllic little town nestled on a steep hillside in the Hoang Lien Mountains facing Fansipan, Vietnam’s tallest peak at 3,143 meters. This time of year the peak, and the town, are often shrouded in mist day and night. As it was during our three-day visit. Strange to say but Sapa felt to me like a ski resort town, somewhere in Summit County maybe in the off-season.
We met up with Ma Yai, from a neighboring village, and explored the area on two daylong treks. We marched down mountainsides into long green valleys of terraced rice paddies, hopped stones past wading water buffalo and children. We crossed rickety bamboo bridges on the backs of xe oms. We were deluged by merchants selling indigo-stained pillowcases and wall hangings until their signature phrase – “You buy from me:” sort of a cross between the interrogative and the declarative – lodged firmly and permanently in our brains.
We traversed a quilt of multitiered terraces interspersed with tin-roofed barns and red-roofed schoolhouses; rivers laced with bamboo thick around as cannon and waxy-leafed green-tea trees; sinuous trails dusty in the dry season; villages in the shadow of looming water towers. We peeked in the windows of bamboo houses on stilts with
satellite dishes poking out of their thatched roofs.
We spoke with women hauling textiles to market; women hauling water home; women carrying great baskets of sugarcane, children toddling after them, nibbling on the fibrous stalk. Their fingers were permanently stained green and blue from indigo.
The men didn’t speak to us at all.
The government gives these people nothing, unless it’s grief. And taxes. They have nothing besides tourism, and rice. But tourism is booming. Tourism, the Dao Tuyen, the Flower Hmong, the Nung, Red Hmong, Tay, Thai, Tu Dithe White Hmong and Zay, think and hope is the answer to the poverty they’ve seemingly always known.
Ma Yai thinks so. She’s happy: she has a neverending supply of out-of-shape turistos to drag up and down the aptly named Tourist Mountain. And to tease mercilessly in a sweet beguiling way.
Like when she informed me that if I did two things I could find a Hmong wife: never mind that I already have a non-Hmong wife, and a pretty good one: shave my chin (few Hmong have beards), and substitute rice wine for beer.
“Beer make you fat. Rice wine make you skinny but crazy,” she said. “Americans like beer too much I think.”
“Americans are also very sensitive about their weight I think.”
“Too sensitive I think.” Big smile.
Big smiles all around.
March 31, 2007 at 6:21 am
So, as I wait and wait for Lisa to blog more (don’t get me wrong Marc, your writing is terrific, and illuminating, keep it coming) I think, maybe she’s just out getting hammered while Marc writes every night. Which would be entirely acceptable. Makes me still want to hear those drinking stories, though.
So Lisa, what gives? Get your ass in front of a computer and tell us what who cooked tonight’s dinner and what it was like, who was the most interesting person you met today, what were the experiences that made you happy this week, and those that made you sad?
On a personal note, I also want to know anytime you encounter a drinking establishment that sells Guinness, as that will be important intel as I plan my first trip to Asia.
Much love, Kevin
June 9, 2008 at 10:03 pm
Love your site of the black hmong… I am of the green dialect…
July 23, 2008 at 1:59 am
Came across your post when searching for “Hmong” in search engine. Glad you posted this. I am Hmong myself, but I live in the USA and thus don’t have very much info on my own people beside the fact that i feel and love them much. It’s good to see Hmong advancing but still keep its culture. As you know, Hmong doesn’t exist on the continental map, I do hope one day it will emerge from the sea, til then i will wait, happily.
-Yee
July 23, 2008 at 2:51 pm
I got to this from Yee Yaj from above. I’m glad that he sent this link to our Hmong Student Union email address’ server at UC Davis California, USA. I am White Hmong (Hmoob Dawb).
-BarBie
December 7, 2008 at 6:16 pm
Maybe you don’t know but maybe shes a player. Hmong girls from there have been playing men from the US from what I’ve known and heard. Thats why when she say she has a lot of boyfriends, thats the truth. A lot of girl make a living from having Hmong American Boyfriends just to get money and they really do, thousands. Theres so many hmong couples devorcing in the USA because of the hmong girls in thailand or lao. A man would leave a family of 10 for a girl over in thailand and lao. The truth, here in the USA, married hmong mens, on a cell phone means they are cheating. It gets to the point where they don’t care who knows any more because more and more hmong mens are doing the same. Some even have two wifes. One in Lao or thailand and one in the USA.
March 24, 2009 at 2:46 pm
wow… this is very interesting. I was just searching on the net for “hmong” and this site came up… COOL this is great, thanks for sharing this info. You guys/gurls are great.
oh by the way.. that guy Kevin command was hilarious lolz…
i am hmong too (white hmong), and my name DejNag mean RainWater 🙂
bai for now, will come back and check this site again soon…
April 22, 2009 at 6:35 am
I read your blog for quite a long time and should tell that your articles always prove to be of a high value and quality for readers.
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