I met Ms. M only once. The check I’d sent for our two-day stay in her vacation rental on San Juan Island had been lost in the mail. I said I could pay by credit card or PayPal. But she told me not to worry; I could pay when we arrived.
The day of our arrival, we found the house open but she wasn’t there. So we unloaded our suitcases, drove into Friday Harbor, and looked for the Golden Triangle, the Thai restaurant she and her sister owned. Ms. M was in the back cooking. She came out to accept my check, and we spoke briefly. Then she went back to cooking, and we sat down and ordered.
Everything was delicious. It was clear that Ms. M was a good cook and a hard worker. But what was the rest of her story?
If her house had been ordinary, I wouldn’t have wondered, but it was anything but ordinary. Besides being clean, spacious, and well cared for, the Blue House was decorated like my idea of a Thai or Laotian palace. Every wall, table, and windowsill was adorned with something beautiful and exotic.
Even the up-to-date kitchen with its six-burner stove top and granite island was the recipient of Ms. M’s artistic touch.
The house had a prayer room …
An exercise room …
And a comfortable back patio with flowers growing all around.
How did she find time, I wondered, to take such good care of a large house and still run a restaurant? And what was the rest of her story?
By chance, I mentioned my novel Tiger Tail Soup later when I emailed to say I’d left a 5-star review of our stay on her website. That’s when she gave me a very brief summary of her story.
She suffered through the civil war in Laos, and in 1975, when she was twenty-three years old, she and her six brothers and sisters escaped to Thailand. They spent the next two years in a refugee camp. All she had to say about that experience was that it was bad.
She wanted me to send her a copy of Tiger Tail Soup because she collects books about Asia and about people who have suffered through war.
If you’re old enough to remember the Vietnam War, you may remember that Saigon fell in 1975, the year Ms. M escaped from Laos. You may also remember how closely related the wars in Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia were. The Laotian Civil War began in 1953 (when Ms. M was one year old) with an invasion by the North Vietnamese. That year the French handed over some powers to the Royal Lao Government, ignoring the anti-colonial armed nationalist movement, the Lao Issara.
There’s too much to say about the various factions in the war, the involvement of the Cold War superpowers, the CIA’s Secret War, the Ho Chi Minh Trail, and the plight of the Hmong for me to summarize it all here. If you’re interested, these articles and video will provide some background: Laotian Civil War, Laos Profile – Timeline, and The Secret War in Laos, a video.
These past few weeks, with migrants and refugees from wars in the Middle East sacrificing everything to reach safety and also with candidates for president in the United States talking about building higher walls to keep immigrants out, I hope you’ll enjoy Ms. M’s story and remember the courage, suffering, and contributions of immigrants and refugees.
If you haven’t read Tiger Tail Soup yet, it’s available from Amazon, Barnes and Nobel, Apple or your favorite bookstore.
When we take the time to look, every one has a story to tell. Thank you for sharing Ms. M’s story.
You’re right, Timi, about everyone having a story. I wish I were better about seeing them. I don’t want to be nosy. On the other hand, people like to share their stories.
Really enjoyed this post Nicki and the sentiment behind it. What a coincidence that we both feature strong women from an immigrant background in the same week. You’re right though, the subject is on everyone’s mind these days. I can’t imagine the hardship these families are going through, not being able to care for their children properly and facing terrible risks at every turn.
Thank you, Clare. It is a coincidence. With the Syrian refugee crisis on everyone’s minds, it’s good to hear from women who have had their lives turned upside down and were able to build new lives for themselves and their families.
One hears from some of the Syrian refugees that they hope to go back home as soon as the war is over. It’s too bad that there seems to be no end in sight.
I recently came across this quote which I posted on my Foreign Sanctuary facebook page ‘I’ve never met a strong person with an easy past.’
I think this quote summarizes Ms. M and her story.
I am always interested in people’s story and sometimes it seems people are very interested in mine. I used to feel uncomfortable sharing my story, but now, I am proud of it. We all walk different paths in life, but I think how we got to a certain point is just as important as where we are. [I hope that makes sense.]
That does make sense, Constance. I also tend to feel uncomfortable telling my story. We’ve all been around people who talk too much about themselves. Maybe they’re self-centered and don’t care to hear about others or perhaps they lack storytelling skills. The other extreme is being secretive and refusing to tell one’s own history. It’s a balancing act.
Showing interest in people’s stories without being snoopy is another balancing act. I guess we all have to guess what’s the right balance for us.
Wonderful house, and what an inspiring story…lovely post Nicki…thank you…
Thanks for stopping by, Valerie. I guess we’re all thinking about immigrants and refugees these days. As you said in your September 6th post, the world is our village.
I just ordered the Kindle version of Tiger Tail Soup. I have a few other books I need to get through first, but am looking forward to reading it.
I’m happy you ordered a copy of Tiger Tail Soup, Christine. I’m looking forward to hearing what you think of it.
What a beautiful space for a vacation. Thanks for a peek at her story.
It was an unusual house, but I really enjoyed all the special touches. They showed the owner’s appreciation of beauty and her love for the land she left behind.
What a fascinating story, and the pictures made it even more interesting. What a great reminder for us to honor people who have survived a refugee situation and created a new life in a new country. We need to do much more for these people… I am counting my blessings…
Creating a new life in a new country must be extremely challenging for a refugee. You said it just right, Cheri: We need to do more for refugees while counting our blessings.
Thanks for sharing Mrs. M’s incredible story, Nicki. Her prayers room is amazing.
I love the finishing touches in Mrs M’s house. It’s exquisite, a home from home.
The world does not owe us a living. You can only do your best.
Unfortunately, I do remember the Vietnam war. I’m glad you stopped by my blog, and I’m glad you enjoyed my post. Hope you’ll stop by often, doors always open at Jean’s Writing.
Your vacation rental looks lovely. Ms. M is obviously a hard working, intelligent lady who has achieved great success in spite of terrible hardships.
That’s the way I see it, Carol. I’m in awe of people who start their own businesses. From reading the reviews on her site, one could see that I wasn’t the only one who appreciated her pleasant, generous manner.
Love the Blue House photos Nicki. Interesting post – BTW – I do get regular reminders of you blog.
Sometimes a simple, clean hotel or vacation rental is all you want. But this was fun for a change.
Good. I’m glad my WordPress signup is working.
Oh, wow. If we ever go to San Juan Island, I want to stay in that house. A prayer room and an exercise room! Which one to do yoga in? (Neither. On the beautiful patio!)
I am glad you got some of the story. I hate to be nosy, and yet I love hearing everyone’s stories. I think I err on the side of nosy!
Besides the dumbbells, they had a yoga mat and exercise music in the exercise room. My little grandson and my two-year-old grandnephew raced around the room and wrestled and rolled on the floor. I didn’t do yoga. I got my exercise tromping around the surrounding field before we left for our daily hikes.
When she was a child, my sister used to look through people’s drawers and closets while I played the good big sister. Now I wish I was nosier. It’s a good trait in a writer.
My grandparents emigrated (as did all non-native Americans) so I can’t help but wonder why people don’t open their hearts to refugees. I have known many. Locally we had an influx of Hungarians during the 1950s fleeing for their lives. They assimilated and are great people. None of us really own the land.
My paternal grandparents were immigrants from Scotland and Ireland. They were lucky they already knew English. Still, it was far from an easy adjustment for them.
If we believe the land-bridge-from-Asia theory, even the native Americans were long-ago immigrants. I like your comment: None of us really own the land.
Thank you for sharing Mrs. M’s story. Perhaps she’s trying to make her environment beautiful after seeing so much ugliness due to war.
I live in an area where many refugees have found sanctuary. I’m sure their stories are equally compelling.
I don’t know the statistics for the Seattle area, but after the Vietnam War there were many Vietnamese and Hmong refugees here.
Here’s an interesting fact about Tukwila, a city south of Seattle: …In Tukwila, 62 percent of the population is minority and more than 49 percent speak a language other than English at home, according to the 2010 census.
The largest refugee group admitted to the United States in recent years was from Africa. Since 1983, the largest number were from the former USSR. Areas with the largest refugees resettled since 1983: CA and NY. Next come WA, TX, IL, MN, MD, Fl, and MA. Here’s where I got the info.