I think it's fair to say that the majority of Americans have no idea who the Hmong are. A very small ethnic group from the mountains of SE Asia, they have a fascinating culture that is not only very family-centric and spiritual, but also very superstitous. But you rarely hear or read about them, let alone get the opportunity to learn much about their history.
The majority of Hmong Americans live in the Midwest, and how their story grabbed the attention of Clint Eastwood to write/direct his 2009 film Gran Torino, is beyond me. While there have been grumblings that the portrayal of Hmongs in his film were inaccurate, I would venture to say it's likely we won't see first-time actor Bee Vang cast in another leading role in a very long time (or ever).
This discussion encouraged me to dust off a copy of THE SPLIT HORN, a documentary directed by Taggart Siegel which screened at the SDAFF nearly 10 years ago. Set in Appleton, WI, the film is narrated by a young Hmong girl (one of 13 children) whose immigrant father, Paja Thao, is one of the last known Hmong Shaman in America. The documentary spans an impressive 17 years of Paja's life in Laos and his forced journey to America.
From the moment the film begins, you enter into the intimate world of the Thao family. Watching scenes of this elderly man with what looks like a black napkin over his face, jumping up and down on a bench with bells on his fingers, it looks so foreign that you can hardly imagine this kind of tradition taking place in a town like Appleton. While in theory, the film is similar to most immigrant stories about the classic stuggle to maintain one's cultural heritage, THE SPLIT HORN, demonstrates how difficult this particular culture is to uphold.
From the 4-day long funerals, to the sacrificing of cows and pigs, and the two-hour shaman trances, even Paja's own children admit that it's much easier to assimilate and become Christian (and say a few prayers) than to hold a laborious ceremony to find missing spirits that may have caused someone's illness. Not to mention that one of Paja's teenage daughters were kidnapped by a complete stranger who traveled all the way from Fresno just to marry her. While in America, this would be considered a crime, the family sadly accepted her disappearance as the continuation of Hmong tradition.
While a good lesson in Hmong rituals, the film also has some tender moments that we all can relate to, and a few that caused me to tear up, including a final interview with a wayward son who says of Paja, "He is so dignified... I am proud to be his son."
I have to give much credit to filmmaker Taggert Siegel for his diligence in documenting this family, capturing so many difficult moments (one that includes the dressing of a dead uncle in traditional Hmong clothes to give him a good send off to his ancestors). I can't even imagine how much video over the 17 years Siegel must have acquired. However, the Thao family deserves just as much credit for their willingness to open their home to Siegel for so long. I don't think it's a stretch to assume most Asian American families would never allow this kind of exposure (particularly any negative exposure or drama about one's family). But it exemplifies the determination of Paja Thao's deep passion to pass on the tradition of shamanism that served as the driving force behind this film.
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