It was a choice Cheng Leng Her was compelled to make.
In spring 2003, Her and his wife and daughter left the Hmong refugee camp at Wat Tham Krabok so he could take on temporary work planting crops six hours away in western Thailand. He desperately needed money to help feed his extended family in the impoverished camp.
The choice now threatens to split him from his father, mother and eight siblings.
While he was away, the Thai military entered Wat Tham Krabok and registered the refugees who were there.
The list contains the names of people eligible for resettlement in the United States.
Her’s name is not on it. So, when his father, mother, sisters and brother move to Wausau in the coming months, he and his wife and daughter will be left behind.
“The only reason I was out (of the camp) was to make money for this family. That saddens me very much,” said Her, 29, who since has returned to Wat Tham Krabok.
It’s a situation that cuts into the heart of many Hmong refugee families caught off guard by the resettlement announcement. They live in fear they will forever be separated from loved ones who are part of a wave of 15,000 Hmong headed for America.
Those like Her who don’t qualify for resettlement face an uncertain future as illegal immigrants in Thailand. Wat Tham Krabok is due to be closed within a year, and no one knows what will happen to them. It depends on the Thai government, according to the U.S. State Department, and the Thais haven’t announced any policy regarding those left behind.
“The Thai military can toss me out anytime, any day. That’s my biggest fear. They can arrest me at any time,” Her said earlier this summer. “It’s a concern that leaves me restless, sleepless, and it’s something I have bad dreams about.”
NO GUARANTEES
As the oldest son of Wang Yee Her, Cheng Leng Her was a breadwinner not only for his wife and child, but also for his parents and siblings. Even though they receive financial support from relatives in the United States, Cheng Leng Her does whatever it takes to keep food on the table.
“My family is so large, if my son didn’t do that, we wouldn’t have enough to eat,” said Wang Yee Her, 46.
As soon as Cheng Leng Her learned that the registration process was taking place, he rushed back in a panic to Wat Tham Krabok, but it was too late.
At first, the family was told he would be included on the resettlement list. The good news prompted prayers of thanks.
But, Thai authorities later told them Cheng Leng Her and his wife and young daughter couldn’t be included.
Those off the list can try to reregister with the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, but they would have to prove they would face persecution if not allowed to come to the United States. Or they could come to America through a regular immigration process, under sponsorship of relatives who are U.S. citizens. That’s a process that could
take years.
Her tried to reregister, but to no avail.
“Why can’t the United Nations issue me (the registration)? I’m saddened by their decision,” he said.
It’s possible that once the registered people of Wat Tham Krabok are resettled, the State Department will work with the Thai government to open the doors to America for other groups of Hmong living in Thailand, such as those left off the Wat Tham Krabok list. But there are no guarantees.
The State Department says it won’t consider further resettlement until the Wat Tham Krabok program is finished, in part to prevent a never-ending stream of people coming into Thailand from communist-controlled Laos, expecting to come to the United States.
“Nobody really wants to take responsibility for them,” said Joe Davy, co-founder of the Hmong International Human Rights Watch. “It’s a really tough situation, and I think it will get worse and worse as Wat Tham Krabok empties.”
SIMILAR FEARS
The Her family’s situation is not unique. Although the precise number of refugees left off the resettlement list is not available, people at the camp lined up to tell reporters similar stories.
Nou Lee, the daughter of Vong Xeng Lor and his wife, Vang Lor, left Wat Tham Krabok in 2000 with her husband and children to rent land so they could raise food for their extended family. When the Lors leave for Oshkosh, Nou Lee won’t be able to join them.
“I feel hopeless,” Vong Xeng Lor said. “It’s wait-and-see, and hope we’ll be able to have (them) come and join us in the U.S.”
Xang Yang, 35, dearly hopes to move to the United States so he can join relatives in Appleton. He, too, left Wat Tham Krabok to rent land to raise food, and now is paying a steep price. He pulls out his refugee papers, proof that he should be able to move to America and have a chance at a brighter future. He can’t understand why a shift in geography puts him on the outside looking in.
“My fear is that once these people leave, the Thai government will ship us back to Laos,” Xang Yang said. “I feel so helpless right now.”
Blia Xiong, 27, and her husband, Hue Lor, 28, left Wat Tham Krabok two years ago with four of their five children to rent land and grow food. They said that if they had known there was a chance to go to America one day, they never would have left the camp.
But they’ve decided to let their 5-year-old son, who’d stayed at the camp with grandparents, move with them in California. The opportunity is too great.
Blia Xiong said her son called her crying that he didn’t want to go without his mother and father.
“He said he missed us and just wanted to be with us. But I told him I will bring him some candy if he goes with his grandparents,” Blia Xiong said. “He is only 5 and I know all he wants is his mother’s comfort and love. It tears my heart to be separated from him, but he must go to America because he will have a better life.”
Neng Xiong Lor wants to stay behind while his wife and all but one child go to the United States.
“I’m old. I can’t read, write or speak English. Why should I go?” said Lor, 72. “All my relatives in America are yelling at me for my decision to stay. But my heart just isn’t in it to go.”
The decision frustrates Lor’s youngest son, Koua Neng Lor, 28, who registered his father with his family for resettlement. Koua Neng Lor, who has four children, said if his father refuses to go, he’ll leave without him.
“We are so poor here. Even if it’s too late for us adults in America, at least it won’t be too late for my children,” he said.
Neng Xiong Lor said he does not fear staying behind. A son has decided to remain with him.
“I’d rather die close to the place I was born,” Neng Xiong Lor said.
JOY AND SORROW
Tears flowed down the cheeks of Cheng Leng Her’s mother, Mee Yang, 48, who sat just outside her home of bamboo and corrugated metal to talk about her fears.
Her voice rose and fell in a singsong fashion, a Hmong tendency when speaking about emotional issues.
Reuniting with family in America will be joyful, Mee Yang said, “but that happiness comes with a heavy weight that we will lose our son.”
Hmong families are close, and both Mee Yang and Wang Yee Her give the impression they would trade a limb to keep their son with them.
Because Cheng Leng Her and his wife work hard and have provided for the family, Mee Yang wonders how the family will make it America without them.
Wang Yee Her considered staying at Wat Tham Krabok — giving up the right to come to the United States — to keep his family intact. But his sponsor in the United States, cousin Chungsou Her, 45, of Wausau, persuaded him to come.
“I told him that we’ll try to get his son here when he gets here,” Chungsou Her said. “If he stays, he’s blocking (the future) of the (other) children, of all those children.”
Cheng Leng Her continues to work at Wat Tham Krabok, crafting traditional Hmong silver jewelry. His wife sews colorful Hmong story clothes, call paj ntaub (pronounced pan dow), and both sell their work through relatives in America.
He doesn’t know what will happen. He does know that his future, and that of his wife and daughter, is bleak. “Right now it’s in the hands of other people. It’s in the hands of the U.S.”
– Hlee Vang contributed to this story.
