Literary Bite: The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down by Anne Faidman

The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down: A Hmong Child, Her American Doctors, and the Collision of Two Cultures by Anne Fadiman is a story about the Hmong people, from their political history to cultural customs, told through the lens of one family’s experience with the American medical system in Merced, CA. 


The book centers on Lia Lee, a Hmong child who suffers from epilepsy (called “the spirit catches you and you fall down” in the Hmong language).  The book alternates chapters following the Lee’s  story in and out of hospitals from Lia’s birth – a tragic case of cultural miscommunications again and again and again – with chapters on Hmong history, cultural practices, and refugee experiences in the US. 

• "The doctors can fix some sicknesses that involve the body and blood, but for us Hmong, some people get sick because of their soul, so they need spiritual things,” says Lia Lee’s father. “With Lia it was good to do a little medicine and a little neeb, but not too much medicine because the medicine cuts the neeb’s effect. If we did a little of each she didn’t get sick as much, but the doctors wouldn’t let us give just a little medicine because they didn't understand about the soul."

The cultural anthropology aspects of this book were fascinating. I love how understanding the history of a people informs their actions and can help foreigners understand how to work with them. I also have some personal connections to the subject because of my work with refugees (my refugees have been Congolese and Haitian, so not quite as different as the Hmong, but very different nonetheless). There’s sooo much more to deal with than a language barrier; language barriers can be overcome, it’s the cultural barriers that will get you.

• "The history of the Hmong yields several lessons that anyone who deals with them might do well to remember. Among the most obvious of these are that the Hmong do not like to take orders; that they do not like to lose; that they would rather flee, fight, or die than surrender; that they are not intimidated by being outnumbered; that they are rarely persuaded that the customs of other cultures, even those more powerful than their own, are superior; and that they are capable of getting very angry. Whether you find these traits infuriating or admirable depends largely on whether or not you are trying to make a Hmong do something that he or she would prefer not to do. Those who have tried to defeat, deceive, govern, regulate, constrain, assimilate, intimidate, or patronize the Hmong have, as a rule, disliked them intensely."

The Hmong left China when the government became too oppressive, and eventually settled in Laos until the CIA-run “Quiet War” (post-Vietnam), led over 300 thousand people to flee to refugee camps in Thailand and eventually emigrate.  My favorite parts were probably about the Lee family’s experiences becoming refugees – their flight from Laos is harrowing and fascinating. It’s often easy to forget that refugees in America have gone through a lot to get here. 

• “You go from the north of Laos and then you go across the Mekong, and when the Pathet Lao soldiers fire, you do not think about your family, just yourself only. When you are on the other side, you will not be like what you were before ou get through the Mekong. On the other side you cannot say to your wife, I love you more than my life. She saw! You cannot say that anymore! And when you try to restick this thing together is is like putting glue on a broken glass.” 

The author’s “literary journalism” is impressive, interesting, and a great read. Faidman definitely did her research – she talked to all of Lia’s doctors, as well as many members of the Lee family, Merced Hmong community, and Hmong scholars in general. She attempts (and I think succeeds) at giving a relatively unbiased narrative, recognizing when and where each “side” was in the wrong, but overall drawing the conclusion that there really is no black-and-white right and wrong when it comes to how a family chooses to take care of itself within the context of cultural differences. 


Read it - I highly recommend this book! 

Literary Bite: The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears

The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears by Dinaw Mengestu has been on my to-read list for almost a year! It’s the story of an Ethiopian refugee, Stepha, living in Washington, DC (see why I wanted to read it?). He runs a grocery shop in Logan Circle, and is still trying to find his place in the world 17 years after he left home. I love reading books that are set in places that I know – Logan Circle is just a mile from my house, but in 1997 when the story takes place, the area was very different place.

The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears is beautifully written and universally relevant. It’s not just a refugee/immigrant story, but also a story of a city in transition. Logan Circle “gentrified” long before I came to DC, but other neighborhoods I know are going through that tumultuous change now.

It’s a very real view of the American dream, “My arms and legs were numb from 13 hours of lifting luggage and bending at every moment to someone else’s needs. ... I couldn’t believe that my father had died and I had been spared in order to carry luggage in and out of a room,” says Stepha of his first job in the U.S. as a bellhop.

Stepha is in the unique position of being an outsider, but also kind of an insider. Like his white neighbor and friend, he’s relatively new and foreign to the neighborhood, but because he’s a poor black man he is accepted while she is ostracized. “Before Judith, these were the only reasons white people had ever come into the neighborhood: to deliver official notices, investigate crimes and check up on the children of negligent parents.” Stepha’s brief romance with Judith is sweet and sad, he sees in her and her daughter a chance at really belonging somewhere. The New York Times review says, “It’s rare that a novelist who can comfortably take on knotty political subjects like exile, memory and class conflict is also able to write with wisdom, wit and tenderness about the frisson of romance.”

Like his main character, Mengestu was also born in Ethiopia and immigrated to the US in 1980. 

The book is beautifully written and treads the fine line between amusing and sad. Stepha’s refugee friends, Congo Joe and Ken the Kenyan, drink and joke about the troubles of their continent, but at the same time their longing for home is almost tangible. The title nods to this. It's from Dante's Inferno, Congo Joe's favorite poem.  

“Dante is finally coming out of hell, and that is what he sees. ‘Some of the beautiful things that heaven bears.’ It’s perfect, I tell you. Simply perfect. I told my teacher that no one can understand that line like an African because that is what we lived through. Hell every day with only glimpses of heaven in between.”

To again borrow from the NYT, “This is a great African novel, a great Washington novel and a great American novel.” Read it!

Weekend Report: Trey McIntyre Project and a trip to Rehoboth Beach

Saturday night, LLC and I saw the Trey McIntyre Project, an impressive modern dance group. They’re based in Boise, but the choreography is inspired by New Orleans culture. A-freaking-mazing. These dancers can move! The performance was in three separate pieces.

The first, “Ma Maison,” featured dancers in skeleton costumes (not in a creepy way) and was inspired by traditional New Orleans funerals (imagine a combination of Day of the Dead and Mardi Gras, all set to jazz music). According to the Post, the performance “unleashes the raucous celebration of the jazz funeral, the Cajun acceptance of ghosts, the fearlessness of a population that has experienced hurricanes and hardship since its very beginnings — and all of this unspools to very hot music.”

Part 2, “The Sweeter End,” was grittier with more acrobatic moves.

My favorite was Part 3, “In Dreams.” It’s about Tennessee, “a work of intense vulnerability and pain made visible.”

The music is awesome, the dancers are amazing – if you ever have a chance to see anything by the Trey McIntyre Project do it! (Go here for a tour schedule.)

Then early Sunday morning my co-volunteer and I rented a car, made a picnic, and took our refugees to Rehoboth Beach. (In case you're confused, I do refugee assistance volunteering.)

It was quite the day. We picked them up at 8:30am, crammed all 8 of us into a minivan, and started driving. Rehoboth Beach, DE is a little over 2 hours from their apartment in Maryland. Unlike the redneck beach Ex-Co-Worker Megan and I ventured to last summer, this was the for-serious real thing! Ocean, waves, sand, and boardwalk. Picnic sandwiches, ice cold salt water, sand in your hair, sea-smelling air in your face.

I was a little concerned as we planned the trip…I didn’t know if the family (who are originally from the Congo) would take to the whole beach concept. Well, it turns out I had nothing to worry about – they loved it. They are from Great Lakes region of East Africa, so the beach made them feel like home.

On the drive they saw their first cows, and were in awe of the Maryland Bay Bridge (I was too - did you know there’s a huge bridge in the middle of the state???). Once we arrived they learned that the ocean is salty, and that Merry-Go-Rounds are fun.

Despite the partly cloudy weather, the kids splashed in the ocean and built sand castles. And of course took enough super-model-on-the-beach photos to stock an album (they love taking pictures of themselves).

We left the beach completely exhausted and happy. It sounded daunting, but Rehoboth is a totally do-able day trip from DC. And definitely worth it! 

Vegan Dark Chocolate Chili

On Monday nights I slyly sneak out of work 10 minutes early. Once out of the lobby, I’m practically running. I plug in my ipod and pray that the public transportation gods are on my side. If everything works our perfectly, I can get from work to the Red Line to the Green Line to the F4 bus to the Prince Georges County Parkview Apartment complex in just over one hour.

Last night the bus touched down at 7 on the dot, and I jogged my way to my refugee family’s home, almost a half-mile into the sprawl of ugly 80’s style brown cinderblock apartments.

I open the door to their stairwell. Per usual, it smells warm - like a big pot of rice – not an unpleasant odor.

I knock and wait and a minute later Mustafa answers the door. He’s the 20-something uncle – no formal education and minimal English – and for 8 months was the only family member with a job. One time he got angry at my co-volunteer - he demanded she bring him a coat. That’s not how this works, she tried to explain, but he continued to insist until she just ignored him. But really, who could blame him? Other Americans his age are partying it up in college – he’s moving boxes in a refrigerated warehouse.

I spend two hours with the girls – Salha is in 4^th grade and Hussna is in 7^th. With Salha we do a holiday worksheet (I’ve explained Labor Day, Martin Luther King, Valentine’s Day, and Presidents Day), and then I ask her to write me a detailed story of her day. While she is crouched over her paper, forming English letters into words, Hussna and I read a biography of Ghandi. Reading comprehension is touch and go – she reads the words and nods her head as I explain the tricky points, but when I ask a question (So where was Gandhi born?) she just stares at the paper. I never know if she’s thinking hard, or just waiting for me to provide the answer. Which I eventually do by pointing her to the sentence in the text (Ghandi was born in Porbandar, India in 1869).

At 8:55 I turn into a pumpkin and take my leave. Of course at the last minute Jean-Claude (an unrelated high school boy who lives with them) comes at me with a stack of papers, asking about the Pepco bills that they need re-sent to the house because they forgot to save the receipt. Quickly I jot down the account number and name to call and inquire, then dash out the door.

Again I run through the apartments - to miss the bus is to wait an extra hour on a questionably safe curb in Riverdale.

By the time I get home it’s LATE. Thanks to a 20-minute wait at the first metro, and a 10-minute wait at my connection, the trip home takes over an hour and a half. By the time I finally get to my door I’m on the verge of tears – tiredhungryfrustrated.

Luckily I have leftover chili in my freezer – dinner in 2 minutes is just what I need to make the world right again.

This recipe is vegan, but if you want meat, you could easily add in ground beef or turkey with the onions. I made a huge pot then froze individual portions for easy lunches or late-night meals.

Vegan* Dark Chocolate Chili (an original Eat Run Read recipe!)

1 Tablespoon vegetable or olive oil

1 large onion, diced

2 bell peppers (any color, I used red and orange), cut into 1/4 inch chunks

3 carrots – cut into ¼ inch chunks

1 large sweet potato  - cut into ¼ inch chunks

½ teaspoon paprika

½ teaspoon oregano

1 teaspoon cumin

¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper (adust this according to how hot you like your chili)

½ teaspoon salt

1 can or ¼ cup tomato paste

1 16 oz can crushed tomatoes

3 cups broth (No-Chicken or chicken, depending on if you want to keep it vegan)

1 ounce dark chocolate (I used 6 Trader Joe’s Semi-Sweet Callets, which are 65% cocoa)

1 can kidney beans

1 can white beans

1 can black beans

(You could also use dried beans, soaked overnight. If you do this, then add them at Step 3.)

1. In a large pot heat the oil. Add in onions and sauté on medium heat for 5 minutes until they begin to turn translucent.

2. Stir in the veggies (bell peppers, carrots, sweet potato) and spices and cook uncovered stirring occasionally for 10 minutes.

3. Add the tomato paste, crushed tomatoes, broth, and chocolate. Turn the heat up and bring the chili to a boil, then turn the heat to a simmer and cover.

Simmer chili for 20 minutes.

4. Add beans and simmer for 15 more minutes.

Serve over rice or cornbread, with tortilla chips for dipping.

*It's vegan...until you add cheese...then it's just delicious!

The Weekend Report: Ballet and the Natural History Museum

Saturday afternoon I saw American Ballet's The Bright Stream at the Kennedy Center. It was soooo good! I do love ballet, but this performance would be good for anyone who enjoys any kind of dance.

The music was fantastic, so lively and up-beat. The plot is a bit Shakespeare-ish, complete with cross-dressing and mistaken identities. They were the happiest Soviet-era Russians I think I've ever seen. (The ballet was banned in Russia because it was suspected to be poking fun at farm workers, rather than giving them the respect they deserved.) The Bright Stream is tagged as a “comic ballet” and it really was laugh-out-loud funny! Read more about it here. 

On Sunday I took my refugees to the Smithsonian Natural History Museum. Nothing says fun “American” experience like looking at stuffed dead animals, right? But seriously, they loved it. They were amazed by the ocean exhibit – looking at the giant squid, they pointed in awe, It is real????

Yes, I confirmed. In the ocean. Very deep water.

The family has never seen the ocean.

Next we hit up the Mammal Hall. They recognized all the standards: lion, giraffe, zebra, and were really excited to see an antelope-ish thing with a zebra-striped butt.

Okapi! Okapi! Swahili is Okapi, what is it in English please?

I looked at the placard. Um, it’s an Okapi. Same.

Wow! Swahili, English, same? Wooowwww.

Clearly they’ve seen this animal before, despite the fact that the placard also informed me that they are extremely rare and officially “threatened.” So that’s kinda cool.

Things got really confusing as we made our way through the dinosaur fossils. First I explained, No, they’re not dragons. They’re dinosaurs. Then Leyla (the mom) saw the huge diplodocus and then turned to me, a look of wide-eyed concerned confusion on her face. She pointed, It’s big! In USA?

And then it occurred to me – dinosaurs were almost definitely not a part of the curriculum in the Tanzanian refugee camp. They have no idea what they’re looking at. So I launched into my best beginning-English explanation. They lived a very long time ago. One hundred forty million years (as I pointed to the writing on the display), all gone now. All dead. Scientists dig up the bones and put them together, so we know they lived. But not any more.

Oh dear. I hope they learned something.

The Weekend Report: Happy MLK Day!

Happy Marin Luther King, Jr. Day!

Like most of America (except for an unfortunate few - LLC I'm thinking of you), I have today off. Last year on MLK day I went to a concert at the Kennedy Center and had an Obama-sighing (omg omg omg!). Today, I will be celebrating by a day of service. Dr. King said, "Life's most persistent and urgent question is: What are you doing for others?" So in light of that, I'm spending the day with my refugees, working on their English and hopefully helping them figure out the bureaucracy that is Social Services in MD. (Wish me luck - I'll need it!)


To find volunteer opportunities in your area, go here. And if you don't have time to volunteer today, do it tomorrow, next weekend, whenever! I promise, Dr. King won't mind if you're late!


And now for my Weekend Report. I'm happy to say that this weekend was heavy on the sleeping, light on pretty much everything else! After a crazy last couple months (NYC, Sister1's Wedding, home for Christmas, and skiing), I needed a calm couple days to get my life in order.


On Friday night, LLC and I went to Korean American Day at the Smithsonian Museum of the American Indian. It was supposed to be a concert from 7-8, then reception 8-9. The musicians were impressive, but the concert part went on (and on and on and on) for two hours! By the time we got out, we (and everyone else) were famished, and the now-cold dumplings and weird Korean desserts were not quite as satisfying as we had hoped. But we made up for it by stopping at Fro-Zen-Yo on our way back to Dupont. Cappuccino, Butter Pecan, and Eggnog flavors - a very healthy dinner!

Saturday morning, LOTR-Emily got us brunch reservations for the Tabard Inn. It was very good, but I don't know if the experience really warranted 2 weeks notice for the reservation. We got the homemade donuts (they come sprinkled in sugar with whipped cream for dipping), and then I ordered an omelet with shrimp, brie, and chives.


I went on a couple lovely (albeit chilly) runs - 4 miles and 5 miles - look at me go!


Hope you're having a good long weekend too!

The Weekend Report: Pre-Thanksgiving Turkey Shenanigans

Guess what? I made a turkey!

But before we get to that, let's back-track to the start of my weekend. On Friday night, my co-volunteer and I took our refugees to a Washington Wizzard's game.

The last basketball game I attended was in college. My track teammates and I had courtside seats and at one point my freshman friend, looking a bit confused, asked me, "I think I've seen high school kids play better than this?" Agreed. Back then BU wasn't that good.

Professional basketball, on the other hand, is quite a bit different. And my Congolese family loved all of it - from the jumbo-tron, to the flying advertisement blimps, to the 3-pointers.

Then early Saturday morning I did something a little bit crazy. Ran the Cranberry Crawl 5k! It was fun! 6x6 did not throw up and placed 11th, while I ran my way to 5th place (2nd in my age group), winning a loaf of cranberry bread. Woot!

And then the real shenanigans began. I went to two grocery stores, getting my upper-body work in via lugging all the Pre-Thanksgiving necessities back home and into the fridge. (When I told the checker I was carrying the stuff home her penciled-on eyebrows raised in a Chyeah, good luck with that! sort of way.)

So here we go - let's talk turkey.

I contemplated my options (extensively - I'm pretty sure I spent a solid 20 minutes at Harris Teeter wondering what exactly to buy). Frozen? Fresh? Breast? Whole bird? I weighed the choices in my mind, and in my hands, and in and out of my basket. Gah! I've never done this before! And of course my mama was incommunicado. There was nothing for it but to make this decision on my own.

I opted for two turkey breasts. I reasoned that they'd be easier to cook and carve than a whole turkey, and two were necessary because I was expecting 20-ish people over on Sunday night.

When I got home I started my brine. Here's my inexact recipe.

Turkey Brine:
large pot of water
4 cubes of veggie boullion (or 4 cups of veggie broth)
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup salt
1 teaspoon rosemary (I used dried)
1 teaspoon celery seed
1 teaspoon thyme (again, dried)

Bring the mixture to a boil, then turn off and remove from heat. You just want to make sure all the salt and sugar is dissolved. Let the brine cool completely, then pour it over your turkey until it's completely submerged. (Or you can do this in a bag.) Let it brine at least 24 hours, up to 3 days.

I also made Cranberry Sauce:

1 cup cranberries

1/2 Granny Smith apple, diced

1 cup water

1/2 cup sugar

2 tablespoons honey

1 teaspoon molasses

Bring it all to a boil, then simmer for about 30 minutes until the sauce is thickened.

With the pot o'brine on the stove and the cranberry sauce simmering, I hauled my turkeys out of my backpack and contemplated them. Ok, deep breaths, here we go. I very carefully opened the packages, a look of pure disgust on my face. Ewwww ewwwww ewwwww! I whined as I emptied the juice out into my sink while my vegetarian friend looked on in horror. (What can I say, raw turkey juice is not my thing.)

And then I pulled the turkey breast out of the bag. WHAT!?!?! It wasn't a turkey breast at all. It had legs. And wings. It was a whole turkey. A. Whole. Turkey.

Ohmygosh-ohmygosh-ohmygosh! It's a whole bird! I bought a freaking whole turkey! On Accident! Crap! What am I going to do? Oh-no-oh-no-oh-no! What am I going to do!?!? Ewww ewwww ewwwww! (That last bit was in reference to the turkey neck that came out of the cavity of the bird. Shudder.)

Soooo, yeah. I bought one turkey breast (which apparently is just a turkey without the wings and legs!). And one whole turkey. Ridiculous. But there was really only one thing I could do - cook them.

So I brined them both and hoped for the best.

At 3 o’clock on Sunday it was go-time. Time for a turkeylicious face-down, just me and the bird. I inhaled slowly, focused, and got my poultry on. I poured out the brine, dried my turkeys, slathered them with olive oil, said a little prayer, did a little turkey dance, and popped them into the 325* oven.

Welp - hope that works. I went for a lovely Rock Creek Park 7-mile run.

I took the turkeys out at 5 and covered them with foil. (Food Network tells me that you absolutely must let them sit for at least 30 minutes before carving.)

They sat while I stirred up some gravy (from a jar - I know, I cheated. But give me some credit - 2 turkeys!), heated the apple cider, and chopped veggies for my salad.

And then the guests started to arrive - bringing stuffing, sweet potatoes, squash feta muffins, croissants, salad, pumpkin pie, dips, appetizers, etc. etc. etc. (yup, there was a lot of food!).

And then the moment of truth. I took a sharp knife and those prong-y things and cut into the turkey. I was afraid it would be dry. Or even worse, raw. But it wasn't at all. It was actually pretty darn fantastic. Maybe they were lying (if so bless their flattering hearts), but everyone said they loved it!

The party went really well. (Woot! Hosting really stresses me out, so I was extremely happy it all worked.) I am so thankful that I have such a wonderful friends-family here in DC, and that my refugees could experience their first Thanksgiving with us!

Happy Pre-Thanksgiving!

The Weekend Report: PACKED! Kayaking, Going Out, Ending Slavery, and the Environment!

This weekend was excessive, even for me! But the blog must be blogged, so I’ll try to keep it concise. Here we go...

Friday night I ventured all the way to Clarendon to meet up with my CAR teammates. I’ve never been out in Virginia, and Spider Kelly’s was packed! (I promise I’m not a District snob, I’m just lazy and highly value proximity to my bed.)

Saturday morning I got up bright and early to go to the Stop Modern Slavery Walk on the Mall. It was a gorgeous morning for a trail of red-shirted walkers to parade around the Tidal Basin raising awareness. Did you know that 27 million people are enslaved worldwide? (Go here to learn more about human trafficking.)

Saturday afternoon I had another Pocahontas experience on the Potomac River.  A four-mile run along the Canal Towpath brought us to Fletcher’s Boathouse where we life-jaketed up and climbed into kayaks. My arms were already sore due to a pumpkin-carrying experience on Friday (three professionally-dressed young women walking through downtown DC carrying ginormous pumpkins = priceless), so kayaking added an extra element to my upper-body workout. And when you’re four miles from home there’s only one way to get back – run. My hamstring held up shockingly well! (And a solid half-hour of foam-rolling when I got home didn’t hurt either.)

After such an epic day, I was hungry. So I was an easy sell when LOTR-Emily called to ask if I wanted to do Ethiopian for dinner. We attempted to go to Dukem, which is supposedly one of the best places in DC. But it was a 40-minute wait and LLC, 6x6 and I were getting hangry, so we walked about 20 feet down the sidewalk and tried out Madjet instead. It was soooo good! Some of the best Ethiopian I’ve ever had! The veggies were fresh and flavorful and the portions were huge – and best of all, there was no wait.

And then the night really began. I spent Thursday and Friday psyching myself up for Saturday night because I had extremely ambitious plans to attend two parties in two quadrants! Mollie? Leaving Northwest? Craziness.  But we did it. PhotoMan’s housewarming party in Colombia Heights was great – his new house is fantastic! And then 6x6 and I got on the metro and went all the way to Stadium-Armory to attend another friends’ pre-Halloween party.

A relaxing Sunday was not in the cards. LOTR-Emily got free tickets to the Green Festival at the Convention Center, so we put on our hippie-faces and spent a few hours sampling an interesting assortment of vegan/vegetarian/raw/organic products. It went a lot like this: hemp butter sample, GAH get that taste out of my mouth…organic chocolate sample, YUM…raw vegetable crackers, surprisingly good…tofurkey, again surprisingly good…vegan burger, GAH that’s bad! Etc. etc. etc. 

I probably ate 3 bars worth of Fair Trade Divine Chocolate samples. Yummmmmm! My work snack drawer is now well-stocked with sample-sized portions.

And then I had to get myself to Riverdale to see my refugees. I didn’t have a book in my purse at the Convention, so before hopping on the metro I hit up the library and checked out some Roald Dahl short stories to keep me entertained on my journey. 

By the time I finally got home it was late and I was tired. But you can’t say that I didn’t make the most of my weekend!