Jiahn-Yih Wuu was an early arrival to America.
The 2nd Minister of Religious Ceremonies at the Cambodian Buddhist Society fled his home in Cambodia just three days after the Khmer Rouge took power in 1975. From Thailand, he applied for refugee status anywhere he could find it.
"France, Australian, Canada, the U.S.,” he says, ticking-off the countries to which he sought entry.
His story is not unique for Cambodian immigrants in the Washington area. Escape is a common theme.
Wuu ended-up in the US, and is now at the ornate Buddhist temple and monastery in Silver Spring.
Step inside and you'd think you landed in Southeast Asia: Massive painted murals. Brass Buddha’s. Ancient texts. A pictorial lineage of Cambodia's Supreme Patriarchs. And Buddhist monks.
The monastery and temple are a sanctuary, and it's kept authentic. "Our society is more conservative," says Sovan Tun, the President of the facility. "America has a lot of temptations, distractions."
Metropolitan Washington has a small but distinct Cambodian-American Community. Based upon the 2006 American Community Survey, the U.S. Census Bureau estimates that some 5,000 Cambodian Americans live here, mostly in Montgomery County, Maryland, and Fairfax County, Virginia. Nationwide are some 200,000 Cambodian-Americans. The largest populations in California, Massachusetts, and Washington State.
Like other "Khmer Communities," as they call themselves, this one is tightly-bound by tradition and the legacy of Cambodia’s troubled past.
From 1975 to 1979, Pol Pot and the Communist Khmer Rouge (French for "Red Khmer") wrecked Cambodia and directly or indirectly killed an estimated 1.7 million Cambodians. After 1979, when the Khmer Rouge was toppled, Cambodians fled their shattered nation in droves.
The Southeast Asia Resource Action Center (SEARAC) estimates that nearly 139,000 Cambodian refugees came to the United States in the 1980s, based upon data from the Office of Refugee Resettlement. In 1981 alone 38,000 Cambodian refugees resettled in America.
Though the immigration slowed after the 1980s, it never stopped. According to the Office of Immigration Statistics, about 5,000 Cambodian immigrants came to America in 2006.
Today's immigrants, unlike the earlier generation, come to the United States for work, education, and to reunited with family. The temple and monastery in Silver Spring is a gathering site.
Bhante Sopheak Ngove stands barefoot in the temple wrapped in a flowing red robe, his hands folded at his waist. Though he is silent, his eyes are wise. "Bhante" means "Venerable," and is Ngove's title.
Like the other four monks at the Cambodian Buddhist Society, Ngove has only been in this country a few months. With Tun's sponsorship, he and the others were granted legal, permanent residency in the United States as Religious Workers' under the Immigration and Nationality Act. Within five years they'll have the opportunity to apply for American citizenship.
The rules are strict in the Silver Spring monastery: No alcohol. No entertainment. No movies. No woman. "I force my mind stay in neutral," Ngove says through broken English.
Ngove is from Kampot, Cambodia, a province south of Phnom Penh along the Gulf of Thailand. Though his parents are farmers, Ngove studied philosophy and became a monk. He arrived in the United States in Feb. 2007. And though he avoids American temptations, he's eager to assimilate: "I want to learn English," he says.
In a room next-door, two other recent immigrants, Waddanak and Sowattey Sem, pose for a photograph. They're here with their parents, who are visiting from Phnom Penh. Both siblings came to the United States for an education.
Waddanak came first, arriving in 1997 to study at Fullerton College in Orange County, Ca. Like for other immigrants, the transition was difficult for Waddanak, made worse by poor English.
"I couldn't find my class," said Waddanak of his first day at Fullerton. "I couldn't even make a phone call to get a ride because I had no change."
There were also financial troubles. Fullerton was more expensive than the family expected and Waddanak was forced to work nights. "It's lucky they have bumps in the road," he jokes, referring to the highway lane dividers that kept him awake while driving to class.
The burden eventually proved too much. Waddanak moved to Northern Virginia and transferred to Northern Virginia Community College. He then dropped-out in favor of lucrative work as an automobile mechanic.
In 2006, Waddanak was joined by his sister, Sowattey, who came to the United States to study for her MBA at Southeastern University.
The distance from home challenges Sowattey and she worries about her parents in Cambodia. "The war is over, but the country still has lots of rivalry," said Sowattey. "Cambodia society is not that safe."
She also struggles with the cultural challenges. "Life here is not that easy and sometimes so painful," she said. "It's such a fast growing and challenging society."
Despite the challenges, the two are forming roots in America. Waddanak is married to another Cambodian immigrant and has two boys. He takes the U.S. citizen test next month. As for Sowattey, she's getting good marks at Southeastern and has made American friends.
Still, there's homesickness and a desire to keep Cambodian culture alive in American. That's why they come to the temple and monastery in Silver Spring.
On Sunday, the basement of the temple hums with activity. Children wearing Av Noay. a traditional Cambodian dress, dance to classical Cambodian music. Families and neighbors gather to laugh and chat. Some snap pictures. It's a happy scene—a mixture of Cambodian and American cultures and identities; a blend of American-born youngsters and adults still assimilating.
But there's also pain here—shared pain from a difficult past that permeates the place. It's a pain that the children don't yet understand; a pain that the adults can't forget.
It's quite next door in the monastery. Wuu, the 2nd Minister, recalls his past and his homeland, which he hasn’t seen in 35 years. "Very sad," he mutters, deep in thought.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment