My name is Thipphavone Ark.
INTERVIEWED BY Indigo Mudbhary (x 8)


DEPARTED FROM
Thailand

ARRIVED IN
San Francisco, California

YEAR
1978

THIPPHAVONE ARK'S FIRST DAY

TRANSCRIPT
TRANSCRIBED BY Indigo Mudbhary (x 3)

So, I’m from Laos which is Southeast Asia and 1975 was when the communists toppled the government, so the communists took over. I was like 10 at that time and my father was taken because he was part of the old regime. And he was imprisoned, actually, for the next fourteen years because of his political alignment with the past regime. And our culture is like heavily oral. We pass on what happened to us, just made up stories—it’s all oral history and oral entertainment. Every weekend, like two nights, like Friday night and Saturday night, there would be 15 aunts and uncles and cousins. We’d just lay down and we’d all sleep together in a common room to hear my great-grandmother tell the story. She just makes up stories—it’s hilarious, it’s scary and we wait for those stories. And then after my great-grandmother passed away, then my grandmother tells the story. So it’s all oral and entertainment. And then when Gracie was born — Gracie is now 17 — when she was born, I would tell her a story every night. You know, make things up and she thinks it’s funny, and she goes, “Make it funny today!” It’s a little scary but a lot are funny… so anyways, so we grew up like that. All oral history. So, I’m comfortable, I’ve become a good storyteller because I’ve had, like, generations of training on that. After a while, Gracie thought my stories were kind of dumb, so we stopped.

[laughs] So when I was 13, after my father was taken after ‘75, so after three years, there were threats that they would come and get my mother and us and send us to him. So we left, we left Laos and escaped to Thailand. You have to have proper documents to enter Thailand and we didn’t because we escaped. So we got to Thailand and we turned ourselves in, you know the police, the border patrol in Thailand were waiting for us. they knew who we were. They took my mom, my older sister and I, they took us to a jail because we entered the country illegally. So we were waiting to be processed. So we were in jail for three or four days and then we were transferred to another jail because of our illegal entry so we stayed there and I might’ve been 13 at that time. So we stayed there and then there was some weird stuff so we stayed at that other jail for like three months. And then we went to the refugee camp. So we stayed at the refugee camp for eight months. And so life in the refugee camp was as bad as you think it is. But the weirdest thing is, after the refugee camp and the imprisonment, we came to the U.S. The UN processed us as refugees because they couldn’t send us back, it would be inhumane. So they sent my mother, my sister, and I to San Francisco. So after like, I think 9 or 10 months of incarceration it was a huge shock. You know, I was like, my nightmare was like how do I use the toilet? Where do you flush? Where does the water come from? So it was wild. So we got on the plane and of course, we landed in San Francisco and my aunt picked us up, my mom’s younger sister picked us up. So she brought us to her house in San Francisco and it was a 1-bedroom house with 1 bathroom and I think there were maybe 8 of us in that 1-bedroom. To me, it was a mansion of luxury. People are like, “How did you it?” I’m like, “Try the refugee camp.” So my first day was amazing. You know, 8 people in a 1-bedroom. I was like, “This is amazing! Look at all this space! You can move!” And then we stayed… so my first day, we came at night, we fell asleep.

The next morning, my aunt told me to go get some eggs. I said, “Eggs?” I spoke some English—I spoke French, so I kinda knew English. She goes, “A block away, there’s a store. Here’s three dollars. Go get eggs.” I go, “I can’t! I don’t have permission.” I was like, “I’m going to get arrested.” So I told my aunt, I said, “No I can’t go.” I said, “There’s no pass.” And I said, “If I walk out this door, they could arrest me.” She goes, “No, no, just keep going.” I said, “Just keep going?” She goes, “Just keep going.” Because in the refugee camp and in jail, you can’t just leave. You’d be shot. But I was really frightened, I’m like, “Okay, here we go…” So I just went in and I took the eggs and gave him money, and the guy was like, “How can I help you little lady?” I’m like “Oh, I’m a lady.” [laughs] Very nice people. So I gave him money. He gave me change. I came back home. I was like, “Phew!” And so that was good, I was happy.

And then my aunt…we came around sort of somewhat October I think. So my aunt was like, “Oh we, we need to get candy for tomorrow.” And I said, “Why do we need candy?” She said, “There’s this thing, tomorrow,” Halloween, this is Halloween. Yeah, yeah, I came around Halloween. I didn’t know anything about this. My aunt was like, “We have to get candy because tomorrow, a bunch of kids are going to knock at the door and they are going to ask for candy and we have to give them candy.” I was like, “Oh that is really sad.” I’m like, “They don’t have candy? So they have to go around asking for candy?” I said, “That is really sad.” My aunt said, “No, no, no, it’s fun, it’s a joke.” I’m like okay…I thought it was kind of atrocious that children had to run around asking for candy. I’m like that’s just not done. So anyways we got candy, I said, “What happens if you don’t have candy?” She goes, “Oh, they do bad things to you. Like, they throw eggs at your house and they put toilet paper.” I’m like, “No! This place is terrible, why would they do all this stuff?” My aunt said, “It’s one day, it’s a fun thing!” I’m like, “Okay, doesn’t sound like fun to me.” But anyways. The kids come, it was really fun, but to me it was shocking that there is such a thing as people demanding candy and then they do bad things to you. So Halloween was really weird.

So that was sort of my first day, but then of course, I was watching TV, didn’t understand, but for me, the weirdest part was I think there was a cereal commercial and the announcer said, “Buy it, your kids will love it!” I’m like, to me that was really weird too because it’s food, why wouldn’t they love it? So the idea that you have to give your kids food that they would like, that they would eat. That was totally foreign too. You know, like, who doesn’t like food and why wouldn’t you get your kids to eat? I mean if there’s food, you’re so lucky. So that’s sort of my first day. So I had to sit there and go, “Aha, this is like a really different kind of place!” After that I get used to it, I walk everywhere because I could. I didn’t need a pass, I didn’t need permission, there were no gates, there were no guns, you can just go. So that was my first day. Long time ago — 1978.

I didn’t know that you first came to San Francisco…I didn’t know San Francisco was the first place you came into the U.S.

Yep, first and only. Yep.

I’m also curious…in terms of your first week, is there anything else that you remember past that first day? Any memories from that first week?

Not really, I just remember what a luxurious place this place is. There’s all this food you can eat. There’s water coming out of the wall. Like, okay, water coming out of the wall — this is nice! You get your own water. And you can bathe and shower without getting a rash, because in the refugee camp, there’s just rashes everywhere, the water was so contaminated that if you take a shower or a bath or just try to wipe yourself it’s a crapshoot. Sometimes you get a rash, sometimes you don’t. So that was nice. And to me, you know, just having all this space was just amazing because I think there might have been 8 of us in a small little room, like you can barely move. To me, I thought it was amazing to have like, a bathroom in the house, in the apartment, because we had to, in the refugee there’s no bathroom. You have to go out and there’s like an outhouse somewhere. So I liked it, I thought it was very luxurious. And I thought people were kind. Nobody was too uptight. I thought they were friendly and not too uptight. No, I had a good impression.

Yeah, that’s great to hear. You mentioned food, was there anything you ate that was brand new to you at all?

Not really…I mean, yeah kind of. We didn’t have our food, but there wasn’t a lot of food in the refugee camp so to me, if there’s food, it’s wonderful, it doesn’t matter what it is. I don’t really miss food from home. Because food is food is food. If you have eggs , we have meat, we have vegetables…I just thought the amount of meat was just insane. We used to have like this much meat and you put a lot of vegetables and rice and you share it with eight people. Here, it’s like this much meat. So, no, to me, it’s just like if there’s food, then that’s awesome. And there was, there was plenty of food, because it used to be in the refugee camp it was rationed, so I think twice a week you’d get food rations, but here it’s just like you go to the store and you get food. We actually got food stamps when we first came. The Refugee Resettlement Committee came out and gave us food stamps. So it was good, you got food stamps, and you got any food you want, so you don’t have to wait until three days before you get food rations. No, I liked it. I mean, I liked it. But it depends on your standards. [laughs]

Did you notice any cultural differences or cultural similarities when you were first here?

Well, the language was a big issue. That’s the biggest cultural shock. And with the language, there comes the culture. Everything is new. Everything is pretty much different for me. Pretty much everything. But you know at the age 13 and 14, you’re pretty resilient. It wasn’t a big deal. I was with my mom, my dad was still in prison but I was with my mom, I was with my sister and brother, I was with my aunt and uncle, so I have a bubble of safety. So yeah, they were very different, very different cultures but the similarities was with my immediate family. But I liked going to school, I liked learning new languages. I started eighth grade, in middle school.

Oh, okay I see.

It was good. Luckily, I spoke French so I was able to pick up English faster than I would have had I not known French. You know, I spoke French, could read and write French. So I just switched that to English. So, you know, I recognized the Roman letters, the Roman language, but I came at a good age, because I was young enough to not really be bothered by any differences.

In terms of your first days, first week, are there any specific memories that you associate with that time?

That’s also the three things. You know, like the shock of being able to have freedom. If you have been incarcerated for so long, just the world is just so wide, you know, so to me that was just, you know, being able to go, and my aunt would put me in the car and she kept going and going and I’m like, “Okay! If you know what you’re doing… not sure if this is the right thing…” But to me it was just the ability to just move freely that’s different. Because even though I always lived a life of freedom, but the incarceration for those 9 to 10 months really changed your mindset.

Those were all the things that I wanted to ask you but is there anything else that you’d want to share about your first days, first week here?

It’s been good, Indigo, it’s been really good. I’m sort of — I don’t think Gracie wouldn’t know to tell you — but I’m sort of coming toward the end of my life. Yeah, I have ALS, I have terminal illness, so you know, it’s just like I’m declining and I just kind of know that what I have, I’ve lived a life of purpose, so I’m good. I look back to my first day with fondness. I hope my last day is as good as my first day, [laughs] but you never know.

I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t know.

You know, I am but I’m not, it’s just like things happen. You know, it’s just like circumstances, things happen. Illness is such a part of life. And death is such a part of life. We all die. So I’m like, okay, we’ll just like face it and we’ll just kind of deal with it when it comes up. But I deal with my decline each day as it comes. I just don’t worry too much. Because it’s not personal, everybody gets sick, everybody dies, and you just have to look back, and say, “Well? What more do you want to do?” And there isn’t much.


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