My Sheboygan Hmong New year
| Heidi M. Pascual* Publisher & Editor * 2006 Journalist of the Year for the State of Wisconsin (U.S.-SBA) |
Arriving at the high school, the familiar blue banner greets us “Nyob Zoo Xyoo Tshiab – Happy New Year, 2007-
2008.” After a quick stroll around the field house, wondering why anybody would spend so much money on a field house
rather than the school itself which is sinking due to the fact that it’s built on an old dumpsite, my sisters and I head to the
floor to start ball tossing with each other.
Ball tossing or pov pob is a traditional courting game practiced at the New Year. Hmong people are traditionally
farmers and the New Year coincides with the end of harvesting. The New Year is not only a chance to bring in the New
Year, but it is also a time to find a spouse. During ball tossing, if a woman catches the eye of a man, he will ask her for her
last name, making sure they are not of the same clan. If they aren’t, then he would ask her to ball toss with him.
Women usually line up on one side of the field and men on the opposite. The couple tosses the ball back and forth,
chit chatting and getting to know each other. Parents will usually watch the couple, observing the woman to see if she
would be a good wife for their son. By the end of the day, if the man really likes the woman, he will take her home and
the marriage process can begin.
Ball tossing is also accompanied with kwv txhiaj which is a kind of recited poetry. It functions in the same way as
freestyle hip-hop rap. The man will recite a kwv txhiaj and the woman listens carefully to what he is saying and when he is
done, she responds with her own kwv txhiaj. Kwv txhiaj can be memorized and learned but it is a skill of quickness and
cleverness, being able to come up with lyrics at the top of your head.
Today, ball tossing is still somewhat of a courtship, except there are no marriages at the end of the day, maybe just
an exchange of phone numbers. Boys and girls don’t really know how to recite kwv txhiaj anymore and don’t really
understand its meanings either. Girls are also more readily to deny boys who come ask them to ball toss. Parents and
grandparents still sit and watch their sons and daughters participate in such a their own days than to watch the courtship
process.
My sister and I line ourselves up with the rest of the people who are already ball tossing, and start alternating between
the three of us, throwing the ball back and forth. Then, “Oh my God. I hope he is not coming this way.” Damn! “Hi, can I ball
toss with you?” “I’m too old for you,” I quickly answer. “Wait, I think I remember you from high school.” I remembered him too
and he is definitely too young for me and not my type. “Wait, what is your last name?” “I’m a Lee.” “Oh me too, I guess we
can’t ball toss then.” Thank God! “OK, nice to see you again.” “OK, bye.”
That was my cue to leave the floor and go sit in the bleachers with my parents. “Why are you back so soon? Go pov
pob.” “I did. I’m tired now.” “You’ve only been here for 30 minutes. The New Year is only once a year, you need to go out
there and enjoy it.” “I know, but I’m going to sit for a little bit.” “Well, we have to go home soon, your mom has to work today.”
“OK, I’m ready to go home.” So after two hours of dressing me up this morning, I spend only about 45 minutes at the New
Year that day. It’s ok, there’s still two more days of the New Year left.
The next day was the day everyone is most excited about. There’s free food! Chue Kao Xiong, chairman of the
Sheboygan Hmong New Year committee, says “Lunch is provided by the whole community. This is a very important tradition
that has been carried on for thousands of years. Sheboygan is one of the few cities that continue this old tradition.”
The task of feeding 4000 to 5000 people is daunting but what is impressive is that the Hmong community makes it
possible year after year. For over 25 years, the Sheboygan Hmong New Year continues this tradition even as the Hmong
population in Sheboygan increases and as the participation from non-Hmong increases as well.
Hmong families traditionally identify with their clans: Yang, Vang, Xiong, Lee, Vue, Moua, Thao, etc. Every year, a
different clan is in charge of dividing up preparation and organizing the meal. Clan leaders call each family within their
clan and distribute the work. Xia Vue Yang, a respected Hmong leader in Sheboygan and host of the Sheboygan Hmong
radio, explains that each family is in charge of preparing and bringing egg rolls, broasted chicken, hard-boiled eggs and
rice, while 10 families are randomly chosen to make salads. These families aren’t paid; they use their own money and time
to make it possible.
Today, the jingles of the silver coins aren’t as loud and only a few flashes of colorful dresses can be seen because no
one wants to get food on their clothes. As soon as the announcer says it’s almost time for lunch, the crowd eagerly
scrambles into disorganized lines inside the cafeteria. “OK, don’t push. We have plenty of food for everyone,” a Hmong
voice announces over the loud speakers.
The 4000 or so crowd, a mixture of gray haired elderly men and women; toddlers dolled up in dainty dresses and
tuxedos; teenagers, some in their traditional Hmong clothing while most in their street clothes; proud parents; and a few
non-Asians, eagerly wait. Finally, volunteers bring out trays of rice, eggrolls, eggs. “OK, let’s eat! Happy New Year!”
As the crowd sifts through the food line, I sit and guard a table for my family. I scan in and out of the lines trying to find
them. A tiny hand waving frantically catches my eye. It’s my three-year-old brother, who my mom is trying to hold on to. I
make eye contact with my mom so she knows where I am.
After lunch the audience is treated to a fashion show, showcasing all the different Hmong people from Green Hmong,
White Hmong, Chinese-Hmong, Thai-Hmong, etc. Performances of traditional Hmong dances and instruments are also
showcased. Sheboygan Mayor Juan Perez speaks to the crowd, reiterating the need for cultural events such as the Hmong
New Year to make a small community such as Sheboygan unique.
Even though it’s a Saturday, mom has to go to work again, so in the middle of the show we left. Back in Laos, families
would prepare enough food and water for three days so that those three days can be solely for enjoying the New Year
festivities and no work. Today, time is dictated by work hours and the New Year can only be enjoyed when your work
schedule permits. Sunday is the last day of the celebration. Today like the first day is for more ball tossing and kwv txhiaj.
Most people have more than one traditional Hmong outfit, so Sunday is another day to show off more of their traditional
clothing.
I make an appearance on this day too, but only as an observer. Sitting up on the bleachers, I watch and observe
the happenings around me. I listen to the kwv txhiaj, trying to understand the meaning, but not really quite understanding.
I reflect on my own understanding of my culture and my people, being proud and embracing who I am and where I came
from, and finding myself thinking about next year’s New Year already.
2008.” After a quick stroll around the field house, wondering why anybody would spend so much money on a field house
rather than the school itself which is sinking due to the fact that it’s built on an old dumpsite, my sisters and I head to the
floor to start ball tossing with each other.
Ball tossing or pov pob is a traditional courting game practiced at the New Year. Hmong people are traditionally
farmers and the New Year coincides with the end of harvesting. The New Year is not only a chance to bring in the New
Year, but it is also a time to find a spouse. During ball tossing, if a woman catches the eye of a man, he will ask her for her
last name, making sure they are not of the same clan. If they aren’t, then he would ask her to ball toss with him.
Women usually line up on one side of the field and men on the opposite. The couple tosses the ball back and forth,
chit chatting and getting to know each other. Parents will usually watch the couple, observing the woman to see if she
would be a good wife for their son. By the end of the day, if the man really likes the woman, he will take her home and
the marriage process can begin.
Ball tossing is also accompanied with kwv txhiaj which is a kind of recited poetry. It functions in the same way as
freestyle hip-hop rap. The man will recite a kwv txhiaj and the woman listens carefully to what he is saying and when he is
done, she responds with her own kwv txhiaj. Kwv txhiaj can be memorized and learned but it is a skill of quickness and
cleverness, being able to come up with lyrics at the top of your head.
Today, ball tossing is still somewhat of a courtship, except there are no marriages at the end of the day, maybe just
an exchange of phone numbers. Boys and girls don’t really know how to recite kwv txhiaj anymore and don’t really
understand its meanings either. Girls are also more readily to deny boys who come ask them to ball toss. Parents and
grandparents still sit and watch their sons and daughters participate in such a their own days than to watch the courtship
process.
My sister and I line ourselves up with the rest of the people who are already ball tossing, and start alternating between
the three of us, throwing the ball back and forth. Then, “Oh my God. I hope he is not coming this way.” Damn! “Hi, can I ball
toss with you?” “I’m too old for you,” I quickly answer. “Wait, I think I remember you from high school.” I remembered him too
and he is definitely too young for me and not my type. “Wait, what is your last name?” “I’m a Lee.” “Oh me too, I guess we
can’t ball toss then.” Thank God! “OK, nice to see you again.” “OK, bye.”
That was my cue to leave the floor and go sit in the bleachers with my parents. “Why are you back so soon? Go pov
pob.” “I did. I’m tired now.” “You’ve only been here for 30 minutes. The New Year is only once a year, you need to go out
there and enjoy it.” “I know, but I’m going to sit for a little bit.” “Well, we have to go home soon, your mom has to work today.”
“OK, I’m ready to go home.” So after two hours of dressing me up this morning, I spend only about 45 minutes at the New
Year that day. It’s ok, there’s still two more days of the New Year left.
The next day was the day everyone is most excited about. There’s free food! Chue Kao Xiong, chairman of the
Sheboygan Hmong New Year committee, says “Lunch is provided by the whole community. This is a very important tradition
that has been carried on for thousands of years. Sheboygan is one of the few cities that continue this old tradition.”
The task of feeding 4000 to 5000 people is daunting but what is impressive is that the Hmong community makes it
possible year after year. For over 25 years, the Sheboygan Hmong New Year continues this tradition even as the Hmong
population in Sheboygan increases and as the participation from non-Hmong increases as well.
Hmong families traditionally identify with their clans: Yang, Vang, Xiong, Lee, Vue, Moua, Thao, etc. Every year, a
different clan is in charge of dividing up preparation and organizing the meal. Clan leaders call each family within their
clan and distribute the work. Xia Vue Yang, a respected Hmong leader in Sheboygan and host of the Sheboygan Hmong
radio, explains that each family is in charge of preparing and bringing egg rolls, broasted chicken, hard-boiled eggs and
rice, while 10 families are randomly chosen to make salads. These families aren’t paid; they use their own money and time
to make it possible.
Today, the jingles of the silver coins aren’t as loud and only a few flashes of colorful dresses can be seen because no
one wants to get food on their clothes. As soon as the announcer says it’s almost time for lunch, the crowd eagerly
scrambles into disorganized lines inside the cafeteria. “OK, don’t push. We have plenty of food for everyone,” a Hmong
voice announces over the loud speakers.
The 4000 or so crowd, a mixture of gray haired elderly men and women; toddlers dolled up in dainty dresses and
tuxedos; teenagers, some in their traditional Hmong clothing while most in their street clothes; proud parents; and a few
non-Asians, eagerly wait. Finally, volunteers bring out trays of rice, eggrolls, eggs. “OK, let’s eat! Happy New Year!”
As the crowd sifts through the food line, I sit and guard a table for my family. I scan in and out of the lines trying to find
them. A tiny hand waving frantically catches my eye. It’s my three-year-old brother, who my mom is trying to hold on to. I
make eye contact with my mom so she knows where I am.
After lunch the audience is treated to a fashion show, showcasing all the different Hmong people from Green Hmong,
White Hmong, Chinese-Hmong, Thai-Hmong, etc. Performances of traditional Hmong dances and instruments are also
showcased. Sheboygan Mayor Juan Perez speaks to the crowd, reiterating the need for cultural events such as the Hmong
New Year to make a small community such as Sheboygan unique.
Even though it’s a Saturday, mom has to go to work again, so in the middle of the show we left. Back in Laos, families
would prepare enough food and water for three days so that those three days can be solely for enjoying the New Year
festivities and no work. Today, time is dictated by work hours and the New Year can only be enjoyed when your work
schedule permits. Sunday is the last day of the celebration. Today like the first day is for more ball tossing and kwv txhiaj.
Most people have more than one traditional Hmong outfit, so Sunday is another day to show off more of their traditional
clothing.
I make an appearance on this day too, but only as an observer. Sitting up on the bleachers, I watch and observe
the happenings around me. I listen to the kwv txhiaj, trying to understand the meaning, but not really quite understanding.
I reflect on my own understanding of my culture and my people, being proud and embracing who I am and where I came
from, and finding myself thinking about next year’s New Year already.
By Ka Bao Lee
Curled up on the couch, still half asleep, I hear my little brother’s voice.
“Mommy, is there videogames at the Hmong New Year?” I crack a smile. My
mom answers, “No, there are no videogames there.” Like any 6-year-old,
he whines, “Ah man, then I don’t wanna go.”
The truth was I was never all that anxious to go either. It’s the same thing
every year — go through two hours of dressing up in traditional Hmong
clothing; sit uncomfortably in the car while driving down to the Sheboygan
Armory; then toss a ball back and forth, back and forth, back and forth; try to
avoid creepy guys who want to ball toss with you by using the excuse “I
have to go to the bathroom” or “My family’s leaving now I have to go” only
to see that same guy 10 minutes later; and then having to put all these
cloths back nice and neat into their suitcases until next year.
But this year it was different. The Sheboygan Armory is being transformed
into a rocket-launching and space education facility, the Great Lakes
Aerospace, Science & Education Center, which is a part of the Spaceport
Sheboygan project. The three-day Hmong New Year celebration following
Thanksgiving Day in Sheboygan was going to have to find a new location.
Ever since I left for college I have told my mom that I am too old to dress
up for the New Year — especially now that I’m 22. I don’t want high
schoolers hitting on me because at barely 5 feet tall, I look like I still belong
in high school. But this year, I’m going to tolerate the concoction of layers
of colorful sashes, embroidered shirt and fan-like pleated skirt, accentuated
by dangling tiny beads and silver coins that jingle with every movement. I
was not, however, going to wear the heavy silver necklace that leaves a
tumor on the back of my neck for weeks and that turban-like head piece that
makes my head the same shape as ET’s. The layers are put on so tightly I
can barely breathe, and there are so many layers I look like I’m in my third
trimester. But I did it for my mom, and forced my younger sisters to do it as
well.
The new location for the festivities is at my old high school, which has a
brand new multimillion-dollar field house. The new field house meant no
high heels because the floor could be ruined; but that didn’t stop girls from
looking their best. I just wore flip-flops.
Curled up on the couch, still half asleep, I hear my little brother’s voice.
“Mommy, is there videogames at the Hmong New Year?” I crack a smile. My
mom answers, “No, there are no videogames there.” Like any 6-year-old,
he whines, “Ah man, then I don’t wanna go.”
The truth was I was never all that anxious to go either. It’s the same thing
every year — go through two hours of dressing up in traditional Hmong
clothing; sit uncomfortably in the car while driving down to the Sheboygan
Armory; then toss a ball back and forth, back and forth, back and forth; try to
avoid creepy guys who want to ball toss with you by using the excuse “I
have to go to the bathroom” or “My family’s leaving now I have to go” only
to see that same guy 10 minutes later; and then having to put all these
cloths back nice and neat into their suitcases until next year.
But this year it was different. The Sheboygan Armory is being transformed
into a rocket-launching and space education facility, the Great Lakes
Aerospace, Science & Education Center, which is a part of the Spaceport
Sheboygan project. The three-day Hmong New Year celebration following
Thanksgiving Day in Sheboygan was going to have to find a new location.
Ever since I left for college I have told my mom that I am too old to dress
up for the New Year — especially now that I’m 22. I don’t want high
schoolers hitting on me because at barely 5 feet tall, I look like I still belong
in high school. But this year, I’m going to tolerate the concoction of layers
of colorful sashes, embroidered shirt and fan-like pleated skirt, accentuated
by dangling tiny beads and silver coins that jingle with every movement. I
was not, however, going to wear the heavy silver necklace that leaves a
tumor on the back of my neck for weeks and that turban-like head piece that
makes my head the same shape as ET’s. The layers are put on so tightly I
can barely breathe, and there are so many layers I look like I’m in my third
trimester. But I did it for my mom, and forced my younger sisters to do it as
well.
The new location for the festivities is at my old high school, which has a
brand new multimillion-dollar field house. The new field house meant no
high heels because the floor could be ruined; but that didn’t stop girls from
looking their best. I just wore flip-flops.
KaBao Lee with her
younger brothers
younger brothers
| (From the top) KaBao (2nd from left) with her mom (center) and sisters; ball tossing; community dinner |