Crossing the Mekong

Preserving culture and discovering heritage through storytelling. 

Crossing the Mekong River was part of the Lao refugee experience. Christie plans to make the same pilgrimage next spring to discover her heritage and document her journey to share with her students. 

by Christie Keo Jackson

My name is Christie Keo Jackson. I am a first generation Lao-American. I am an elementary educator and a recent community advocate. My parents are both Lao refugees who fled their homes as a result of the Secret War in Laos. They settled on opposite coasts in the United States, but eventually crossed paths in Washington state. My mother is one of nine children, all of whom have immigrated from Laos. She grew up in Ban Lahanam. To escape the effects of the Secret War, her eldest uncle told their family about the refugee camp. She lived in a refugee camp in Ubon Ratchathani, Thailand, for 11 months. All her 11 family members lived in a tent awaiting sponsorship from the United States. She described the conditions as no bathroom, no sink, and a small makeshift fire pit from which the family cooked. Their diet consisted of vegetables and rice. On February 17, 1981, their wait for sponsorship was over. Her youngest uncle helped get her family sponsorship. He had already settled in the United States and secured sponsorship through a Christian church in Washington. She arrived in Seattle, Washington, on February 19, 1981. There she lived with her family and attended church regularly. That is where she met my dad. They got married and had my older sister before moving to Sacramento on February 19, 1983.

My father is one of 10 children and is the single person in his family to immigrate to the United States. He grew in Xe Ban Nuan, Savannakhet, Laos. He joined the Special Guerrilla Unit (SGU) in 1971. He served with his company until 1975. Then he returned to the Royal Lao Army in Luang Prabang, Laos. He served alongside other Lao soldiers. However, the soldier who was directing their location was an American soldier. My father left Xe Ban Hian in September 1979. He swam across the Mekong, which was a familiar act to him. He swam across once a month for medicine and medical care. After spending months in the jungle on the Ho Chi Minh trail and then back serving the Lao Army, he became sick with malaria. That forced him to seek care in a hospital. After his recovery, he went to a refugee camp in Ubon Ratchathani, Thailand. He only stayed for two months, he took a slot that became available without notice. When he went in to interview with immigration officials prior to leaving the camp, he said he was in the SGU, and they quizzed him on weaponry. When he arrived in the United States, he first settled in Hartford, Connecticut, on December 13, 1979. He eventually left to visit distant relatives in Wisconsin. Then he went to Tacoma, Washington, and decided to settle there after he met my mom in 1981. 

Growing up, I remember my parents being heavily involved in the Laotian community. Compared to how it is now, in the age of technology and social media, it was truly much harder for my parents to organize and plan community events back then. They hand wrote and typed flyers to organize fundraising events and temple events. They were active members in the local Lao Association. My mother taught Lao school on Saturdays to all the association members’ children. My older sister and I participated in that class. I remember learning the Lao national anthem and American pledge of allegiance at the same time.  I also remember learning Lao traditional dance, which was also led by my mother. All the while, immersed in Laotian culture, I can also recall my parents adapting and assimilating into American culture. We had family night playing cards and completing puzzles. We always ate dinner together around our pa khao, which is the Lao version of a dinner table. We listened to vinyl records of James Taylor, Michael Jackson, and Joan Jett. We went on family road trips and the local library often. 

This affected my identity. As a child of Lao refugees, I was submerged in Laotian culture, but I was often caught straddling the fence between preserving culture with my family, and assimilating with American culture in my neighborhood and school. This is a story that has connected me with many other first generation Laotian-Americans in the country. Our stories intersect at the point where our families crossed the Mekong river to seek asylum in refugee camps in Thailand. This was the inspiration for a personal pilgrimage to cross the Mekong as my parents did, in order to experience and understand my roots. It wasn’t until college, and now, that I am discovering more of my Lao identity through my parents sharing their past experiences with me through traditional Lao storytelling.

When I discovered that my aunts and uncles in Laos are working in education, I felt validated that it was in my lineage to carry on a legacy of impact of young minds. I didn’t initially accept being an education major, as I absolutely loved storytelling through my journalism roots. But now I recognize, it was so important to me because I felt like if I gave up on journalism, I was giving up part of my Lao identity because of the storytelling aspect. But when I was working in an afterschool program in my neighborhood, I quickly realized, the work with youth, interwoven with storytelling, would make a greater impact than any article I could ever write. 

So, I have been teaching elementary education for the past eleven years. I have taught grades kindergarten, first, second, and fifth. I have also been a reading specialist for the past three years working with roughly a hundred at-risk youth at my school. I love connecting with other educators over hot topics and inspirational quotes. 

But my story simply isn’t complete. When my uncle in Laos passed away earlier this year, I felt angry and disconnected. I was angry that the lack of access to medicine was a major factor in his death. And the feeling of being disconnected was also because of the fact that I hadn’t been to Laos to meet my father’s family. I couldn’t look at a photo and name members of his family -my family. There was some shame in that. Right around his passing, my mom told me about the Lao American Advancement Organization (LAAO) and an event they were hosting to educate the community on California Assembly Bill (AB) 1393, which calls for the inclusion of Laotian history in K-12 curriculum. I attended the event with my mother, my aunt, and my sister. 

Through this event, I met the founder of LAAO, Dr. Khonepeth Lily Liemthongsamout, and the first Laotian State Senator, Tina Maharath of Ohio. That night they both encouraged me to become politically involved, and it has snowballed from there. I have rolled up my sleeves and dug into advocating and lobbying for AB 1393. I have been studying the Lao language, and relearning how to read, write, and speak fluently. I have been interviewing my parents about their origin story in order to preserve the story of their journey to share with my own children. And if the AB 1393 passes in the coming months, I hope to share their story and the stories of other Lao refugees with students and teachers across California. 

Christie is a Laotian-American woman born and raised in Sacramento, California. Her work in education and the Lao community is rooted in her family’s legacy and history of organizing the Lao community in Sacramento. 

Follow her journey in education and Crossing the Mekong on Instagram, Facebook, & Twitter.