Saetern watches the teens from a distance. "The kids are not practicing shamanism because their peers are not doing it," she says. "It's not like break dancing. They're not interested in shamanism like they are in break dancing. It would be nice if it were the other way around."
Iu-Mien altars require items such as paper money, "contracts" with Taoist
gods, sacrificial rice wine, and ceremonial cups.
Iu-Mien altars require items such as paper money, "contracts" with Taoist
gods, sacrificial rice wine, and ceremonial cups.
Iu-Mien altars require items such as paper money, "contracts" with Taoist
gods, sacrificial rice wine, and ceremonial cups.
Anthony Pidgeon
Muoung Saetern, of the Lao Iu-Mien Cultural Association, knows of only
two or three teens learning shamanism.
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According to Saephanh family legend, Kao has felt the power of the spirits from the day he was born. As the story goes, Kao was originally named Kao Lio Saephanh, names taken from his mother's side of the family. But as a baby, he was constantly sick and colicky. When his condition didn't naturally get better, his mother asked a shaman to speak to the spirits about her son.
"The spirits said my name was the problem," Kao says. "So they changed it, and that got me better."
And when he got a bad case of chicken pox, his mother called a shaman for help again, and that was said to have cured Kao, too. "After the ceremony, every day I got better and better," he says.
These stories came out during a second-grade homework assignment when Kao was supposed to ask his parents about the origins of his name. But Kao says he's seen shamanism work with his own eyes, too. "I've been at home when they do the ceremonies," he says. "I see the outcomes and how it helps people. It's a sacred part of the culture. My little brother -- the baby -- was sick for a week. Every day he got worse. So we found out that something was wrong with his flower spirit and we did a ceremony. The day after, he was cheerful and playing around. If I can do something like that to help people, it would make a big difference."
But he knows not everyone in America will understand why he wants to pursue shamanism.
"It's an intricate art of the Mien people, and here it's being lost," he says. "So I want to learn every little part of it so I can keep it alive. The biggest thing is the art, the way you do things. Like sacrifices. The West sees it as a cruel act -- sacrificing a creature to some spirit you can't see. They might not understand it like the Mien do. They look at us like we're crazy, sacrificing and getting into those clothes, and blowing horns -- what they see as weird tools. But there's a story behind why we use certain tools or creatures. People that see it as weird shouldn't jump to conclusions. They don't know the great things behind it."
He understands the origins of this doubt because he is thinking about being a scientist one day. Working with NASA is his dream job; he wants to study outer space, and the life that might exist out there. And Kao is certainly on track -- he took advanced placement biology his sophomore year in high school. And as a junior this year he is already thinking about applying to Caltech or Stanford University for college.
But if science is at odds with the practice of shamanism, he shrugs away doubt. "Science does not get in the way of religion," he says. "I separate those two. I don't need science to prove my religion; it's who I am. It's faith."
Kao says he doesn't need societal affirmation or peer acceptance to respect shamanism, either. "I've experienced these things where nothing has helped, but religion would," Kao says. "That's why I'm rooted in religion.
"It is a struggle," he acknowledges. "Because here, in America, there's a difference between your social life and your culture. You get used to American life, and your parents force the culture on you because they want you to help keep it alive. But your friends have a different effect on you. It's not easy to blend cultures. It depends on where I am."
Kao has no other words for something he knows and understands purely by instinct. He fiddles unconsciously with his cell phone, as if divining it to ring.
