A freshly slaughtered pig, sliced in half, rests on top of a folding table in the living room of a home where an Iu Mien—an ethnic minority from China—religious ceremony is being held. The altar, meticulously prepared, consists of sacrificial items such as rice, wine, food and spiritual paper “money,” created purposely to burn for good luck. The sacrificed animal will serve as the main offering to the spirits who are summoned during the ceremony. Later, many will gather to feast on its meat. In this Hopv Nguin ceremony—which means the reimbursement or repayment back to the gods and ancestors—Chiem Ching Saeteurn, a shaman priest, sits in front of an altar and begins to chant.

A nostalgic feeling brings me back to my childhood, when multitudes of family and friends would influx my home. I’ve spent the last two days sitting in the homes of families in Oakland, Calif., who continue to keep their ancestor worship alive by holding ceremonies that my family strayed from many years ago.

I’m sitting here thinking of how my family’s Iu Mien ancestors are looking down on us, seeing the gratitude their descendants are showing with these sacrificial offerings that have been placed on the altar.

Iu Mien people migrated to Southeast Asia from China due to political and economic causes. Millions settled in the mountains of Thailand and Laos. During the Vietnam War, Iu Mien men, like Chiam Vang, my father, were recruited in the anti-communist effort to fight during the Vietnam War alongside the U.S. military. Under the Refugee Act, Iu Mien families were granted immigration to the United States and tens of thousands settled in the Bay Area.

Since there are no official archaic documents dating back to 2240 B.C. tracing the extensive journey of Iu Mien people, our history is sustained through the retelling of legends, folk tales and songs.

I was born in America and my parents still share their stories about their arduous journeys, but traditions have been gradually digressing as I witness my family and many other Iu Mien families in America disperse from our religious values.

My father is the only one in my family that still practices the ancient Iu Mien religion. Along with a third of Iu Mien families in the United States that converted to Christianity, according to a study by the Cross Cultural Healthcare Program, a year ago my mother also converted. But in rebellion to that statistic, my siblings are so aloof from religion they’re atheists. American culture mingled with their busy lives has slowly disconnected them from religion.

It wasn’t until I got older and began to see my Iu Mien generation so inactive with our community and older traditions that I realized our culture is at risk of becoming extinct. This is when I began to delve deeper into my roots, becoming more ardent about learning the origin of my people and our traditional beliefs. Family and culture perseverance is vital in keeping our Iu Mien community alive and growing.

The old-country Iu Mien religion is a blend of Taoism, animism and ancestor worship. Spirits are believed to live in inanimate objects, animals, people and plants. In a relentless effort to keep religion and tradition alive in America, Iu Mien families continue to practice shamanism, a range of traditional beliefs and practices that involve the ability to diagnose, cure, and sometimes cause human suffering by traversing the axis mundi—the earth and the sky—and forming a special relationship with, or gaining control over, spirits.

Shamans have been credited with the ability to control the weather, divination, interpretation of dreams, astral projection and traveling to upper and lower worlds. Shamanistic traditions have existed throughout the world since prehistoric times, according to Dr. Ellie Crystal, a research author and psychic who specializes in Metaphysical Science.

Crystal says shamanism is based on the premise that invisible forces, or spirits, who affect the lives of the living, pervade the visible world. In contrast to animism and animatisms, shamanism requires specialized knowledge or abilities. Shamans are not, however, organized into full-time ritual or spiritual associations, as are priests. Iu Mien shamans from China and Southeast Asia brought a lot of their ancient ceremonial artifacts including books written in Chinese characters that have been passed on from many generations. It takes years of practice and apprenticeship, where the student shadows the shaman during ceremonies to master his craft.

“I brought a lot of the artifacts that I use from Laos that have been passed on from my grandfather to my father and now it has been passed on to me. I want my children to learn shamanism too, but it is almost impossible since they are so assimilated with the American culture,” says Chiem Ching, a shaman priest of 36 years.

After awaiting the Grand Priest’s arrival for five hours, my conversations with my elders have brought me to the realization that even though I was raised in an Iu Mien household and was taught the Iu Mien dialect, there is still a massive language barrier.

My knowledge of the dialect is just enough to get by. I’ve overestimated my fluency of the language—speaking like a 5-year-old Iu Mien child at a beginner’s level.

While conversing with the Grand Priest, whose title is the highest of all levels of priests who have mastered the skills of a shaman, a feeling of oblivion overwhelms me. I’m so blind to think that I would be able to have an intellectual conversation about religion and tradition with him, when I’ve had minimal knowledge of the traditions that I was taught and had evaded as a child.

Grand Priest Fou Vang Tang has high hopes that members of my generation—his sons and daughters—will preserve our traditional values. He teaches his sons shamanism from the early age of 10, but admits that their Americanization and social lives have affected their time and passion to learn shamanism.

“We don’t have young people who are pitching in to help keep our tradition going, but all it takes are three to four people in each generation to keep the Shaman practice. I have faith that our tradition will remain alive, even when my generation is gone,” says Tang.

He doesn’t know of any 20-something-year-olds that are practicing shamanism, but there are 30- to 40-somethings that are still at an elementary level, he says.

It takes five to seven years to be a shaman, says Tang, who works with the Lao Iu Mien Cultural Center, a non-profit organization whose mission is to preserve the Iu Mien tradition and culture.

LIMCA built a Mien temple for Taoist/Buddhist followers and provides programs and events celebrating Iu Mien culture. Classes aren’t provided for young people, Tang says, however, the way for them to learn shamanism is through apprenticeship, observation, learning to read and write Chinese characters, and taking personal time out to learn.

Ricky Fong, a 25-year-old Mien American whose father is a devout shaman, predicts that six to seven years from now, shamanism will cease to exist.
“American way of life does dictate what families see as priorities and shamanism isn’t one of them,” says Fong, who was taught Chinese dialect at a young age in an effort to practice shamanism. He doesn’t intend to practice shamanism anytime soon, but still feels pressured to learn.

I can relate with Fong’s prediction. I don’t know anyone in my generation who is actually practicing shamanism. Neither does he.

My father has always been a devout Taoist and remains religious at heart. Though he is growing older, he still has a lot to learn about shamanism. I watch him practice his ancient homemade books with Chinese scripts that his father passed down to him and ones that he made himself.

I watch my siblings and I slowly become detached from our traditional values. I am ashamed to say that it wasn’t until now that I finally began tracing my heritage. I’ve never seen my father so enthusiastic about his daughter partaking in religious ceremonies, which I fear will die out in America.

Uneasiness consumes me as I speak in broken Iu Mien. I worry about the expected etiquette in this environment. But now I see there is no reason for my awkward feeling.

At the lunch table, we sit, chat, and eat numerous pig dishes that include soups and stir-fry, prepared by Iu Mien women. These humble Iu Mien families have welcomed me into their homes with open arms. I feel at home.

Not very many children are present during the ceremony, which reminds me of myself as a child. When ceremonies were held at my house, my siblings and I didn’t participate either. Seeing that those present are members of my father’s generation or older, I feel pride and also sadness. I am the only Iu Mien young adult sitting here.