If you’re a refugee in a foreign country and are trying to navigate around town, you might not be aware of local customs, hazards, warning signs. While I could write all day about this (and actually do quite a bit of research on this already on countries with high illiteracy levels), I wanted to share this story before I went to work this morning, so forgive me for relying on quotes from others instead.
In the absence of words, the Hmong used story cloths (see quotes below for more info) to tell their own stories of their experiences in their homeland. Stories that are not generally depicted on a needlepoint pillow like the ones your grandmother has on the couch.
Without written language, they used story clothes to preserve their history. Women sewed images of their devastating stories of crossing the Mekong River to Thailand from Laos, or flying overseas to America for freedom.
Paj ntaub or “flower cloth” is a textile art traditionally practiced by Hmong people. It involves embroidery in applique, reverse applique and batik designs that are used to decorate clothing and accessories. Paj ntaub has also expanded to include “story cloths,” stitched stories often telling of the Hmong exodus from Laos to Thailand and even to the U.S.
So, ingeniously, the staff at the American Red Cross Twin Cities Area Chapter (where there is a large Hmong refugee community) found a way to show off these needlepoint skills and help the community navigate their new lives simultaneously.
Create new story cloths as a teaching tool for those in the Hmong community who are illiterate.
Each of the panels in the story cloth shares a different set of safety skills. “The winter weather panel shows images of Minnesota winters, including an icy lake and a car stuck in a snow bank, while the summer safety panel reminds people to wear lightweight clothing instead of traditional layered Hmong dress,” said Chau Vue, Hmong/South East Asian Outreach Coordinator with the Twin Cities Area Chapter, who shares these safety messages with the local Hmong community.
Imagine the possibilities here for countries with high illiteracy rates and taking cultural skills that are already there and transforming them into teaching tools. Perhaps my favorite example of this is the Mapula Embroidery Project in South Africa (more here and here).
And conversely, imagine the possibilities if we discovered more about what story cloths and other tapestries made by highly illiterate communities can teach us about their cultural experiences, cultural memory, histories, hopes, dreams. My favorite example of that are my biggest love, biggest question mark and biggest dream for writing more about, Afghan war rugs.
We often think we’re so advanced and cultured and technologically advanced, and we’re so often focused on moving forward, that I think we forget that there are great lessons to be told and stories to be shared and secrets to be uncovered when we drop our iPhones and laptops and headphones, and take a minute to learn (really learn) what stories are being told with little more than needles and thread, words optional.
Exciting stuff! Most of my voluntary work is with refugees, and my paid work is with a storyteller. I’ve been idly wondering how best to combine the two in a way that could circumnavigate the obvious language challenges. Duh! Also, spoke to a woman about a year ago who came over as a refugee from Chile in the 70s, and remember her saying something about Chileans having a strong tradition of protest/storytelling embroidery, as the Chilean community she became part of in Leeds produced quite a few big appliques documenting their stories of becoming and living as refugees.