Spirits without Borders

When the Third Princess (Cô Bo) incarnated into Mrs. Vân at a temple-opening ceremony, Karen and Hien realized that the spirit and the temple were fully incorporated into the California landscape. The temple is situated in rolling grass-covered hills that are dotted with California buckwheat and interior live oak and is home to bobcat, coyote, rattlesnake, ground squirrel, and mountain lion, many of which are creator beings of the first peoples in the area. At that time, in the late summer, the road to the temple was dotted with fruit stands advertising fresh cherries and apricots, and a campground announcing an upcoming Tractor Pull and Renaissance Faire. The temple is located near San Luis Reservoir, an essential part of California’s hydroelectric supply and a favorite spot for fishermen hoping to catch striped bass or the occasional sturgeon: Karen had once caught a “striper” there herself. Mrs. Vân’s daughter Tania explained that the reservoir was a factor in the decision to purchase the home that would be transformed into a temple. “You will see,” she said, “that you have to go over the hills and cross the water to get to the temple. That’s what the possession songs say!”

Karen became ill while she and Hiền were conducting field research in Vietnam. Just as she was leaving the country she began to feel unwell and within one week her skin turned bright orange yellow, she was diagnosed with autoimmune hepatitis, and her liver had nearly failed. She was hospitalized for five weeks while the diagnosis was made and treatments administered. During that time, when no one knew for sure what the outcome would be and whether or not Karen would respond to the treatment, she was told to contact people who were more than a few hours away so they could be prepared to come quickly if things turned for the worse. Karen had to notify Phan, Hien, and Tania and Brian. “Oh! My sister, how are you? Are you okay? I was in the hospital too.” Karen listened to the weak, frail voice of Phan—spirit medium, prime consultant, friend, and elder sister—as they spoke over the telephone. It seemed extraordinary that they had both been hospitalized and released at the same time. The two women had known each other for more than twenty years: they met because Phan once offered to teach Karen about her life as a medium and practitioner of the lên dồng ritual.

When Karen and Hiền arrived at Mr. Thanh’s temple to observe a lên dồng ceremony, they were surprised to find that several pieces of children’s clothing were suspended from a bamboo branch placed close to the main altar. Hiền had observed the use of clothing during the Then rituals of the Tay, but had never seen the practice associated with a lên dồng ritual. In the Then rituals a shaman travels to the other world to call back the disappeared spirits of patients who are symbolically represented by their clothing. But why were clothes placed on the altar just before a lên dồng ceremony? This was an indication that Mr. Thanh does not just practice the rituals of Ðạo Mẫu, he also engages in many different religious traditions including Buddhism and Taoism, and acts as a ritual master (thầy cúng), fortune-teller (thầy bói), and sorcerer (thầy pháp).

It was on the third day of her mother’s funeral ritual that Hiền’s dead brother made an appearance. The family, including Huệ, Hiền’s dead brother’s wife, was seated on the floor in front of the funeral altar listening to chants of the ritual master. Suddenly Huệ cried out in a voice not hers, “Mother!” (Mẹ oi). Hiền, who sitting some distance away, knew immediately that Huệ was possessed. Quickly, Hiền rose from her place on the floor and went to sit beside Huệ where she asked a series of questions aimed at determining the spirit’s identity. Her first question, “Who are you?” elicited no response. Neither did the next two questions. So she decided to change directions with her questioning, and began to ask about deceased relatives. “Are you sister Chinh who died from the bite of a rabid dog?” Huệ’s head moved from right to left, left to right several times, indicating that it was not sister Chinh. Then with hope filling her body, Hiền asked a question the answer to which would not only bring great hope to her family but also change the direction of her life. Slowly and clearly she asked the spirit, “Are you brother Hòa?” Huệ’s head moved up and down to indicate yes. Hiền and her family were filled with great happiness.

One spring day in 2003 Karen went with Phan to a ceremony at a newly established Silicon Valley temple. “Come with me,” Phan told Karen, “you’ll see it’s a really big temple!” Karen was astounded because it was quite different from other temples she had seen in the area. Although most did not advertise their presence, this temple had a huge painted wooden sign and three flags (of temples, the United States, and the former Republic of South Vietnam) placed over the entrance gate. And while it was located in a residential neighborhood, like most other temples of Silicon Valley, it was not situated inside the home but in an attached building constructed solely to house the temple. It had a beautiful new floor with an elevated area for the medium and ritual assistants to sit, French doors with paned windows, and freshly painted walls. And as Karen later learned, nearly every object on the altar had been purchased in Vietnam. The statues of the spirits, the lintels and columns, the many vases and incense pots, the drums and gongs, and the numerous silk spirit hats suspended from the ceiling had all come from Vietnam. The airiness of the temple, along with the made-and-purchased-in-Vietnam ritual goods, reminded Karen of public temples she had visited in Vietnam. She wondered who had built such a temple and how they got all the goods from Vietnam. What did other mediums think of this new and rather opulent temple? Did they like it better because it was similar to those in Vietnam? In fact, when Hiền first visited this temple she said it made her feel as if she had returned home.

Master Thanh stood on the steps of the temple directing disciples as they brought tray after tray of blessed gifts into the temple. Packages of ramen noodles, bags of monosodium glutamate, peanut candies, rambutan, star fruit, and grapes were all piled high on round aluminum trays. Someone brought spirit clothes, another carried votive offerings, and a third person arranged flowers on the altar. Tania and the others had just arrived at the temple after an eighteen-hour trip from the United States and a three-hour car ride from Hanoi, the last leg of which was through narrow, muddy, and potholed roads. The village, nestled in low-lying green hills, was as gray as the bricks its residents made while the votives and blessed gifts were so brightly colored they stood out in the monochromatic village. So did Master Thanh. He was dressed in pink satin pajamas and a pair of women’s sandals, and was decorated with false eyelashes, pink lipstick, and sparkle make-up. Once he recognized the Americans the master smiled and greeted them. Tania responded “Hello, Miss” and whispered to Karen under her breath, “Look! He’s even wearing a bra!” This was an important day. Tania had saved for more than a year for this trip. She would finally enter a new level of mediumship by being initiated into the realm of Chúa Bói, and get spiritual permission, much like a license, to practice the fortune-telling she had done for years. Like many other U.S. mediums, Tania had traveled to Vietnam to practice her religion in its homeland.

As soon as she was released from hospital Karen wanted to attend a lên dồng. She wanted to see her friends, thank the spirits for her recovery, and perhaps learn more about how the mediums explained her illness. She desired the normalizing experience of going out after several months of an invalid’s indoor life, and had not seen Tania or Brian since they left Sapa seven months earlier. But she also wanted to be well enough to attend a ceremony: to walk fairly steadily and seat herself, albeit with the help of a cane, and time her arrival and exit to coincide with feeding and medication schedules. She waited also until she could effectively control emotions, an ability hampered by the prescribed medications she had to take. She set the New Year ceremony of the Year of the Ox as her goal.