Story originally printed in the Onalaska Life or online at www.onalaskalife.com

Published - Thursday, July 26, 2007

Tuning in to the sound of Hmong tradition

Tony Yang learned the qeej as a boy in a Thai refugee camp. Two decades later he has taken it up again. He will give a presentation on Hmong traditional music and instruments at the Aug. 1 meeting of the Holmen Area Historical Society starting at 7 p.m. at Holmen Village Hall. Photo by Randy Erickson CHECK IT OUT: Here are some links to video footage of of the qeej. "Pluas," a traditional Hmong funeral song intended to help lead the spirit of the deceased to the afterworld Song to resurrect the horse Song to give the deceased an army Song to send the body to the ground

By RANDY ERICKSON | Editor

Tony Yang has been in the United States for 20 years, but one morning last week he was transported back to his native Laos. The sun was just up and his grandparents were out feeding the chickens, the signal for the rest of the family to get out and begin a long day of working in the garden.

Such is the power of the qeej, a traditional Hmong instrument that is believed to have its roots in China about 5,000 years ago.

Qeej is the Hmong spelling of the instrument’s name, but Yang said in English it might be spelled closer to “kheng.” And as difficult as the instrument’s name might be for an American to say, it’s infinitely more difficult to master playing it.

The qeej looks very much like it could have been invented 5,000 years ago. It features six curved bamboo tubes of varying length and thickness, all running through a wooden central body that the player pushes air into through a copper tube.

Copper blades embedded in the bamboo tubes inside the wooden body vibrate when the player blows or inhales, and the tones produced vary depending on what holes in the bamboo tubes the player covers with his fingers.

The sound produced by the qeej is kind of a cross between a harmonica and a bagpipe. It also could be considered the sound of death, as it is traditionally played during funeral rituals. But it also is played at Hmong marriage ceremonies and new year’s celebrations.

For Yang, it’s a sound that summons memories of the old country. He moved with his family to a refugee camp in Thailand when he was 4. They stayed in the refugee camp for almost 11 years before coming to the United States. Usually a family stayed in a refugee camp for a year or two, but Yang’s family lingered far longer, hoping to connect with cousins before making the big jump to America.

While in the refugee camp, when he was 6 or 7, Yang’s father taught him to play the qeej. That was generally how people learned — getting private lessons from somebody you knew, Yang said. And you don’t find self-taught players, as you might with guitar, which Yang also plays.

The hardest parts of learning to play the qeej are mastering the intricacies of breath timing and memorizing the fingering of all the songs. There is no musical notation for the qeej, so it all has to be memorized.

Relearning the qeej has convinced Yang of at least one thing. “It’s better to learn when you’re young,” he said. “Playing traditional music is not easy. it takes years in order to get good at it.”

Yang had to give up playing the qeej for a long time as his life took its twists and turns. He came to La Crosse in 1987, a young man of almost 15. He knew little English, but became a student of body language to help him get by. He also turned to the television to help him learn English.

There was no time to think about taking up the qeej again while he was going to college and building his career in education — he’s now the La Crosse School District Hmong and community coordinator. And starting a family also ate up a lot of his time — he has four children.

But three years ago, Yang decided to take up the instrument again. He convinced a cousin who had a number of instruments to sell him one — they’re very hard to get in this country and usually cost around $650.

In the old country, a qeej could last a couple generations, but with the drastic range of temperature and humidity in many parts of the United States, a qeej might not even last a lifetime. “In this country, it’s very hard to keep these instruments intact,” he said.

Yang knows five or six songs, and has no plans to become a qeej virtuouso. But he does want to do his part to help keep the art alive. “I just do it for the sake of it,” he said.

Contact Randy Erickson at randy.erickson@lee.net or (608) 786-6812.

AT A GLANCE