The House on Margaret Street

Mai Neng Moua

Growing up on public assistance, my family never had a house of our own. The four of us always lived in two-bedroom apartments. My mom and I shared a room, and my two brothers shared another room. One time, we were lucky and got to live in a three-bedroom Section 8 house. A whole house with a basement to ourselves. We thought we had won the lottery!

With the exception of the Section 8 house, all the apartments had cockroaches and mice. We didn’t know any better. We thought everyone else’s houses had cockroaches and mice too. 

None of the apartments had air conditioning (AC) so it was an oven in the summer. We didn’t know about window units. Or if we did, we couldn’t afford them.  

After college when I started my first salaried job, I bought the Margaret Street House on the east side of Saint Paul. It was a white two-story house with navy blue awnings. Some would say it was just an ordinary, basic house. Nothing to brag about. But to us, it was the American Dream. With my hard-earned money, I bought this house for my family. We loved it. 

There was a covered porch where we stored all our shoes. Where I could sit, drink my tea, and watch the world go by in private. The front door opened to a living room with stairs on the left, going upstairs. Upstairs, there were four bedrooms. That’s when I realized, white people each had their own rooms? I had never had my own room. For the first time, each of us had our own room. What a luxury!

Downstairs, the living room opened to a dining room which opened to a kitchen. The kitchen had a little eat-in area with a table. This was where we often ate our meals. To the right was the back door, which opened to a fenced yard. We had enough space for my mom to plant the Hmong staples of cilantro, green onions, hot peppers, zaub paj and zaub ntsuab. We had never had a yard big enough for us to grow anything. 

At the end of the yard, we had a two-car garage for our cars. We had always parked our cars on the streets. And in the winter, we had to spend 5-10 minutes scraping it before we could drive it.  And now, we had a little house for our cars!  

Along the side of the fence, there was a gate that opened into the neighbor’s yard. The previous owner must’ve been good friends with the next-door neighbor. They must’ve gone back and forth between each other’s yards. In the apartments we lived in, if our neighbors were not family, we weren’t friends with them. Now? We were good friends with the old Chinese neighbor next door. 

Inside the house, for the first time, we had AC. My mom never liked to use it until that one week in summer when it was so hot, your T-shirts stuck to your skin. Then she’d sad,  “Okay, turn it on.” Boy, that cool AC air was such a blessing! After we had the privilege of a comfortable home in the summer, I wondered how we ever made it through those muggy summers.

In the basement, we had a second bathroom with a shower. Gone were the days of pounding on the bathroom door, yelling, “Hurry up! Other people have to use the bathroom too.” 

My first summer at the Margaret Street House, I remember cooking in the kitchen. I needed to make some hot pepper sauce to go with my dish. And I imagined myself as the Hmong Martha Stewart.

“And now, from our organic garden in the backyard, we’re going to pick some fresh herbs for our hot pepper sauce.” The camera followed me outside as I walked toward the garden bed, carrying a pho bowl.

“Here is our organic cilantro. These are young and perfect for our hot pepper sauce. You want to pick these leaves before the plant starts to go to seed. Pick these outer, older leaves so that the inner, younger leaves can keep growing. The more you pick, the more they grow.” The camera showed a close-up of my hands picking the cilantro and putting it in the bowl.

“You could use scissors here, but we’re Hmong so we’re just using our fingers. And now, let’s go over to the hot peppers.” The camera panned to the rows of hot pepper plants and focused on one. 

‘Aren’t these beautiful? You’ll notice these peppers here are still green.” Camera showed a close-up of the green peppers. 

“But, if you lift these leaves, you’ll see the red peppers on the bottom. These are hot so we’re going to be very careful. We’re going to take the stem and we’re going to gently break it off. Just like that. You don’t need very many unless you want it super-hot.”

The camera showed a close-up of my hands, grabbing a red pepper by the end of the stem and gently breaking it off. The camera showed my hands placing the peppers in the bowl next to the cilantro. 

“For me, I like to balance my pepper sauce with a sprig of green onions.” The camera followed me as I walked over to the green onion patch.

“Green onion is pretty strong so we’re just going to take a couple leaves. You don’t need a lot.” The camera showed my hand picking two outer green onion leaves and placing  them in the bowl with the red peppers and cilantro.

“And now, we’re ready to make our Hmong hot pepper sauce.” The camera followed as I opened the back door and walked into the kitchen.