I was happy that the Sunday Sacramento Bee finally devoted a front-page article to problem gambling among Asians, but it's gotta be at least twenty-five damned years too late, after the huge explosion in founding new casinos in California. The Western Calvinist tradition of moral disapprobation, the official state attitude of happy approbation, and the eastern tradition of acceptance and denial have all conspired to bury Asian problem gambling from any serious attention, for years, and years, and years.
Organizations like Gambler's Anonymous, which attempt to use pre-existing affiliations to rescue gamblers; in particular pre-existing Christian religious beliefs, is all but useless in this fight. An Asian approach has to be found, but hardly anyone is doing the work necessary to find one. Don't expect any of California's supposed 'leaders' to do anything. Far too much money is made by looking the other way. And in the interim, the weak perish and the bodies accumulate.
In particular, I remember seeing someone at Cache Creek very much like Chee Lin Tse Chui, but Vietnamese, and lost, walking back and forth in the Cache Creek Casino, begging for money. Her bus had left without her, she couldn't get home, she couldn't reach any relatives, and she was quite alone.
And I also remember talking to a 21-year-old with a $20,000 gambling debt. I was shocked that someone so young could have accumulated such a debt, but even more shocked by her casual acceptance of that fate - she is by no means alone in her age cohort:
The rangers found Ee Kouei Saelee hanging from a tree in Gibson Ranch Park after he'd gambled away his life savings, his self-respect and his will to live.
Saelee, 51, had helped many of Sacramento's Mien refugees find jobs, homes and health care. But the shaman who spoke five languages and saved others' lives as a healer and medical interpreter couldn't save himself from his addiction to pai gao poker.
Hours before he died, his widow recalled, "He was sitting on the bed and said, 'Honey, we've lost all our money, I can't feed my family. I have to die.' "
More than a million Californians have a gambling addiction, and the problem is especially acute locally. In the past two years, the 916 area code has ranked first or second in calls to the state's gambling hotline. Few of the callers are Asian, despite studies showing that Asian Americans are particularly prone to gambling addiction.
That disconnect is partly cultural, said Dr. Tim Fong of UCLA's Gambling Studies Program.
"From the Asian experience there's this whole mind-set that problems of the mind, psychiatric problems, are not real problems," said Fong, who wrote several of the studies. Many Asians "believe your fate is predetermined from the day you're born, and you really have no control."
Even those who want to get help for gambling addiction might not know where to go, especially if they don't speak English well.
The state hotline does not have interviewers who speak Southeast Asian languages or Tagalog. The only Chinese hotline and treatment program is in San Francisco, and the only Gamblers Anonymous meeting for Vietnamese and Filipinos who don't speak English meets in San Jose.
The State Office of Problem Gambling, created by the Legislature in 2003, has received $15 million from Indian gambling tribes. So far, none of that money has gone to treatment.
Lawmakers have approved $5 million more from the tribes to help set up programs. But that effort includes no plans to target Asian gamblers.
By contrast, Oregon – with nine Indian casinos compared with California's 60 – spends $3 million a year on treatment, providing free services to thousands of gamblers. One of the state's counselors speaks Cantonese, Mandarin, Haka, Vietnamese, Thai, Lao and French.
...Language and cultural differences are no barriers to gambling addiction, as some notorious cases underscore.
• Bong Joo Lee, a divorced Korean American from Fontana, owed $200,000 in gambling debts in 2006. He killed his 5-year-old daughter and then himself.
• Ted Ngoy, the Cambodian doughnut king of California, gambled away his empire and, by 2005, wound up living on the porch of a friend's trailer.
• Kao Xiong, a Hmong father in North Sacramento, argued with his wife over his gambling, shot himself in the head and killed five of his seven children in 1999.
Regional studies show that up to half of Asian Americans are problem gamblers – a much higher rate than the general population, said UCLA's Fong, who has received more than $975,000 from the state to study the topic and develop manuals and workbooks.
"What we're finding is gambling addiction … among Asian families strikes very differently and often much harder," he said. "Asian families tend to bury problems much more, enable behavior and bail out the problem."
Visit any casino in the Sacramento area and easily half the faces are Asian, often clustered around the pai gao and baccarat tables.
Although the recession has sapped some casino profits, it may be swelling the ranks of Asian problem gamblers, said Dr. Eddie Chiu, a clinical psychologist who runs the only Chinese language treatment program for problem gamblers, in San Francisco.
"Once they lose their job they sit at home without much to do so they go to a casino," Chiu said.
Casinos cater to Asian customers with an array of Asian games, dining and entertainment, Asian hosts and dealers.
"Right now, I have four relatives that work in casinos," said Nai Poo Saechao, Saelee's widow.
...Many older Asians gamble out of loneliness, experts say. Yet loneliness would have seemed the least likely of problems for the successful Saelee.
But, in 1997, everything Saelee had built began to unravel.
First he lost his job. Then his son Pa Seng, a 16-year-old Center High School sophomore who dreamed of becoming a doctor, was killed in a drive-by shooting.
Four Laotian youths were convicted in the slaying.
Grief-stricken, Saelee found work at two local card rooms, Lucky Derby and Phoenix.
"He didn't gamble before, but he had so much stress he couldn't think straight," said his widow, Saechao. "When he played poker he forgot about everything else."
Saelee lost every cent of his $400,000 home equity playing pai gao, she said.
"We always said, 'Please don't do it anymore' every time he came home, but he'd say, 'I lose so much money I have to pay off my losses.' "
By the time Saelee admitted he had a problem, it was too late.
"Of all the elephants in our community," Saechao said, "gambling is the biggest."
...Counselors "don't know how to help the Asian population," said Foua Ly, a Hmong worker at the Southeast Asian Assistance Center, who said his own cousin lost more than $100,000 gambling.
"Gamblers Anonymous is not going to work because it's very strict – no credit cards, no money," Ly said, "and they're not going to lower themselves to be treated like a child."
Terri Sue Canale, director of the state's Office of Problem Gambling, said the lack of treatment in California "is a concern for everybody in the gambling world." When California finally sets up treatment programs, "Hopefully Southeast Asians will be referred to groups that speak their language," Canale said.
There are more than a million Filipinos and a half-million Vietnamese in California, most of them in the north state. California's sole Vietnamese and Filipino Gamblers Anonymous group meets in San Jose.
...Chee Lin Tse Chui, a 77-year-old retired seamstress from China who died outside Cache Creek last July, also was an isolated gambler.
Twice a week, her daughter says, she'd leave her apartment in San Francisco's Chinatown early enough to catch the 8 a.m. bus.
Ling Chui said her mom wasn't a gambling addict. "She played 21 and she won a lot and quit when she was up $300 or $400." As her invalid husband's health deteriorated, she lived for her casino escapes.
Chui traveled alone. Her only friend was the driver, and "she always tipped him $10 to $20, depending upon how much she'd win," her daughter said.
Typically, Ling Chui said, the bus driver made sure her mom knew when he was leaving. But, on July 1, the bus left Cache Creek without her.
The disoriented Chui – who spoke only Cantonese and had no cell phone – wandered outside, according to the law enforcement investigation.
Five days later, sheriff's deputies found her body in bushes about 700 feet from the casino. The cause of death was undetermined. "It may have been some sort of mild stroke," said Yolo County Chief Deputy Coroner Robert LaBrash.
In Chui's purse when she died was $600 in cash.
...Asian American advocates throughout California are critical of what they characterize as exploitation of Asian immigrants by casinos.
"The thing that really troubles me is that these casinos benefit greatly from the (Asian/Pacific Islander) community and give nothing back," said Jerry Chong, legal counsel for CAPITAL, a Sacramento umbrella group for 100 Asian organizations.
Even if the bus that brought Chui to Cache Creek didn't belong to the casino, "they're supposed to look out for people and care for people. There may be dementia and Alzheimer's out there," Chong said. "It's not asking too much to make sure to get them back home."
Casinos try to distance themselves from most of the bus trade.
Li, the Cache Creek host, said 10 charter buses arrive daily. The bus that brought Chui "doesn't belong to us," he said. "We do try to control them and remind them to make sure nobody's missing the bus, but we still cannot control them."
Asians have yet to fully address the problem, Fong said. They may protest against gangs, drugs, or strip clubs in their communities, but "they don't really do that for gambling. … Have you ever seen any protests against these casinos – 'We don't want this any more, get rid of the buses, get rid of the marketing, stop taking advantage of our weak?' "
...Even in death, Saelee demonstrated leadership through the two-page suicide note he left on his bed:
"I want to tell my family, my children, the whole community and all the people around the world, don't gamble," he wrote. "If you gamble, you become addicted and it can make you crazy."
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