At around five am on this cloudy Friday, my brothers woke up, surprised that I ended up sleeping on the floor in their room. They laughed at me, telling that I should sleep some more, and left me to go do their chores. I had slept for about four hours up 'till five. I decided to sleep some more 'till about six thirty, moving back to my old room that I slept in for the first two weeks at the center. I finally got up, stretched and headed back to my room to take a shower. Upon finishing up in the showers, I received a phone call from Ms. Hong, telling me that I was to not teach today. "You are invited to the pre-wedding ceremony of Ms. Minh, and also to meet Mr. Van," she said, "today is going to be your only opportunity to meet Mr. Van." I agreed and went around to all the houses, telling the them that I would not be teaching and that I would be leaving for Da Nang at around four o'clock.
When I at last walked down to the younger children's houses, I came across Vung, the girl who I accidentally injured the day before, sitting with a couple of her sisters. I grazed my hand over her forehead, taking a better look at the cut. It was getting better, but still was a noticeable red mark above her eyebrow. I apologized once again and asked her if it hurt. She shook her head side to side, telling me that it stopped hurting. I smiled, feeling a little bit more happy at that point. I promised myself I would make it up somehow (and still am thinking of what to do about it). I walked up to the Ngoc Lanh house. Man greeted me, a cast in his arm. "Ben! I broke my arm yesterday" he said, laughing a little. I sat down with him and asked him to tell me what happened. "I was juggling the soccer ball and tripped," he replied, "and I fell with all my weight on my arm." He saw the X-rays as still did not know what to think of them. This was his first broken bone. I told his mother, Ms. Lan (I know my spelling is off), that I wouldn't be able to join them for lunch due to heading to the pre-wedding celebration of Ms. Minh, the secretary of the center (now I finally remember!). I also met up with Phuoc this morning, sitting alone in front of the fish pond near the entrance of the center. I sat with him, asking him a little about his family. He was an only child, his father nonexistent in his life. His mother lived in his home village and was his only other member of his family that he kept in close contact with. He told me that he was able to call her a few times over the course of the few days he's been at the center. He eventually left me, going back to his room or maybe to play with the other children. I decided to head back to to get ready for ceremony.
Mrs. Hong called for me from her motorscooter about to head down the path towards the entrance. I quickly changed and hopped on, waving at all the students as we rode off towards the hotel where Mr. Van was residing. Okay, a little history of Mr. Van. Mr. Van is one of the biggest donors of the center and has been involved since its inception. The center actually was not at 37 Le Ngo Cat Street when it was first created. It was first at a rundown area a little further away in Hue, but the city eventually donated land, a graveyard, for a new center to be built. Mr. Van, a surprisingly energetic and tireless 77 year man, has been donating every year, tens of thousands of US dollar equivalent donations to the center, essentially being one of the life forces of the center. I was told that first he was a scientist in France, but recently retired to engage in philanthropic and other business ventures. I actually contacted him by phone frequently while finishing up my last term of freshman year at Dartmouth. What I failed to comprehend at the time was that he actually lived in France, near Paris, as Eva, the french volunteer told me. He was a worldly man, speaking many languages, but also suffered from a slight stutter in his speech. He was loved by all the children, many of them commenting on his work ethic and kindness. So back to the ride over with Mrs. Hong.
I never expected the director of the center to be such a fascinating individual. Upon first meeting her and being offered her hospitality and friendliness, I instantly became like a best friend to her and her family. She told me about her view on children, talking about her older son in China, one overseas, and her daughter who just recently got into an academy of music in Hue. She welcomed my advice, often asking me what I thought of Vietnam, marriage, and also a number of other things. In some ways I feel like she treats as if I'm her own son. I look forward to getting to know her more as the years go on past my stay at the center. Through the convenience of the internet, I know this will be possible. Anyways, we eventually reached the hotel, which was about thirty minutes away from the center.
Upon entering the area, an ex-child of the center showed up, baby in hand, and accompanied by her husband. Mrs. Hong opened her arms and hugged the woman, who said her baby had been born only 3 months ago. We all walked to the reception desk, seeking an audience with Mr. Van, who had apparently been well known in the area as well. There he was, a surprisingly happy and healthy looking elderly man, his wife accompanying him. They had both been scientists in France I was told. I will always remember that look, that presence I felt when I saw him in person for the first time. He looked at me, smiled, and asked me for my name. I replied in Vietnamese, which to his surprise was remarkably good. "Why didn't you speak to me in Vietnamese when you called me from America?" he said. "Sorry, I didn't know as much Vietnamese as I do now, and the phone quality was bad" I replied, scratching my head a bit. "Oh no worries, its great to see you in person" he said, then turning to Mrs. Hong and the ex-child of the center, embracing them and asking them how they were doing. Mr. Van's wife approached me, asking me how I was doing, and also telling me how surprised she was that I spoke Vietnamese. We had an interesting chat, talking over some of my reasons for coming back to Vietnam, and my feelings thus far on the center. We eventually decided that me, Mrs. Hong, and Mr. Van would head off to Ms. Minh's pre-wedding ceremony. We called a taxi and went right off, saying goodbye to the couple and Mrs. Van.
The learned a lot the ride over to the ceremony. Our taxi driver, to my surprise, was actually from the same area that my village is from, called Phong Hai. He asked me for the name of my paternal grandfather, to which I responded "Hoang Dai," not remembering what his middle name was (in Vietnam your name starts with your family name first). "Oh, you are Ve's (my mom's Vietnamese name) son, I see" he replied. Oh... what a small world. The four us, Mrs. Hong, Mr. Van, me, and our driver talked about many things on that ride over. After explaining my reasons for coming to Vietnam, we then talked about how I ended up in America. I told them the history of my father, leaving at 17, and eventually going once again in 1991, with my mother, uncle, and many many other friends and relatives to search for refuge in Hong Kong. "You know Ben," said Mr. Van, "the French stopped sending aid to Vietnam right about that time where your father left." "The French sent aid for the refugees for over thirty years or so, right up until the point where you say your family made it to the camp" he continued. We talked further about the past, talking about the reasons for leaving, and how lucky at that point my family was to make it to America. I did some research on the boat people and the refugees some months, learning that the specific year that I made it out with my family in 1994, was the result of an agreement made by the U.S. government to accept more people into the United States from Vietnam. My line of debt already extends beyond dollars I cannot hope to ever pay it all back. I let them all know that, to which Mr. Van said, "you know, focus on school now, when you get to work, then you can worry about other people." He sounded a little like my father, urging me to stay focused on school. He did commend me on my philanthropy thus far, me telling him about many of the projects I involved myself in over the past years. We at last arrived at the house of Ms. Minh, which was decorated with a dining area outside, and a banner with the names of the two to be wedded.
In Vietnamese culture, it is common for the husband to first ask for permission from the family of the wife, called a "Le Dinh Hon." This occurs at the bride's house, joined by family members from both sides. Ms. Minh greeted us, wearing a beautiful crimson and golden Ao Dai, also wearing make up. She had a big smile on her face, and greeted all three of us, our taxi driver heading back to take other orders. The ceremony had not begun yet, as family members from the groom were still making there way over. I sat down in a meeting between Mr. Van, Mrs. Hong, and two family members of Ms. Minh. At first I sat away from the table, not wanting intrude on any business, but was invited to sit by the table, sipping some tea and joining in on the conversation. I didn't speak too much, focusing on listening and making sense of all the dialogue going past me. My Vietnamese is at the point where I can understand most of everyday talk, but speaking some of the words I rarely use is becoming a tiny struggle. They talked about the center first, and also the state of their lives, with work and children to worry about. What interested me the most about our dialogue was when we finally focused on the education system of Vietnam, compared with education in France and the United States. The two family members of Ms. Minh, one of them a professor at a medical university, let out his frustration with the current curriculum for high school students in Vietnam. "There are too many subjects, teaching is outdated, and too much emphasis is being put on cram schools to even stand a chance at being accepted to universities" he said. They asked me about how school was like in America, to which I kept honest and told them that it didn't nearly put as much emphasis on academics as Vietnam. "Students normally don't go to school from 7:00 AM to 7:00 PM starting from junior high or so, like students here," highlighting my knowledge of the after school programs that many of the high schools offer for students to study even more. Mr. Van agreed, saying that schools from France were also different, but offering more time after school for students to work more, but not to the same degree as Vietnam. "Its been great getting to see and meet you all," said Mr. Van, all of a sudden. "I have some important business to attend to at the moment and I wish you the best of luck with everything," he continued, getting up and making his way back towards the entrance of the house. I accompanied him with Mrs. Hong, and Ms. Minh, us four taking a group photo. He exchanged a few words with all of us, telling me that it was a pleasure to meet me and wishing me the best in my life. I waved goodbye to him as he got in his taxi, telling Ms. Minh the story behind my unknowing of the true residence of Mr. Van. This might be my last time seeing him in person, unless of course I take to time to visit him in France or something. "Ben, let's go visit this center for children over around the corner while we wait for the ceremony to start," said Mrs. Hong, beckoning me over to her.
The neighborhood was rather maze-like, houses linked to each other with tiny little pathways for motorbikes between around many bends and turns. Many of the neighbors were inside for the day, fearing perhaps of rain, seeing as how gray and dark clouds filled the sky. The center was right around the corner, and was called Trung Tam Son Ca, or the Son Ca Orphanage/Center. I recently did some research on their website (www.st-paul-hue.com) and learned that it was an all girls, catholic orphanage. Upon entering past the rusted metal gates, we were greeted by a beautiful view of the three tiered living quarters of the orphanage, a fountain in the middle, and children, numbering at around a hundred or so, playing on tricycles, bikes, and everything else. They were laughing and playing around, aged from around a year old, up to junior high age. They glanced at me and Mrs.Hong just ever so slightly as we passed by, and refocused on their playing. They were extremely shy, not responding to our questions in Vietnamese. They just stared. At last, we were greeted by one of the mothers of the children, informing us about the center, and showing us some of the new children. While Mrs. Hong and the mother talked about their respective centers I took some time to look around, taking pictures, and thinking about the amount of work and care it takes to erect a children's center like the one here. It looked beautiful, taken care of by international and local organizations. We met one of the newer girls, being pulled around by one of her sisters. She said nothing to us when we talked to her, but looked and smiled at us ever so slightly. Mrs. Hong exchanged some contact information, asking if there was a possibility for her to bring about five or six little girls over to the Children's Center in Thuy Xuan, where I am currently stationed. The mother agreed to let her know at another time, and we both waved the children off and headed out. "You know Ben, Phuong and Nga of our center are both sisters by blood, losing their father in the hospital due to insufficient funds to perform heart surgery" she said to me. "I saw both Phuong and her younger sister Nga in the hospital, both looking so poor and sad, and decided, with the permission of their mother, to take them into the center" she continued. I asked her about where their mother lived. "She lives far away in their home village, too sick and lacking of proper health to work and support them" she said. I saw Phuong and Ngas' mother come to the center a couple days ago, bringing Dung (pronounced Yoong), their younger brother over to the center. She actually ate with us for lunch, and stayed a night with Phuong. Perhaps I will ask them both more about this, and maybe not, as it may be tough for them to talk about it. Hearing this about Phuong and Nga truly touched my heart, striking me emotionally and also piquing my curiosity to learn more. We finally joined for the pre-wedding ceremony.
We both walked up to the 2nd floor of the house, noticing the two families engaging in a ritual of exchange in front of an altar, topped with incense. I met Ms. Minh's siblings, her brother and sister, who came back to see her. They spoke English, telling me a little about their family. When the ceremony completed we set off to eat lunch, the family members sitting together and enjoying each others' company. The groom was dressed in a black suit, walking around with Ms. Minh, and toasting each of the tables. I sat with Ms. Hong and the employees of the center, who had finally arrived. Eva, the french volunteer, asked me many questions about my feelings on the center and the progress with the children. I told her that I enjoyed the center, but wanted more work to do, perhaps with updating the website and doing other outreach to the community. She agreed, to my excitement, and we continued to talk about the effect of Vietnamese culture on our lives. Being raised in France, Eva told me of all things she missed, especially French cuisine, though it could be seen in Vietnamese cuisine in many ways. We ate a lot of food, being served a course of over eight dishes. We couldn't believe the amount, as it all just kept pouring in, despite our inability to finish even up to the fifth dish. It finally became time for us to leave, me having to get back to the center to head with my uncle to Da Nang.
I arrived to a sleepy center, stopping first at the Ngoc Lanh house to tell that them that I could not eat any more food. The children got up, hearing that I came back and swarmed me, asking me how my trip was, and asking me how long I was to leave for. I saw that Phuong's brother, Dung, was still here, wondering if their mother had took him to the center to live for good. My uncle came, coming into the house and signalling for me to go up and get ready. I waved the children goodbye and headed up to my room to pack. I packed rather lightly, bringing only my camera, some clothes,a book, sunglasses, and a little bit of money. The reason I was leaving so soon (12:45 PM instead of 4:00 PM) was because we had to catch a bus at 1:15 PM to Da Nang, my uncle's brother, Tien, expecting us around that time at his house. Uncle Tien worked in Hanoi, as a electrical engineer or something of the sort, and had not seen me for eleven years. Now he has a child, named Biu (nickname) or Bach, and has had a family for over eight years. This time was his week break from work and he decided that now was the time to see me. After finishing up, we hopped on the motorbike and headed off to the bus station.
After parking the bike in a safe spot, my uncle and I sat for about thirty minutes, enjoying some ice cool lemon tea, waiting for the bus to arrive. It began to rain, the other tourists and travelers huddling underneath the overhang of the station with all their belongings. At last the bus came, it was a lay-down, air conditioned bus (I don't know what these are called). When we last settled in, I decided to take a nap, thinking over the morning events.
It was a two hour ride, with a small break in-between. The tourists aboard were Vietnamese, French, English, and Australian, all talking and conversing amongst themselves on the bus. To be honest I have seen very very few American tourists to Vietnam thus far, which surprised just a little. Perhaps all of them are in Saigon? We at last pulled into Da Nang, the biggest port city in Vietnam. The scenery certainly was a far cry from Hue, sky scapers, large corporations, entertainment, and resorts all around. The city was also very clean, the beach visible from the roads, and advertisements everywhere. We called a taxi over to take us to Uncle Tien's house. He had a very tall house, five stories to be exact. In the house lived about six people, the Tien family (him, his wife, and his son), along with my three older cousins. No one was home at the time, but a woman selling food at a nearby restaurant noticed my Uncle Duyet and handed him the house key. I took a tour of the house, noticing the higher living standard that this household lived under, noticing beautiful bathrooms, living room, and decorations about. I was impressed. I set my things down and my uncle decided to take me to go and pick up Bach (pronounced Bet) from day school. My uncle tried to hide when we called for Bach. My, he was a big child, out sizing his peers in girth and height. "Who is he" he asked, staring at me and asking one of the employees of the day care. He eventually found my uncle hiding around the corner and ran to him. "Uncle Duyet!" he yelled, asking to be picked up and carried home. My uncle handed him to me to hold, taking photos and asking Bach questions. Bach had a huge vocabulary and was very energetic, singing and dancing while I held him. He was a bright little kid I must say, responding to every question I asked him. He is now four years old and has two years from primary school. We entered the house and my uncle gave him a gift of action figures. "Give me them!" he yelled upon seeing them. He jumped in excitement upon receiving them and opened them up to play. He called out their colors and told a little story about each of the four action figures. I played with him, talking and tickling him. His skin was pale, a big smile on his face the whole time. What a happy child.
His father finally returned, hugging me immensely and asking me how my trip was so far. It was great to see him, being so many years and so many phone calls in the past. He took us all out to dinner, eating at a seafood restaurant. Bach was the life of the place, singing and dancing, and attracting the attention of all the staff and the customers. We had a great meal, me getting to choose the different types of seafood, ranging from fish to snails. After the filling meal, my uncle Duyet drove me and Bach around the city to sight see. Wow. The lights were beautiful and the city was full of life. There were many super centers for everything, cars, electronics, everything. We decided to stop by the Big C super center, of which Da Nang's is much bigger than Hue's. It was packed, each of the five floors filled with shoppers. The Big C had everything, stores, arcades, a grocery supermarket, and much much more. We took Bach up to a children's play room, filled with a room full of colored plastic balls for children to plummet themselves into. After running around for a while, Bach finally stopped for the first time the whole day. He vomited. Everyone looked, the staff of the room panicking and telling the other children to stop. We cleaned up the mess and payed our fee for the event. Bach apparently was fine, still smiling, and wanting to play some more. We went up to the arcade and played some games, Bach showing us his reckless driving habits. When we at last finished our time at the Big C, we rode on home, to relax, and rest for the travels of tomorrow.
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