No longer orphan

August 2000

Little did I know, my first trip back to Vietnam was a journey in self-discovery.

It began with a phone call from one of my middle-school classmates. He urged me to look for Hieu, who used to sit next to me. a B/W photo of Hieu wearing a Kitchen God’s hat and sunglasses (we 8 graders were raising money for soldiers absent from home during Tet) brought back memories. him scratching Hippie caligrahy, having 2 eggs for breakfast and first to buy James Taylor vinyl new release.

While on the Hong-Kong bound United Flight, I laughed: perhaps even Hieu’s family couldn’t tell by looking at a 28 years old photo. But I had 3 other pieces of data: his father used to practice acupuncture, his family owned a ceramic factory and they planted plums in Bien Hoa. That’s where I got off a bus, with passengers wishing me luck. They all knew I was looking for a needle in a haystack.

Then my scout/scooter driver told me there were more than a dozen ceramic factories in town. He needs a point B to navigate the town, near Long Binh, where the US Army once staged its ammunition supplies.

So we agreed on a reasonable fee for one hour of canvassing. We figured to plant plums, the factory would have to be located outside of town. We could easily eliminate a few .

With cascading help from fellow “xe-om”, we got to a very remote Temple, then a monk showed us our point B (Hieu’s mom was a very devout Buddhist).

By the time we got to his house, by the river, he had been out surveying a piece of land, his latest purchase. His wife, whom I never met, showed some doubt i.e. friend from abroad, unannounced visit on a quest to re-locate a classmate after 28 years. Reluctantly, she led the way – zig zag through red dirt roads and potholes (no cell phones signals there back in the summer of 2000) deep into the interior of Song Be.

Later, she admitted her fear that we might have been imposters who would snatch her scooter around those deserted bends.

Hieu and I finally met, that was, after I took off my dust mask, sunglasses and cap. He, in turn, took off his glasses and recognized me after what felt like an eternity.

The shock of seeing someone you know after more than 28 years, unannounced, in the middle of nowhere (hard to get to even for locals) weighed heavily in the air,

We embraced, shook hands, and then, picked up from where we had left off. I found him with two kids and him, a bowling enthusiast. In fact, he commuted to Saigon every afternoon for the league.

After some catching up, I found out about another classmate, a wounded vet, who at the time, was living in O.C., CA.

I then called back State, to fill my original contact in on my find. Next day, 2 simultaneous re-unions took place across the Pacific Ocean: one in OC and another in Saigon – where I met another classmate, who had jumped out of an over-stuffed flight, an act that cost him more than 4 decades to get to San Diego.

On my way back via Kai Tac Airport, I exchanged some currency and couldn’t help wondering if my changed self also needs some conversion (so I could re-adapt and function in the US).

Re-discovering my communal self via re-uniting with friends was like stumbling upon your own lost treasures. Those treasures will never be depreciated, with no need for custom declaration. Only that they reside inside of me, as I interact with time.

I feel much richer and less like an orphan of war, with friends – lost then found against all odds.