Thang Nguyen 555

My one-and-only sister Bich Thu was born under the sign of the buffalo.

People from Hai Duong often speculated that those born under buffalo year would have a rough road ahead. And sure enough. Prophecy came about for her and came in plenty. Our uncle shielded for troops escape, only to receive 18 bullets right through his young, single body as if some Michael Angelo tried to make light shine through the Sistine Chapel. Then our Bac (older than dad) uncle died O.D. after discharged from a colonial army along with our dad.

So many bombs dropped in and around where they lived that my brother recalled they killed all the young girls working around the well, spare a buffalo. That surviving buffalo could have symbolized my sister. When they had to flee the invaders (japs, french, vietminh etc… during frantic WWII – as if we had been Asian Jews) up to the tea plantation my uncle own, my sister at age 6 tried her hand at selling pineapples. For one day.

No one could afford buying anything at that tumultuous time. My mom luckily got a job teaching elementary school in Hanoi, and got a temporary place to stay at even then expensive city. Back to the buffalo and the tilting of the land (BTW, thanks for all the rice that got me thus far). My father, being strong and well built, even let my mom include her friend on the sampan (powered by who else but yours truly daddy). If my father pushed and plongeon (jump), my sister kept the rhythm going: hard work, made whole spent half, thrift shops all the way Jose.

My brother went to Buoi HS (later Chu Van An when migrating south). My sister Thu to Trung Vuong. Both in college by the time I arrived. Hence, family tradition, my sister married a Buoi grad, and I later tried twice to be admitted to CVA.

My sister found her footing fast, to Law school, landing a job at Agricultural Development Bank. At the time, there was a big elephant in the room (Vietnam War). Buffalo and elephant, all creatures big and small.

To win hearts and minds, the US government, as it is doing today, poured dollars like petrol into the lake of fire. Farmers ran at the sight and sound of helicopters and gun/amo.

Flush them out, fire at them, Kill Charlie.

In the city, we were terrified, then compromised and negotiated for seemingly normal life: kids to school. First day of school, my sister played surrogate (my mom herself an elementary school teacher, who could not walk me to class being it’s a French-language school). Then back from work, she took me on strolls to our cousins, first names started with all v’s (Van, Vuong, Vinh).

Those years went by not without stress, strain and suffering. A lot of “get it all out of your chest” fights broke out over dinner. I was the one who had to clean up after everyone else – all adults.

Then we played music, sang a song or two as if nothing had happened. Neighbors in the alley tolerated us, northerners, loud and “lam chuyen” busy body. Not unlike the old couple across the way. Wearing white pajamas all day all year, ong fought ba, ba fought ong. We kid had a field day by poking them with a fishing rod, then quickly ducked out of sight through the french window (for ventilation).

One day, overdoing my trick, I caught the old lady, and not a fish on the hook. I will never forget her scream until the day I die:” Oi Gioi oi! Chet toi roi!”. Fish string cut, neighbors rushed her to the hospital (Binh Dan), while I stayed radio silent and invisible as I had never been in my entire life.

My dad came home to a show: spanking me hard, while I screamed loud to match the victim’s volume and high pitched across the alley (hence nick name, Tony “rong” screamer_

To this day, thinking of the adults of my family, I still feel “small” despite the added years. Quel sera sera, Biet Ly…nho nhung tu day….Ngoc Lan (the stream).

We finally split to sea, leaving behind my father (he could no longer swim as well to push the sampan) for a decade.

By the time we reunited in Falls Church, VA, I have morphed into an adult, Americanized version. By then I had traveled the world, helping with relief work, with news coverage in the Northeastern seaboard and with PBS in Fairfax, VA.

My sister cut my dad’s hair until he passed. She sowed, cooked and cleaned. All the while, obtaining her CPA license. Always speak up and speak the truth.

She passed in a new nursing home right after covid. After hearing routine condolences from the morgue’s porters, I saw them “allez hap” lifting her onto the cart, with opened black vinyl bag, before mercilessly and professionally zippered all around to secure the body.

Buffalo body.
“con trau xanh het long giup do”…my brother in law from Chu van An was a lucky guy, now I that I think about it. She was courted by MD’s, introduced by “mua gioi or ba mai” matchmaker.

But she fell for him, being with a law background, and more than that, “co xe” (with a car), which helped ease the “buffalo” for some mileage.

On the way out of the city on its last day before getting its name changed, re-christened under a new regime and flag, we all packed into that little car, and voila, on one of the five barges paid for by unused appropriated fund, courtesy of Alaska Barge company.

Bich Thu my sister always pulled her weight, her family’s, yet never missed a high-school reunion. So “tight” a clan that later, my brother second wife came from the same high school, albeit resettled in CANADA (“ruoc dau” by Amtrack?).

People I mentioned by now have all gone, except for my brother who plays the guitar. Mexico, CVA class 60. Mexi…………………………………………………………………co. I wonder he could still hold his breath just as my dad holding his while paddling under water for a sampan escape.

Heroes come and go, in all shapes and sizes. Many of them emerged and became known to me, as I of late, charted back a few generations to spot the trend (big family) the pattern (army-centric) and unsung unspoken incidents (suicide) that weave together to form a safety net I often took for granted.

I am sure my sister’s strand must have been stronger than the final zipper that covered her.

“If you missed, the train I am on…you will know that I am gone”….100 miles.