Tag: Cholon Ho Chi Minh City

Lingering

When honey moon is over, people are faced with bills, kids crawl and cry, temptation to compare with alternate spousal choices.

My Dad went through that struggle. I have gone through the same.

Lingering legacy.

Unintended consequences.

The result: my half-sister and me.

What to do and what to say.

Same chromosome, but with a slightly different cut of the same cloth.

I don’t hate her.

Just don’t know what to make of Dad’s lingering legacy.

Staring at me in the face.

Reminding me of my own helplessness.

Of hours spent in agony and even envy (she got more attention, a fact that did not escape my mom’s scrutiny).

Now, both of my parents have passed away.

But me and my half-sister are still here, sitting next to each other at a relative’s wedding.

What to do with each other, and what to say?

Where do you work now? while spinning the Lazy Susan.

The gay singer kept changing his tune and his voice (female then male alternate).

I turned around a few times just to find out it was still the same singer of many voices.

Cost-cutting measures.

Vietnam is better off now. The evidence shows in the proliferation of wedding reception halls to meet a young demographic demand.

No more lingering effect of the war here.

Just married.

Just do it.

No legacy, no lingering. No regret.

I was a bit under-dressed for the occasion. Given the long limo outside and the horse carriage.

Oh well, who would have guessed it’s time to wear a tux here in Vietnam.

But then, who would have thought I could be back here to begin with. Back then, the Chinese in Cho Lon cornered the wedding catering market: just Dong Khanh and A Dong. Go to the left or to the right but same kitchen. Now, it’s live video coverage, cut to live entrance.

Here comes the bride.

All radiant and ready. If only the couple doesn’t shop around any more. If only they leave not a lingering legacy like my Dad’s.

daring swim

I was privy to not once or twice, but thrice, work  in non-profit capacity with displaced Vietnamese.

My first time was at IndiantownGap, Pennsylvania as a Child Welfare interpreter.

Later, in Hong Kong as a relief worker. And latest was in 1983, in the Philippines, where Cambodian and Vietnamese awaited their flights to the US.

One story stuck in my mind.

A 9-year-old boy.

No shirt.

Floated in a basket.

Ended up in a makeshift prison-turned-camp in Hong kong .

He could hardly speak Vietnamese , much less British English, spoken where he would finally be resettled.

I gave him some money, earned from my volunteer stipend.

The camp police caught him with dollars in hand, and took him to question.

So I had to bail him out, and wished him a nice life.

I often wonder how he would eventually turn out.

Will he be working in a Chinese restaurant in London.

Or is he back in Cho Lon, Chinese-enclave of Vietnam, as a successful Viet Kieu.

It has been 32 years to date. He must be in his 40. May even have a big family.

Then those boys I helped place in foster homes.

I am sure they do well, raised and schooled in the hills of Pennsylvania.

They are cheering for the Nittany Lions, same way I do.

But how they got here was slightly different from my journey, which had begun on a barge.

They got here unaccompanied, in the case of that boy, sole survivor on the merciless (pirates robbed and raped many of them) China Seas.

Before there were shows like Survivors on American TV, I had already met some real survivors who challenged my assumption about perseverance and persistence.

We only know something ironically in its absence.  Take comfort, love and companionship for instance. Or, if the AC is off this summer, we moan and groan for lack of cool air.

Love , I refuse to comment. And companionship: my friend is now a widow. I am sure she can comment on this better than I do.

The point is that most of us live within the confine of a bell curve. But many of us will have to face adversity and challenge at some point in our life time.

For me, I take lessons from those barge people and boat people. For some reason, they are endowed with much more than I could ever have e.g. adaptability. And they did not stop there: they put the past behind and move on to success.

The young monk once asked his master “why did you carry the woman – supposedly inhibited and inappropriate – across the river? The master replied “I crossed the river already, why are you still lingering about what happened on the other side?”

Unintended consequences of war and displacement depicted by a daring swim in a basket. No thanks. I will take barge over basket. And the song that stuck in my mind during that period was “We’ve Only Just Begun“.