08.12.01

Lunch.

Found a nice spot under tree on the riverbank to continue reading my new book.

The Girl in the Picture: The Story of Kim Phuc, the Photograph, and The Vietnam War.

From out of nowhere, an old lady appeared behind me and tapped me on the shoulder.

Come into my house and relax.

She spoke good English, much better than some of these Vietnamese training to be English teachers.

The first bits of our conversation revolved around her sister, who is in Washington since the 60s and has not called for the last 6 months. She seemed alittle worried, but I thought little of it.

At that precise moment, I was captivated by the surrealism of an even older, even tinier lady, blind, in white pyjamas, groping around the wooden hut.

That's my mother. I was living in Ho Chi Minh city for 20 years but have to come back to the village to take care of her because she's blind.

Luong (I think) and Binh, officials from the Vietnamese Youth Federation (sort of like the youth wing of the Communist Party and all Vietnamese youths are members of it), walked in and started chatting to me. Their broken English versus my broken Vietnamese. Quite pleasant, though I did notice that The Old Lady didn't say much to me in the presence of these guys.

***

09.12.01

Finished with work at village. Moving on to another village the next day. Some villagers came to say bye. Across the dirt path, I saw The Old Lady again.

You are leaving today? I tried calling my sister today again, but I keep getting directed to the police station, but I don't understand.

They speak too fast I haven't heard from her for 6 months.

She said she moved house, but hasn't called.

She asked for my help. I said okay.

So, she scribbled on my notebook.

Thuy Kim Nicky. Tacoma. Washington.

And the telephone number.

Yes, yes, I will try to call your sister, then I will call you.

Binh, whom I quite liked up till this point in time, came up to us, took The Old Lady by the arm and walked her out of my earshot. Body language - very negative. Adrian, one of the Singaporeans, was curious enough to ask about what was going on. We both looked at Binh and The Old Lady talking. Didn't take much to see that Binh was interrogating her and she was getting quite defensive.

Way home. Binh and the translator strolled up next to me and told me to give them the phone number. They can do the calling to Washington.

Yeah right.

But I didn't protest. Must be cool in front of them. Kim Seng did say we will be going back to village again next week.

In the evening, as I recalled the events with Adrian again, he freaked me out.

You know, when we go back to the village next week again, you might not get to see her. They will probably have taken her away.

***

18.12.01

Back to the village.

I hopped off the boat and walked to the hut.

Binh, for some reason, has been quite elusive the past few days and has not been following us. Good.

So, I managed to get the phone number again, and found out more.

Her name is Kim Hoang.

Binh had chastised her for speaking to me in English and told her that if she wants to say anything, she should tell one of the officials and the officials could tell me. Even if it's something simple like Thank you. Or Goodbye.

Nicky, her sister, had married an American in the 60s and lived in the States ever since. And because of that, the villagers ostracised her family. Hoang has never met her niece or nephew and has no contact with them either. She used to send money, but not for the last 6 months and so life was getting a little difficult for Hoang and her blind mother, both living on 2 simple meals a day. Hoang reminisced her youth and freedom in Ho Chi Minh city. She also told me about the annual floods in the village - something that I know about as a fact and nothing more. The whole house will be flooded, and her feet would be soaked all the time for 3 months of the year. I saw the feet - all wrinkly and toes, although intact, were of brownish and yellowish hues. I can't imagine how the blind mother moved around.

A little later, Kim Seng and an old man walked into the hut. The old man, Hoang's uncle was looking very happy with the new cap that Kim Seng had given him. Then I remembered the conical hut that I had with me. A Vietnamese had given it to me as a souvenir. I had contemplated leaving it behind in Vietnam. Too bulky to carry on the plane. So I gave it to Hoang, who was delighted, saying that her hat was torn and she didn't have money buy a new one. Now she could wear it to the market.

***

29.12.01

Called the home phone number. Voice message declaring that the phone number is not longer in use.

Called the mobile number. Strange beeping sound.

***

05.01.02

Called the home phone number. Voice message declaring that the phone number is no longer in use.

Called the mobile number. Strange beeping sound.