Vinh Long, Vietnam

January 27-30, 2010

Mika and I left Saigon pretty quickly. In general we have always tried to stay out of big cities, especially when the daytime temperature exceeds 90 degrees with 80 percent humidity (I know the east coast is freezing right now but if you have ever been here, you understand what I am talking about. I have this strange feeling that there is little sympathy though!) Anyway, we made our way down to Vinh Long in the Mekong Delta. Vinh Long is half way off the beaten track, meaning it’s not hard to get to but not many foreigners go. We went because it’s the closest town to one of the largest morning floating markets in the Mekong – the Ca Bei market.

After checking into our hotel (which may or may not have been one of those places that rent by the hour judging by the free dispenser of condoms in the stairway), we found a café on the river and watched the hundreds of wooden boats go by. We began discussing our plans for the following morning when an Asian couple sat down next to us and struck up a conversation. Turns out the couple, Mr. and Mrs. Ha (his name is Quane but we do not remember hers), currently live in Melbourne and are in Vinh Long visiting Mrs. Ha’s family. After a long day of traveling I was in no mood to talk to anyone but Mika accepted their conversation and apparently impressed them. In no more than 5 minutes Mr. Ha invited us to dinner. (I completely understand his quick invitation - she had the same effect on me!) We exchanged glances and immediately knew that this was going to be one of those nights.

The details of the night are pretty straight forward and for the most part irrelevant except that the Ha family is extremely generous and open. After dinner at a very local restaurant that served enormous portions, they took us to a local café for coffee. They paid for everything that night. The next morning we all (the four of us plus Mrs. Ha’s sister, their niece and her 3 friends) took a boat tour of the floating market and the local islands. What we thought was going to be four hours ended up lasting 7 and included lunch. Again they insisted on paying for virtually everything. From the moment we left the café the first afternoon, Mr. Ha began telling his story. It took very little to prompt him and once he started it just kept coming. You see, Mr. and Mrs. Ha are refugees of the war. They escaped Vinh Long 30 years ago and only started coming back in 2004. The story goes as follows.

Mr. Ha was in the middle of university in Saigon when the North began invading the South. He was recruited for the military but avoided his draft because his father claimed he needed him, and his 10 brothers and sisters, to work on his tea plantation in the highlands, near the town of Dalat. This apparently worked and Mr. Ha left Saigon and returned to his hometown. He stayed there for a year or two until the threat of the Viet Cong and the Northern Army became all too real. Eventually, in the years that followed, the new government would take everything away his family. Mr. Ha headed for the river town of Vinh Long where he and his brother planned on building a boat. Having no prior boat building experience, they spent the next 4 years experimenting and learning until they got it right. Many of their early models sank during test runs. This alone was extremely dangerous as the penalty for escapees was prison and/or a hefty bribe which they were not in a position to afford. The boats had to be built in secrecy and usually tested at night. At least one of the tests required a rescue out at sea. During this time Mr. Ha also memorized the rivers and canals that led out to sea as well as the tidal patterns and places to avoid being run ashore. He learned to navigate by the stars and steer clear of both enemy and friendly vessels. Not bad for a tea farmer from the highlands. The final boat was of simple wooden design about 7 feet wide and 45 feet long.

During construction, Mr. Ha would get most of his boat parts from a local supply store. It was here that he met the future Mrs. Ha. Mrs. Ha’s family owned the supply store and during one of her visits from university the two met on coincidence. The bond was instantaneous and one month later, Mrs. Ha left her family and boarded the wooden boat with Mr. Ha and 31 of his closest family members in search of a new life. They spent 4 days and nights on the boat before reaching an island in Indonesia. We couldn’t exactly understand how much food they brought, but judging by how skilled the Vietnamese are at fishing, I’m sure that’s how they got by. Eventually they made their way as refugees into Australia.

As I said, we ended up spending the next day with the family and Mr. Ha pointed out all the landmarks he remembered as we passed; the shed and dock he used to build his boats, the canals he would test them on and the houses that lined the river. You could see the emotions in his expressions as he pointed each one out. He talked about how he still visits with some of the local people that weathered the war at home and gives them small amounts of money as an expression of gratitude for the good life he has been afforded. He repeatedly said how much happiness it gave him to be able to do this.

During our time together we talked about the war, America’s involvement and what the people of Southern Vietnam actually wanted. Most of this was similar to what our textbooks taught us but it’s a whole lot more effective hearing it in the first person. We also talked about the current state of the country and its future. During these conversations I became acutely aware of how fearful Mr. Ha still was, 30 years later. At dinner he abruptly stopped in mid sentence because he saw 3 Chinese men sitting two tables away and feared them ease dropping on our conversation. While waiting for a motorbike outside he pulled me away from a group of men he feared would again not approve of the topic of our chit chat. He continually mentioned how dangerous life was in Melbourne after dark and questioned me about the States. He wanted to know if everyone carried guns like in the movies and if it was a dangerous place to live. “What kind of people are the blacks?” he asked so innocently you couldn’t help but feel a little sorry. You could doubt the extent of the real danger both in Melbourne and in the restaurant we ate at, but his fear was certainly undeniable.

He told me about how hard life was during the years leading up to the war and how hard it continued to be for the people that stayed. It explains the unbelievable work ethic the Vietnamese have – 7 days a week, 12-16 hours a day for pennies. (As a general rule, the Vietnamese get 1 week off a year during the Tet festival.) He was thankful to be able to get to Australia with nothing but the shirt on his back, unable to speak a lick of English. It made him so happy to be able to return after so many years, even if his birthplace still refuses to grant him citizenship. After he puts his kids through college and retires he wants to return for good and open a metal fabrication shop with his family. He sees the changes that have happened in the past 5 years and it “fills his heart with hope”. He says of the more than 2 million refugees, few have desire to return and even fewer actually have.

We talked about the future of the country and I asked about what he thought the next 10 years would bring. Immediately he insisted that the US would need to get involved again. I was a little taken aback and I hesitated to tell him what the American public might think about that. “China is coming and there will be no one to stop her”. His feeling was that Laos and Cambodia would experience the same fate (if they haven’t already) but when I asked about Thailand he said no. “Thailand has America and the student will not go after the teacher.” I understood his point and probably agree with his thinking but I could not think of any way that the US is going to step back into Vietnam.

We probably could have spent the entire weekend with his family and friends. We were invited to dinners and going away parties. I think we were even invited to stay with them in Melbourne. If they were Jewish we probably would have been invited to the daughter’s Bat Mitzvah. They were the Asian parents we never had! But we couldn’t stay forever and still had the rest of the Mekong to see. We left the Ha family with hugs and smiles. The 24 hours that we spent together brought to light, first hand, the story of the South Vietnamese in a very real and personal way. I imagine there are millions of stories just like the Ha’s, hopefully most with a similar ending.

From Vinh Long we continued south and west to Can Tho, another river town with an even more impressive floating market. Another 5:30 am wake up for a ride down the Mekong! Life could be worse. One thing I have learned is that Vietnam coffee does wonders for those mornings. After a couple sips even I can muster a sentence or two before the sun rises. From there we headed to Rach Gai for a sunset dinner and a morning ferry to Phu Quoc – Vietnam’s answer to Thailand’s Phuket only 10 years behind.

-Alan