Choir bells toll, my iphone alarm is going off and it is 6am. I am awake and have yet to experience any serious sign of jet lag. I somehow have miraculously adjusted to Vietnam. A knock at the door, I open to find a beautiful young woman gesturing that food is ready for us. Our rooms open out onto a small patio with a glass table and chairs and soon the woman and her assistant are bringing over trays of beef and noodle soup that smell absolutely heavenly. I must interject at this time, the people of Vietnam are very lovely looking and very trim. We are constantly given soooo much food everywhere we go. It is hot and humid in Cu Chi and ingesting mass quantities of food is not the first priority on my list. Not wanting to offend and all offerings being very delicious, we continue to acquiesce. We inhale our breakfast of beef and noodle soup followed by the coffee and condensed milk concoction. After breakfast we head over to Thao's home where the family has already begun their day.
We follow Thao's father as he lights incense and recites his morning prayers, in the home, outside the home, and in the library/holding structure. Thao's father looks like an old time movie star with his svelte figure, sun-kissed skin and perfect teeth. He is always making everything as comfortable as possible. This man sleeps 2 hours everynight. I never once see him sit down, only to eat. He's either tending to the pigs and chickens, looking after the 100 year old grandfather, taking care of Thao, selling his pig feed and fertilizer, or maintaining the grounds, and then after dinner he heads over to the hotel we are staying at and is the night security guard until 5am at which time he comes back home to walk the cattle. If we want to see him walk the cattle we are told we need to be over at the house around 5am. Thao's father adores his family and lives to serve them, clearly seen in everything he does.
We head to the library. Soon bicycles line the front of the structure and the children make their way in, perusing through the books for the latest find. Thao has recently been given a shipment of more donations along with a bench that the children sit along and read, mouthing the words as they go. When I join the group I see one of the little ones has picked up a donated English book that I brought over, Where the Wild Things Are. Other children peer over the young boy's shoulder as he carefully flips the pages of the new book. I ask the children if I can read the book to them. I see they are intrigued by my strange presence and agree. I begin to read, many not really understanding exactly what I am saying but still captivated by the odd sounds coming out of my mouth, looking at me, then the pictures, then the words. As the story progresses, we laugh together sharing this new experience. Then it is their turn to read me a story in Vietnamese. The excitement of who will read next flows through the group until one boy is chosen. He begins, everyone is hushed, looking on, excited to share their story and reading skills with me, and so the exchange goes. Words have brought us all together in this moment, with Thao looking on from her bench.
Lynn enters the library. She is one of Thao's favorites. She carefully looks through the stacks and finds a few books she would like to take home. We follow her and her mother down a desolate dirt road around the corner to a shedlike structure with no doors only openings, this is her home. Lynn immediately puts her things down in the single room and begins to read at a makeshift desk. The area contains two wooden bedlike frames with no mattress or blankets, a fan, a desk and some sort of graduation picture on the wall. A stray dog runs through the room from the back entrance through the front. Lynn agrees to answer questions about the library and we decide to interview her in the backyard area as there is limited light in the room. Lynn is a very serious, elegant little girl of 9 who is decked out in her school uniform which consists of a navy skirt, white button down shirt and red tie, hair pulled back into a ponytail. She looks perfect. Her mother is very kind and proudly looks on as we affix the wireless mic to Lynn's school uniform. I remember seeing Lynn's mother over at the hotel where she cleans rooms. I begin to ask Lynn a series of questions about her school, her favorite subjects, the library and Thao. I then ask Lynn what she wants to be when she grows up and she shakes her head, looking to the ground whispering, "I don't know". This is a question I will ask many of the children all with the same response, "I don't know". When I've asked 9 year olds in the US, what they want to do when they grow up, I'm met with a laundry list of possibilities from astronaut to firefighter, truck driver to teacher. Vanessa tells me the children don't have an answer because for them they've already reached beyond their parents by going to school. In addition, many do not know to want for anything because the opportunities are not there, they cannot see the possibilities. Are there possibilities? I realize in some communities and areas of the world life is about daily survival-- finding food for the day, staying alive one more day after contracting a deadly disease, securing clean drinking water. But here, in this struggling rural village of Vietnam, many of the children do at least have a school to go to and Thao who has planted the seed of potential and imagination by providing the children access to books. I now see that this is a community on the verge of change.
When I ask Lynn's mother to sign a documentation release form on behalf of Lynn a rush of embarrassment sweeps over her face. The mother does not know how to read or write. I immediately drop the subject as we head back into their home. I wonder how that must feel, to not be able to read and write but have a daughter who lives for books. I want Lynn to be able to tell me she would like to be a scientist, a nurse, a writer, anything. I'd like to think that there is a way to rise to one's full potential out of any situation. Maybe that is my all American "Pollyanna" mid-West upbringing. I was raised in a family where no dream was out of reach, where we were encouraged to think big. I remember as a kid the question "What do want to be when you grow up?" gave me a sense of purpose, something to strive for. My sister piloted a plane across the country and across the Atlantic Ocean at 11 and 12 for goodness sakes, no ceiling was too high. Now, as an adult, I pose the question to myself, "What do you want to be Elizabeth?" And I don't have an answer either. That question has shifted for me to, "What do you want to say with your life?" And I'm still not quite sure what the answer is. We say goodbye to Lynn and her mother and head back to Thao's.
I hold on to Thao's movie star dad as the crew and I head off on mopeds into town waving as we speed along, the guys behind us with camera in place. Many long peculiar stares adorn the faces of people as we fly down the road. I am very aware of how different we are than everyone else . . . outsiders, the current gossip of the village. I think about Thao and can only imagine how she might feel, being stared at, so different from everyone else, yet still a member of this community. She is an exceptional human being and an inspiration. Would she have been this exceptional and special without her disability, or has she used her disabililty as an opportunity, as a gift, to rise to heights she might never have known she was capable of?
I think about my sister and how after her death I found myself at a crystal clear crossroad. I could let the loss of her consume me whole and roll over to this single significant event - her sudden death. Or I could choose to transform my life and get up and move through life with love in my heart. I choose the latter. That does not mean I will never stray from the path or trip and fall, but the intent is clear to pick up and continue to move forward. My sister, Vicki, woke me up from a dreamlike state and now for the first time in my life, I'm truly living. I look at Thao and see her courageously and fearlessly moving through life. Getting up every morning at 6am and starting her day, opening up the library to a fleet of children who depend on her. It drives Thao, giving her the strength to keep going. At some point all human beings experience suffering. What we eventually decide to do with that experience of suffering is up to us. Our reaction is a choice and the only part of the equation we have control over. That choice can be anything from shooting up heroin to eating a whole box of donuts to getting out of bed when the alarm goes off to running a marathon - choice.
After coming back to the house and dismounting the bikes, the crew and I head out down the road into the vast fields to watch the sun set over the trees. We see farmers fertilizing their crops for the final time this evening. The grasshopper catcher with his net is skimming the tops of a thousand blades of grass ensnaring the stray grasshoppers. The faint laughter of children can be heard coming from the main road. It is a harmonious and tranquil setting. The last bit of sun eclipses the tree tops and another day has passed.
No comments:
Post a Comment