Today is a day Thao has been waiting for. She is anxious to take us to the orphanage where she volunteers and for which she has helped raise money. Many of the children in the orphanage have been affected by Agent Orange. Unlike Thao, most suffer from profound mental retardation in addition to deformities. These children have either been abandoned or their families could no longer care for them. Thao will continue to tell me throughout the trip how lucky she is that she has such a wonderful, caring family and that she is the only one left in the area of all the young people who are exactly like her. The rest have all died. I tell her how glad I am that she is still here.
Thao's sister, Be Hai, is one year older than she and is set to marry on January 3rd 2010. She seems to be the most reserved of the family. Earlier in the morning I ride into town with her to secure more bottled water for the crew. We make the trip with very little words between us and limited gesturing. Nothing is wrong, I just get the sense that this is how she wants it. I ask her if I could talk to her on camera while she washes dishes by a spigot outside the home. She finds this somewhat peculiar but eventually concedes. This is a a family that is constantly interacting, talking, and laughing. Soon I discover there is a thin veil between the joyous interplay and the heartache and worry that comes with Thao's situation. Be Hai expresses great concern and worry about what is to happen after she gets married. She is troubled that her fiance and his family might not understand how actively involved she must be in Thao's life. Tears begin to well up in her eyes and she immediately hides her face, burying it in the dishes, hoping that I do not pick up on her sadness. She tells us Thao will be in the wedding.
Thao's mom and dad have two children. After Thao, they were afraid to have anymore. The family does not know whether it was Thao's mother or father who passed along the Agent Orange poison or both. Neither show any obvious signs or symptoms, and both expressed that they do not want to know who has been infected or how. It's a mystery, and they would like to keep it that way and move on. The only known variable is that the family has been living in this area for decades and this area was hit hard by Agent Orange during the war. Thao is 25. The war ended long before Thao and her sister were conceived. We will soon see children 2 and 3 years of age born with severe mental and physical birth defects as a result of Agent Orange. Is the chemical mutating through the genes and becoming part of the DNA? Could Thao's sister who shows no signs of Agent Orange give birth to a child with Agent Orange birth defects? We don't know. No one knows. This is a war that was fought over 30 years ago and these children are still paying the price. There could be generations of victims.
Thao's mother becomes very emotional during our conversation. She expresses much guilt over Thao's condition. She says rumors have always been swirling around town that Thao's condition is contagious and blame is placed on the family for awful acts they must have committed in this life or another to have a child such as Thao. Much of Thao's mother's pain has to do with an overwhelming fear of who will take care of Thao if something were to happen to her. Thao is the center of this family. They have set in place an incredible system of immediate care (please note - Thao still does not go to a doctor). Thao, though very independent, is never truly left alone. Someone is always there to help her get through her very active day.
It is time to head off to the orphanage. Thao will ride on a moped sandwiched in-between two people holding her in place. Her father will follow with Thao's wheelchair strapped to the back of his moped. The crew and I are all paired up with locals who will be riding us to the orphanage on the back of their mopeds. Everyone has come through to make this trip happen. Thao is suited up in a white jacket and white hat that she jokingly cocks to the side. The rest of us are equipped with helmets. We all mount the bikes and our convoy heads off for our newest adventure. 5 mopeds deep we parade through the small villages, the stares and glances have now intensified. After a 15 minute ride through the countryside, we reach our destination.
We roll up to the orphanage and a nun comes out to greet us at the door, leading us into the facility. From the moment I enter, there are a dozen hands reaching out to me, pulling at me, accompanied by wide eyed stares and moaning. The nuns and Thao's father are quick to remove the hands tugging at me, but I don't mind. I have never been to a place like this before. We head upstairs to the main room. Children's music softly plays in the background as a beautiful brilliant ray of light streams into the facility. Child-like decals adorn the walls and I see a small pen of brightly colored balls off to one side. The room is very clean, decorated in bold cheerful hues. Along one side of the wall is a row of boys strapped into blue plastic chairs. Several children are sprawled out on the cushy red mat, immobile. I see their bones bending in directions I did not know possible. The nuns are very hands on and are constantly in contact with the children, wiping their mouths, sitting them upright, adjusting a leg. I am told there is only one in this group who can speak. I ask if I can talk to her and the nuns carry her over, gently propping her up and strapping her into a very small wheelchair. She is wearing a pretty white and pink dress. She has a yellow barrette in her hair and pierced ears. She is extremely tiny, like that of a 4 year old, only she is 9. Thao's father tells me he thinks she has what Thao has. Although she does have short legs, they are deformed and the bone is protruding along the line of one of her legs. Her body is extremely frail and I am warned her bones can break with a strong touch. She looks at me, smiles, then holds up her fingers making a peace sign. I take her picture with my iphone. We talk to her for a bit via a translator. I am told she understands when we speak to her. Her responses are very short in a hushed whisper, mostly facial expressions and head nods.
Children are being hooked up to a medieval looking contraption with several wires traveling from a box with multiple knobs to a dozen cup like metal pieces that are then taped down to different parts of the child's body. It would appear to be some sort of electrical shock therapy. When asked, I'm told that it is actually a machine used to administer an Eastern form of therapy similar to cupping. Cupping is a method of applying accupressure by creating a relative vacuum next to the patient's skin. The therapy is believed to relieve many ailments including muscular pain. Despite the crude looking apparatus, all the children who are hooked up to these machines seem very calm. This is not a scary place. These children are cared for and treated with dignity and respect. I feel a lot of love here. The sadness comes from why there are children born like this. The sadness comes from what I feel later when I witness the pain of parents having to give over a child because the severity of the child's disabilities makes the family incapable of being able to care for that child properly.
I am told there is a group of children having a lesson in the orphanage's one room school house only a few yards away from the building we are in now. We leave the main home and head over. The schoolhouse space is used by the nuns to teach the remainder of the children who can walk and speak. I enter the room of a dozen and I wave "hello". The children wave back, some with smiles, some with blank stares, some with looks of confusion on their faces. The room consists of 6 double desks, a small crucifix on the wall, and a chalk board containing the Vietnamese alphabet. I am told these children come to the schoolhouse 5 days a week and everyday they are basically taught the same reading and writing lesson and by the next day they have no memory of what they were taught the day before. This is a common mental disability that many of the children share, a total loss of memory. They only know the moment and even the moment can be confusing. I remember a story Thao had told me earlier about the first time she came to this orphanage. Her friends were wheeling her up the walkway and one of the nuns came running out shaking her hands back and forth saying, "We can't take anymore!" I then wonder. Where do those children go when there is no room left? Thao finds her story hilarious. Looking at these children, I can't imagine Thao in a place like this. Thao is a very intelligent young woman who has a family willing and able to take care of her needs. Thao has never been faced with the possibility of being sent away to an orphanage or being abandoned on the street, which is the fate of almost everyone in her condition. She tells me how grateful she is that I have the chance to witness all of this and reminds me how blessed she is. It is time to head back to Thao's home.
Our moped convey has now been increased to 6 as Thao's two friends follow us on the way back. We all arrive and make our way to Thao's day bed where she is able to lay down while I get acquainted with her friends. Thao has commissioned her friend Ein to make a piece of art for me and the guys. It is wrapped in newspaper. I am presented with the unexpected gift and unwrap it to find a beautiful rice art work. The piece is made of different shades of brown and neutral colored rice, the rice is affixed to a board creating a picture all within a frame. I cannot believe the kindness shown by Thao and her friend. It is absolutely lovely and I will treasure it always.
We are then told that Thao's favorite male student, Loc, has come to meet with us. Loc is brimming with personality and unlike many of the other students is not shy to talk to us at all. I am told that Loc comes from one of the more prosperous families in the village. He is filled with confidence and at the same time is humble and very loving towards Thao. I know if I ask him what he wants to be when he grows up, he'll have an answer. Sure enough, not even a moment to think about the question, he tells me he wants to be a doctor. "The kind of doctor that helps people like Thao and then I will come back here and fix her problem and she will be a supermodel!" Loc says. Loc tells us how much he loves to read and that his mother and father read him stories growing up. I have no doubt in my mind if Loc wants to become a doctor, he will. Loc has found his purpose at this point in his 11 year-old life. He clearly has access to a world that Lynn and a majority of the other children do not and that is expressed in his confidence and personality.
It is now time for dinner. The crew and sit down to a meal with Thao's family and friends. We see a large plate of cut, raw, vegetables and greens before us along with beef, rice paper and sauce. What did the doctor, online websites and my mother tell me, "Do not eat raw foods, especially greens that have been washed with water!" The food looks great, but we all wonder what mysterious illness might be lurking in the greens. As a guest, it is incredibly rude not to eat a meal that has been prepared for you. The guys in my crew who have by the way traveled all over the world and tend to get sick no matter where they end up going, no matter how many precautions they take . . . well, we all decide . . . screw it and dig in. After the meal, we say our goodnights and head out into the darkness back to our hotel led by Thao's dad who is just beginning the night shift.
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