Today was our last full day in Ben Tre and what a day of food it was. We started the morning with a handover ceremony at the newly built house. The house was so much bigger than I’d ever expected. It was still only one story of course and only three rooms, but the rooms were big with a high vaulted ceiling. Before eating, there were the usual speeches of thanks, but some were more touching than at the road handover, because this project was so much more personal to the family living there. The father of the house spoke of no longer being afraid of wind or rain now that the structure was strong and the mother simply said thank you, her eyes filling with tears as she received our gift (a tea set, bowls, chopsticks, and a clock). The house owner’s brother made a less than diplomatic speech that I found surprising given people’s usual attitude towards the Vietnamese government. The family we built the house for doesn’t have a good “family history” (that is, no relative died fighting Americans during the war), so they don’t normally receive government aid. We’d hoped the People’s Committee would still agree to pay for half the project like they would have if the poor family had a good history – apparently they didn’t since this man expressed his hope that in the future all parties could work together and People’s Committee would help. It was a bold statement to make with a whole table of People’s Committee members sitting next to him. They certainly weren’t pleased, but I admired the man for his unflinching criticism.
After the speeches, the feast came out. Unlike our meal yesterday, every meal here looked delicious – there was curry with taro, lean cuts of beef and pork served with rice noodles, and spring rolls with shrimp and veggies. People kept trying to push the plate of whole prawns on us because it was the most expensive, but I was too busy stuffing my face with the other dishes already on the table. It was positively heavenly. After dinner I got a chance to get to know the family a little better. Two of the older daughters speak superb English and we talked a while about life in Vietnam from our different perspectives. The daughter I got to know the best however was the five-year-old, a gorgeous little girl with pigtails who I played peek-a-boo with for a very long time. I almost couldn’t eat because she kept hugging me from behind as I was sitting. She’s grab my chair and we ‘d rock back and forth as she giggled wildly. Honestly I don’t know how the house group got any work done with this adorable creature running around. I didn’t meet the other daughter, but I witnessed a very touching moment between her and Molly – she walked up to Molly speaking Vietnamese and suddenly her face screwed up as she started bawling, clutching Molly in a fervent embrace. The Vietnamese means of showing gratitude is to give food, but I think her tears were the best thanks I’ve seen yet.
We spent a long time on photoshoots. The whole group took pictures with the family and then the contractors from both the house and school sites went a little crazy with the camera. My usual contractor from the toilet project had shown up a bit earlier and none of us recognized him at first glance. He’d shaved, combed his hair, and was wearing a mimic-Lacoste polo (which amused me to no end). He started the camera craze with his Vogue-like pose by the window then he and all the other contractors wanted pictures with each of us individually. They made us promise repeatedly to send the photos – they don’t have much access to cameras around here so this must be something of a novelty for them. Before leaving, Kendra and I went back to see the “monkey bridge,” nothing more than two sticks no wider than my arm stretched across a creek. The owner of the house proudly claims that his is the only proper monkey bridge in Dinh Thuy because it has a bamboo rail, which was much appreciated as Kendra and I carefully crossed to the other side. Before we went across, someone from the kitchen had shouted in Vietnamese, “be careful, don’t break your heads” and I’m happy to say we made it across with no complications. We said our final goodbyes to the family and the contractor, who got particularly choked up saying to the girls that we were like sisters to him, shaking our hands and patting our faces repeatedly.
We had a couple of hours until it was time for the final closing ceremony so we decided to wait at the cafe. However, it proved to be quite a trial getting there. Hieu’s and my bikes had been gifted to the family so we didn’t exactly have enough to go around. What you must first understand is that the majority of the bikes are old and breaking down – now imagine trying to ride two people on one of these monstrosities. Firstly, I should mention that some of the boys were once again drunk on hospitality so they weren’t exactly coordinated. We played a complicated game of musical bikes, trying to double up so that the drunk people could ride on the back of the limited number of bikes (a difficult task since most of the drunk boys were bigger than the girls). After we’d finally arranged all that, we still didn’t have enough bikes so I ended up riding with Kendra. Kendra turned out to be excellent at riding with an extra person and we had a pretty functional bike so I was pretty pleased with how things turned out. Eventually we all made it safely to the coffee shop (some of us more lucid than others).
We thought we’d said our final goodbyes to the contractor, but soon after we arrived he showed up and came over to sit with us. Alyce translated as he told us again that we were like family and thanked us for coming here to help. He said he didn’t have the proper words to thank us so instead he showed his gratitude by buying us a dozen coconuts, which he had the cafe owner cut open so we could drink the coconut water. It was way too much liquid for us to handle, but he was beaming as he handed us the glasses so we drank up. As if that wasn’t enough, he then went across the street and came back with Double Mint chewing gum, a hilariously random gift – he was doing anything and everything he could think of to thank us. We felt bad that he was spending so much money on us when we have so much already, but his efforts were touching. While we were still at the cafe, we were also joined by the construction manager from the house site, who was much less endearing than my contractor from the school. This guy was actually kind of creepy (and probably still drunk). He kept staring intensely at Kendra, speaking to her as if she understood Vietnamese fluently. He then made her promise to host him in the U.S. and taught her how to say, “I love you very much and will come back to Vietnam.” At last it was time for the closing ceremony so we said a second round of final goodbyes to the contractor.
The closing ceremony was at the People’s Committee Hall, which was filled with the usual upbeat, patriotic music we’ve come to expect at government functions. There were many speeches I didn’t understand and certificates given out for who knows what. Then Alyce came over and said one of us was supposed to make the next speech. No on else was volunteering and I’d made a spur of the moment speech in the beginning so I figured I might as well do this one too. I thanked them for welcoming us and making us part of the family, then said we hoped we’d made as much of a difference in their lives as they have in ours, closing with “we will remember you all with the fondest memories, camon.” It was a speech that should have been given to the kids and locals who worked with on our projects, but the People’s Committee seemed to enjoy it just fine in their place. At the bottom of the steps outside we saw the contractor again, really for the last time – he’d just come by to give us coconut candy, because the coconuts and gum weren’t enough already (we’d tried to convince him earlier not to buy the candy, using the excuse that we couldn’t get it through customs, but I guess he didn’t believe us after all). After the ceremony was finished, the People’s Committee invited us next door for yet more food. This turned out to be another full meal, in which I once again ate mostly curry.
We set off on our last bike ride from Dinh Thuy to MoCay. We slowed down to look at the sights one last time, watching the little river boats drift down the peaceful river with the setting sun reflecting off the water. We were still stuffed when we got back so we pushed dinner to eight. We appropriately ended the day with a lot of food: fries and fried rice for dinner followed by an exorbitant amount of grapefruit, sweetsoup, water coconut, and durian flavored coconut candy for dessert. It’s funny, when I first came to Vietnam I was losing weight, but I have no doubt today alone will send me home heavier than when I left.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Vietnam Day 59 (8/6/09)
I got to set my alarm a whole hour later today because we’re finished with work. We did still have to get up at a reasonable hour though because the handover ceremony is at eight. (Van Anh has been accidentally calling it a “hangover” ceremony, which has kept the Americans cracking up all morning). We’d heard beforehand that the ceremony would include a “feast” so we ate light and rode of to the road construction site. We were at the same house where we’d had the thank-you brunch last weekend, this time with even more members of the People’s Committee, some of the workers from the road, and faculty from the school where we built the toilet. As we drank hot tea, many people got up to make the usual speeches of thanks and well wishes. Only one speaker said anything unique and it really struck me. He said our work here is helping restore peace after the war, since this area was so devastated by the fighting and by Agent Orange. I’ve thought about this topic a lot riding around Ben Tre – whenever I see someone crippled or scowling at me, I wonder if it’s because of the war and I worry that we’re intruding. It’s comforting to hear someone phrase it differently. After the speeches were done, the food came out. It was a lot of food but it wasn’t exactly a feast in my eyes, as only one of the dishes looked truly appetizing. There was porridge, curry (which looked pretty good), mixed veggies with animal tendon thrown in, and a plate full of hunks of gelatinous pig’s blood. They mystery meat porridge was forced upon me by the sweet older women at the table who insisted on serving us. It was alright minus a few grisly pieces of meat, but I didn’t ask for a second helping. I somehow got away with eating only the curry for the rest of the meal, which had some pretty tasty chunks of chicken and potato in it.
The women sitting at our table (one of whom was Ha and Yen’s grandmother) were very nice and said they wanted to learn more English by the time we come back next year – we didn’t have the heart to tell them the DukeEngage students coming next year won’t be us. At their request, we taught them some English words at the table. One of the women was very studious and pulled out a little notebook (which happened to have hilarious pictures of teen pop stars on the cover) to write down the new vocabulary. The funniest word we taught them was “wafer” (that’s what we had for dessert), which they proceeded to repeat at random for the rest of the morning. After everyone was done eating, different people stood up to sing folk songs. They wanted us to sing too, so the whole group sang the “khop, khop, khop” song we did at the performances, which I miraculously remembered the words to. My favorite performance was from the seventy-nine year old man with a peg leg who can still carry a tune though his voice is shakier than I’m sure it once was. After he was done singing he went back to sit down at the table inside reserved for the elder men. I love the visual of all those old men sitting together, because they all look like caricatures with their skinny frames, elongated features, and perpetual bed-head hairdos (seriously, their was sticking up in all directions, it looked like they’d been through a windstorm). The ceremony ended with the road group unveiling a plaque reading “CET-DukeEngage 2009” which had been nailed to a tree. It stuck out into the road awkwardly, but it was cool to have it there to remind people we’d been in Ben Tre. The ceremony ended there, without a visit to the school but a few of us went back for a little ceremony of our own. Everything seemed to be in order and all the cement on the toilet had finally dried. I was pretty satisfied with what we’d accomplished, though Hieu improved it by adding one final touch – he painted cute little figures of a boy and a girl on the respective doors, so now it’s identifiable as a toilet rather than a shed. We have a plaque for the toilet too, but it’s not up yet so we just held it up and took a picture to commemorate our achievement. On the door of the school was a blackboard with a message about what time school would start the next day. It’s so nice to think about kids really making use of our work.
We’d eaten so recently that we weren’t in the mood to eat lunch, so some of us went back to the hotel to relax for a few hours. When it was time to leave though, my bike was mysteriously missing. Just as I was about to give up and use another bike, a woman in a conical hat (a staff member at the hotel) comes riding up the walkway on my bike. She laughed, motioning how amusing it was that the seat was so high for her, then put the kickstand down, waved, and walked away. I waved and smiled back but I was dumbfounded. I guess she thought I wasn’t using it and needed to go somewhere, which is fine of course but completely unexpected from an American perspective (not to mention hilarious). I guess it’s just part of the communal mentality that’s so common here. It brings me back to a conversation I had with Mr. Vinh back in Ninh Thuan when he told me about the modern Vietnamese version of communism, in which people own individual property but it’s understood that everyone shares everything that they own.
We arrived at the school a little early for our last day. As the children rode up on their bikes, they shouted my name and waved, then Ha, Yen, Nhi, and Linh came running over to play. We had planned a full day of games, including tug-of-war, a relay where the kids had to balance a lime on a spoon held in their mouths, and a race where one blindfolded child gave a piggy-back-ride to another who had a stick to pop a balloon at the other end of the yard. All the kids were adorable and I had a smile on my face the whole two hours as I ran around taking pictures of the kids with their class pictures of the kids. At one point, we had a CET tug-of-war battle, pitting teachers against teachers. My team won the first round hands-down and was about to win the second when a dozen kids ran to the other side and helped the opposite team win. At the end of the day we presented the kids with their class pictures, which they stayed after to have us sign – it was like we were celebrities with all the kids pushing their photos into our hands. A few of them gave us gifts, an origami heart from Ha, a jar full of origami cranes and marbles with “good lucky” written on it (adorable) from Le Thi Hong Luyen (the older girl who’s house we had lunch at), and even a marble from the normally fiendish little boy who always hung around the cafe. It broke my heart when they all came up to give me hugs – I wonder if customs will let me take some of them back with me. As we left, Ha, Nhi, Linh, and Yen rode alongside us until their turnoff, then we said our final goodbyes and continued on to the hotel. It’s strange to think I won’t see them tomorrow – we’ve been here such a short time and yet they’ve had such a powerful impact on me.
So, funny side story – as I was leaving the school, a random guy who I’d met once hanging around the school came up to me again and asked me to write down my name and email address. That was normal because everyone else had done it too, but then he handed me a letter and gave the distinct impression it was a love letter. When I got back to the hotel and read it, I confirmed my suspicions though it went even further than I’d expected. In the letter he declared his earnest love for me, which was very sweet but really something I’d prefer to hear from someone I’d met for more than two seconds. Then my roommate, the traitor, informed me that the boy (Vo Minh) had already been talking to her, Khang, Hieu, and whoever else about this for weeks and she’d already told him I would meet him for coffee this evening. I don’t know how this usually works in Vietnam, but I’m not really a fan of blind dates. To be honest, I was a bit annoyed that all this had been arranged without my knowledge, especially since I didn’t really feel up to sitting through the awkwardness that would surely ensue. Van Anh tried to convince me he just wanted to practice English, but I was still concerned I’d have to let him down because of the admission of love in the letter. At dinner I discovered my concerns were warranted. Phil had been part of the band that had helped Vo edit the English in the letter and told me that Vo was excited when we left the school, going on about having a date with me this evening.
Eventually I had to meet with Vo (trying desperately to ignore the letter), but I made sure we stayed and talked in the hotel so it was less like a date. That plan was soon crushed as he gave me a wrapped gift, a yellow barrette in the shape of a heart. It was a nice gesture but just made me feel even more terrible for not reciprocating his feelings. As expected, the rest of the “date” was painfully awkward – not so much that I needed to be rescued (as Alex, Van, and Hieu all generously offered to do should I need it), but it was pretty bad. He had a long list of questions written out for me in English. I had to give all of my responses in writing because he didn’t understand much spoken English. That was all fine, albeit a little boring because it was more like an interview than a conversation. Then we got to the portion of the evening where I did want rescuing. He’d run out of questions so it was my turn to ask him, but I didn’t have the advantage of a prepared list so I had to think fast. The problem was that I could only ask him very simple questions (because of the language barrier), which he answered in five words or less and then pressed for a new question. Still, it could have been worse and I don’t think I let him down too hard. At least now I’ve talked to the man who loves me for more than two seconds, though I’m afraid my feelings haven’t changed much.
The women sitting at our table (one of whom was Ha and Yen’s grandmother) were very nice and said they wanted to learn more English by the time we come back next year – we didn’t have the heart to tell them the DukeEngage students coming next year won’t be us. At their request, we taught them some English words at the table. One of the women was very studious and pulled out a little notebook (which happened to have hilarious pictures of teen pop stars on the cover) to write down the new vocabulary. The funniest word we taught them was “wafer” (that’s what we had for dessert), which they proceeded to repeat at random for the rest of the morning. After everyone was done eating, different people stood up to sing folk songs. They wanted us to sing too, so the whole group sang the “khop, khop, khop” song we did at the performances, which I miraculously remembered the words to. My favorite performance was from the seventy-nine year old man with a peg leg who can still carry a tune though his voice is shakier than I’m sure it once was. After he was done singing he went back to sit down at the table inside reserved for the elder men. I love the visual of all those old men sitting together, because they all look like caricatures with their skinny frames, elongated features, and perpetual bed-head hairdos (seriously, their was sticking up in all directions, it looked like they’d been through a windstorm). The ceremony ended with the road group unveiling a plaque reading “CET-DukeEngage 2009” which had been nailed to a tree. It stuck out into the road awkwardly, but it was cool to have it there to remind people we’d been in Ben Tre. The ceremony ended there, without a visit to the school but a few of us went back for a little ceremony of our own. Everything seemed to be in order and all the cement on the toilet had finally dried. I was pretty satisfied with what we’d accomplished, though Hieu improved it by adding one final touch – he painted cute little figures of a boy and a girl on the respective doors, so now it’s identifiable as a toilet rather than a shed. We have a plaque for the toilet too, but it’s not up yet so we just held it up and took a picture to commemorate our achievement. On the door of the school was a blackboard with a message about what time school would start the next day. It’s so nice to think about kids really making use of our work.
We’d eaten so recently that we weren’t in the mood to eat lunch, so some of us went back to the hotel to relax for a few hours. When it was time to leave though, my bike was mysteriously missing. Just as I was about to give up and use another bike, a woman in a conical hat (a staff member at the hotel) comes riding up the walkway on my bike. She laughed, motioning how amusing it was that the seat was so high for her, then put the kickstand down, waved, and walked away. I waved and smiled back but I was dumbfounded. I guess she thought I wasn’t using it and needed to go somewhere, which is fine of course but completely unexpected from an American perspective (not to mention hilarious). I guess it’s just part of the communal mentality that’s so common here. It brings me back to a conversation I had with Mr. Vinh back in Ninh Thuan when he told me about the modern Vietnamese version of communism, in which people own individual property but it’s understood that everyone shares everything that they own.
We arrived at the school a little early for our last day. As the children rode up on their bikes, they shouted my name and waved, then Ha, Yen, Nhi, and Linh came running over to play. We had planned a full day of games, including tug-of-war, a relay where the kids had to balance a lime on a spoon held in their mouths, and a race where one blindfolded child gave a piggy-back-ride to another who had a stick to pop a balloon at the other end of the yard. All the kids were adorable and I had a smile on my face the whole two hours as I ran around taking pictures of the kids with their class pictures of the kids. At one point, we had a CET tug-of-war battle, pitting teachers against teachers. My team won the first round hands-down and was about to win the second when a dozen kids ran to the other side and helped the opposite team win. At the end of the day we presented the kids with their class pictures, which they stayed after to have us sign – it was like we were celebrities with all the kids pushing their photos into our hands. A few of them gave us gifts, an origami heart from Ha, a jar full of origami cranes and marbles with “good lucky” written on it (adorable) from Le Thi Hong Luyen (the older girl who’s house we had lunch at), and even a marble from the normally fiendish little boy who always hung around the cafe. It broke my heart when they all came up to give me hugs – I wonder if customs will let me take some of them back with me. As we left, Ha, Nhi, Linh, and Yen rode alongside us until their turnoff, then we said our final goodbyes and continued on to the hotel. It’s strange to think I won’t see them tomorrow – we’ve been here such a short time and yet they’ve had such a powerful impact on me.
So, funny side story – as I was leaving the school, a random guy who I’d met once hanging around the school came up to me again and asked me to write down my name and email address. That was normal because everyone else had done it too, but then he handed me a letter and gave the distinct impression it was a love letter. When I got back to the hotel and read it, I confirmed my suspicions though it went even further than I’d expected. In the letter he declared his earnest love for me, which was very sweet but really something I’d prefer to hear from someone I’d met for more than two seconds. Then my roommate, the traitor, informed me that the boy (Vo Minh) had already been talking to her, Khang, Hieu, and whoever else about this for weeks and she’d already told him I would meet him for coffee this evening. I don’t know how this usually works in Vietnam, but I’m not really a fan of blind dates. To be honest, I was a bit annoyed that all this had been arranged without my knowledge, especially since I didn’t really feel up to sitting through the awkwardness that would surely ensue. Van Anh tried to convince me he just wanted to practice English, but I was still concerned I’d have to let him down because of the admission of love in the letter. At dinner I discovered my concerns were warranted. Phil had been part of the band that had helped Vo edit the English in the letter and told me that Vo was excited when we left the school, going on about having a date with me this evening.
Eventually I had to meet with Vo (trying desperately to ignore the letter), but I made sure we stayed and talked in the hotel so it was less like a date. That plan was soon crushed as he gave me a wrapped gift, a yellow barrette in the shape of a heart. It was a nice gesture but just made me feel even more terrible for not reciprocating his feelings. As expected, the rest of the “date” was painfully awkward – not so much that I needed to be rescued (as Alex, Van, and Hieu all generously offered to do should I need it), but it was pretty bad. He had a long list of questions written out for me in English. I had to give all of my responses in writing because he didn’t understand much spoken English. That was all fine, albeit a little boring because it was more like an interview than a conversation. Then we got to the portion of the evening where I did want rescuing. He’d run out of questions so it was my turn to ask him, but I didn’t have the advantage of a prepared list so I had to think fast. The problem was that I could only ask him very simple questions (because of the language barrier), which he answered in five words or less and then pressed for a new question. Still, it could have been worse and I don’t think I let him down too hard. At least now I’ve talked to the man who loves me for more than two seconds, though I’m afraid my feelings haven’t changed much.
Vietnam Day 58 (8/5/09)
This is officially the strangest place I've ever written from. I'm currently sitting on a little wooden fishing boat (about twice as long as a canoe) just off the bank next to the toilet project. We're tied to a water coconut plant but we're still in motion as Hieu and I take turns pushing off from opposite ends so we glide back and forth. Hieu and Van Anh are on the seat across from me reading the newspaper while across the river behind them is a family shaving a mountain of coconuts in their backyard. This is our official mid-morning break from toilet work. It's our last day of work and I'm approaching it with a different attitude than I have any other day. I've come to terms with the fact that we're not going to finish before we leave so now it's just about speed and efficiency, trying to finish whatever we can before leaving.
When we first got here in the morning I was all business. I made sure I was doing something every second, preparing the tools before anyone else arrived, mixing cement, and then helping the others arrange bricks on top of the dirt walkway to make it more stable. Laying the bricks was satisfying because we actually got to see our progress at a glance and also provided me with the opportunity to play with the machete, something I've been wanting to do for a while. There was an empty space in the path that could only fit half a brick and since the contractor was occupied, I split the brick myself. I'd seen it done before when they were building the walls so I knew the procedure - whack it down the middle, then flip it over to the other side and whack it again. I was very safe and controlled with the machete and the brick broke beautifully – I came away beaming with pride just like Nhi did when she was able to help us with the school project early on. We had a different contractor today because our usual guy had switched with the contractor from the house project. This contractor is just as good and might even be faster, which is a nice change from the methodical pace of our perfectionist contractor. Still, no one would deny that our usual contractor is a formidable character. Yesterday he needed to shorten this hollow metal stick he uses to smooth out the wall, so he just took a little hand saw and cut right through metal!
When we’d done as much as we could on the path, I put another coat of paint on the back wall. It’s still really runny because it’s not meant for the outdoors and can’t survive this weather, but at least one side has more color now (even if it did come out pink instead of yellow). We can’t paint the sides because there’s still wet cement, so we have to leave only the backside painted. I’m not sure the People’s Committee wanted something this avant-garde, but they can fix it when we leave if they’re really concerned. Once I had nothing else to paint, I climbed back into the boat. We’d had a little fiasco earlier as Hieu untied us to turn the boat around, but inadvertently sent us drifting off into the middle of the river. Then Khoi (who had just climbed in) tried to pass Hieu a long bamboo stick to push us back to shore, but it went right by Hieu’s hand and into the water. We eventually recovered the stick and got back to the bank just fine, but it was hilarious to watch everyone panic in the meantime. This time, however, we had a little help with the boat. The same local who’d helped us with the first day of digging stopped by and hopped into the boat with us. He grabbed the long stick of bamboo we’d used earlier and steered the boat like a gondola until we came to an intersection with the big delta. The water was still and relatively deserted except for a couple of bigger boats transporting coconuts. There were little huts scattered along the shore with cows in their backyards. One hut was actually a convenience store where boats could dock and quickly buy the essentials. I love being on the water – it just feels so natural and on such a beautiful sunny day I couldn’t help feeling instantly relaxed.
When we got back to the bank, I was helped out of the boat by members of the People’s Committee, who’d come to visit with yet another government official whose title I didn’t bother to ask. Like any good politician, he stopped everyone in their work (the school group had come back to spruce things up) in order to give a speech thanking us, awkwardly adding advice that we should forget any grievances we might have with the People’s Committee and look to the future. I’m sure even he didn’t know what those grievances might be but he clearly considered it his place to smooth things over and make nice with the foreigners. I didn’t hear the whole speech because I was busy washing off my feet. They were caked with mud from when I’d flattened out the dirt path by stepping on it. My ankles had been abnormally itchy underneath all that muck and I was anxious to get clean. I was hoping I wasn’t itchy because of the burrowing maggots we’d heard about, but sure enough when I’d washed the mud off I found lots of little red spots that looked like mosquito bites at a glance but with tiny specks of blood in the center where the little bastards had entered. I’m still not entirely certain what burrowing maggots are, but Rylan mentioned them briefly before we left, warning us that if we went in the water we could pick up these little bugs that (as their name suggests) tunnel into your skin like ringworms. Well, I followed his advice and stayed out of the water, but as usual nasty bugs are determined to get me by whatever means they can. I’ll get it checked out when I go home but I talked to the locals about it and it should be fine for now.
All the usual kids (Ha, Nhi, Linh, Thien, and both Yens) plus some were at the café today to play with us. I was planning on writing in my journal but when they got there I simply had to put it down. We have so little time left with them and I want to savor every moment. They wrote and drew in my journal and I learned a new game that’s a variation of Rock-Paper-Scissors – in this game there’s a fourth option somewhere between scissors and rock and whenever you lose, the winner slaps the palm of your hand, kind of like a low-five but Thien’s slaps really hurt. They were all really disappointed that we weren’t teaching today but most of us had to go back to do more work on the construction sites this afternoon.
On the way back to the toilet site, I found My (one of the cute girls from the school who always wears a pink baseball cap that reads “hip-hop”) knelt on the side of the road trying to fix her bike chain. The chain had clearly been broken before because two of the links were tied together with a flimsy string, but the knot had come undone. I helped her retie it a few times but it kept coming undone every time she put it back on. Hieu and Van Anh came up behind but hey didn’t know what to do either so we suggested taking it to a bike shop, but she started crying saying she didn’t have the money. It broke my heart to see this brilliant, usually tough-as-nails little girl on the ground fiddling with the rusty chain while tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. She’s one of the most talented students, but she’s so desperately poor I hope she still has the opportunity to continue in school unlike a lot of kids in this area who have to stay at home to work. We told her we’d pay to get her bike fixed (a nominal fee to us) and she went off to class, still wiping her tears into her sleeve.
When we reached the toilet site we found four contractors there. Only two of them seemed to be actually working but they made good time. I’m truly in awe of what these guys can accomplish when they want to – or rather when the People’s Committee is coming to look at their work in the morning. They made so much progress, completing the roof, the siding on the front, and even managing to put in the actual toilet fixtures for the boys and girls. It was everything I’d hoped we would finish and I’m thrilled with the finished project (especially compared to what I thought we’d have done given where we were just a few days ago). Even though I didn’t have anything more to do than usual after mixing the cement and finishing off the brick path, I felt considerably more at peace than I have these past few mornings. There’s something about the afternoon light at the school that’s infinitely more cheerful than in the mornings and it turned me back into my usual giggly self. I had one last good play with the puppies (who incidentally have gotten a lot bigger than when we first got here and make even more of a mess when they trounce through wet cement), and then we kicked off at five on the dime (the concept of overtime doesn’t exist here). I’m so happy to finally be done. I’m very pleased with the outcome but it’s been a long stressful road to get here (much longer than the two weeks I originally thought it’d take).
Before leaving, one of the contractors brought us huge water coconuts. He started them off by smacking each on the ground, then progressively breaking off the huge corn kernel-shaped sections. He then split each section with a machete and gave us the halves along with a little spoon (like the ones used in American ice cream shops) made from a shard of the coconut. The meat of the coconut came out like jelly and it was pretty good (though nothing to write home about). Regardless of how the coconut tasted, sitting on pieces of broken bricks in a circle with friends by the river, I felt Vietnamese.
When we first got here in the morning I was all business. I made sure I was doing something every second, preparing the tools before anyone else arrived, mixing cement, and then helping the others arrange bricks on top of the dirt walkway to make it more stable. Laying the bricks was satisfying because we actually got to see our progress at a glance and also provided me with the opportunity to play with the machete, something I've been wanting to do for a while. There was an empty space in the path that could only fit half a brick and since the contractor was occupied, I split the brick myself. I'd seen it done before when they were building the walls so I knew the procedure - whack it down the middle, then flip it over to the other side and whack it again. I was very safe and controlled with the machete and the brick broke beautifully – I came away beaming with pride just like Nhi did when she was able to help us with the school project early on. We had a different contractor today because our usual guy had switched with the contractor from the house project. This contractor is just as good and might even be faster, which is a nice change from the methodical pace of our perfectionist contractor. Still, no one would deny that our usual contractor is a formidable character. Yesterday he needed to shorten this hollow metal stick he uses to smooth out the wall, so he just took a little hand saw and cut right through metal!
When we’d done as much as we could on the path, I put another coat of paint on the back wall. It’s still really runny because it’s not meant for the outdoors and can’t survive this weather, but at least one side has more color now (even if it did come out pink instead of yellow). We can’t paint the sides because there’s still wet cement, so we have to leave only the backside painted. I’m not sure the People’s Committee wanted something this avant-garde, but they can fix it when we leave if they’re really concerned. Once I had nothing else to paint, I climbed back into the boat. We’d had a little fiasco earlier as Hieu untied us to turn the boat around, but inadvertently sent us drifting off into the middle of the river. Then Khoi (who had just climbed in) tried to pass Hieu a long bamboo stick to push us back to shore, but it went right by Hieu’s hand and into the water. We eventually recovered the stick and got back to the bank just fine, but it was hilarious to watch everyone panic in the meantime. This time, however, we had a little help with the boat. The same local who’d helped us with the first day of digging stopped by and hopped into the boat with us. He grabbed the long stick of bamboo we’d used earlier and steered the boat like a gondola until we came to an intersection with the big delta. The water was still and relatively deserted except for a couple of bigger boats transporting coconuts. There were little huts scattered along the shore with cows in their backyards. One hut was actually a convenience store where boats could dock and quickly buy the essentials. I love being on the water – it just feels so natural and on such a beautiful sunny day I couldn’t help feeling instantly relaxed.
When we got back to the bank, I was helped out of the boat by members of the People’s Committee, who’d come to visit with yet another government official whose title I didn’t bother to ask. Like any good politician, he stopped everyone in their work (the school group had come back to spruce things up) in order to give a speech thanking us, awkwardly adding advice that we should forget any grievances we might have with the People’s Committee and look to the future. I’m sure even he didn’t know what those grievances might be but he clearly considered it his place to smooth things over and make nice with the foreigners. I didn’t hear the whole speech because I was busy washing off my feet. They were caked with mud from when I’d flattened out the dirt path by stepping on it. My ankles had been abnormally itchy underneath all that muck and I was anxious to get clean. I was hoping I wasn’t itchy because of the burrowing maggots we’d heard about, but sure enough when I’d washed the mud off I found lots of little red spots that looked like mosquito bites at a glance but with tiny specks of blood in the center where the little bastards had entered. I’m still not entirely certain what burrowing maggots are, but Rylan mentioned them briefly before we left, warning us that if we went in the water we could pick up these little bugs that (as their name suggests) tunnel into your skin like ringworms. Well, I followed his advice and stayed out of the water, but as usual nasty bugs are determined to get me by whatever means they can. I’ll get it checked out when I go home but I talked to the locals about it and it should be fine for now.
All the usual kids (Ha, Nhi, Linh, Thien, and both Yens) plus some were at the café today to play with us. I was planning on writing in my journal but when they got there I simply had to put it down. We have so little time left with them and I want to savor every moment. They wrote and drew in my journal and I learned a new game that’s a variation of Rock-Paper-Scissors – in this game there’s a fourth option somewhere between scissors and rock and whenever you lose, the winner slaps the palm of your hand, kind of like a low-five but Thien’s slaps really hurt. They were all really disappointed that we weren’t teaching today but most of us had to go back to do more work on the construction sites this afternoon.
On the way back to the toilet site, I found My (one of the cute girls from the school who always wears a pink baseball cap that reads “hip-hop”) knelt on the side of the road trying to fix her bike chain. The chain had clearly been broken before because two of the links were tied together with a flimsy string, but the knot had come undone. I helped her retie it a few times but it kept coming undone every time she put it back on. Hieu and Van Anh came up behind but hey didn’t know what to do either so we suggested taking it to a bike shop, but she started crying saying she didn’t have the money. It broke my heart to see this brilliant, usually tough-as-nails little girl on the ground fiddling with the rusty chain while tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. She’s one of the most talented students, but she’s so desperately poor I hope she still has the opportunity to continue in school unlike a lot of kids in this area who have to stay at home to work. We told her we’d pay to get her bike fixed (a nominal fee to us) and she went off to class, still wiping her tears into her sleeve.
When we reached the toilet site we found four contractors there. Only two of them seemed to be actually working but they made good time. I’m truly in awe of what these guys can accomplish when they want to – or rather when the People’s Committee is coming to look at their work in the morning. They made so much progress, completing the roof, the siding on the front, and even managing to put in the actual toilet fixtures for the boys and girls. It was everything I’d hoped we would finish and I’m thrilled with the finished project (especially compared to what I thought we’d have done given where we were just a few days ago). Even though I didn’t have anything more to do than usual after mixing the cement and finishing off the brick path, I felt considerably more at peace than I have these past few mornings. There’s something about the afternoon light at the school that’s infinitely more cheerful than in the mornings and it turned me back into my usual giggly self. I had one last good play with the puppies (who incidentally have gotten a lot bigger than when we first got here and make even more of a mess when they trounce through wet cement), and then we kicked off at five on the dime (the concept of overtime doesn’t exist here). I’m so happy to finally be done. I’m very pleased with the outcome but it’s been a long stressful road to get here (much longer than the two weeks I originally thought it’d take).
Before leaving, one of the contractors brought us huge water coconuts. He started them off by smacking each on the ground, then progressively breaking off the huge corn kernel-shaped sections. He then split each section with a machete and gave us the halves along with a little spoon (like the ones used in American ice cream shops) made from a shard of the coconut. The meat of the coconut came out like jelly and it was pretty good (though nothing to write home about). Regardless of how the coconut tasted, sitting on pieces of broken bricks in a circle with friends by the river, I felt Vietnamese.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Vietnam Day 57 (8/4/09)
I just finished my last monday of work in Ben Tre. I finally got my wish and we had more to do today than just sit around. We evened out the dirt path to the toilet, making sloppy edges straighter by breaking off the excess mud - I went along the path first, breaking up the compacted dirt with a shovel that's bent at the neck so it's more like a pickaxe while Van Anh and Hanh followed with regular shovels to finesse the sides. We used the mud we'd just dislodged to level out more of the ground around the toilet and I spent the rest of my morning doing my usual routine of mixing cement, waiting around until the contractor needed more and then mixing again. Today I discovered that we don't have the rest of the week to finish the project - since our "handover" ceremony for the school is Thursday, we have to be done with all of our work by the end of Wednesday. Frankly, I have my doubts about our ability to finish in time. Today, the contractor finished siding the inside walls, but that still leaves siding the front, installing the actual toilets, putting up the roof, painting, and extending the path. It would be really sad to leave without finishing, but at least we can leave the community with the resources to complete it on their own if it comes to that. It's weird to think that we only have two more days of work but four more days in Mo Cay - I admit I've been antsy to finish up here, but I think still being in town with no work to do will be worse. Being in constant anticipation of going back and mentally preparing myself to return to America has made everything drag on longer.
Today is a holiday that reminds me of the Day of the Dead - it's a day to remember relatives who have died (along the lines of ancestor worship) and it's celebrated with a huge feast. The road group was invited to this banquet by one of the families that lives along the road, so they all had essentially a full dinner before ever reaching the moms' house. At least I had a voracious appetite today and the food was great so I was able to help finish off some of the extra food. Today was our last official class with the older kids. We took them outside to try out the catapult, which went over fine though it had a much more dramatic effect when we showed the little kids because each projectile splash-landed into a puddle. Now the catapult lesson is done so we're donating the catapult to the school - no idea what they'll do with it but hopefully no one gets hurt in the process. The ride back was scenic as always. Schoolgirls rode by on their bikes wearing white audois (the school uniform on Mondays) and down the road teenage boys, still soaking wet from the rain, drag raced on their bicycles. There was the usual assortment of animals: roosters contained in cages that look like big overturned baskets, a dog with a scraggly coat, and a large pig, its enormous testicles swinging as it was driven on by its owner. There's a little hut I pass every day where five people sit at tables covered with moonsnails as they rapidly remove the beautiful caps with a spiral design and throw them into large baskets on the ground. On the second bridge we were forced to stop because of the huge gap (much bigger than the usual ones) left by a missing plank that was there only this morning - I still wonder how that happened and who went into the river with it. We rode back through the flooded market, leaving massive waves in our wake.
I'm disappointed that the language barrier is still such a huge problem for me. More and more, the Vietnamese roommates have been slipping back into speaking only Vietnamese, especially at my work site where I'm the only American. The schoolchildren as well as random people are always trying to converse with me, trying to speak more slowly to help me understand. Yet, no matter how earnestly they try, I never catch a single word. I'm getting very good at the phrase "xin loi, khong biet", translation "I'm sorry, I don't understand" - every time I say it, their faces droop and they move on. Then there's the contractor who I've been working next to for over three weeks but I still know nothing about. I've leaned some of his mannerisms, but I have no idea what he talks about all day. I get by well enough to do my work and be polite to strangers, but I'm not flourishing in this challenge – I feel left out, frustrated, and even bored at times. However, these difficulties haven’t diminished my desire to come back someday to live and work here – I just know I’ll definitely need to take intensive Vietnamese classes before I do.
I’m sure everyone’s happy to hear I’ve finally decided that griping isn’t going to get me anywhere – I just have to accept that I’ve done everything I could do (or was allowed to do given the craftsmanship required) and I’m sure my presence ahs made some difference, no matter how small. It’s the same with our teaching efforts in the afternoon. It may be difficult to teach them anything lasting when I can’t speak to them myself, but I am showing them a good time. I think the kids may get the most out of our interactions outside of class. By spending time with them at the cafe and playing with them in between classes, we’re teaching them in between classes, we’re teaching them how to relate to strangers from different cultures.
The family of the girl who went fishing with us had us over for a big lunch today. After the meal, they showed us family pictures, among them the class pictures taken with last year’s Green Summer participants. We took our class picture today and I’d like to think some of the kids will remember me in the same way.
Today is a holiday that reminds me of the Day of the Dead - it's a day to remember relatives who have died (along the lines of ancestor worship) and it's celebrated with a huge feast. The road group was invited to this banquet by one of the families that lives along the road, so they all had essentially a full dinner before ever reaching the moms' house. At least I had a voracious appetite today and the food was great so I was able to help finish off some of the extra food. Today was our last official class with the older kids. We took them outside to try out the catapult, which went over fine though it had a much more dramatic effect when we showed the little kids because each projectile splash-landed into a puddle. Now the catapult lesson is done so we're donating the catapult to the school - no idea what they'll do with it but hopefully no one gets hurt in the process. The ride back was scenic as always. Schoolgirls rode by on their bikes wearing white audois (the school uniform on Mondays) and down the road teenage boys, still soaking wet from the rain, drag raced on their bicycles. There was the usual assortment of animals: roosters contained in cages that look like big overturned baskets, a dog with a scraggly coat, and a large pig, its enormous testicles swinging as it was driven on by its owner. There's a little hut I pass every day where five people sit at tables covered with moonsnails as they rapidly remove the beautiful caps with a spiral design and throw them into large baskets on the ground. On the second bridge we were forced to stop because of the huge gap (much bigger than the usual ones) left by a missing plank that was there only this morning - I still wonder how that happened and who went into the river with it. We rode back through the flooded market, leaving massive waves in our wake.
I'm disappointed that the language barrier is still such a huge problem for me. More and more, the Vietnamese roommates have been slipping back into speaking only Vietnamese, especially at my work site where I'm the only American. The schoolchildren as well as random people are always trying to converse with me, trying to speak more slowly to help me understand. Yet, no matter how earnestly they try, I never catch a single word. I'm getting very good at the phrase "xin loi, khong biet", translation "I'm sorry, I don't understand" - every time I say it, their faces droop and they move on. Then there's the contractor who I've been working next to for over three weeks but I still know nothing about. I've leaned some of his mannerisms, but I have no idea what he talks about all day. I get by well enough to do my work and be polite to strangers, but I'm not flourishing in this challenge – I feel left out, frustrated, and even bored at times. However, these difficulties haven’t diminished my desire to come back someday to live and work here – I just know I’ll definitely need to take intensive Vietnamese classes before I do.
I’m sure everyone’s happy to hear I’ve finally decided that griping isn’t going to get me anywhere – I just have to accept that I’ve done everything I could do (or was allowed to do given the craftsmanship required) and I’m sure my presence ahs made some difference, no matter how small. It’s the same with our teaching efforts in the afternoon. It may be difficult to teach them anything lasting when I can’t speak to them myself, but I am showing them a good time. I think the kids may get the most out of our interactions outside of class. By spending time with them at the cafe and playing with them in between classes, we’re teaching them in between classes, we’re teaching them how to relate to strangers from different cultures.
The family of the girl who went fishing with us had us over for a big lunch today. After the meal, they showed us family pictures, among them the class pictures taken with last year’s Green Summer participants. We took our class picture today and I’d like to think some of the kids will remember me in the same way.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Vietnam Day 56 (8/3/09)
5:10 my alarm went off and I had little motivation to get out of bed because I knew all that was waiting for me was a 3K. Still, it's a good cause and I really do want to push myself to run the whole thing - after all, it's not even two miles right? We started out at the Youth Union hall where we were greeted by very patriotic music. However, there were very few people there to hear it. There were less than ten kids there, making our hundred and fifty numbered t-shirts seem even more excessive than it did last night when we were putting the numbers on them. While we waited for more participants to show up, I walked over to the chain-link fence to watch the volleyball game going on in the courtyard next door. It wasn't a serious game, just a small group of people (mostly senior citizens) playing with a huge orange bouncy ball. It looked like a lot of fun so when they motioned me over to play, I grabbed Molly and Kendra and we joined the game. Kendra went on the side that had been winning before and used her superior height to help increase their lead while Molly and I mostly helped keep our team's score low, though I must say we were making some impressive hits there at the end.
When enough runners had arrived, Van Anh blew her plastic green whistle and called us back over to start the opening ceremony. Hieu was MC (no surprise there) and cheerfully greeted everyone in Vietnamese. We then handed out the free shirts to the contestants, most of whom were younger than me - the shirt was way too big for some of them, especially Thien (an adorable little boy that Molly may stow in her suitcase when we head back) who had a difficult time trying to tuck the tent-like shirt into his pants (it was absolutely adorable). The whole group then marched through the market, even more conspicuous with the tall yellow pennants some of us were carrying - somehow I got stuck carrying one of these flags, which almost turned disastrous when I nearly smacked into a low-hanging powerline with the pole. When we reached the starting line, we were pleasantly surprised to find even more yellow-shirted runners waiting for us (among them mother number nine who I couldn't believe was running at all).
We were delayed for a minute while a procession of vans and cars passed (an unusual sight in Mo Cay), the last one adorned with flowers and bearing a bride dressed in a traditional red audoi and disk-shaped hat. Once everyone was set, Alex blew the start whistle and all the kids took off at a sprint. I and the other DukeEngage students running in the back so we wouldn't be trampled by tiny feet. The kids of course couldn't keep up that pace so we soon caught up to them, though I got left behind by the other Americans in the process because I'm really out of shape and couldn't quite handle the tropical Vietnamese sun. Instead I set my own pace and took my time (occasionally taking some shaky photos along the way). About halfway through, I heard someone calling my name. I looked behind me to see Linh (the thirteen year-old girl in the class with the younger kids) with Yen (Ha's sister) on the back of her bike pulling up alongside me. They proceeded to ride next to me for the rest of the way. For the first stretch together, Yen held my hand and then Linh took over (riding one-handed). It was absolutely adorable and they kept me smiling and laughing the whole time (probably a good thing because there were cameras and cheering onlookers standing on the sidelines the whole way). The last quarter-mile was really hard for me - I was exhausted and on the verge of collapsing, but I refused to give up. At long last I saw Hieu up ahead waving a yellow pennant at the finish line - I wouldn't call it a sprint but I definitely sped up at the end and finally finished.
I was so excited, I couldn't (and still can't) believe I ran the whole way when I came into this expecting I would walk part of it. I was really proud of myself for pushing through the heat and humidity and coming out with my weak muscles still in tact. A lot of people finished ahead of me, but I took some comfort in the fact that a lot of those were younger kids who'd hitched rides on motorbikes most of the way. I might have done well, but Phil and Alex did even better - they finished sixth and ninth respectively, just behind a bunch of scrawny teenage boys who looked like a high school track team, the first place winner completing the entire race in only nine minutes, barefooted no less. For being in the top ten, each runner received ten notebooks, a gift that only seemed appropriate for the little kids so Phil and Alex gave theirs to our students. There were also five students (including Nhi and Thien) who were presented with scholarships and school uniforms. We were really confused why only these five received the scholarships since there were supposed to be almost eighty students getting them. Alice explained that these were the only ones who could come today since the rest were probably busy working in the fields (a rather sad thought) and would come by later to get their scholarships. Their absence was far more effective than their presence in driving home the purpose of this event. When we finished up at the closing ceremony, everyone felt ready to go back to the hotel, eat lunch, and take a long nap - that is until we realized it was only eight o'clock in the morning.
I couldn't believe how much of the day was left - it really goes to show you how much you can accomplish in a day if you get up at the crack of dawn. Since it was still so early, it seemed like a waste to just go right back to sleep. Instead, we accepted an invitation from one of the older school girls to go fishing.We went down a dirt path to her uncle's house and collected our own fishing supplies. A young boy of about twelve stirred up the earth with a machete while My, Phat, and I dug around in the dirt , pulling out tiny worms and placing them in an empty yogurt cup (a lot of them were miniscule so it was always really exciting to find a fat juicy one). I then made my own fishing pole out of a stalk of bamboo. Holding the stalk upright in front of me, I whacked off the leaves with swift downward swipes of the machete. After the bamboo was smoothed out, we tied strings and hooks to the end and walked a few feet to a little stream, which was even smaller than usual because it was low tide. We were fishing for tiny mudskippers, little fish with bug-eyes that hang out in the mud on the shore. To fish these little guys out, you cast your line into the mud on the edge of the water waiting for the fish to scuttle over to the bait. That's the easy part - the difficult part is getting them into the bucket. Apparently, these are more expensive in the market than other fish because they're really hard to catch. These fish are too smart for my own good - as soon as I have them in the air moving toward the bucket, they open their mouths and flop back to the ground. A couple of the bigger ones are even smarter than that and just take little nibbles off the worm without grabbing on. As a result, the only catch to my name was mostly to Ming's credit - I lured teh fish up to my line then Ming lunged at it with the bucket, scooping up a huge chunk of mud with the fish, but it was still a success. No one caught many, but Van did the best catching two minnows and a mudfish. We certainly didn't have much in comparison to the family's full bucket of mudskippers, but I think we did pretty well for our first time.
When enough runners had arrived, Van Anh blew her plastic green whistle and called us back over to start the opening ceremony. Hieu was MC (no surprise there) and cheerfully greeted everyone in Vietnamese. We then handed out the free shirts to the contestants, most of whom were younger than me - the shirt was way too big for some of them, especially Thien (an adorable little boy that Molly may stow in her suitcase when we head back) who had a difficult time trying to tuck the tent-like shirt into his pants (it was absolutely adorable). The whole group then marched through the market, even more conspicuous with the tall yellow pennants some of us were carrying - somehow I got stuck carrying one of these flags, which almost turned disastrous when I nearly smacked into a low-hanging powerline with the pole. When we reached the starting line, we were pleasantly surprised to find even more yellow-shirted runners waiting for us (among them mother number nine who I couldn't believe was running at all).
We were delayed for a minute while a procession of vans and cars passed (an unusual sight in Mo Cay), the last one adorned with flowers and bearing a bride dressed in a traditional red audoi and disk-shaped hat. Once everyone was set, Alex blew the start whistle and all the kids took off at a sprint. I and the other DukeEngage students running in the back so we wouldn't be trampled by tiny feet. The kids of course couldn't keep up that pace so we soon caught up to them, though I got left behind by the other Americans in the process because I'm really out of shape and couldn't quite handle the tropical Vietnamese sun. Instead I set my own pace and took my time (occasionally taking some shaky photos along the way). About halfway through, I heard someone calling my name. I looked behind me to see Linh (the thirteen year-old girl in the class with the younger kids) with Yen (Ha's sister) on the back of her bike pulling up alongside me. They proceeded to ride next to me for the rest of the way. For the first stretch together, Yen held my hand and then Linh took over (riding one-handed). It was absolutely adorable and they kept me smiling and laughing the whole time (probably a good thing because there were cameras and cheering onlookers standing on the sidelines the whole way). The last quarter-mile was really hard for me - I was exhausted and on the verge of collapsing, but I refused to give up. At long last I saw Hieu up ahead waving a yellow pennant at the finish line - I wouldn't call it a sprint but I definitely sped up at the end and finally finished.
I was so excited, I couldn't (and still can't) believe I ran the whole way when I came into this expecting I would walk part of it. I was really proud of myself for pushing through the heat and humidity and coming out with my weak muscles still in tact. A lot of people finished ahead of me, but I took some comfort in the fact that a lot of those were younger kids who'd hitched rides on motorbikes most of the way. I might have done well, but Phil and Alex did even better - they finished sixth and ninth respectively, just behind a bunch of scrawny teenage boys who looked like a high school track team, the first place winner completing the entire race in only nine minutes, barefooted no less. For being in the top ten, each runner received ten notebooks, a gift that only seemed appropriate for the little kids so Phil and Alex gave theirs to our students. There were also five students (including Nhi and Thien) who were presented with scholarships and school uniforms. We were really confused why only these five received the scholarships since there were supposed to be almost eighty students getting them. Alice explained that these were the only ones who could come today since the rest were probably busy working in the fields (a rather sad thought) and would come by later to get their scholarships. Their absence was far more effective than their presence in driving home the purpose of this event. When we finished up at the closing ceremony, everyone felt ready to go back to the hotel, eat lunch, and take a long nap - that is until we realized it was only eight o'clock in the morning.
I couldn't believe how much of the day was left - it really goes to show you how much you can accomplish in a day if you get up at the crack of dawn. Since it was still so early, it seemed like a waste to just go right back to sleep. Instead, we accepted an invitation from one of the older school girls to go fishing.We went down a dirt path to her uncle's house and collected our own fishing supplies. A young boy of about twelve stirred up the earth with a machete while My, Phat, and I dug around in the dirt , pulling out tiny worms and placing them in an empty yogurt cup (a lot of them were miniscule so it was always really exciting to find a fat juicy one). I then made my own fishing pole out of a stalk of bamboo. Holding the stalk upright in front of me, I whacked off the leaves with swift downward swipes of the machete. After the bamboo was smoothed out, we tied strings and hooks to the end and walked a few feet to a little stream, which was even smaller than usual because it was low tide. We were fishing for tiny mudskippers, little fish with bug-eyes that hang out in the mud on the shore. To fish these little guys out, you cast your line into the mud on the edge of the water waiting for the fish to scuttle over to the bait. That's the easy part - the difficult part is getting them into the bucket. Apparently, these are more expensive in the market than other fish because they're really hard to catch. These fish are too smart for my own good - as soon as I have them in the air moving toward the bucket, they open their mouths and flop back to the ground. A couple of the bigger ones are even smarter than that and just take little nibbles off the worm without grabbing on. As a result, the only catch to my name was mostly to Ming's credit - I lured teh fish up to my line then Ming lunged at it with the bucket, scooping up a huge chunk of mud with the fish, but it was still a success. No one caught many, but Van did the best catching two minnows and a mudfish. We certainly didn't have much in comparison to the family's full bucket of mudskippers, but I think we did pretty well for our first time.
Vietnam Day 55 (8/2/09)
Will we never just have a quiet weekend to ourselves? This morning we rode off to attend a mandatory thank-you lunch hosted by the People's Committee vice-chairwoman. The chairwoman cleverly got out of doing any work herself by hosting the brunch at her sister's house. We started off the meal with the leaf cake and coconut milk I liked so much when we had it at the road-worker's house. When the rest of the food came out, I found myself eating only half the dishes (the porridge and banana flower) because the pork was especially fatty and the chicken and duck feet had really tough, chewy skin that made them hard to get into. The only thing I really loved was the kumquat juice that accompanied the meal. Throughout the meal, we had many speakers stand up to thank us - based on the translation they all said exactly the same thing: your work here is appreciated, good health to your families, and good luck in your studies (always a popular one). After we'd finished eating, Ming got it into his head to try to knock down a coconut like the locals do and he convinced Phat to do it with him. One of the men we'd been eating with (who I later found out has four wives) eagerly brought over the long stick with a sickle attached to the end and the boys gave it a try. We were all desperately afraid we'd have to send them back to Saigon on a stretcher (particularly accident-prone Ming) but fortunately they escaped without injury. Phat even succeeded in getting a coconut down and got to keep the coconut as a symbol of his victory. It was pretty impressive, though it was pretty funny when contrasted with the local man who cut it down with a single swipe. Nonetheless, I think I actually trusted Phat and Ming more with the large bladed pole, because this man had a very odd sense of humor. He kept trying (and failing) to scare us with the shell from an old bomb he had lying around the yard, jumping at us with it yelling "BOOM" - it made me wonder what he'd try with the pole if he really wanted to mess with us.
The evening was spent in preparation for tomorrow's Fun Run. The Fun Run is an event that we're hosting, a charity race where volunteers (like us) are running a 3K in the name of sponsors who donated money to our cause - we're giving scholarships and free school uniforms to about eighty underprivileged kids, many of whom are the children we teach in the afternoons. Since we were responsible for organizing the entire event, we held a long series of meetings throughout the night to solidify plans.
The evening was spent in preparation for tomorrow's Fun Run. The Fun Run is an event that we're hosting, a charity race where volunteers (like us) are running a 3K in the name of sponsors who donated money to our cause - we're giving scholarships and free school uniforms to about eighty underprivileged kids, many of whom are the children we teach in the afternoons. Since we were responsible for organizing the entire event, we held a long series of meetings throughout the night to solidify plans.
Vietnam Day 54 (8/1/09)
I would like to formally revise my prediction of the completion date for the toilet project. I'd guessed Tuesday only when I thought we were almost done with the walls, but now I see we still have to put cement on the inside walls as well. We sat around for a long time again today, but at least Ha and Yen came by today to entertain us. Mostly I just watched them play as they made a little seesaw out of a brick and a plank of wood and then Ha built a miniature house out of some of the extra bricks that were lying around. They picked some short reeds and taught us how to make pens out of them by stripping off the outer layers until you're left with a point at one end, which you deep in ink like a quill. These were the first pens ever used in this region. I sort of succeeded in making one of my own but the only one I'd actually try to write with is the one Ha gave me as a gift. All the work I could help with was done about half hour before it was time to head to lunch, so I decided to make use of my time.
Every day I look across the river at a white wooden bridge leading who knows where and today I finally satisfied my urge to go exploring. On the other side of the bridge I found similar sights to the ones I see every day on the little path used to get to the school - the same dogs, the same chickens sporadically running out in front of me. Along the road I found same odd mix of humble wooden huts and and colorful houses with the beautiful tiled patio like the one at the mom's house. And yet, even with all these identifiable commonalities, the ride still felt very different. The path was slightly wider, giving it a very open, sunny atmosphere. I passed a lot of cafes where people were lounging, as well as a beauty parlor that was an open-air hut with a thatched roof but equipped with electric hair-driers. My favorite scene was of two old men just sitting down to a game of Chinese chess on a key-lime green tile patio. I can't explain why but that sight put a smile on my face. Just by seeing other people live their lives I finally felt connected to the community after three weeks of highly-structured interactions with only members of the community who the People's Committee deemed it beneficial for us to meet. I rode down the winding path laughing to myself (which no doubt confused the crap out of anyone who saw me pass), as happy as I'd been since leaving Saigon - at long last, I feel blissfully content to be in Ben Tre.
I got back to the school in time to leave with Van Anh and Hieu but just as we finished cleaning up the back, it started to pour. Since Hieu was carrying the projector (and acts like a cat when it comes to getting wet) we couldn't just press on in the rain so we sat in the school and waited it out. I really love tropical rain storms, especially along the river where where you can see each drop hit the water and the palms blowing furiously in the wind. The contractor was laughing at me for taking pictures of hte rain but I was having fun. Still, I was ready to go by the time it stopped. It was the perfect day for a fantastic lunch from mom number nine, because I'd been hungry for two hours by the time we sat down to eat - we had egg rolls with some unidentifiable but tasty meat and a side plate of mixed vegetables. I went to the cafe, ordered a cafe sua nong, and sat down to write in my journal with the usual gaggle of children reading over my shoulder. Today Alice was there to translate what the kids were saying and it was really entertaining. First they talked about my notebook and how many n's I write (although I think they counted my r's and h's as well because their not used to seeing all print rather than cursive). Then they noticed that my ears weren't pierced (this came up because Nhi lost an earring so she put a tiny twig through the hole to keep it from closing (not the most sanitary solution but it works) and noted that because my hair wasn't as long as the other DukeEngage girls' I didn't have as many options of hairstyles. They also made some more serious comments, talking about money and how rich all their families are - apparently Ha is the richest because her family owns one hundred pigs (which I must say sounds like a lot to me too). It was really cute when they told us all we should get each other's phone numbers so we can visit each other when we get back to the United States - I don't think they realized that we go to the same school since we told them we're from different states. Our session ended with one of the boys saying numbers in Vietnamese trying to get me to say them in English, trying to test not my Vietnamese, but rather my English skills - he had to make sure I was qualified to teach them.
When the kids dragged us away from the cafe yelling that it was time for class, I suddenly felt really bad that all we had planned for the day was a movie. Sometimes I forget how easily entertained kids are but they just kept laughing at things I didn't realize were that funny. We showed them "A Bug's Life" with terrible dubbing and they laughed at everything even when they couldn't hear or understand. Gotta love that sense of humor.
Every day I look across the river at a white wooden bridge leading who knows where and today I finally satisfied my urge to go exploring. On the other side of the bridge I found similar sights to the ones I see every day on the little path used to get to the school - the same dogs, the same chickens sporadically running out in front of me. Along the road I found same odd mix of humble wooden huts and and colorful houses with the beautiful tiled patio like the one at the mom's house. And yet, even with all these identifiable commonalities, the ride still felt very different. The path was slightly wider, giving it a very open, sunny atmosphere. I passed a lot of cafes where people were lounging, as well as a beauty parlor that was an open-air hut with a thatched roof but equipped with electric hair-driers. My favorite scene was of two old men just sitting down to a game of Chinese chess on a key-lime green tile patio. I can't explain why but that sight put a smile on my face. Just by seeing other people live their lives I finally felt connected to the community after three weeks of highly-structured interactions with only members of the community who the People's Committee deemed it beneficial for us to meet. I rode down the winding path laughing to myself (which no doubt confused the crap out of anyone who saw me pass), as happy as I'd been since leaving Saigon - at long last, I feel blissfully content to be in Ben Tre.
I got back to the school in time to leave with Van Anh and Hieu but just as we finished cleaning up the back, it started to pour. Since Hieu was carrying the projector (and acts like a cat when it comes to getting wet) we couldn't just press on in the rain so we sat in the school and waited it out. I really love tropical rain storms, especially along the river where where you can see each drop hit the water and the palms blowing furiously in the wind. The contractor was laughing at me for taking pictures of hte rain but I was having fun. Still, I was ready to go by the time it stopped. It was the perfect day for a fantastic lunch from mom number nine, because I'd been hungry for two hours by the time we sat down to eat - we had egg rolls with some unidentifiable but tasty meat and a side plate of mixed vegetables. I went to the cafe, ordered a cafe sua nong, and sat down to write in my journal with the usual gaggle of children reading over my shoulder. Today Alice was there to translate what the kids were saying and it was really entertaining. First they talked about my notebook and how many n's I write (although I think they counted my r's and h's as well because their not used to seeing all print rather than cursive). Then they noticed that my ears weren't pierced (this came up because Nhi lost an earring so she put a tiny twig through the hole to keep it from closing (not the most sanitary solution but it works) and noted that because my hair wasn't as long as the other DukeEngage girls' I didn't have as many options of hairstyles. They also made some more serious comments, talking about money and how rich all their families are - apparently Ha is the richest because her family owns one hundred pigs (which I must say sounds like a lot to me too). It was really cute when they told us all we should get each other's phone numbers so we can visit each other when we get back to the United States - I don't think they realized that we go to the same school since we told them we're from different states. Our session ended with one of the boys saying numbers in Vietnamese trying to get me to say them in English, trying to test not my Vietnamese, but rather my English skills - he had to make sure I was qualified to teach them.
When the kids dragged us away from the cafe yelling that it was time for class, I suddenly felt really bad that all we had planned for the day was a movie. Sometimes I forget how easily entertained kids are but they just kept laughing at things I didn't realize were that funny. We showed them "A Bug's Life" with terrible dubbing and they laughed at everything even when they couldn't hear or understand. Gotta love that sense of humor.
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