What should I have done ? What could I do ?

What should I do ?

I like to share with you a true story about a rather sad and awkward situation that I encountered on my first trip back to Vietnam in 1999, after more than 15 years resettling in the US. In Saigon, my wife and I stayed at a hotel in Tran Hung Dao St. , next to the old Hung Dao movie theater. I loved to wake up early, around 6:00 AM while my wife was still deep in her sleep, took a stroll around the block and sat down at a rather poor, blue-collar sidewalk cafe, in the next block, for coffee and breakfast. I loved to blend in with the people of that neighbor so I could observe their morning rituals, their early day's activities that I, so, missed since migrating oversea. From where I sat, I could see, on the other side of the street, was a 3 stories , dilapidated, condo-type dwelling . Most of the street level units were transformed into either, coffee shops, noodle soup restaurants or monthly-paid garage for the residents in the upper stories to park their bicycles, motor-bikes at night . The sidewalk was where most businesses were conducted since those housing units were small and just could barely fit the cooking section . Besides, the weather was rather hot and steamy so most customers preferred to sit outside to catch a refreshing morning breeze . That two-way street that was very narrow, in ad***ion to the fact that pavement was used as motorbike parking for customers of shops on both sides of the road, added more chaos to the early morning atmosphere.

Every day, like clock's work, around a quarter till 7:00 AM, I would see a father, his 2 little daughters and his young son emerged out from that building. The man was in his early thirty and was always wearing a blue uniform with a name sown on this left shirt pocket, some type of company logo on the right. They would sit down for a quick breakfast at a coffee shop right outside the building door. The father would order a small cafe-au-lait (black coffee mixed with condensed milk) and would buy each of his children an order of sweet sticky rice (xoi) from a street vendor. The father would affectionately share his coffee with his kids, letting them having a sip of his coffee after they had finish chowing down their portion of that sticky rice breakfast. I was kind fascinated with that family because of the tender care the father shown toward those kids. He was very patient with them, especially the youngest daughter. She was about 5 or 6 years old, very cute, with a lively pair of eyes and an easy smile. The other daughter was a year or two older and the eldest boy was about 10 years old. The father always seemed to make sure he would save half of his tiny cup of coffee for them. He would take a sip then raised up the cup, at eye level as to measure where he should stop. Then, using a small spoon, he would feed his favorite daughter that sweet coffee while pushing that cup toward the other two kids as to signal that they could share the rest of that coffee cup. After finishing the breakfast, around a bit after 7:00 AM, he would walk to the next door unit and retrieved his rusty ,1967 Honda SS motorbike, after giving a plastic tag to the house unit owner. He would lift the youngest daughter and let her sit in front of him while the other daughter would sandwich herself between him and the older brother, on the back seat. After checking that the two kids behind him did hang on to him by wrapping their tiny hands around his wait , he would ride his noisy, smoke-spewing bicycle into the bustling, just awaken city streets .

It was a Sunday when "it" happened. As usual, I saw that family again, on that Sunday morning. Since it's an off day, the father was dressed in short and a t-shirt, the kids in their pajamas. They sat down, and, as usual, the father would order his cafe-au-lait, lit up a cigarette while his kids leisurely looked around. Then I saw the kids pointing to a food stall on the other side of the street, right next to where I sat, and asked their dad for money and blessing to have the rice "Com tam" for breakfast, instead of the usual sweet ,sticky rice. Since I sat on the edge on the street pavement as well as that family on the other side of the street, I could easily eavesdrop on their conversation. The father, emptied his pocket, counted his meager possession, and, after keeping enough to pay for his coffee, gave the rest , 2 thousand "dong" to the older boy and told the boy that he could have a thousand and his two sisters 5 hundred each for breakfast. The boy, then, led his two sisters to cross the street, heading toward the com tam food stall while the father stayed put to enjoy his coffee.

The boy, after sitting down his 2 younger sisters, ordered two, 500-dong dishes of com tam for them. I was sitting less than 2 meters away from that food stall so I could hear and see perfectly. That was when it happened. The old lady, com tam's stall vendor, upon hearing the order, started swearing angrily "D.M. It's early morning and the first order is for 500 dong, the very least you need to order is 1 thousand dong ...D.M. how the f*ck I can make any profit " . Strangely, despite being unhappy, she angrily yanked out two plates and scooped rice on them, sprinkled them with a bit of animal fatty oil mixed with green onion and a bit of diluted fish sauce. No meat . She then, angrily deposed the two rice plates in front of those kids without stopping venting her unhappiness . I was shocked and upset at the abuse and was about to intervene. I had in my pocket an equivalent of US $40 in dong . My first thought was to give the lady 10 thousand dong (about 80 cents), an insignificant amount for me, the price of
two com tam with meat, egg , so those 2 sweet girls would have a decent breakfast . Then I stopped myself. What if , by doing that, I further angered that mean vendor and she would loudly curse and insult me there . What if the father saw that as an insult. What ifs... All that week I tried to hide the fact that I was a Viet Kieu so I could feel belonging and submerge myself into that old familiar and long lost sensation . What if someone there knew , and I could hurt their ego for trying to intervene, uninvited. I sat there, uncomfortable but did not know how to react.

After submitting themselves to a few minutes of that onslaught of insults, and seeing that the lady would not stop cursing them, the older boy signaled to his father, on the other side of the street and unaware of the situation, for help. Meanwhile the two young girls kept eating their breakfast and kept staring at the vendor, unable to comprehend her madness. Just about the same time I stood up and intended to give that com tam lady 10 thousand dong, to shut her up and to give those two little innocent girls a more nutritious breakfast, the father rushed over. Feeling awkward , and a bit embarrassed , I sat down . An argument ensued. Nothing but foul languages and profanities. The boy and the two girls, a bit more confident with their father at their side, contented to be a spectator to an ugly adult's showmanship . All hell broke loose. Other peoples got involved, trying to settle them down.

Finally, the kids finished their plate and went home with their father. I was still there, mad at myself for not doing anything . Then I saw the com tam lady, sat down on a stool and bursted out crying. It melted my heart. All the hatred I had for her just washed away. I saw in her the image of my mother, my elder sister during those tough days, late 1970's and early 1980. They, too, had to struggle as street vendors to put food on the table since my Dad lost his job . I could, then, imagine how they had to fight, scratch hard with life to make those few, tough profit to feed all of us.

Until today, I hate myself for not intervening but still wonder how I could have done that tactfully , not hurting anyone's ego . It's a tough situation since no one asked for help and the situation could be volatile if they thought that I was a bastard Viet Kieu just trying to flaunt my money.

Được tdhung sửa chữa / chuyển vào 04/07/2002 ngày 07:17

Được tdhung sửa chữa / chuyển vào 04/07/2002 ngày 07:19

What's done is done. You could not have anything else. You lived through it, your soul died a little bit, you grow up a bit and move on with your life. If that happenned in the US, you should've call the Child Proctective Services to arrest the father for child abuse/neglect. What the hell was he thinking having the kids alone with that lady in the first place?

Thanks Odetta for your advice . I could not agree with you more . However, there are things in life that you did ( or did not do as in this case) that eat you up inside . My conscience would not let me forget . I brought this up to vent out my guilt as well as asking for advice on how to deal with such a delicate situation . Those 3 kids also reminded me of my siblings and I during those tough years of the late 1970's : poor and destitute but remained fiercely protective of each others .
You are absolutely right : my sould did died a bit and I did grow up a lot . I also learned that my problems were nothing compare to the struggle that a lot of our people is going thru . Hopefully , with this opened economy, prosperity won't be too far away .

TDHung, if I'm not mistaken, this post was sent in VNN4 couple of months ago, and you received tons of replies. Anyway, that's a good oppoturnity for me to read it here again, to feel the pain and to share the hope with you. You almost moved me to tears with this touching story. Thanks for reminding me of those unclucky destinies out there. You must be a very good hearted man. You do have everyone's sympathy, and be sure that you did what should have been done. If only all the people on earth could be like you, so that we'll no longer have to witness children living in poverty. And finally, you have my ballot.
Hiepkhach
better be numb, cuz people tell you a lot of information you don't need to hear
Được hiepkhach sửa chữa / chuyển vào 03/07/2002 ngày 19:20

Hi Hiepkhach ,
Yes, that was me then . VNN4 is almost dead , offline . Only a certain chosen members can post 24/24 . No fun . I "relocated" myself to TTVNOnline and brought with me the posting , hoping to get more opinions, at the same time, enliven this forum . I also wish that we could treat each other in a more humane way , especially with kids . Easy said than done , people might say , but I have the right to sow hopes .
By the way, thanks for your vote . I like to dedicate that to Dirosemimi and Odetta for their efforts in keeping this SEC forum alive .

Such heart-breaking stories are pervasive. In a poverty-striken country like VN, chances you witness similar scenes are undoubtedly quite often.Yet, you can't be a good Samatarian (forgot how to spell this word correctly) any time, any place. I always buy lottery tickets at premium price from these street young vendors whose are forced (or voluntary to help their families) to walk around trying to sell some tickets every day.
There are things that are out of your hands.Yet, I hope each time you go back, you'll encounter less (or none) such "unpleasant" situations.

It's not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one's dignity, to work unhampered,to be generous, to be independent

Hi!
Thank the Brother for your story.It touched me and reminded me and my siblings in our childhood.But what is behind it ?I wonder what message you wanted to send to us?
The question "what could i do?" followed me after reading the story and forced me coming here now to "do" something.I think most of Vietnamese want to have the right answer for the question.What could we do....to "save children"?(as your mentioning in the posts).It is not only children but also "aldult" or ourselves who need to save in this country.What should we do to save ourselves?The topic the Brother give out here is too big for a "Tao_lao" like me to discuss.Anyway,i want to contribute something into this topic .Please fogive me if i am a pain in your neck (that is reason why i took this nick).
In this post,i do not dare to answer the question.What or how could we do?I do not dare.What i try to write down here is what i experienced and felt (can be considered as "tao lao" for fun).
I want to say about belief "could we do?".Yesterday i watched a programme on VTV3 "Nhung uoc mo xanh"(The Green Dreams).I was very suprised and emoted.The programme makers introduce disable people by a clip or a short letter which help people know that there are someones like them in this life.From that,they can be helped and sympathised.I have never watched any programmes with much tears like that.Tear from almost everybody.Even i myself could not stop my tear!I learned that there are someone with warm hearts existing in this life.A simple lesson.But i do not know why it took me so long time to learn.
Three children in the story reminded me my childhood as well as my friend 's.We were born in Ben Tre province where is the second poorest in Vietnam.It is no need to tell you about how poor we are.We rarely ate breakfast.No breakfast to eat ( no lucky like the children in your story had "xoi" to eat).But we were lucky to be able to go to school.We entered a specified school in the town.And the school was so kind to us.No tuition fee,no payment for accomodation.We just payed for meal:4500 VND/day/boy and 4200 VND/day/girl( a boy ate 300 VND rice more than a girl did,i remembered prices of all items in the market which i never knew when i lived in my house) .It was 1996-1999.And my friend 's parents usually offered him 150.000 VND per month.Where can we study with these con***ions?
Somebody talked about disadvantages in Vietnamese Education System.But i thank it so much.Whenever i amused the society ( i often give out much dirty words when i think about the.....),my father told me that you should thank this society,thank the Party.He said if i was born in his time i could not attend the school which he suffered.He had to leave school at 5th grade because his family had no money to make birth certification for him.And he do not want my brother and me suffered what he experiened.They sold everything from chair and table to all their land,even the house to have money for us to go to school.
My siblings and myself did go to school in those con***ions.And it is very common in Vietnam which make me believe that the children in your story is no longer.
But what could we do?










Tao_lao

Hi Tao_lao, my buddy
The more I read your posting, the greater the respect I got for you . Honestly . You always see thing beyond its veneer cover .
Each of us looks at life from a different angle , thus perceive different image . In writing about that sad experience , I was trying to present just the facts , as objective as I could , and let my readers come up with their own assessments , their own messages . Who am I to jam my message, my idea down the throat of my readers . I have too much respect for readers, like yourself , to dare to impose my viewpoint .
Your life story taught me a lesson : even though I've been thru a lot of terrible stages of my life , I'm still very much blessed . Those 3 kids, the "com tam" vendor lady, and a countless other sad cases suffered much more .
Sometimes, it's best to see thing the way it is . Call an apple, an apple and, an orange , an ... orange . You will have less headache and attract less trouble . Oops, I am contradicting myself ... Sorry , Tao_Lao .
Take care buddy !