March 11, 2007

Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

On this last full day in Vietnam, we will play. Two busloads of orphans from the Thu Duc orphanage arrive just before noon, ready to rumble. Son Michael Pham makes this excursion an annual event and the kids are almost turned inside out with excitement. Even so, they are remarkably well behaved and polite.

The party starts at the Majestic Hotel, where Kids Without Borders treats them all to a fabulous buffet lunch. Only once a year do these kids get to eat like this. Time and time again, they go back to the buffet line and load up their plates. Salads, fruit, soup, bread, meat dishes, desserts...vanish. Yet, these children are so kind and respectful, they insist I stand up first and fill my plate. When I refuse and make them go ahead of me, they return to the table and right away, try to feed me their food! A charismatic little girl named Thanh-Thanh quickly gets the gist of my digital camera and becomes the documentarian of the luncheon. She captures the kids in all sorts of goofy poses--showing off food, crossing their eyes, making faces. There are so many things I want to talk with them about, but the language barrier is frustrating. I am sitting with a group of 14 year old girls, the same age as my youngest daughter, Marah. I know she'd do better than me finding unique ways to communicate.

Following lunch, we walk a few blocks in the heat to the Legend Hotel for------swimming! Again, the kids have to be dying to jump into that pool, but they calmly change their clothes in small groups, never pushing or shoving. Then kersplash! Now they're really having the time of their lives. It should come as no surprise these Vietnamese children do the same things American kids do--splash and dunk, chase, turn somersaults, leap off things they shouldn't, throw things and chase them, have breath-holding contests, etc. Now this is a place where I can relate to kids, having spent many years as a swim instructor. We practice our strokes, learn how to float, do some handstands and throw a few water ballet moves in there, too. Some of the older kids opt out of swimming and hang in small groups under a shade tree. Isn't that just what older teens would do in the U.S? Kathy and Larry hand out treats to all the orphans--toys, candy, hair clips, toothbrushes, neon-colored emory boards, tiny shampoos and lotions. Each child holds out their hand,bows their head gratefully, and quietly says "thank you" when even the smallest little gift is bestowed upon them. It's very touching.

The thrills keep coming as ice cream sundaes top it all off. But now as the ice cream melts, so do some of the moods. Thanh isolates herself from the group but her fellow orphans surround and comfort her. This is her family and they are taking care of her. She is crying. Thanh knows the goodbyes are coming and she's had to say them so many times before. Another little girl, Giang, has spent a lot of time with me and she lays her little head on my shoulder and dozes off. Son Michael gently tells everyone it is time to go. There are hugs and squeezes, exchanges of email addresses, lots of thank yous and goodbyes. The mini-buses are loaded now and Thanh and Giang are waving farewell. Tears slide down my cheeks. The buses are still there. Giang is looking at me with the most soulful eyes. I go over one more time to squeeze hands and say a final goodbye. That sweet little girl wipes my tears away. The last thing I see is her lovely little face looking back at me as the bus pulls away.

Now I'm left with lyrics from the musical, Miss Saigon, going through my head:

Vietnam...
You don't give answers, do you friend?
Just questions that don't ever end.

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Tomorrow we make the long journey home. I'll have some final reflections next week. Thanks for reading.