March 10, 2007

Long Xuyen - Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

We're rumbling off just after sunrise, swatting at a voracious horde of long-billed mosquitos that have infested the van. Who left the window open? (Later, we all feel so much better when a local doctor tells us that Long Xuyen is a hotbed for malaria.) Speaking of insects, last night at dinner, I noticed an unusual number of swarming bugs in the air and on the table, and after a while, had enough of them swimming in my beer to make it undrinkable. Then, I remembered an article in the English language newspaper from the day before reporting a major infestation of brown hoppers in the Delta. Sure enough, the area was right where we were now! Swatting a few bugs is one thing, but an agriculture official told me several acres of crops had to be burned to destroy the hoppers. That's truly sad, considering the loss of such valuable crops and knowing how hard these farmers labor under the hot sun.

But then, life in the Mekong Delta has never been easy. In the early morning light, the streets are already crowded with people beginning their day. I see snapshots in my mind of a woman sweeping coconut husks out of her dirt yard, a rickety boat sunk low to the gunnels plying the muddy Mekong, a scruffy dog waiting hopefully for a scrap at a front door. And then I see...35 brand new silver bicycles gleaming in the bright light. Not a mirage, but perfect, unused bikes that were a joint purchase by ADAPT and Kids Without Borders. The total cost--about a thousand dollars. We are at the school now where the bikes will be handed over to their new owners--35 needy kids in the remote town of Tinh Bien. After all the official speeches and thank yous, the middle and high schoolers are told to stand beside the identical bikes and pose for one last picture. They politely pose, the girls resembling angels in their white ao dai uniforms. The kids' faces are a mixture of disbelief, joy, and fear that they might soon wake up from a wonderful dream. In their world, wheels will cut an hour-long walk to school in half. I'm snapping photos left and right when I notice a woman standing next to her daughter in the back row. The daughter, who is about 15, doesn't touch the bike, just stands there next to it. She doesn't even remove the plastic wrapping from the handlebars. Her mother tries to tell me something in Vietnamese but I don't understand. Then I see the tears in the Mom's eyes and do understand...completely. The hesitant girl finally climbs on and pedals away, just a little dust rising up in the air as she disappears down the road toward home. It's a Friday and that's significant because one child assures us no one in this group is going to sleep all weekend, thinking about riding those shiny new bikes to school come Monday.

After lunch, it is time to leave the bikes and bugs behind for the long drive back to Ho Chi Minh City. As I reflect upon the Mekong Delta and it's people, I feel we have been privy to something special. The river and its web of tributaries have been the lifeblood of generations of Vietnamese. It is a steamy and mysterious world, peaceful and provincial. Life moves at water-buffalo pace, no one seems too worried about the stock market or their mortage. I envy the simplicity but am not discounting that their lives are very hard. Jobs are scarce, the water is polluted, preventable diseases go untreated just to name a few challenges. Yet there is a hypnotic rhythm to the south. The river and the rice, the rain and the sun, these are the forces that move the Delta.