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PART ONE
1) In the evening of April 1975

In the evening, having sat down on the veranda floor, I watched the people come and go in the

street. It was only the 4th April 1975, but all schools had been already closed for the war. I had

gone back home from the Nha Trang seminary a week ago. The people had lived in the worry of

the imminent communist attack. I had heard some disquieting sounds of the guns far out from

the field. Two young soldiers were running in a panic toward the mountain’s area where one of

troops of the Southern Vietnamese army was garrisoned in the permanent barracks. Last week,

the North army (bo doi) has already occupied the important cities of Southern Vietnam

beginning with Hue, the ancient capital of the Vietnamese Empire. People were anxious for their

country lost in the communist hands.

The sun had gone down. It was getting dark. I got up and entered our sitting room. I moved to sit

down in a corner of the room to listen to the discussion of the adults about the war. For some

time in the past, three cousins and neighbors had come to my house to listen to the international

radio with my father as they liked to exchange their views on all events of the country. Four men

had sat down circling the little Philip wireless radio that was broadcasting the news of the VOA

(Voice of America). They were staying silently in the shadows and looked very worried. On March

10th 1975, northern general Dung had launched Campaign 257 taking the offensive into the

Central Highlands, supported by tanks and heavy artillery. Ban Me Thuoc town in Dac Lac

province had quickly fallen into the hands of the northern communist army. My father and his

friends had wondered if the Army of the republic of Vietnam could prove capable of resisting the

onslaught. They had been very sad when its forces had collapsed on March 11 th. Stronger by this

easy victory, the northern Army had immediately seized two mountains Pleiku and Kontum. They

had not understood why the President Nguyen Van Thieu, a former general, had ordered his

forces to retreat. The VOA announced that the bulk of the Army of the Republic of Vietnam

(ARVN) forces had attempted to flee, isolated units fought desperately, into a bloody rout. On

March 22, the Vietnam people’s Army had opened the siege of Hue which had been felt after
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some days of battle. By March 30 th, 100 000 leaderless ARVN troops had surrendered as the VPA

marched victoriously through Da Nang.

My father told his friends:
“With the fall of these towns, the defense of the Central Highlands and Northern province came

to an end. The communist soldiers progressed in the city of Qui Nhon without resistance from

the southern soldiers. The Northern forces, dangerous enemy, their moral boosted by their

recent victories, was coming outside the door, they are only two hundreds km away from here. In

a few days only, they will arrive triumphantly in our land.”

I had listened to him speaking. I understood his fear before this event. The night dropped quickly

away. The neighbors were leaving my father one by one in total silence.
The table was ready preparing for the family dinner. My father came to the kitchen and sat down

with his sons, my young brother and me. Looking taciturn, he had waited for my mother to join

us at the table as she was still preparing the rice in the cooking pot behind the kitchen. He

appeared to desire to speak of an urgent matter. He called my two sisters to sit down for the

dinner. We were unusually quiet for being anxious. When our mother had arrived joining us at

the table. We began to eat and we could not open our mouths to ask any questions. The silence

was so deep that we could hear the sound of the chopsticks striking the bowl of rice. My father

began to give us some news of the war: “According to the VOA, more the half of Vietnam is actually

under the control of the communist Army. Ha Nôi had ordered General Van Tien Dung to launch the

final offensive against Saigon. The Political Office of the Communist Party had opened the Ho Chi

Minh campaign for the capture of the southern capital before May 1 st.”
As he had been a former officer of the southern Army, he commented also on this decision of

General Van Tien Dung:

“Mr Dung wished no doubt to avoid the coming monsoon and prevent any redeployment of the

southern Army forces defending Saigon.”

My father seemed to believe still in the resistance of the southern Army forces and hoped that

Saigon could not fall into the hands of the Communists. After a silence, he told us:
“I would like to leave here for Saigon city, what do you think about that?”
I understood his words. As he had been a veteran staff officer by the Southern Army, allied with

the Americans, he would be fearful of the communists. Wounded by the war, he had taken his
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retirement and he took his family to the country where he found again his compatriots and

relatives banished since 1954, date of the partition of Vietnam into two regions, the North and

the South. He became a school teacher in this commune located about 6 km from CAM RANH, an

important base for the American army in the Southern of Vietnam. He looked at my mother

saying:
“Do you remember that in 1954, nearly one million Northern people (mainly catholic) had fled

south in understandable terror of Ho Chi Minh’s new regime. Many relatives who had been

decided to move on time could not have left our native country as they had been stopped by the

Vietminh. Some had died during the land reform program in which the mass killing of perceived

‘class enemies’ occurred.”

My mother asked him:
“It is better for you to avoid the communist regime. But all of our family could not flee south

together. We have no means to do that. In any case, you cannot go alone to Saigon. How do you

think about that?”

I had suddenly been afraid for my father. I thought of the event of Gulag in USSR, wonderfully

narrated by Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn in ‘The Gulad Archipelago’. My father had been right to fear

the vengeance of communist Army. I thought he shouldn’t be blamed for being a field-officer of

the Southern Vietnamese army by the new authority. I watched him as I would like to share his

worries. He answered my mother:

“You are right. I would not move alone. But I could not bring all of you with me. The only means

that we have is Si’s motorbike. He would come along with me to Saigon.”

I had been very affected by my father words. He would not drive alone the Honda 50 cc toward

Saigon about 420 km away, as he had been wounded during the war and he was walking lame

now. My second sister is 18 years old could not be helpful to my father on the dangerous road of

fleeing south. The other one who had just married last year an officer of the Southern Army and

was living in the same commune as us. Despite our young age, I was only sixteen years old, I was

considered as the oldest son of the family. My brother was still a child who could not go with us. I

thought about of my eldest brother whom I had not really known, as he had lived in a religious

community when I was child. If he was still alive, he was now twenty four years old. In this
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circumstance, my mother would think of her eldest son, captured by the communist and

disappeared during the war 1968. She had often told us this tragic story.
I remembered still this sorrowful fate of Teê t (lunar New Year, January 29 th 1968). The people’s

Army of North Vietnam (PANV) and the National Liberation Front of the South Vietnam (NLF),

made up two distinct groups nationalists and communists, created by Ha Noê i on December 12,

1960, had broken the traditional truce for the Tet holiday, having launched the surprise offensive

against more than 100 cities of South Vietnam, including the assaults on General Westmoreland's

headquarters and the U.S. embassy in Saigon in which my family had been living as my father,

wounded of the war, was recovering in the military hospital. By then my eldest brother was a

young student in the Congregation of the Sacred Heart of Jesus located at LA VANG, neighboring

town of the former capital city of Hue. During the short occupation of the city, the communist

solders had resembled all of boys and young men, among who was my eldest brother, seventeen

years of age, for their revolutionary instruction. According to some friends, my brother alone was

kept as a reactionary prisoner of the war as he had possessed a Parker fountain pen, it was a gift

of the South president to my father, a wounded officer in the military hospital. On the pen had

been inscribed these words: “to Mr NGO Dinh Tri, Army hero. President NGUYEN Van Thieu”.
The ARVN had responded quickly and effectively, decimating the ranks of the NLF who, having

battled in retreat, cruelly executed all prisoners and buried them in many paupers’ graves in the

city of Hueê . During the months and years that followed the battle, dozens of mass graves were

discovered containing 2,800 civilians and prisoners of war. In some of the graves victims were

found bound together; some appeared tortured; others were even reported to have been

apparently buried alive. My mother had gone to the former capital city in the hope recognizing

my brother’s corpse but she returned home with disconsolate spirits.

After dinner, I went to the kitchen and sat on the veranda floor of the house. I was in a dismal

mood. I tried to chase away the black thought. Would we arrive to Saigon with my little Honda?

Would we be dead on the escape road? A great fear was invading my mind. Furthermore, 450 km

to travel though was an unthinkable thing for me. Would I see my mother, sisters and brother
 5

again? A shooting star had just passed above the dark sky. I had not expressed a wish in time. I

saw my sister go out in the court yard praying with her chaplet. I thought to the Virgin Mary. I

prayed:
“O most gracious Mary, you are the mother of Christ.
He could not refuse what you demand your son.
I flee to your protection; implore your help.
I sought your intercession for my future dangerous road.
Anyone who came to you was not left unaided.
Inspired by this confidence, I fly to you.
Please look after my father and stand up for my mother.
O Mother of Christ, despise not my petitions,
but, in your mercy, hear and answer me. Amen.
After a long discussion with my father, my mother came to sit beside me. She took my hand and

said:
“Tomorrow, I will prepare for you all things you need for the travel. I hope you will arrive all right

in Saigon. Becareful on the road! I am very sad to think of your parting but your father could not

stay here with the communists. I hope the ARVN will organize a counter-attack against the

communist solders to recapture all provinces that have fallen into the hands of Ha Noê i, so that

you could return home with us.”

To hide my emotion, I tried to talk about something else:
“Do we still have enough petrol for the road?”
She answered me:
“Don’t worry about that. Your brother in law had bought last month a hundred liters of petrol. I

think it is quite enough for your Honda. I asked him to check its engine tomorrow morning.”

2) An awful event

On Saturday 5th April, except the youngest brother, everyone of my family went to the daily mass

at 5 a.m... The church was so many people attending mass. If all Christians went to Sunday Mass,

is about 10% of our Catholic people in the parish had been faithfully present to the daily mass in

the early morning, before starting their day of work. The people discussed in widespread and

inconclusive ways the imminent arrival of the communist in our commune. It had happened that

the northern troops (PANV/NLF) were penetrating into Nha Trang city, 60 km from here. The

parish priest called on Christians to pray for peace in our country and advised them to have

confidence in God. Despite this encouragement, the catholic people were all in fear. They all
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looked sad, worried and cautious. Yesterday, my father had not left immediately from his family;

he had delayed our starting, as he seemed to wait for the counter attack of the ARVN to retake

their province having lost as they had done in spring of 1968. On the road from the church to

home, he had changed his opinion. He told me:

“We must flee to Saigon this evening. If the communist solders are now in Nha Trang, they are

going to arrive very soon here, perhaps on Sunday. We have about a day for our preparation. Will

you drop into Thoi’s house asking him to come now to checking our Honda?”
It was only 4 p. m., but the sky had become gloomy. I looked at the sky, in which the clouds had

been appearing as smooth, very opaque. Then it became ragged and appeared as a grouping of

thick dark cloud. It had spread over several kilometers covering our field. I should have brought

my Honda back to the kitchen; it might have rained or been stormy this evening. Before, I had to

fill up the gas tank of my Honda. This morning, my brother-in-law had maintained the Honda’s

engine. He had taught me how I could do this in case the engine of Honda broke down. I had

learned to recognize some important elements of the engine such as carburetor, sparking plug. I

knew also how to repair the inner tube in case it was punctured. My mother had sewed a bag of

two big pockets for a jerry can of petrol in one and food in the other. It was hung on the luggage

rack of the Honda. I lifted the seat to fill the tank with petrol.
I went searching the jerry can for twenty liters of petrol that had been brought to us. My sister

had fired the kerosene lamp in my father’s bureau and his room. She was looking for a candle for

the kitchen. The sitting room and its next one had been sunk in darkness. I did not find any

kitchen funnel for channeling petrol to the gas tank of my motorcycle. I told myself: “never mind!

I try to be fine aim at the mouth of the reservoir so that the petrol liquid does not run out .” A petrol

jet began to flow into the gas tank. It smelled a nasty odor. My sister, having held a lit candle in

her hand, was getting out the kitchen. Having seen me filling up the gas tank in a dim light, she

approached to my Honda as to give me some better light. The flame from the candle suddently

caused the petrol to burst into fire, and then I became a living torch. My sister shrieked and

extinguished her candle. Having screamed in pain, I instinctively sprinted like the wind to the
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small pond at the end of the garden and plunged into the oily water. I then lost conscientiousness

…
I heard the noise around me but I could not open my eyes. My whole body felt in agony. It was

scalding. I shrieked like a sacrificed cow. Many of the neighbors came to see what has just

happened. It would be seem they had saved me from the muddy water and laid me on the pond

bank. I heard the crying of my mother and sisters. As he had been a former military chef, my

father began to organize the first aid for me. He then ordered some people to bring me into the

house. They had put me on the stretcher, carrying it to the house and then they had laid me on

the veranda floor. They would have wanted to take me out of stretcher for the bed but my father

had not wished to let anyone touching my wounded body. My mother seemed to clean me with

water as my body had covered by the mud. She ordered my sister:

“Bring me a sanitary towel and a basin of water, please.”
But my father hindered her from working it. He said:
“Leave him with the mud. If you clean him with water, you risk lifting his skin; and like Vaseline,

the mud is good for the skin care.”

My other sister came home with her husband who had prepared the Honda this morning. She

asked my father:
“Poor boy. It happens that is his birthday today. We have to bring him to the hospital. If you want,

I may ask to Mr. Su to transport him to Cam Ranh with his Vespas tricycle (triscooter).”
My father answered:
“It is now six o’clock. Outside, it’s raining and windy. We have to care for him immediately here.

Everybody who is present here will help me to look for all things that I need.”
A cousin and seminarian friend, living next to my house, had just arrived; having listened to the

conversation, he told my father:

“My uncle, you are right not to bring him to Cam Ranh hospital. I had just come from there. As the

northern troops had marched victorious through Nha Trang, a mass of people, moral disquiet

rolled on in panic in Cam Ranh. I had been near the hospital. I had seen all miserable patients

abandoned to themselves on the bed as doctors and nurses had already fled from the town.”
The mud stuck on my body began to be scaling off. I had felt terrible pain on where the skin was

burnt. A volcano seemed to be in action at inward body. I had a feeling of being bitten by million

red ants. My father had understood my ache, telling my mother and sisters:
“Have you have any coconut-oil?”
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I remembered that my mother had used this oil in cooking, especially when she had fried the fish

and it had a high smoke output which made it good for this purpose. Sometimes, my mother had

used it for styling hair, cooling and soothing the head. In spite of the pain, I was waiting for

another application of the coconut-oil from my father. My mother said to him:

“There is still only about a half of a liter at home. But we can ask for it from the people who are

here. What is it for?”

Before answering my mother he had called upon the generosity of all people who were here to

look for coconut-oil, alcohol, drugs…

To motivate the people to respond his appeal, as a teacher, my father explained minutely all

benefits of the coconut-oil as skin treatments. He concluded:

“Coconut oil is excellent as a skin moisturizer and softener. It is as effective and safe as mineral

oil we use in case of scalding, with absence of adverse reactions.”

When everybody, except several close persons, had gone out; my mother began to cut all my

clothes; then she cleared smoothly up all pieces of dried mud. My sister who had caused the

accident tried to lighten my ache with her bamboo tape fan. She fanned me continuously. In the

meantime, the other sister applied coconut oil to the scalds. My back had stuck to the linen of the

stretcher and I could not open my eyes. I could have not wept any tears. I asked my mother to

turn me on the left side where the spots that had not been burnt. After this first treatment, I was

carried into my room.

It was about ten o’clock. It seemed it had not been raining. Although it was late at night, the

people continued to come to my house. They each brought what my father had asked for such as

alcohol of 60 percent, coconut-oil, aspirins, dressing for wounds. I heard the relieved voice of my

father when he said greeting to Sister Grace. She was a nun of the Adorers of the Holy Cross of

Quy Nhon. I thought that my father would have been very happy as he knew that sister Grace was

a good nurse in the hospital of her religious congregation. She had been present in our parish for

two months. As all Vietnamese people, she had rejoined her family to celebrate Teê t, the lunar

New Year with her parents. After the New Year celebration, for the sake of the war, she could have

returned to her convent. The people began to leave our house. Sister Grace, having gone in my
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room, she sat by my side on bed and was cleaning my eyes with alcohol. Although she had done it

gently, I felt a stabbing ache. She told my father:

“Your son could not have opened his eyes, because all the eyelashes had been singed. The fire had

also burnt his hair.”

Then Sister Grace tried to uncover my eyelids. She put some drop of liquid drug into them. She

massaged my eyes gently. She told my mother:

“I think he has not eaten any food this evening. Will you prepare a glass of milk? He has to drink

some aspirins now.”

A long time after, thanks to the help of sister Grace, I tried to open my eyes which were

immediately irritated by the flame of several kerosene lamps in the room. Then I began to see

vaguely some persons standing near my bed. I was surprised to make out Mr. Le who was a rogue

person of our commune. The people had considered him as an unruly boy? In reality, he was

about twenty years old; but he had already been living out of the society. The people thought that

he had rifled the bank to pay for his drugs. Despite his young age, he had been in prison three or

four times… He told my father:

“When your son in law had come asking me for alcohol and coconut-oil; he had told me about the

accident of your son. I do not have the things you need. But I think I could help him to sleep

tonight. I would like to speak in private with you.”

My father followed him to the yard. They discussed together a moment. Then Mr. Le came again

into my room. He said:

“Poor boy, you must suffer agonies!!! I will give you something to eat. Please open your mouth.”
He put some powder inside my mouth, on the tongue. After two or three seconds, I was feeling all

my ache disappeared to vanish miraculously. He asked me:

“How are you feeling now?”
I made a signal to him by winking my eyes. It was really a very good painkiller. Mr. Le said good

bye everyone and said:

“I think he sleep easier now. I will come here again bringing some more tomorrow.”
It was late at night. My brother in law proposed to come along with sister Grace to her house. My

young brother had already fallen asleep. My mother asked my father to go to bed as he must be

very tired this evening. Then she continued to watch me for the night.
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3) A traditional drug

The following day, in the very early morning, at about half-past four, I was woken up because of

the noise due to conversations of churchgoers on the road to the mass. I could not yet move my

body, almost as it would seem that my eyes were always sticky as glue. I called my mother who

had risen early. She approached to my bed and said:

“I wake your sister up for minding you; as your father and I now go to the mass. Try to sleep

again. I was content to see you sleeping well last night.”

I had a frog in my throat; I was feeling hot, I perhaps was feverish, but I tried to speak to my

mother with hoarse voice:

“I am very thirty. I want to open my eyes.”
She answered me:
“I have to go now; I don’t want to be late at the mass. Your sister is here.”
She left the house. My sister lighted the kerosene lamp; she started at the sight of my face. She

uttered a little cry:

“Ah! There is a mountain of rheum on your eyes. Don’t rub your eyes. I will clean them.”
She brought to me a glass of water. She tried to help me drink but as I was lying down she could

not do it correctly; a lot of water had run out. It could not be helped. She sat down on the side of

bed and began to clean out rheum from my eyes. She put some drops of liquid drug into my eyes

as sister Grace had done yesterday. She then looked for a little wash-tub in which I could pee.

With a wet towel, she wiped my face and the part of the body which had not been wounded.

Finally, my sister opened the main door and all windows of the house. The sunshine was

overflowing everywhere. She told me:

“You know, It had rained and was stormy yesterday; it is very nice outside today. You will be well

soon. The mass at the church is over. I see many people on the road.”
I had tried to open my eyes. My sister had been right, the mass had finished; because having

returned from the church, several friends and relatives were dropping into my house to visit me.

I was feeling a little ashamed as I was naked under the light sheet. They had said greeting to me

and asked about my health. One of them told me:

“The parish priest had announced your accident and called on us to pray for you.”
My parents came home with sister Grace to whom the visitors gave up their place. My mother

invited them to take some tea at the veranda floor. Sister Grace come and sat near me on the bed.

She took off the sheet covering my body to examine the burns. She told me:
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“Your mother told me that you had been sleeping. I hope you are in less pain than yesterday. The

coconut-oil was really good for skins. All burns look better now.”
I said:
“I am very glad to see you again. Thank for your skilful care. I am better but I still feel feverish.”
She assured me:
“Don’t worry. I am bringing you some aspirins and antibiotics which will take away your fever.”
My sister entered the room bringing a glass of milk.
“You can easily drink as I had found a straw,” she said.
I was joyful at the voice of Mr Le who would give me the white powder, miraculous drug for the

smart pain. He asked me:

“You appear to be healthy today. Will you have some white powders?”
But my father stopped him from doing this. He said:
“Thank you very much for your help. I think you should better give it to my son tonight before his

sleep. He could bear the hurt in the day.”

Before taking leave, he directed my parents and sister Grace in detail about treatments for me.

My father invited sister Grace and Mr. Le to stay for breakfast and said:
“Have you ever known about a traditional remedy, very potent for scalds and burns? Our

forefathers had used the fat of the python to treat the wound-burn. The effect of this natural drug

on the skin is rated the best ointment. Last year, someone gave me 100 grams.”
He then showed sister a small bottle containing the python fat.
“You are quite right. The python’s fat is one of the best ointments for the scalds and burns. What

you had possessed is not enough for your son’s wounds. We need a greater amount. Where will

we find it?” Sister Grace said.

Mr. Le intervened in the discussion:
“I know a person who has just captured and killed a great boa. If this thing is a renowned

traditional drug; I think he may have some of it.

“Where does this person live?” asked my father.
“He lives near by the mountain, in a small thatched cottage. If you need it, I will go and ask him to

give me all, because he is indebted to me. ” Answered Mr. Le.

No sooner said than done. He took our bicycle and went off. He felt respect and consideration for

my father who had been decent to him although he was held in contempt by the others. Sister

Grace paid a compliment to him:

“He is very kind. Who is this young man?”
After the breakfast, Sister Grace came back with my parents. She taught them how to apply a coat

of python’s fat to my all lesions. Then she diluted the penicillin with water and made me an

injection. Having considered the worried look of my mother, she asked:

“Do you have any worries about your son?”
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My mother said:
“You have a fine observation. I am afraid my son will have a lot of ugly cicatrices.”
Sister Grace gave her an assured response:
“You know, in their botanic garden, everybody plants often have some turmeric - the word

derived from the Latin ‘terra merita’, meritorious earth – I think there would be also some in your

plot of vegetables. If you have not grown them you could buy some kilos in the market. It is used

to cure burns thank to the curcuma which prevents the formation of scar.”
I listened attentively to her speaking. My accident had made the people recognize the beneficial

effect of this plant. There were a dozen ones cultivated behind the pigsty. It looked like ginger. I

had adored its long stemmed, bright green lily-like leaves surrounding conical clusters of pale

yellow flowers. My mother had asked me sometime to pull out some plants so that she would use

its rhizomes for her cooking. I thought of the dark yellow slivers of small shark tinted by turmeric

which had made our meal taste nicer. My mother had often ground its tuberous rhizome to

making a kind of bright yellow powder-paste for spicing her vermicelli. Finally, My sister who

had followed the instructions of sister Grace she brought a small basin in which there were lots

of wet pastes of turmeric. At the same time, Mr. Le came back. He brought my father a large

quantity of python fat in a big jar.

One week after, it was on 13th April 75, according to then VOA, three northern Vietnamese

divisions had already penetrated into Xuan Loc, 64 km East of Saigon. They seemed to meet

fierce resistance at this province from the ARVN. But I had already forgotten the war although

American fighters dropped two bombs in the field of our commune. I was still very weak and I

had to learn how to walk by toddling. I had survived thanks to the love of all my relatives, parents

and friends, almost thanks to Mr. Le and sister Grace.

Today, having come from the Sunday’s mass, Sister Grace brought her guitar with her. She played

this instrument for accompanying her crystalline voice. I closed my eyes to listen her beautiful

singing, very communicative. I suddenly wished to play the guitar. I asked her:
“Could I learn music? I would like to play the guitar”.
She looked at my hand and saw its fingers, deformed and becoming very hard.
“Try to move your fingers”, she said.
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I began to be conscious of my handicap. I could hardly move the fingers of the right hand. I

wouldn’t be able to write and draw with it. Tears were flowing from my eyes. Sister Grace

consoled me:
“Be patient, your fingers will be as good as new. I will teach you music.”

4) The arrival of the communist army

The dramatic accident put the worried of the lost war out of my relative mind. For my father, it

had been a divine sign that had saved us from imminent death on the escape road. As he listened

to the VOA every day, he told us all news of the war. He said:
“This morning, 21st April, the exhausted garrison of the ARVN had surrendered. President Thiệu

had declared in an embittered and tearful speech that the United States had betrayed South

Vietnam. He gave scathing remarks on the US. He suggested US Secretary of State Dr Henry

Kissinger had tricked him into signing the Paris peace agreement two years ago, promising

military aid which then failed to materialize.”

As my father knew my extraordinary good memory; he ordered me to write down some words of

this fallen president:

"At the time of the peace agreement the United States agreed to replace equipment on a one-by-

one basis. But the United States did not keep its word. Is an American's word reliable these

days?"
"The United States did not keep its promise to help us fight for freedom and it was in the same

fight that the United States lost 50,000 of its young men."
According to my father, on 25 th April, the ‘courageous president’ had left control of the

government in the hands of General Duong Van Minh. By the end of April, the Army of the

Republic of South Vietnam had collapsed on all fronts. The American helicopters began

evacuating South Vietnamese, U.S. and foreign nationals from various parts of the city and from

the U.S. embassy compound. On April 30, 1975, the Communists had attained their goal: they had

toppled the Saigon regime. But the cost of victory was high. In the past decade alone, one
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Vietnamese in every ten had been a casualty of war. Nearly one and a half million were kill, three

million wounded. Vietnam had been a tormented land, and its ordeal was not over.
Two weeks had passed; a group of military from the North Ground Force came and took over our

commune. In the street, a few people shouted with joy to acclaim the victorious combatants; but

in each house, many persons looked anxious and sad. My father became taciturn. When the

evening set in, with some neighbors, he had assembled in his office without light to listen the

news of the VOA in silence. They had not dared to be sitting down on the veranda floor so they

had avoided all curious onlookers. I had felt their fear when the America’s fighting planes

bombarded the road. Some bombs were dropped on a house and its occupants were killed. It was

very sad to hear the mother weeping and moaning the whole day for a young child who had just

died.
*****
As soon as they arrived in our commune, the Northern communist solders began immediately to

seize their power. On the occasion of the International Labour Day 1 st May, they have assembled

all people for their first manifestation. In the morning of the historic day of the fall of Saigon (30 th

April), several village heroes nominated by the new provisional power had been running on all

day to announce:
“The people’s council of the revolution invites solemnly all compatriots to be present in the yard

of the commune’s school tomorrow at 6 a. m.”

As the last evening, my father and several friends gathered in the shadow discussed and

commented on the announcement. A neighbor asked my father:

“What should be the people’s council? It is only communist solders, isn’t it? Are we obliged to be

present at this meeting?...”

As he had been an officer of the ARVN, my father tried to explain a little the recent history. He

said:
“From this time forward, we should be ruled perhaps by the Provisional Revolutionary

Government of the Republic of South Vietnam (PRG). It had been formed on June 8 th 1969,

political arms of the northern communist party called the Vietnam Workers Party, in opposition

to Nguyen Van Thieu government of the Republic of South Vietnam.”

 15

He had stopped his speaking for a moment and went looking for an exercise book on which he

had written down his precious notes. He continued:

“You know, this puppet administration was constituted by the National Liberation Front (NLF); the

Alliance of National, Democratic and Peace Forces; and the People's Revolutionary Party and

consequently reflected a number of nationalist, anti-imperialist and communist political

viewpoints.”
Then he gave a politic comment:
“I think that the Northern communists had changed their politics after the military and political

results of the 1968 Tet in which the NLF had suffered serious military losses. The PRG was seen

as a political counter-force that could influence international public opinion in support of

national independence and in opposition to the U.S. and the Republic of Vietnam.”
A neighbor asked him:
“Where was their cabinet during the war?”
My father answered him:
“Its Cabinet ministers had been settled and operated near the Cambodia border during the

period 1969-1970. These areas were targeted by the invasion of Cambodia, in April 1970,

attempted by ARVN and US forces. The central bodies of the PRG thus functioned as a

government in exile.”
My father had decided not to be present at the meeting. All his friends agreed with this opinion.

They were afraid that they would be held by the communists. One of them said:
“I remembered in detail when Vietnam had been partitioned at the 17th parallel, and under the

terms of the Geneva Convention, civilians were to be given the opportunity to freely and to move

between the two provisional states . Nearly one million northerners (mainly Catholics) fled south

in “understandable terror” of Ho Chi Minh's new regime . In the north, the Viet Minh established

a socialist state—the Democratic Republic of Vietnam—and engaged in a land reform program in

which the mass killing of perceived “class enemies” occurred. In this moment, the North

communist cheated the young men out of their live during a meeting.”
Finally, nobody desired to go to this meeting. I felt pity for their future in this moment. Although I

was still weak from the accident, however I, confined at home for three weeks, would have liked

to go out. Furthermore I was agog to observe the new winners of the war. I asked my father to
 16

allow me to go to this meeting. I promised him some important reports as I had an immense

capacity to register by heart all speeches.

*****
I had woke earlier than usual in order to follow my mother to the church. The 1 st May was a fete

of Saint Joseph the workers instituted by the Pope Pie XII in 1955. After the mass, I would stay to

be at the meeting of the ‘Labour Day’ that should happen at the yard of primary school, next to

the church. Both mother and son walked into the dark as the sun had not yet risen. When we

arrived at the church gate, we started to see silhouettes moved around the church in the dark. It

was solders with firearms. We went quickly into the church which had been lighted dimly by two

or three kerosene lamps. About three hundred churchgoers were praying before the beginning of

the mass. At 5 a.m., the parish priest entered from the sacristy going directly to the lectern in the

chancel. The people immediately stopped their prayers to listen to the parish priest. He said:
“We will celebrate our holy worker Saint Joseph this morning. As today is also the International

Labour Day, the new politic responsible wish we defer our mass for the first importance popular

manifestation at noon. Bear in mind that our Joseph was a worker, a good carpenter in his

country Nazareth.”
As our parish priest was a songwriter-musician, he proposed his faithful to learn two new hymns

that would be necessary for the imminent meeting. In fact, he taught us the international Hymn

of Workers and another named ‘To liberate the South’ written in 1961 by Luu Huu Phuoc and

adopted now as the anthem of the National Liberation Front of the South Vietnam. I tried to

learn by heart in order to write it down at home. It was an English translation from the

Vietnamese words:
“To liberate the South, we decided to advance.
To exterminate the American Empire, and destroy the country sellers.
Oh bones have broken, and blood has fallen, the hatred is rising high

our country has been separated for so long.

Here, the sacred Cuu Long River, here, glorious Truong Son Mountains
Are urging us to advance to kill the enemy,
Arm-by-arm under a common flag
Arise! ye brave people of the South
Arise! Let us go through storms.
We'll save the homeland; we'll sacrifice ourselves to the end.
Hold your swords and guns and go forward!
 17

The chance is coming, the sun shines everywhere,

We'll build up our country shining forever.
*****
At sunrise, all of us went out from the church to go to the schoolyard. There were about five

hundred people who had come. It was only 10 percent of the commune’s population. The

majority of participants were women and teenagers. Against pillars of the row of classes of the

school, a big stage had been made; on which were put in order two rows of chairs, more than a

dozen. A desk with micro-phone was in the middle of the stage. At 8 o’clock, the very important

personalities came. I was very thirsty and hungry as I had been at church and here since 5 a.m.

After the flag salute the ceremony began with the national anthem of Luu Huu Phuoc, a man

wearing the military uniform gave the first speech. He spoke for more than two hours, using the

trenchant words with a monotonous voice. He had given a long lesson of the history marked by

different victors of Vietnam in the past. I could have retained only some main lines of the talk:
“In the ancient history, the Vietnam had driven away the great army of the former empire of the

China who had invaded and colonized the fatherland during a thousand years. It then had

triumphed over the colonist power of the French. And It had just made an end of the new colossal

empire of America possessing the greatest Army of the World”.

Following four other people had their turn to give the speeches, one of them concerning the

Labour Day. Finally, the man wearing military uniform introduced his military administration’s

committee which henceforth would govern our commune. On the stage, I recognized three

persons who had got my attention. One was a young woman named Mai who had been in my 5 th

grade of the primary school. She was older than me. It seemed she now in charge the youth

section for the new local government. After her primary school, she had disappeared and

appeared again here today. Next, it was one of my cousins who belonged to the propaganda

section. He had been a criminal as he had committed murder. He had been in prison on the Phu

Quoê c island where was a place that holding the majority of the communists prisoners of war. He

had converted to communism during that time. The third person was middle-aged man. He was

known the people of the commune. Having been a military communist spy, he was living in the
 18

commune. He had come to my home sometimes to discuss with my father on the political

matters. The chairman demanded all the men who were involved with the fomer regime to be

present the following day at the community hall for the statement of identity. From this time

forward, all teenagers had to assemble into the small group for socialist education in one house

or the other, according to the day decided. All the people had to begin the program of the re-

education for the new socialist regime.

At 10 a.m., the sunshine was very strong. As I was still feeling weak; I fell down on the ground in

coma.
 19

5) The first justice of the Revolution

On Saturday May 31st 75, an American military jeep travelled through all main ways of the

commune on which besides the driver, there were two civilian persons holding a electric

loudspeaker. My father was very attentive to this announcement, as soon as in the afternoon, his

usual group of neighbor-friends would be in private meeting for exchanges and comments on all

recent events. He asked me to write down on his exercise-book.

“Hello, Hello. All compatriots! Please pay attention. Tomorrow Sunday, at 4 p.m., you all are

invited to be present at the people justice’s field which will happen on the hill behind the

Revolutionary People Council’s house.”

My father was very intrigued by the expression “people justice’s field.” I expected the conversation

of his usual group to understand his quotes. Indeed, its discussion members had been present at

my home earlier than ordinary. They perhaps would have worried by this announcement. One of

them began with this remark:

“Will we have a new class struggle as 1954 for the Land reform program? My family had been

uprooted and had left the North to move South because of this horrible event. ”
In fact, I had an acquaintance with the expression “class struggle” talked of in my history lessons;

however, I could have imagined it in reality. I had known that this expression was relative to the

land reform in North Vietnam from 1953 to 1956. Having been formed by China communism, Ho

Chi Minh had copied the program of land reform from 1946 to 1953. According to my history

teacher, the North Vietnamese communism had wanted to break the power of the traditional

village, to form a new class of leaders. It planned to redistribute the wealth (mostly land) to

create a new class that would have no ownership. This land reform had been a great mistake

avowed by Ho Chi Minh himself in the official Land Reform Internal Journal published at the end

of February 1956. Many peasants were falsely labeled as landlords and executed. My father

commented:
“I think that the North Communist could not commit this serious mistake again. They would hold

in the new population with their terror-method. The snake peels his skin but it is always

serpent.”
*******
 20

Under the blazing Sunday afternoon, Dung, my cousin and a seminarian friends had come along

with me to the field at the foot of the mountain to witness this people trial. In reality, there wasn’t

a trial, as it was an execution. We arrived late; as a hundred of spectators had been present. They

had formed by a semi-circle before three small pillars planted in row with one meter of distance.

I saw a group of seven or eight soldiers armed with AK, standing in the left of the field where a

military van had parked. A man in uniform was in the middle to read some articles of the

Revolution law. He then ordered his soldiers to conduct two criminals into the semi-circle. They

were blindfolded. The man in uniform, who could be a judge, assigned four men standing around

the field to constitute the jury. Then two soldiers drove the first culpable before the people. The

military judge began to read the indictment:

“On May 8th, Mr T.’s house was raided by the people’s police team which seized large quantities

of reactionary literature and some firearms. It is the evident proof preparing imminent actions

against the Revolution. This man is accused of plotting to overthrow the new local government

power. The evidence regarding insubordination of the Revolution people’s policy consisted of

oral testimony by two witnesses who are living next to his house. According to the Revolutionary

Law, he is condemned to death penalty.”

He then looked at the jury and asked:
“Who is against this indictment?”
All members of the jury were keeping silent. The judge concluded:
“The people’s trial confirmed the sentence.”
I started at the view of the second accused. It was M Le. He was accused to be a drug addict,

former hooligan. He had been a bad example for revolutionary youth. Furthermore, when the

policemen came searching for him at home, he had violent words against them. I felt a great pain

in my heart. The man who had been unjustly condemned to death was in truth a tender person.

He had taken care of me with his heroin. I was very angry.

The soldiers tied each of them to small pillars. They lifted their shotguns up to their shoulders

and fired at the men. The condemned men bent double. Another soldier came near to them to

give a finishing blow. Two tears flowed from my eyes.

******
 21

I stayed in church for a very longtime, but I could not pray. I was shocked by the death of Mr Leê . I

wondered why God could let such injustice rules of the world. It was not fair for all Christians to

be under the rules of atheist men…

A man had come behind me, he said:
“My son, I will close all doors of the church. It will be soon dark. Have you returned from the

trial?”
It was our parish priest. I had not answered him. He had guessed my suffering. He told me:
“Please wait for me outside. I will ask you something.”
As I had waited for the parish priest in the church yard; Mai, my comrade at the primary school,

become now the junior staff-member of the revolutionary committee, was coming. I greeted her

with a smile.
“I have an appointment here with Mr. Priest.”
I had remarked that she used the word Mister to nominate father Nga, our parish priest. I was a

little surprise to know this appointment, as she, a convinced communist, anticlerical person,

would be talking now with the parish priest. Seeing that I kept silent, she struck up a

conversation with me:

“I saw you present at the people justice’s field. What do you think about that?”
I had not wanted to answer her. After a silent moment, she spoke with conviction of the

revolutionary moral principles. She continued which she had learned by heart alongtime ago, the

talk was concerning her beloved uncle Ho. She was quoting unceasingly in series the words:
“Uncle Ho teaches us to be ‘loyal to the country and pious to the people’, ‘determined to spend

their whole life to struggle for the Party and the revolution’, ‘fully devoted to the people. Self-

sacrificing and setting a good example for the sake of the Party and people’, ‘Benevolent,

righteous, intelligent and courageous’, and ‘industrious, thrifty, honest, righteous, public-spirited

and selfless’.”
I was very bored with her words. I interrupted her saying with humor:
“I am not a worthy nephew of uncle Ho. I could not learn and follow Ho Chi Minh’s moral like

you.”
In spite of my impertinent response, she continued her talking:
“Ho Chi Minh taught, ‘There is nothing difficult. Only if we’re persistent, we can dig up mountains

and fill the sea. Where there’s a will, there’s a way’.”

I told her:
“That is enough. Your word is boring.”
 22

While our conversation was tensing; the parish priest who had just finished his work came to

join us in the church yard. He said greeting Mai and told me:
“Our primary school will open again soon. Miss Mai, responsible of youth section had demanded

me to call on our young volunteers to clean up all classrooms.”

She gave parish priest a piece of paper and said:
“Will you order someone to write these words on small wooden notice boards? Those will be

nailed up on the wall.”

The parish priest gave it to me and said:
“As your handwriting is very good, clear and nice; could you do it for me?”
 23

6) My stupid fault

I was preoccupied with the text that had been given to parish priest by Mai. It occupied my mind

so that I had not listened to the priest during the solemn dominical mass of the Sacred Heart of

Jesus (June 8). In fact, that was not a text, but only five words for each pupil of the primary

school. I wondered who could be the author of these sentences which were curt, clumsy and

ambiguous. Two sentences had made me wonder. The first one was patriotism guidance. “Yêu tô

quôc, yêu dông bao” meant in English “Love the fatherland, love the compatriot.” The last was a

series of three adjectives which taught the young students ideas of behavior in life: “Khiêm tôn,

that tha, dung cam” was translated like this: “Modest, sincere, brave.” However, the sentence of

three others were compounded by a verb followed the unique adjective “good”. I searched to

determinate the faults of these words, e.g. the expression “hoc tâp tôt, lao dong tôt” could be

meaning an affirmative “to study is good, to labour is good” or an imperative “be studying well, be

labouring well. The structural composition of the third expression was as same as the previous

one. That meant: “have good solidarity, have good discipline.” (doan ket toê t, ky luat toê t). Finally,

the fourth one was translated like this: “be careful about hygiene” (giu gin ve sinh that tot). As I

judged it could be not good to use five adjectives “good” for a short text, I would change some

these words or modify the style of these sentences.

******
A wooden plate had just been nailed to the wall, above the blackboard. I breathed in relief and

said: “It is finished.” I looked at the five plates in amazement fixed on the wall. Two were on the

left, followed without interval by two others on the right and one on the top, it set the first

sentence. It was a work ‘of art’ of three of us, two seminarian friends and I, since this Sunday

afternoon. Dung, my cousin, remarked:

“The writing on the plate is small and faint. It is hard to read it.”

“Don’t worry about that. It is not a daily lesson for the school-pupils.” I answered him.

Despite my response, I thought that my friend was right. On the rectangle sixty cm by 12 cm, I

could not have written the words any longer. Furthermore, it was very difficult to find the wood
 24

that was good enough rather thin to make twenty five pieces for five classrooms. Son (mountain),

another seminarian friend, had to pick out wooden rims from the pigsty in which there were no

more animals. He then had cut them up into 25 small boards. We all had to spend our times to

smooth them before use. Son, looked at the plate, laughed at it and finally gave his opinion.

“I see three black lines forming a dark blog on the white wall. It looks like a black cloud

announcing the storm.”

If we painted all boards black; as we had not have much white painting. We had only half a pot

and two black which were not enough to paint all boards. To compensate for the lack of black

paint, I could mix it with tar, as tar was opaque, viscous, and very dark; I added 5 percent of

petrol to it. That was why our finger-tips turned black. I told my two friends:

“Our work is satisfactory; no one can speak scornfully of us and reproach us for anything. We had

spent many hours on this project. I will show them, Mai and her comrades, my hands dyed by

unclean tar.”

Dung asked me:

“When will they open the school again?”

I answered:

“I don’t know their plan. Father N. required me to finish it this evening. According to him, all

teachers and our parish priest have to be present tomorrow at school. I think the pupil schools

will begin the new term Tuesday or Wednesday.”

******
I returned home at noon. I had spent the whole morning at the beach with Dung and Son. My

mother waited for me at the door. She appeared anxious. She told me:

“Father N. came here looking for you three, you, Son and Dung; where were you this morning? He

was very angry, furious and panic-stricken. What did you do yesterday? You three have to see him

immediately.”
 25

When we arrived at the pathway leading to the priest’s house, we met Mr. Truong Xuan (Forever

Spring), the elderly director of the primary school, well-known for his integrity and against

corruption in the former politic regime. He seemed to be appreciated by the new authority. He

should be perhaps present this morning for the opening of the primary school. He said hello and

told us: “Are you the famous author of the plates?” I had not wanted to answer him as I was

hungry and angry; I affirmed it with a simple nod. He scolded us:

“You are very stupid. You dared to modify the words of President Ho Chi Minh. What he says to

the communists is the Gospel’s words of the Christ to Christians. Ho Chi Minh is not only a saint

for the communist but also a god. Have you never learned the cult of personality in communist

society in your history lesson? You had committed a mortal sin, you blasphemed the new

authority.”

As he was a friend and colleague of my father, he seemed to have worries for me and to be

confident in me. He suggested that we sit down on the veranda floor of church in order to hear

him tell an incident this morning at school. According to him, the president of military

administration’s committee was shocked to read the plates. He immediately ordered that we pick

all of them out from the wall. Father N. turned pale with fear when the president cast a glance at

him. After this, Mr Truong Xuan had given a long talk with the parish priest. He agreed with him

to repair damage immediately. He concluded:

“I hope you are brave. Father N. will tell you about that. I hope you begin and finish the new

plates at the latest this evening. Tomorrow, when all schoolmasters and pupils come to their

classroom, they shall read the words of Ho Chi Minh well written on the nice plates.”

***********
At one o’clock in the afternoon, I was very tired and hungry as I had not eaten anything at noon. I

was still feeling strethful and angry to listen the words reproached from father N.. With Dung,

Son and other friends, I again had worked hard for the sake of the devil words of Ho Chi Minh for

thirty minutes in the garden of the parish priest’s house. In fact, I would have deliberated with
 26

my friends what action to take for the plates. I was joyful to see my sister arrive with an

aluminum mess tin with 3 compartments fitting together. She brought me and Dung food for

lunch. I told her to stay here, as she could help us to cut the letters of the alphabet from news

papers. She asked me: “Why did you ask me to do that?”

“Sit down here a moment, I will explain our work to you, I said, we were waiting for the wooden

plates in order to write down which five valuable words of the president HO Chi Minh. Father N.

had demanded Mr. S., the joiner of our commune, to fabricate immediately 25 wooden frames of

12 cm in width and 60 cm in length. I did not write down these words myself with painting. After

our discussion, we had decided to do it in three easy steps. But, I have to eat now. I will show you

everything afterwards.”

While Dung and I were taking our lunch, the other friends began to make five paper frames with

covers of exercise books. Son (Mountain) had gone looking for a little card-shaped knife that is

used for cutting areca-nuts; but we would need this very cutting knife to make the blank of the

letters of the alphabet.

After my lunch, I went searching all ancient news papers in the priest’s house. I brought my

friends a heap of them. Then I explained to them the first work:

“You know, we have five sentences of President Ho Chi Minh’s text. Each one is compounded by

six words.”

I recognized now that the form of this text was very well-proportioned. I continued my

explanation:

“Please look for them now in these news papers, but you only have to search for the words on the

main page and big titles which are written with the same typography and the same size fonts. The

second steps consist in gluing them in order on the frame. For the next steps, Son, very skilfully, with

his knife, to make the paper frames. Finally, we used them to paint the plates. It turned out very

nice, worthy of the words from the President Ho Chi Minh. ”

*******
 27

This morning, Friday 13th June, before nine o’clock, Mai and my ‘criminal’ cousin who had been in

prison on the Phu Quoc Island, arrived at my house. My mother went to meet them at the door

and took them into the sitting room. She invited them to sit down and said: “Will you have some

tea?” But the cousin told her: “Aunt, we don’t have much time. Where is your son? We would like to

meet him now.” My mother answered them with quivering voice: “I am going to look for him.

Please sit down here a moment.” I stood nervously in the next room. Then I entered the sitting

room then came by my mother. I asked them:

“What is happening?” They answered me: “According to the order of the military administration’s

committee, you and two of your friends who had worked for the schools have to be present at 7 p. m.

in the playground of the primary school. All young men from 16 to 25 years old will also be present.”

Immediately, they took leave without saying good-bye to my mother. She began to be afraid as

she had not understood the problem. Moreover, my father had told her that the communists

couldn’t pardon any political wrong. She advised me not to react in the meeting. I tried to assure

my mother:

“Don’t worry for that. It will be a youth meeting. I will not be alone. Dung, Son and other friends will

come along with me.”

When Mai and my cousin had just left from the house, my father, having listened to whole story in

silence, joined us in the sitting room. He sat down by my side and began to give me some useful

advice for confronting the committee.

At 7 :30 p.m., we came in group, two other seminarian friends accompanying three of us at the

meeting. In fact, we arrived late. In the school yard, many of young men were already sitting in a
row on the ground in the dark night; in front of them, five people were sitting in their chair

behind a long table on which there were two big kerosene lamps. They were not happy about our

being late. We would have gone to sit in the crowd but Mai got out of her chair, coming to meet us

and ordered:

“You three only; come straight to the middle before everybody. The other two join all the comrades

in a row. Mr T. our political officer is not content with you.”

 28

A political officer began to give us a serious lesson of the revolutionary morality. Then Mai and

my ‘criminal’ cousin gave a report on our recent event. And the political officer asked us:

“Who had modified the text of our President HO?”

I lifted up my hand and answered him:

“I had not meant to do it. I had received from Mai a text without signature. I could not have known

who would be the author of the text. The revolution had just come in our country; I had not had the

opportunity to know the valuable words of uncle HO.”

Mai interrupted me:

“In spite of the fact that you could not know the author of the text; you are wrong, entirely wrong to

modify it.”

I used my talent for arguing:

“You are quite right. But I lost the paper that you had given me. As I did not know where you were

living to recover the text, I tried to remember the words of the text, but I could not recall all them

from memory. ”

I turned my face toward the political officer and asked him:

“Did you see our recent work in the classroom? The words of President Ho were well-written on the

plates. Everybody was very satisfied with our service.”

Finally, as I was still young, I benefited by the committee’s socialist tolerance. The political officer

decided not to send me to a reeducation camp. Henceforth, my name was inscribed in the black

book of the military administration’s committee.

*****
 29

6) Re-education program

I woke up in the precarious state of health. Yesterday, I felt feverish all the night; I had been very

dizzy and I had a nightmare about gliding over the cloud and falling into an abyss. While

everybody went to mass as it was Sunday morning, my mother stayed home to look after me. I

could have not risen from bed as I was still feeling very sick. From time to time, she touched my

forehead and told me:

“You have about 39 degree of temperature. You had perhaps got sunburn yesterday. Where have

you been all day?”

I started at my mother’s question; because I had not warned her of my absence yesterday, as I

would have been afraid to make her anxious. Two friends and I were discussed about the

precious words’ Ho Chi Minh’s problem, had passed our Saturday at the disciplinary committee.

In all Saturday morning, we had to learn many lessons about socialism and its revolutionary

morals; in the afternoon, we had hardly worked to clean up the small field behind the former

commune administrative hall, which became the new military administration’s committee house.

In spite of this thankless task, I had some important news concerning all soldiers of former

southern army. I would talk that with my father. I answered my mother:

“You are right; I caught sunburn yesterday as I had worked under the sun all day. When daddy

comes home, I will reveal some important news.”

When the day had begun to break, the churchgoers having left the mass were noisily walking on

the road. My father who came home with some friends entered my room. They had been

informed of the fact that we had received a ‘chastisement’ of the disciplinary committee for our

sins. Dung’s father, a former lieutenant colonel, lived next door, asked me:

“Dung was also ill but he is better this morning. How are you felling now?”

“Thank you very much, my uncle. I still feel feverish, but I try to get out of bed as I would like to talk

with you about some important news.”

 30

My mother invited all them to drink tea and coffee. She gave me a milk cup and two pills of

Optalidon that could reduce of a headache. She then helped me to get out from bed and walked

me to the table for breakfast. All of them expected me impatiently. Once we were all at the table, I

said:

“According to the discussion of some people who had been overseeing our work in the field, this

following Monday in order to receive a hundred of former soldiers for their reeducation.”

They became worried at my revelation. They said that the new political regime will be “look

after” their enemies. If the people of this commune were peasants; their sons were soldiers,

office holders, small traders, teachers, and people who had been officers in the Southern Army.

My father’s friends were afraid as they were lieutenants, commandants, and lieutenant colonels.

They thought that the communist would not let us to be safe in the country. They had waited for

the imminent ‘correction’ from the communist ‘serpent’.

*****
My mother tried to put lots of items into the backpack. It was a military sack which I had often

used for scout camps. She had placed many daily usefel things into this little shoulder bag: some

clothes, drugs, soaps, toilets serviettes, tins of food, bandage, medicinal oil,… The backpack was

torn at the bottom. What damage!!! I went looking for another, but it was not as good as the

backpack. It was a hand bag that would be more difficult to cary. Never mind. My mother would

have not leaved out any thing as, according to her, all would be necessary for my father. Two days

ago, he had received a warrant paper from the Revolutionary Administration’s Committee

according to it, my father, being former high officer in the South Army, was ordered to the

reeducation program for one month, at an assembly camp located in the mountain area. Many

people were in the same situation as my father. But, he was different from his friends he was

wounded on one hand, he had left the Army six years ago. At the time he was a primary teacher

in this commune.
Last week, my father sat in a row under the heat of the summer sun in the field that had a lot of

prickly pear cactus. All the people who had been working or collaborating with "America-puppet-
 31

Vietnamese" (following the communiste term), beginning with the military, then different civil

servants, even all schoolteachers and people in health services, had to submit to a re-education

program of the Socialist Republic of Vietnam. In a very first week, everyday, at 6 a.m., like going to

the mass, the crowd of young men and women were walking up to the ‘reeducation field’ to listen

to revolution lessons. Each had prepared lunch for themself because the class would be closed at

6 p.m. Every evening, on the road, a mass of people looking tired and sad taciturnly walked

toward their house at sundown.

Having availed itself of this reeducation assembly, the military administration committee had

made a list of all categories of the people. A “dangerous group” of enemies of the Revolution had

been separated from the people. It regrouped all the officers of the Former Southern Army and

state employee managers. According to the communist language, they would have to go through

another reeducation program deeper and in keeping with their own status. As the local authority

had not been able to educate them, it would have to send these people to the reeducation center

established in many mountain areas of Vietnam. My father was classed into this category.

Tomorrow, he, and his friends, would be conducted to the camp, named A 30, located in arid

mountain areas about 200 km from home. Some other people who were considered more

dangerous for the nation, such as colonels, generals, and former politicians of the former

Republic of Vietnam (southern region) would be exiled in the Northern Centre. In fact, the

military administration committee hadn’t known exactly personal status of my father, as he had

just destroyed all old papers concerning his military career. However, in case of doubt and

without proof, the communist had preferred act not to miss out on a risky person.
*****
I had just passed a hard night. I had a broken sleep. At three o’clock, I had already waked up. It

could have been that my parents had not been sleeping the whole night. I heard them talking in

whispers. My mother was very anxious and sad because of the departure of my father for the

reeducation camp. When the sun rise, we all were in the kitchen to eat the last breakfast with our

father; as at 7 a.m., he would go to the commune hall, waiting for the military truck which would
 32

drive him and others to the reeducation camp. We would walk with him on the commune

pathway leading to the yard of the Revolutionary Administration’s committee hall….

As we left our house, we met some other families, like us, coming along with their father,

husband, or sons summoned for the reeducation camp. As my father had to walk slowly, everyone

reduced their speed to wait for him. Dung’s father, my seminarian friend and a cousin, came to

lead my dad by the hand. We began to pray on the road…

I saw my father walking lamely into the yard with the heavy bag inside which my mother had

prepared two days ago. All members of families were not allowed to go into the yard. Twenty

people were present in the middle, near the flagpole. They were encircled by a platoon of

military police men. A green military truck was park there before the main house. His cousin,

Dung’s father would help my father to bring the hand bag; a police man came to stop him not to

do it. My father seemed wanted to turn toward us to say the last farewell. But he was pushed by

another police man to go ahead. He mingled with the group. We could have seen the tears flowing

from every eye. No one wished to witness this scene. A communist police came near us and said:

“Do stop all your weeping and smile, because your husbands, parents and sons will benefit from the

tolerance of the Revolution for their politic re-education. They will return home in two or three

weeks. After that you will see them again a new sound of body and mind”.

Another soldier tore a woman away from her husband with vehemence. As he had not wanted to

prolong a tragic spectacle, the military chief urged the future prisoners to take their bags. They

began to climb into the military truck which could hold a maximum of twenty five people. It left a

last person on the yard; it was my father who had not gotten into the carriage cabin of the truck,

a strong police man caught him and threw inside. The hand bag of my father was still on the

ground. My mother ran quickly to pick it up in order to give to my father. The soldiers blocked

her way and kicked the bag into the pond just like a soccer ball. The military truck started

immediately. To disperse the crowd… they just fired into the sky with their guns.
 33

7) Capture of the parish priest

The plastic bucket had just fallen into the well because its rope was broken. My mother having

sat down on the stool by the well for washing was waiting for me to give her some water. I cried:

“Ah, there is no more bucket. Have you had another one?”

She ordered me:

“Go looking for a bamboo ladder behind the kitchen. You have to descend into the well to retrieve it,

because we don’t have another one.”

While I was in the well; the church bells rang tumultuously. My mother became panic and called

me to get out of the well quickly. Since the absence of my father, she was lost confidence and

often became afraid at any events. She said with fear:

“Why does the church bell sound unusually in the afternoon? Go quickly to the church and see what

is happening.”

I moved upwards with the bucket and told my mother that someone must have played the church

bells wrongly. But the bell continued to be in full swing for five minutes. Watching toward the

main road, I saw a mass of people was running in the direction of the church. My mother quickly

washed her soapy hands and rushed up with me to the church where two or three hundred

people arrived in the same time. They were stopped by soldiers. But these men could not stop

the peoples’ progress. They had forced their way into the church’s yard and formed a strong

human mass. On the pathway conducting to the priest’s house, many soldiers were crawling

toward the house like green turtles advancing slowly. In spite of the hindrance of the solders, the

mass of Christian people followed these green turtles. Another platoon armed with AK machine

guns encircled them. Finally, with these mass of people had overtaken the solders to crowd

around the priest’s house. More and more people came in hurry to assemble and they began

singing and praying….

******
 34

The both groups were keeping their position for thirty minutes. At 5 p.m., the sun began to set, a

soldier who was perhaps the operation’s chief moved out from his row, lifting the loudspeaker at

his mouth to talk:

“All compatriots please disperse immediately!!! Return to your homes. We wish to speak simply with

your priest. It does not concern you.”

Although this was a serious order, all Christians stayed in a strong bloc, had not moved. Dark

was spreading over the field. Everybody was hidden in the black night. The parish priest having

stood behind the people wall called some of us to search for candles in his house. We distributed

them to one another. A hundred lights were twinkling in the night like the Easter vigil. At the

midnight, faced with the determination of the people, the soldiers gave up and withdrawn.
Father N. came out from his home to be present with us. He asked someone to find dry branches

for the fire and the other to cook some rice for the group. He was full of emotion and thanked us

for what we have done. However, he thought that it would be useless to resist the communist

soldiers. He had not wanted the Christians to risk death here. He said:

“We will share together a special meal, as our ‘last supper’, and a unique opportunity that we had

never been assembled here tonight. Do not be afraid and sad. Pray for me. After that, all older

men will sleep to recuperate their force; the young men will be awake with me. At 4 a.m in the

morning, I will say mass with you. When the soldiers come again, I give myself up to them”.

The majority of us hadn’t wanted to concede easily but they submitted to his words.
*****
As soon as it was daylight, we went to the church to celebrate mass. Perhaps, it was the unusual

circumstance but we felt really united in this religious ceremony. During this time, the soldiers

came back and stood around by the big circle in front of the church. They hadn’t dared to break

the main door to enter. They sent some people dressing civilian clothes went into the church and

they dragged the parishioners one by one from their group. Now, father N. who had sat down in

the chair behind the altar rose to finish the mass; then he went again to the lectern and said:
 35

“I wish you to obey the decision of our responsible government. Even if I do not know why one

wants to sent me to jail but I could accept it as a spiritual proof and I put myself in God’s hand. I

am very happy to serve his Gospel with you. Although we are now in a testing moment, hope you

will always persevere to walk faithfully on the way of the Cross, the way conducting to the life. Be

confident in Jesus.”

Father N. asked the president of his pastoral council to go inviting the Commander chief of the

capture operation to come in the church. A moment after, the main door was opened, a

uniformed man entered; following him were ten soldiers who went quickly to obstruct all access

into the church. Then he moved toward the chancel. Father N. was took out of the lectern,

descended the chancel, welcoming him at the chancel’s last step and gave his hand to shake; then

he went to the lectern again. The commander demanded his subalterns to come and handcuff the

priest. He then ordered the Christians to sit down to listen the indictment. According to the text,

the parish’s priest was accused of being a close relation with the American Marines who had

been based at Cam Ranh harbour, one of strategic military ports of the USA in Vietnam, which

was only 10 km away from his parish. After that, he read a list of actions to be forbidden from

now on:

“1) It is forbidden to ring the bells every morning before mass or praying in order to respect the

freedom of non-believers.

2) It is prohibited to assemble without the permission of military administration’s committee;

except to celebrate religious ceremonies that take place in the interior of the church.

3) In consequence, all the catholic organizations such as Legio Mariae, Youth Eucharistic

Organization, Boys Scouts, Valiant Heart, Federation of the Holy Heart, etc… will be disbanded.

Only two groups can still exist: the choir and the parish’s pastoral council. However, its members

must to go to the Military Administration’s Committee to submit their names.”

Father N. was then led to the police van. The soldiers tried to hold the Christians down their

place. They posted the warning papers up on each door. We heard the vehicle starting. They
 36

released us progressively, one by one. My mother who had not stayed all the night at the priest’s

house waited for me at the gate of church. She told me:

“You look tired and sleepy. Come home quickly and go to bed.”
 37

8) The first passive resistance

We were sitting down in the shade of the mango trees to exchange our views on the recent

events. In the middle of the canvas spread on the ground by the foot of the tree, there were a

small bow of fish-sauce, some green mangos and a cutting knife. The Vietnamese people liked to

eat this fruit before it ripened fully, having a delicious taste of acid which went well with the

sweetened-salted sauce. The flowers which had brightened the April season became the mango

bunches dangling in the summer wind of July. Dung, my cousin and a neighbor, had been with me

since the early morning. Son whom father had been a former commune’s mayor jointed us after

lunch. The arrest of father N. had plunged us into gloom. Our horizon appeared to close. We did

not have any news of our fathers who were found in the same concentration camps. During the

week, I had been living in deep sadness. I had lost all joy of life. Yesterday, when my mother gave

me a small piece of paper from Mai, the person in charge of young men’s section, which was

written down an invitation to concern all young aged between 16 and 25 to a meeting at seven

o’clock in the common hall at the primary school; an idea suddenly came in mind. I remembered

that if the parish’s choir had been interdicted, so that we could be assembled to practice all

religious songs. In the early morning, I had spoken about that with Dung who agreed with my

good idea. Son told us modestly:

“I don’t have any talents to sing, but I will help our group in the future.”

I answered him:

“You know it is not an important problem. We will try to inform our group. Who could be invited?

Dung, it seemed you have a very good voice.”

Son confirmed my words:

“Yes, Dung was one of the soloists in our seminary.”

In fact, Dung and Son were seminarians of the Stella Maris of the Nha Trang diocese. They had

been admitted five years ago when they were in 1st level of high school. I was thinking of another

person who was in the same seminary as them. I asked:

 38

“Have you had any news of Tan? Could I invite him to be with us?”

Dung answered me:

“He had left the seminary since 72. I think he has no longer had the same mentality like us. Why

didn’t you talk about Hong, Vu and Ngoc, seminarians in your Lam Bich seminary?”

Dung had just mentioned another seminary in the same diocese. It was founded recently to

receive all late vocations, all young men who were completed year 9 of high school and they are

able to join. I had studied in this establishment for only seven months. I answered Dung:

“Hong could be accepted into our group, Ngoc is very busy with his young family. Vu, a person too

independent and undisciplined, would not be good for our group. Do you know Thuong, seminarian

of Quy Nhon diocese, whose family had fled our parish?”

Finally, we were agreed to begin our future choir with the first five people. It would be the heart

of group. I said:

“Tonight, at the youth meeting, we will try to contact them, two other friends as well.”

*****
Dung and I went to the meeting before seven o’clock as I hoped to meet Thuong or Hong at the

pathway leading to the primary school. Shortly, Son met us, at the gate of the church. I was very

happy to see Thuong and Hong following him. They had already been informed of our ideas by

Son. They were agreed with the plan. We entered the church yard to discuss our first acts. We

then arrived late for the meeting. More than two hundred young men were divided into five

groups. We were separated into different groups. I belonged to the group which was led by Mai. A

young man, about 18 years old began to teach us some nationalist song. After that he sang some

folklore songs. His magnificent voice made me forget the stress of the communist meeting. Mai

then gave a long talk on exalting the glory and force of the Vietnamese people having won

glorious victories though all epochs of its history. The most important victory was to chase away

the greatest American empire, puissant and well-armed. The timid girl who had hardly

responded to any questions of the teacher was transformed into a young woman, able to speak
 39

for one hour. I had already heard the same talk, word by word, from the president of the military

administration’s committee at the Labour Day.

She reminded us the time concerning all American war crimes. According to her, each of us

would have to denounce one or many crimes of this Army during their invasion. She added some

more strange ideas such as we would have to denounce the actions of our relatives or parents

who collaborated with the American powers and its ally, the Vietnamese Southern Army. A total

silence followed for five minutes; as nobody could find any crimes of this Army. In fact, this new

exercise made us unconfortable. As I was sitting at the first row, Mai pointed her finger at me and

said:

“Mr S., tell me some horrible crimes of the American’s Army and the ones of its ally.”

I was very surprised by this suddenly demand. I had not responded to her demand as if I had not

heard anything. She strongly held my arm and pulled me stand up. She cried:

“You had just committed a serious mistake but you are always headstrong. I want you to talk about

some American crimes now.”

I began to speak:

“I quite agree with you. The American Army had committed a great sin against his ally. It was very

craven to abandon its friend threatened by the enemy force. It was politically naïve to believe only

in its physic weapon. It was very foolish and ignorant to despise its rival. It was very ridiculous to be

won militarily by the simple peasants without being armed…”

The auditor burned out laughing at my last sentence. Mai was angry and stormed at me violently:

“Shut up, hold your tongue!”

It was very late, when everyone left the meeting; Mai kept me back in order to write down her

report concerning my case. She asked me:

“I had admired your intelligence when I was with you in our primary class. I had wished to obtain

only 1 percent of your mathematic talent. I very much liked your gentleness… Why do you look

down at me now?”
 40

I understood suddenly that Mai was not naïïve as I had thought of her. I answered her:

“You do not understand me. I ever never thought little of you. On the contrary, I respect your ideal. If

I had behaved strangely, it is due to a misunderstanding between us. Furthermore, my father is now

in concentration camps. I don’t know if I could go again to school…”

She then tore her report in two and told me:

“Could you accompany me to home?”

*****
We had worked hard since this morning to clean up the old house built on the right side of

church. Before 75, it was the residence home for a seminarian to work in the parish. This house

had often occupied the second floor which had been divided into two rooms. The smaller r oom

was a bedroom and the bigger room, was used as his office or meeting room. But there also

existed another small room being used as a kitchen. At the street level, there were also two

rooms. The one on the right was a media and communication room. Every night, the sacristan

tuned regularly into some radio broadcast before the daily mass. But since the recent event it was

only storage place for manything related to printing work and communication engine such as

micros, … The next room of the same level was used for the catechism class or for meeting.

Yesterday, we had decided to begin our project without delay. We thought that we would have a

good location, discreet and neutral for our future activities. We had quickly found an ideal spot

which we found when we had assembled before the youth meeting. It was the house which

belonged to our parish. We could occupy it without permission of anyone, because father N. was

absent. We thought only using the second floor. It was sufficient for us and we could avoid all

inquisitive eyes. We had to clean it up as soon as possible because in two more days it would be

Sunday.
We had begun to empty all the rooms. Five of us quickly moved each object such as bed, chairs,

table, library shelves, and many tools, and books old papers. I found many many objects stocked

in the attic. Among them two old kerosene lamps that made me happy because we would need

them in the evening. In fact, our parish possessed a generator set which could still work, but we
 41

had no more petrol to run it. Then we swept the floor with the Vietnamese brooms were made in

reed. The hardest work was cleaning all corners of the house; because we had to get the water

from the well to the second floor. When all rooms were clean and tidy, it was already noon. We

worked hard for about six hours. We then plunged into the spring behind the priest’s house to

wash ourselves. In the afternoon, after lunch, we would begin again to work. We looked at all the

furniture lying in disorder in the yard. I said:

“We have to clean all them before 6p.m.”

******
I came back to the parish house before my comrades. I brought all my personal needs to the new

residence. My mother had just allowed me to stay away one night. After our first meeting, I would

sleep here every night. I followed the old stair and the corridor balcony leading to the big room

where we had put two small beds side by side. I put my belonging on the one bed near the

window. In this room, there was a desk on which we put two kerosene lamps temporally and a

box of candles. The next room was furnished with two long tables. On the wall, we had set up a

small altar. We would soon hold our meeting here. The kitchen was so narrow so that we could

only put a small table there which would be used for a petrol ring found in the loft. I returned to

the meeting room to light some candles to welcome my comrades who would arrive soon. At 7

p.m., five young men were already sitting around at the table as they are very important people

began to deliberate a national affair. We began to prepare for the first Sunday without parish

priest. I gave my proposal:

“I think we could organize a prayer for this Sunday, July 13, for the people who go to church.”

Son immediately put practice questions:

“Who will guide this prayer? How could we inform everybody? At what time will the prayer begin?”

I answered:

“Allow me please to present my plan. Hong and Dung could prepare the gospel texts, some hymns

and prayers. Then we will choose some of them to put into the ceremony which should start at 5
 42

a.m. and finish at 6:30. Thuong will help me to cut a thousand pieces of paper on which we will

write down our information of this prayer. We will distribute them to all Christians in our parish. I

will ask sister Grace to guide the prayer and Dung could accompany all songs with his guitar.”

All comrades approved my proposal. I turned to Son and told him:

“Would you go around the church to watch for our meeting? If you see a suspect person whose

approaches the house, please to warn us.”

We worked through the night until 2 a. m. We were very tired but we had not forgotten to pray.

The sound of Dung’s guitar echoed in the deep night with religious songs. Hong and Thuong did

not stay for the night. As we possessed only two beds, Son must sleep on one of the tables.
*****
 43

9) The first Sunday without mass

Although no church bells rang which had often happened at four thirty a.m. to invite Christians to

the Sunday mass, I woke up early in the morning. In fact, it was about three o’clock, as the moon

had not yet disappeared behind the mountain. My comrades were still sunk in sleep, as yesterday

we all had walked the whole day on all pathways of the commune to distribute our message. Each

one had walked at least a fifty kilometers in the day. We all hoped that many people would

respond to our invitation for the prayer in new circumstance. The parish’s pastoral council

people had been requested to bring their big kerosene lamps to light the church during the

prayers. I brushed my tooth for a litle while then went down the groundfloor and to the well. The

morning wind woke me fully. On all pathways, there were sparkling lights moving in the dark. I

turned back to the direction of church; many of faithful people had already assembled before two

main gates of the church area. My comrades had also awoke; they jointed me at the well. I asked

them:

“Who has the keys of the church?”

Dung answered me:

“You can find them hanging on a key panel in the communication room. Or you can ask for them

from Mrs H. whose house is next door.”

Hong and Thuong had just arrived in the yard and called us. They were very happy to see people

responding positively to the prayer without mass. With Dung, Hong had prepared in detail the

ceremony’s program. Yesterday, we had deliberated on it until the middle of the night. I asked

two new arrivals to open the church and allowed all Christians to enter. I said:

“Please tell the people to put out their kerosene lamps and only put on our lights in the chancel.”

*****
More than a thousand people could have gone inside church; the others had to stay outside

because of lack of seating. Ordinarily, there had been three masses for the Sunday; two were held

in the early morning at four thirty and six a.m; one at three p.m. for the youth of the parish. At
 44

each Eucharistic celebration, the church could only have held about 1200 people. In this special

circumstance, all adult faithful had come to the prayers. A mass of people had been assembled in

the church square to follow the ceremony all doors and windows opened widely.
Sister Grace led the singing for all people; Dung helped her with his guitar; Hong and Thuong

were in charge of reading the bible and prayers. Son and I were entrusted an ingrated work; each

one had to pay an attention through out the events. Son was at the east’s gate and I at the west.

One hour later, a platoon of the communist soldiers, warned perhaps by the lights were moving

like the fire-flies all over on the pathways of the commune, came quickly in front of the big

portals of the church area. They could not have entered inside the church ground as all gates had

closed with the padlock. The sun began to rise in the fields, the ceremony had just finished. Dung

called upon all the young people who wanted to sing to come on every Thursday at 7 p.m. to the

parish’s house for practice. I opened the big portal to let people out. The soldiers watched at me

with concentration. I said greeting them and mingled with the crowd.
*****
I became an old acquainted with the Military Administration Committee. We all, five comrades

and sister Grace, had to go for the interrogation by the police in the afternoon of the same day. As

we arrived at the reception, our group was immediately split up. The police have interrogated us

one by one. I was led into a cell, hot and dark closed no light could come from out side. Two hours

later, I was bathed in perspiration and very thirty. A police man came looking for me and guided

me to the room where there were two tables. He sat me in a chair, graped my hands quickly and

turned them back to tie with a rope. After that, he went out of room. Fifty minutes later, two

others persons, a man and a woman, entered into the room without greeting me. They looked

very cold, phlegmatic and contemptuous. The man sat down behind the desk in front of me with

the woman being at my left. She began to ask my name, age and personal status; but she did not

write down on the paper. I thought they had already possessed all information concerning me.

The man interrogated me:

“Do you know why you are here?”

 45

I answered him:

“No.”

He told me:

“The president of the Military Administration’s Committee requests my presence for working a

serious problem. I come from the chief commissariat of the Cam Ranh city; I hope not to lose too

much time for this illegal event.”

I replied to his words:

“What illegal event?”

He said:

“Don’t be naïïve. This early morning, more than a thousand people had been gathered in church

while the priest was absent? Tell me now truthfully. Who had ordered the people to assemble?

According to your friends, I know that your illegal group had prepared it.”

I trembled suddenly with fear. I felt a lump in my throat. I kept silence. The police man stamped

his fist on the desk and said:

“Say something. I have no time to wait for your response.”

Strangely, the sound causing by his knock at the surface of the desk aroused me from my torpor. I

breathed out and said:

“Allow me to explain to you point by point of this event. First, according to new rules of the

Military Administration’s Committee, placed on all doors of the church, the faithful is not

forbidden to assemble themselves for celebrating mass or praying. As our Church obliged all

Christians to practice their dominical cult; even if there was no mass, they have to pray together

because the Sunday. Consequently, this morning, all Christians had gone to the church as they

went usually to the mass at five o’clock. Moreover, as father N. was absent, the people should be

motivated as usual for this practice. Their prayer is not illegal and person had not called them

upon. Secondly, if we are friends, we meet often ourselves to chat or to talk about anything or to

go fishing together, etc…. In any case, it wasn’t a formal group as you said. As we are here, on the
 46

same occasion, I will submit the choir’s member list, in conformity with the rules of the

Committee.”

The man became angry; he threw his coffee still hot to my face and cried:

“Shut up your mouth!!!”

He left the room. His female colleague cleaned my visage and told me:

“Don’t be stupid. Try to talk in a gentle voice and he will let you go home.”

The man re-entered the room. He showed at me some papers on which Hong and Thuong had

written down the prayertime. He said:

“How did people know at what time the prayer began? It’s evident that your group had to

communicate it. It’s your handwriting?”

“No”, I answered him, “ Tell me how we could communicate our message to two thousand people

in no time?”

Then he put an administrative paper on which I read my accusation before me and said:

“If you want to return home, you must sign this”.

Then they let me alone in the room. Three hours later, they came back and knew that I hadn’t

signed their paper.

*****
Finally, they let me out at 6 p.m. on Sunday evening, it was dark. At the barbed wire fence before

the Administration Committee hall, I was expected by my mother, comrades, and other young

Christian men. On the way home, we discussed many things for the next few days. My mother

advised me:

“Don’t stay in the parish house”.

My comrade seemed agreed with her because they afraid something will be happened. I tried to

convince everybody to recognize all interests of our plan. My mother finished by allowing me to

sleep there for the night but not during the day, I must stay at home. However, no friends agreed

to stay with me in the parish house. They promised me to be present at the choir practice only on

every Friday at 7 p.m..

 47

*****
 48

10) The Cultural Revolution

We were now in the middle of July. The orchard, trees heavy with fruit were joyful and nice in the

sunshine. My young brother moved easily and skillfully from branch to branch. He plucked all

mangos beginning to ripen and put them into a bag hanging on his shoulder. When it became

heavy, he dropped it down with a long rope,. Having received the full bag, I would pour its

mangos out into bigger bamboo baskets on the ground. The more sunshine the maturing fruit

had received, the stronger its flavor would be and the brighter its skin would look. Paradoxically,

I had never seen so many mangos as this summer; but there was no more market at this

commune and it having become poor, the people would not throw away their money to buy these

nice fruits. In fact, from April 30, the communal market had been suspended because of the new

political situation and small traders could not come into the country to buy fruits and rural

products for lack of road haulage.

This morning, having abserved a lot of ripe fruitspoiled on the soil, my mother had commanded

us to gather at least fifty kilos of mangos. But we could harvest one tone of fruits from twenty

mango trees planted by my father five years ago. I remembered that he had invented a kind of

instrument for plucking mango fruits. Tomorrow, before four a.m., my mother would have to

walk more than 6 km to Cam Ranh city, at the Ba Ngoi market, she would have waited for us, my

brother and I, who would arrive by bicycles which we would have attached each one two bags of

fifty kilos of mangos. As we had not liked to get up too early; we left the house at five a.m. and

arrived at the market at five fifty o’clock.

*****
My mother exposed all big mangos into four bamboo baskets. On two side of national road 1,

many private sellers had put themselves in row of about one kilometer in length. The sun began

to rise and I could see the people coming and going. Some traders had come and made a bargain

with my mother. They lowered the price so that it cost like nothing. I felt unjust to be a witness of

this scene as I thought of our hard work in order to bring these mangos here. Moreover,
 49

yesterday, we had been bitten by a hundred red ants living in the trees. It was already seven

o’clock; my mother could only have sold about a half. She gave us some money and said:

“Go with your brother to get a drink. In one hour, you have to come back here and we will buy

some food for the week.”

I led my brother across the road and went to the rent book shop. By his side, there was an

walking merchant who sold a kind of sweetened porridge. It was cooked with glutinous rice and

white beans. The young boy looked attentively at the cooking pot as he was desirous of

swallowing all he could. In fact, we had eaten nothing since four o’clock. I bought a bowl for him

and told him to wait for me here. Then I went to the rent book shop. I intended to hire some

novels as usual. Before 75, even if my family was not poor and miserable as my father had been

an officer in South Army; I had never obtained enough money to buy all books that I loved to

read. There was no common library in each city. Thank to such as this rent book shop, I could

have hired the books that I liked to read in leaving some money at deposit. I met the owner at the

step door, he welcome me with joy and made me enter into his house. He invited me to drink

some coffee with him. Then he gave me some bad news:

“I like you very much because you have a lust for books. Henceforth, you can no more read the

former books qualified feeble, mawkish, debouched, depraved, reactionary,… by the new

authority. The cultural department had sent me a warrant according to it I must deliver all books

to this institution by the next Thursday. They will be perhaps burnt in the earthen stove. Take

today as many books as you want. I am very happy to offer you all.”

He continued to pour his sorrows into my ear. I was startled to see it was already eight thirty. I

took leave of him as my mother would be anxious at not seeing us return. I told him:

“With my friends, I will come again to get all books.”

He answered me:

“It’s very good. I had no wish to throw all them on the fire.”
 50

My brother waited for me at the door. We found my mother again who could have not sold all the

mangos. She looked tired and thirsty. She told us:

“It is late now. I think nobody will buy some more. I give free all the rest to the people who pass

here.”

In reality, she had won only a little sum of money for fifty kilos mangos. She couldn’t buy some

cakes for her sons as she had done formerly. We went home after ten o’clock.
******
The Sunday following, the Christians (churchgoers) were again faithful to be present at the

prayer ceremony. Wonderfully, we weren’t troubled by the army as before. Nevertheless, there

were two foreigners coming and going around the church. They seemed to be spy police sent to

survey on us. Yesterday, at our ordinary meeting, I suggested to my comrades a new plan. So that

nobody would be left out of the church, two times of prayer ceremony should be proposed: the

first at four thirty a. m. was reserved for all the older people, the second session at six o’clock for

the youth. After mass, one more time, we had to sweep the attic carefully. I had reported the

proposal of the owner of the books from the rent shop. Someone was very happy at the fact that

we would have a rich library in our house; two others had feared of stocking all banned books.

They were afraid because at the Thursday meeting of the youth section, a very important person

came to speak about the new directive of the Revolution concerning all the cultural productions

of the previous regime. That meant all books, novels, films, poems and plays were all forbidden

and confiscated. I still remembered his words: “It is very negative and reactionary”. The cadre

political agent repeated it ad nauseam. “It was absolutely forbidden to sing all foreign music and

love-songs, maudlin and passive”.

However, all comrades agreed to help me to manage a good place for my library. Son and Hong

began to make a small bamboo ladder, thanks to which, we would easily get in and out of the

attic. With Dung, I spent three hours in cleaning it. Under the roof, the temperature reached 45

degrees celsius. We felt we working in a volcano. We had gathered a big heap of dust and much of

rubbish. The others friends standing below had helped us to bring all this out of the house. We
 51

admired a long time a very good corner where all books should be ranged. When we descended

from the attic; all comrades were very amazed to see us covered in black dust. However, their

eyes were suddenly brightened as I showed them a mantle lamp found in the attic. This one was

considerably brighter than a conventional wick lamp. Because it had a circular wick that burns

below a conical mantle made of thorium that gave off light when heated in a flame. I pulled it

apart and cleaned each piece carefully. We went together to bathe in a stream behind the priest’s

house.
*****

11) My new life

I rarely woke up in the early morning at my house. My mother often woke her children before six

a.m. when she returned home from church as she went everyday to the mass. This morning, I had

gotten up as the sun had not yet risen. Perhaps, I had found myself alone for the first time in an

unfamiliar house. In fact, I was happy to possess a very rich library and I read three novels until

two o’clock. I had begun with Hemingway’s “the Old man and the sea”, then I read passionately

the book “Eugenie Grander” by Balzac and finally, I plunged into the universe of “Wuthering

Heights” by Emily Bronteï . I said thank you to my mother who had allowed me to live alone

henceforth in the parish house provided that I must return home for lunch and dinner. Outdoors,

all stars were still twinkling in the sky. The window was open all night so that some night-air

would dissolve the summer heat. I very much loved to look at the stars gleaming from the

heaven. I did not want to get out of bed. I stayed still inside a mosquito net and started the day by

prayer in the dark. As I was a wise seminarian, I always offered Jesus my new day, I thought of my

father and mother...

I looked for a light as I wanted to burn the kerosene lamp on the table. I began to unhook the

mosquito net then folded and arranged it into the old wardrobes. Some books were lying on bed.

I would have to arrange them again into the upstairs attic. I took kerosene lamps going to the
 52

small kitchen; there was nothing yet for my breakfast. I had forgotten to ask my mother for some

tea and sugar. Never mind. I drank only a glass of water for today and I would ask my mother tea

and coffee for the next days. I searched my military boots and wore them. They were too big for

my feet as they belonged to my father. It couldn’t be helped! They would protect me well when I

walked in thorny places. Having held the kerosene lamp, I got down a staircase, going to the well

for the usual simple toilet. Then I went to the bank of the spring which glided through the fields

near the church. The last week, my young brother and I had made twenty bamboo fishing rods

about 50 cm. The previous evening, he had found several earthworms these were then hooked.

We had fixed these fishing rods along the riverside and rice field dam when the evening had set

in. I had to check now one by one in the hope of catching some fish. Some noise in the water had

attracted my attention. I picked up the first fishing rod at the end of the fishing line, was hooked a

water-snake. Another one crawled through my feet. I continued my work. Many snake-heads and

three catfishes were waggling strongly in my fishing bamboo basket. I finished the last fishing

rods and caught five climbing perche. It began to light; I did not return to the parish house, but I

was walked joyfully toward my home.

*****
The welcomed fish lighted up my mother’s eyes. She was surprise to see the unexpected quantity

and quality of this good hand of fish. With it, she would prepare some delicious dishes for the

week. In recent months, she had used up all her provisions. Her budget was in deficit as there

was no money. The family’s life depended on a dozen bags of rice, the rice had been harvested

last year. At lunch, we ate the rice mixed with manioc. This plant grew easily in the

mountainground, even on unfertile soil and produced abundant roots. Before 75, they had been

destined for the pigs. I would ask my mother some kilos for my breakfast before long. I looked at

some delicious dishes on the table and paid her a compliment:

“It looks very nice and smells good your sweetened acid soup with fish. May I take some for this

evening? I would like not to return home for dinner. I will have more time for work.”

She did not answer directly to my words, but he said:

 53

“I don’t know how about your father? Does he have good meals every day? He very much likes

this soup with fish. Before you go to the parish house; gather for me more than fifty kilos of

mangos. I will sell them on Friday at the market. I would like to buy something for your father.

Mrs H. (Dung’s mother) had proposed me to go to A 30 with her next week.”

I listened to her. That meant this night I would have to sleep at home as with my brother I would

have collected kilos of mangos in very early morning. I asked her for a favor:

“May I stay this night at parish’s house, as I have many things to do? We must practise singing for

the prayers. Could you postpone it for the Saturday market? If you could wait until Friday, our

mangos will be riper.”

She nodded her head in agreement. I thanked her for her understanding. After lunch, with my

brother we went into the orchard to gather the mangos.

******
At three o’clock, I went to the parishhouse. I was very happy to find again “la meé thode rose”, the

piano method for all beginners, that the owner of the rent books shop offered me when we had

come collecting all the books at his house. His daughter did not need this book as she played

very well and began to practise higher levels. For some time in the past, since my accident, I

dreamed to play the piano, a luxury music instrument for the richer, but a fantastic sound for all

persons loving the music. I now had the book, the keys to open the musical field, but I had no

instrument. I turned the pages of the book one by one. I felt disappointed because it was written

in French. I had never learned this language. Perhaps, I could understand it with a French

Vietnamese dictionary.
After one hour, I had only translated two pages of piano method. They drew and described the

keyboard of this prestige instrument at the outset. For wanted of the true piano, I would have to

fabricate at least a copy. When I had been ascending on second floor, before having entered into

my room, I looked down on the ground and noticed a very good plank thrown near the well. As I

began to calculate all the dimensions of my future keyboard; Dung came, as if he wanted to read

some Chinese novels, knight-sword. I asked him:

 54

“Can you help me to do something now?”

“Readily,” he answered.

Dung read first the French text, as he had learned this language at school in his seminary. Then

we descended together searching for the ideal plank and we carried it to the joiner who had

already helped us to fabricate 25 wooden plates two month ago. He began to clean my plank; he

then sawed it according to the dimension that I told him, 1.25 meter length and 20 centimeter in

width. He gave each of us emery papers and said:

“Please rub it up with force very hard.”

At five o’clock, we came back to parish house with my new wooden keyboard. I was very happy

as if I had just received a pricey gift. I then still spent more than thirty minutes to draw exactly 88

keys in a row and into order. While Dung plunged in his reading I tried to touch the keys

according to the first lesson of the piano method. At the beginning, the scalded hand was very

hard to move all my fingers. They had not been used like that before. But one hour later, they

became relaxed and I could control them…

“Mummy is calling you to come back home for the evening meal.”

I saw my brother, standing in front of the door. I started at him. Having been sunk in the piano

lesson, I had not wanted to have dinner. I told my brother:

“Will you bring me some food right now?”

He didn’t seem to agree with me, I asked him:

“Do you know, Dung went home now for dinner? Will he return here tonight? As you know he

lives next door, he could drop in our house and bring dinner here.”

My brother and Dung went down stairs and disappeared in the darkness.
*****
 55

12) A nice choir group

At 7 p. m., Dung brought me a billycan of rice, fish and delicious soup. His surprise was visible

before a bright room. I told him:

“You know, I had lit our mantle lamp with success.”

Dung appeared rather anxious:

“Our meeting room is brighter; I had noticed it when I was on the way in. Didn’t you afraid of the

police’s attention?”

Dung was right to think about that. But in any case, the police knew the existence of the future

choir group; as I had skillfully warned him during my previous interrogation. I ate and chatted

with him about our first singing meeting.

“Should we go to the military administration’s Committee to register all the members of our

choir?” Dung asked me.

I answered him:

“If we go in group to do that; I am afraid to expose ourselves to the susceptibility of the new

authority. We could risk being kept under observation. I think we will begin simply and discreetly

for our first meeting. After, we discussed this question together. Perhaps, we will ask Hong or

Thuong to submit the list of members of the choir to the Committee. Like that, we show our

respectation to their rule.”

Dung showed me some hymns which he had chosen; there was a good one, a Mary’s song. I

suddenly thought of the Assumption Day. It had always been a solemn religious day, as the Virgo

Mary was particularity revered by Christian people. I put a question to him:

“What do you think about the Assumption Day? It is now Thursday July 24th, in another three

weeks, we will have to celebrate this very important Day, August 15th. I remember that there was

a beautiful procession with candle in the evening. How could we do that without a priest?”

The other friends had just arrived. They had listened to my question. Hong told us:
 56

“Yesterday, I went to work in the mountain. When I was walking across a garden, I met an

interesting man. He started a conversation with me. He is a priest of Hue’s diocese. He had fled in

May and was received by a cousin two weeks ago. He seemed to know me as he had heard me led

the prayers ceremony last Sunday.”

We all agreed to go to see him tomorrow or the day after. The people began to arrive in the

church yard. I raised and got out the room to greeting them.
*****
We were enjoy as many people had answered our expectation. The small meeting room was

crowded as it had to hold 14 people. They were very happy to be presented. We sat down elbow

to elbow. Besides five founders of the group, there were 9 new people. Duc and Tuan, same age as

us, they were Son’s friends and neighbors. The other was female members. On behalf of five

comrades, Dung began to introduce all of the new arrivals, and then he explained the group of the

future choir. He had proposed that we all introduce ourself before singing, but I was afraid that

this would prolong our first meeting too much, I interrupted Dung:

“Excuse me for my intervention. As we are numerous, we will have much time to make

acquaintance of ourselves. I think we have to begin to sing. After, if we have time, we could share

our stories with one another.”

Dung asked me to distribute hymn books to everyone and he began to sing. We listened

attentively to him once or twice. Then he sang only one phrase and asked us to repeat after him.

We quickly learned all the hymns…

*****
Everyone was pleased when I brought many mangos to the table. I had carried them here when I

had finished plucking all mangos according to my mother’s request. All girls liked to eat green

mangos with the sweetened-salted sauce which had been prepared by my sister this afternoon.

While eating some mangos, we began to tell each other about ourselves. The twins caught my

attention as they resembled one another like two peas. These fifteen years old girl, were certainly

refugees in our area as before I had not met them at church. Having given them a knife I asked

one of them to peel mangos, cutting them into small pieces and the other to begin to tell their
 57

story. They had come from Hueê , capital of the last Vietnamese empire, about 600 km to North,

where I was born 16 years ago. The first names of them were taken from one of two component

words of the province of the famous city. On the road of “blood” (named by broadcast journalists

of the war) when their family had fled Hue to Cam Ranh, they lost their parents and brothers,

mingled with the crowd in panic. Their mother cousins had found them by chance in Cam Ranh;

he look after them now with his family in the small house near the market. The three other

female singers were our old comrades when Dung, Son and I had been in the last year of the

primary school. Their first name began with the letter H, and suggested the magnificent flower;

Hoa meant flower, Hoê ng was the rose and Huong perhaps the perfume. The last two sisters were

beautiful young women. Their family which had been living in Da Nang, the important harbour,

60 km away from Hueê , were refuge at their grand-parents house. The younger sister was about

16 years of age, had the ordinary first name meaning water (Thuy). Her sister seemed to be

older like us, she had been in the last level of the high school. She had dreamed to become a

singer and an actress but “it was all over” she said… She looked very fine but sharp, her long hair

covering the whole of her back. She was called “Autumn” (Thu), even if this season did not exist in

the tropical country, but the Vietnamese Northern poets always mentioned in their romantic

literature. She suddenly asked us:

“Could we sing the love-songs?”

A simple question should have not had to be putted as all people had the right to sing what they

wished to do. But this question made us think over and to find an appropriate response. The new

political regime had interdicted the singing of the love-songs, qualified maudlin, belonged to the

petty bourgeoisie’s class… I asked her:

“What will you sing?”

She told us she loved the music written by Trinh Coê ng Son, a famous songwriter. The last song

seemed to be qualified “against the war” by the old political regime. He had composed many

romantic songs; however he had some songs that it agreed its philosophy. I asked her:
 58

“Do you know the song ‘Cat bui’ (the grain of dust)? I think that is not a love-song as it speaks of the

humane destiny. ”

It was late. We listened to her voice, sensitive and communicative, resounding in the deep night.

“Which grain of dust was transformed into my body? So that one day I return to the dust…”

We prayed God before leaving. Dung and Son would have liked to stay with me for the night. They

had to prepare their bed. I went to the balcony, watching stars in the sky and I wondered under

the light of which I was born.

*****
 59

13) A little incident

“Wake up, it’s already four o’clock!”

Dung had shaken the bed strongly in order to wake me up. He had done that because I requested

him of the previous day; as I had to return home on time to take fifty kilos of mangos to Ba Ngoi

market. Yesterday, at dinner my mother had given me carefuly request:

“Please come back home early. The Saturday market would be crowded, if we are late, we could

have no place to display the mangos.”

I had to get up earlier than usual in order to go home on time. I felt a bad headache all over my

head. Perhaps, I have been reading the whole night. When I arrived home, my mother had

already left because she had to walk for Ba Ngoi’s market. I went to the well, brushing my teeth

quickly. I took two bicycles out of the kitchen in order to put four bags of mangos to the

saddlebag. Then I entered the main bedroom to wake my brother up. He was still sleeping

soundly. I caught him by the hand and helped him to get out of bed. While he was washing

himself at the well; I prepared a glass of milk for him. At 4:30 a.m., we drove slowly on the rough

and bumpy road in the darkness. As our bicycles hadn’t lights, we could not have gone quickly.

We have to grope our way on the hard road thanks to some starlight. Sometime, we came near to

brush against the peasants going to work in early morning. They carried their kerosene lamp by

the handles which were jumping like will-o'-the-wisps.

One and a half an hour later, we arrived at a village called “three way crossroads” where there

had been the old rail station. Most of the people here are having come from the northern

Vietnam; they were not catholic and they were often pro-communists before 75. They possessed

big rice-field and were very good gardeners. I liked to watch all vegetables in their garden.

However, they had not grown mangos. My brother felt thirsty and he asked me to stop. We took a

little break at the big tree next to the road. As usual, we halted at the same place to drink. The

red glow of the rising sun began to appear on the field. We were ready to start again.
*****
 60

Five boys surrounded us at the big tree. They were no doubt the teenagers of this village. I saw

them arriving from the small pathways over the road. We mounted our bicycles and ready to

move. One of them approached to me, held my handlebar to hinder me. I asked him:

“What do you want? I don’t know you. We have to go now, my mother waits for us at the Ba Ngoi

market.”

He ordered us:

“Leave your bicycles and stand up before that tree.”

I answered him:

“I can’t obey you, because we are late for the market.”

He hit me violently with a slap to my face and they all came to pull me down on the ground. My

brother, who stood behind me, threw his bicycle down and got a tightrope that I had attached our

bags to the bicycle. I knew he was an impulsive and hot-temper. With his hands, he used very

well the rope-cord to fight them back. My father being an excellent fighter with ropes had taught

him this kung-fu. He suddenly attacked two boys standing before him. Their faces bled…
Two others rushed toward me and made me felt flat to the ground. Another came to help his

comrades to fight with my brother. Finally, we could not have resisted the attack of five stronger

boys. They had stolen our mangos and bicycles. They left us lying on the ground. I felt very tire

and thirsty. I told my brother:

“I hope you are still well, because we have to walk 4 kilometers more.”

*****
At 8 o’clock, we arrived at the three way crossroads of Ba Ngoi. At the beginning of the market,

my mother had expected our arrival. She had feared the worst for us. She bursted into tears as

she saw us walks wearily out in the road. She ran toward us and fell over an obstacle. Some

pedestrians came and helped her to rise. Three mother and sons sat down on the ground by the

road side. She asked us:

“What happened to you? I was afraid to death. I wondered if you had had a serious accident. Thank

God, you are safe and sound. ”

 61

I gave her an account of our incident at the three ways crossroads. I could not have hidden my

anger and broke into tears as those boys had hurt us. My mother sought to comfort me and said:

“There are still several tones of mangos. As for bicycles, we will reclaim them.”

It was nearly 9 o’clock. We rose and walked toward the market which began to be dispersed. The

good and foods stalls had just closed. Moreover, my mother had no money to go shopping. I

suffered to think of my father, for whom she wished to buy some necessary supplies. My brother

told her:

“I am very thirsty. I want to drink some water.”

She answered him:

“We have no money to buy drinks.”

My mother just remembered that a cousin had been living at Ba Ngoi. According to her, we could

pay her a visit and would ask her for water. She led us to walk many streets; however, she was not

able to find again her house. Some ones were damaged for the sake of the war, they bombed

during the combat. A lot of town-dwellers had already left the city. She said:

“My cousin had perhaps left for Saigon. We have to go home now.”

We arrived home at noon. My brother was sick because of walking more than two hours under

the sun. My sisters offered us some fresh lemon squash drinks.

******
In the country, the bad news of rumors was very quickly spread. Many people came seeing me

and my mother to know some truth of our incident at the village of “three way crossroads.” Even

someone was heard that my brother and I were gravely wounded. Some others brought us eggs

and fruits of which there were many in our orchard. As we were still taking lunch, all members

of the new choir arrived. I invited them go to the sitting-room where we began to deliberate what

action to take against those roughnecks. Duc, Son’ friend, said that we should have to give them a

strong lesson; we had to prepare an appropriate vengeance. Both had practiced kung-fu, the

redoubtable art of combat. They were able to battle with six persons at the same time.

Furthermore, their comrades would come to help us to battle with those boys. But I hated all the
 62

kinds of the violence. I refused absolutely to declare war with our neighbors. My mother

prohibited us to use the violent way in order to reclaim our bicycles. I tried to talk to my friends

out of doing that:

“We are Christians; we have to avoid all vengeance. We will discuss with them. I need only to

recover our bicycles. As you already know, Sunday morning, after prayers, with Dung and Son, I will

to go to the Bishop’s house to see Mgr. H.”

Having mentioned the last matter, I had driven my friends to another point. They became

interested in the meeting between three of us and father J. on Friday. In fact, Hong, Dung, and I,

we had gone seeing the priest to discuss about the Assumption Day. He was very happy to

celebrate this solemn mass for our parish. However, he wished to inform our bishop, as according

to the canon law (the law of Catholic Church), he would need the permission of the local religious

authority. As he could not leave for Nha Trang, because of being afraid to be kept secretly by the

police; he would not risk returning here. He knew our bishop very well as he had met him in

Rome where he had studied his theology in 1960. He looked like a countryman but in reality, he

was an intellectual as he had obtained the Doctorate of Divinity. He simply wrote a letter to the

bishop.
*****
Before two o’clock, our group of fifty male and female bicyclists drove one after the other,

forming a long impressive lane on the road toward “three way crossroads”. At the entrance of the

village, I had suddenly recognized two boys who had attacked us this morning at the big three.

With a bamboo palanquin, they each carried other two buckets of water, showing the green rows

in their kitchen garden. While the others stayed outside, in the road, behind the wire fence; Son,

his friend, and I, we entered into the courtyard of the house. A big dog rushed headlong to bak

against us. The country boys, having thrown their buckets, went quickly to meet us at the yard.

My friends lifted out their ‘nun cha ku’, a powerful weapon that was made of two wooden sticks,

connected by a steel chain. Then they held these in their hands and quickly made many circles

around them. In other words, they moved very quickly these fighting art tools in the space
 63

around their body. Our rival boys seemed to tremble in fear. I suddenly burst out laughing and

said:

“It’s enough. Don’t crush a fly upon the wheel.”

An older man walked out of his house, coming before us and asked:

“What’s the matter with you?”

He looked gentle and asked us to go to the sitting-room. He was a member of the new

revolutionary council of his village. He had known the incident caused by his sons early this

morning. In fact, according to him, all of inhabitants had talked about this unexpected event. He

had waited for us in order to say sorry for his young boys. Then he asked me to call all friends

going into the courtyard. In the same time, he ordered his sons to look for their comrades.
The gentle man ended by saying:

“Please forgive our young boys. They had committed a stupid thing. My sons had told me that they

would have liked to eat some mangos, however they hadn’t wanted to thieve your bicycles”.

In exchange of our mangos, he gave each of us one piece of salad. We stayed to speak gently of

our new life with some villagers. The boys brought my two bicycles to us; I watched each other

and told them gently:

“You have known the art of rope demonstrated by my younger brother this morning; you had

perchance not tasted the force of the ‘nun cha ku’. Will you experience it one day?”

*****
 64

14) The Assumption Day (15th August 1975)

On Thursday August 7th, I had spent all the morning to clean up our meeting room. This evening,

there would be a meal before the singing practice. I ate a handful of glutinous rice cooked with

green peas which had been brought by my sister this morning; because I had told my mother that

I won’t come back home for lunch. I stayed in this house for two weeks already. I read and I

practised the piano with the wooden false keyboard. Some days, I practised it over and over until

I felt tire. All choirmembers had come every night to learn the hymns for the Assumption Day,

singing love-songs and talking to one another about many things.

I putted my wooden keyboard on the table which was set along the balcony. I took it out of the

meeting room as it was very hot inside. I sat down on the chair and began to play the “ Savez-vous

planter les choux” (Do you know how to grow cabbages) at the end of the book. My fingers pressed

regularly on the hard touches drawn on the board and tried to imagine the sound of this French

music. I had concentrated to my practice, so that I didn’t heard the noise around me until

someone said:

“It’s wonderful! All your fingers move skillfully now.”

Looking up, I saw Sister Grace standing in front of me. I was ashamed to let her see my hand and

hide it under the table, as its skin was covered with white spots. She took a chair and sat beside

me. She said:

“Let me look at your right hand.”

Having held it, she looked attentively at each finger. According to her, the turmeric had an

extraordinary reaction upon my skin. It covered practically my whole hand. The small and ring

fingers became normal. The thumb and the forefinger found again their elasticity. Having

considered my silence, she changed the subject:

“I go to church every afternoon to pray. I saw you always here. The Christian people pleased all the

works of your choir group. Many other people would like to join it. What do you think of it?”
 65

I had answered that I would ask my group at the meeting this evening. In reality, I knew that we

could not accept more new members, as our room was narrow and would not receive more

people. Furthermore, we would be afraid that someone would be sent by the police to spy on us.

However, I asked her to help us learn the hymns as she knew the music well and her voice was

magnificent.
******
Members of the choir were very happy to welcome Sister Grace who arrived after our group’s

meal in the evening. She had not only helped us to sing but also taught us the technique of

respiration. She showed us how we could take and keep breath to sing the long sentence. Then

she coached each one to pronounce correctly all the vowels of our language. Dung was content to

accompany her voice with guitar. However, after two meetings with us, she began to make

acquaintance with each member; she suggested something new to us.

“Our meeting room is too narrow. It is difficult to stay inside for longer period. We often feel hot

and uncomfortable with breathing. I think we could practise singing in the church, on the right side

of the chancel, there is a good harmonium which could accompany and support our voice.”

Hoê ng remarked:

“It is very dark in church. We do not have enough light.”

She answered:

“We can practise singing at three to five o’clock each Thursday. I think most of people are not busy

to work during this summer. I noticed that we had finished late and our female singers would be

afraid to go home alone on the dark pathways. Beside that the ‘militiamen 1’ begin to patrol the

road.”

I thought she was quite right. After each meeting, we had to go along with each female singer to

their house. While the other returned home, I was always alone on the way to the parish house.

1
When they took over The South Vietnam in 1975, the communist government defend instantly
created the Militia. It was a civilian organization which engaged the young men of fifteen to
sixteen years old to defense their country or execute the paramilitary service.
 66

Finally, everyone agreed with her proposal, but we thought that sometime, we could practise in

the late nights as well. Dung asked her:

“You had just told us about the harmonium. Who will play it, as you have to teach us the hymns?”

She cast a glance at me and answered him:

“You will discover a new ‘genius’ among us.”

She asked me to stand up and said:

“The other day, I had surprised him playing the piano on a wooden keyboard. It’s fantastic!

Unbelievable! He had finished all piano lessons of the “méthode rose” within only one month. With

this level, I think he could begin to play the melody on the keys of the harmonium. As I will come to

the church every afternoon, I will teach him the main chords.”

*****
On August 10th, we were assembled on Sunday to discuss for the Assumption Day. Each of us had

brought a dish of food for lunch, and we would share it together. We had scheduled many points

to put forward. My comrades asked me to report about the meeting with our bishop in Nha

Trang. I made a simple report on this journey. I had made an early start with Dung. We had not

taken the main road, the National number one, but chose the road along the mountain. We had

lost the way for some time when we reached the N. 1 at Dong Ba Thin, it was three o’clock. We

arrived at the bishop’s house an hour late for our appointment, the main gate was closed and two

seminarians were there, one was Mgr Th god son, having come from Hueê , stopped us from

entering as he did not known us. We had to stay outside until 6 p.m. Happily, I saw father T, the

bishop’s secretary, who introduced us to him. We had returned home the following day with the

nominations’ paper from father J. After my intervention, Hong put in the question if we could

have one or two ceremonies for the Assumption Day? Or we would better organize one long

mass on Friday; there would be more than three thousand people at the church. An idea

suggested by me:
 67

“We could propose to all Christians two different ceremonies. The Assumption eve on the evening

the day before, and we could make a procession with candle from the church to the grotto of Mary

located at the West zone. We finish it either by a mass or a prayer. On the next day at five o’clock in

the morning, we will celebrate the Assumption mass.”

I already imagined with an impressive thousand lights of joy sparkling in the dark night. I was

always attracted by the multitude of starts lights in the sky. It was like a dreamlike and

mysterious. I tried to convince all my friends. One of them put again the question that concerning

the publication of the mass notification. I remembered the fact that the policeman had showed

me some messages written on a small piece of paper when I was interrogated by him. I said:

“It was clever to give the schedule information on paper; but those had constituted proofs to accuse

us of organizing celebrations from A to Z.”

Thuong made his suggestion:

“Our parish is divided into 7 zones: Two were named A and B; Three with the directions, east, west,

and north and two had no names; we call them new zone and hill city zone. We are fourteen

persons in our group; two will be in charge of each zone and we will inform the people orally.”

*****
The Day D arrived. The male singers must have to arrange the priest’s house so that father J.

could come to live there temporarily. They let me practise the harmonium in the church so that I

would be ready to play for the first time at the Assumption mass. After lunch, some of them went

looking for father J. There were some female comrades busy cooking lunch for Fr J. in among of

his household appliances.. Thu (autumn) helped me to train for the accompaniment of the songs.

She sang over and over so that I could have repeated the same musical pieces. She told me:

“I wonder you had never practiced the piano or the harmonium before. How could you learn this art

so rapidly? After only ten days, you are able to play with both hands. You manage all chords. It is

magnificent!”

I explained it to her:
 68

“Sister Grace had taught me to determine first the key of the musical partitions. It is either major

key or minor key. Then she showed me how to set a chord. It is sufficient to use only three main

chords to accompany a song.”

She had not yet understood my explantion, she asked me:

“How could you have learned all chords in a week; as you play them well to accompany whatever I

had sung?”

I told her:

“Show me your hand. It has five fingers; you could use in order the thumb, middle and little finder to

form a chord, minor and major. For example, the chord C will be formed with C, E and G…”

She gave up:

“It is too complicated for me. I have to have lunch lunch now. ”

*****
It was only 5 p.m., there was already a crowd of more than two thousand people gathered around

the big tree in the field of the church domain. Son and his two friends brought the palanquin on

which they had fixed the statue of Virgin Mary. They had spent the whole afternoon cleaning it.

Hong had climbed up the tree to use the voice-pipe to speak loud. The sun was down; all

kerosene lamps were also lighted. They began a procession following the palanquin by praying

the chaplet, singing,… Son and I had walked in the last position to keep an eye on unexpected

things which might happen. The procession was too long so that when the palanquin had already

arrived at the grotto where father J. would say mass, we were still at the church. The place

around wasn’t spaces to hold all the people, many were standing overflowing on the road. Father

J. had perhaps begun the mass, but we could not follow him because the lack of sound. I had just

recognized two policemen mingling in the crowd…

“Get up!!! It was almost four o’clock.”

Hong tried to wake each of us. I rose with fatigue because I was very anxious and had worked

hard for the procession. I strode over the comrades who lay sleeping in disorder on the floor of
 69

the meeting room and the balcony. Yesterday, all male members had slept here in the parish’s

house. I went downstairs and came to the well; I scooped water out of it using a bucket and

poured cold water on my head. I needed to be ready to play the harmonium for the mass.
At 4 a.m., I arrived to the church, I met Mr. L. handicapped person, who rang the Church bell

every day. He stopped doing this since May, because of the interdiction of the new political

authority. He asked me:

“Brother, May I ring the bells?”

I answered him:

“Instead of ringing the bells as usual, I think we could get around the order forbidding it.”

We had wanted to make sound of the church’s bells. I asked him to search for a big drum-stick

that he had used for sometime at the solemn mass. We got together into the bell tower and we

pealed bells… Having stood up high in the bell tower, it was wonderfull to see a thousand lights

gleaming and moving in the direction to the church. I thanked God for this beautiful picture.

Enthusiastically, I made single strokes at the bell. They echoed like a pagoda. Its sounds were

base, deep and low, spreading like the waves in the space.
It was extraordinary! Although more than two thousands persons had been present at the

procession and vigil mass; the Christian people poured into church, they carried the kerosene

lamps and held small bunches of flowers from all country zones to the mass.. There were of

course not enough seats for everybody. The children, boys and girls were assembled in the

chancel. All people sang with all their hearts and souls. Their voices were perfectly in harmony.

The sound of the harmonium was the cry of crickets in comparison with the roar of the storm.

Nobody had paid attention to me, except sister Grace. She told me:

“You were playing very well. It is wonderfull to see your enormous progress.”

******
 70

15) A catastrophic event

I had closed the cover above the harmonium keyboard. My shirt was wet with sweat as it was

very hot in church which had been roofed with corrugated iron. I had passed the whole morning

behind this instrument. I enjoyed playing it. My fingers had moved with speed on the row of

white and black keys. After the Sunday mass, I asked my mother to come home for lunch; I felt

thirty and hungry now. I looked of church and saw the clock on the wall indicated 11 a.m. Having

locked the right door of church, I started at the sudden voice:

“Hi… I had just arrived here. I looked for you upstairs.”

I was surprised to see Thien (Heaven) now; our meeting scheduled would be this evening. She

looked sad. I said:

“I am going home for lunch. I have been here since early morning.”

She hesitated and told me:

“I wish to speak with you now. Will you take lunch with me? I bring foods for both of us.”

I had not wanted to refuse her invitation. I asked her to wait for me at the parish house then I

returned home in a hurry and warned my mother of my absence for lunch. I told her that I was

going fishing with my comrades.

We went together to the spring in the field. I had chosen a good spot, under the shadow of the

banyan-tree. I dropped the fishing line in the water and sat down with Thien. We began our

lunch. She said:

“You know, my sister will not come to the meeting tonight. She wanted to quit because she is in love

with someone. I am afraid to come alone to the meeting, but I don’t want to leave the choir… I

began to love our group,… with you.”

I kept silence. In reality, I was very clumsy in this new circumstance. I watched attentively the

float that indicated when a fish is caught. She asked me:

“I hope you don’t might my talk.”

I answered her:
 71

“Not at all, tell me your family?”

I listened attentively to her. Sometimes, I got up to raise my fishing rod to disengage a nice

crucian-carp. I was quite moved by her story. She was a twin born and lived in Hueê . Her parents

were shopkeepers. On March 22, the Vietnam people Army 2 opened a siege against this Vietnam's

third-largest city. Manyf people death on the run, her family had gone to the airport in the hope

of escaping by plane. They hustled in the midst of crowd. She and the twin were lost in the press.

Their parents and brothers would have successed to get into a cargo-plane. They had returned

home with immense fear and deception. A cousin of her family had come looking for and brought

them into their boat hired from a fisher man. For the lack of diesel, the boat had left all of them at

Cam Ranh Bay. Their cousin family had continued to flee South with the Army of Republic of

Vietnam. They stayed at Cam Ranh city, on the road for ten days. Happily, a female cousin had met

them by chance at Ba Ngoi. They had followed her until now. She missed her family, parents and

brothers. She wondered where they would be now. The sun began to set. I gave her the key of the

parish’s house and said:

“Please open our meeting room and wait for me there. I bring these fishes to my home and will

come back soon… I believe you like mangos?”

*****
We all had regretted that Thua was not present; as we were very proud of the success thanks to

our group. Dung, looked worried, and warned us of what he had suspected:

“As I arrived here, I saw two persons looking at our meeting room. Do the police begin to observe us

discreetly? Will you postpone all our meetings?”

I was very vexed by his remark and suggestions. Some part of me was anxious, and wanted to

cancel all meetings; but some other part of me was headstrong, and wanting not to give up our

2
The Vietnam People's Army (VPA) is official name for the armed forces of the Socialist Republic of
Vietnam. During the Second Indochinese War (Vietnam War) (1957–1975), the U.S. incorrectly
referred to it as the North Vietnamese Army (NVA), or People's Army of Vietnam (PAVN) and this
term is commonly found throughout Vietnam War-related subjects.
 72

work. I was continued to hope that I could work with friends, for the church and for people. What

would we do without singing, meeting with friends, sharing joy and sadness?...
The silence invaded the meeting room. We all looked worried. We hadn’t sung as usual. I got up to

put out the mantle lamp and lighted only a kerosene lamp. To ease the tense situation, I asked

Dung:

“Please take your guitar; each one will sing a song.”

At midnight, it was late; we left one by one from the meeting room for fear of being noticed by

someone. I looked at Thien and said:

“Don’t worry. I will walk with you to home.”

*****
I blew out the kerosene lamp and asked Thien to go downstairs. We went out of the church yard

and went on the road. We were walking together in silence and groping in the dark along the way.

There was no moonlight tonight. Some weak starlight helped us to move easily. The night was

quite we could hear the frogs croaking loudly from the paddy fields. I had a feeling that we were

not alone on the road, there is appeared to be someone following us. I grasped Thien’s hand to

hurry her walking quickly. Her house was situated on right side of the main road conducting to

Cam Ranh and there is on the same side the military administration Committee’s hall as well.
We approached at the crossing road, near her home, two militiamen stopped and interrogating

us. They then took us to the Committee’s hall, kept us in a small room; they tied us with the rough

ropes. Then they pushed us onto the floor, they got out the room and locked the door. In the

darkness I heard Thien sobbing her heart out. I tried to move approaching her. I asked her to lean

her back against mine. Once more, I found myself again in the complicated situation. I searched

some appropriated words to assure her:

“Don’t be afraid! They will release us tomorrow. We are not forbidden to return home in the night.

We are neither in the wrong nor have committed any crime.”

I tried to hold a conversation with her until the morning. My eyes had a pricking sensation from

lack of sleep. I saw some rays of the new sun crossing through the chinks in a door. I heard the
 73

people talking in other rooms. The door opened a young man came to untie Thien. Before getting

out of room, she bent down to talk in a whisper in my ear:

“I am very happy to be here with you over night. Be careful.”

*****
I fell into sleep because of fatigue. When I got up, I was thirty and I wanted to go to pee. It was

about ten o’clock, but nobody had paid attention to me. I tried to move near the door. I knocked

at the door with my feet. A man came, opening the door. He looked furious, he said testily:

“What’s the matter with you?”

I answered him:

“I need to go to the toilet. Or else I will pee here.”

He called his colleague who appeared gentler. This young man led me to the back of the main

house. He untied me and pointed at the toilet. After that, he took me to another room. I had

surprised; my friends, the five founders of the choir, having sat on the ground, looked mournful.

Their eyes lighted up as they saw me.

According to them, the police and militiamen had watched for us around the meeting room. They

had followed each one and caught us one by one on the road. All female singers, and two other

males, were set free in the early morning. We had known our lot. I told them:

“The police seemed to change their method. They let us get hungry and thirsty before interrogation.

I think we will be summoned soon, perhaps in the afternoon.”

As I had foretold, at 2 p.m., a man opened the door and called all of us to the main desk. The

president of the military administration’s Committee came to speak to us. He said:

“We are not satisfied with all of you. You had not understood the revolution of our country. We

become now a people of liberty. You have to help us to build our nation again who had been

ravaged by the American empire. My daughters and sons are also young like you, but they spent

their time to struggle against all bad custom of the old society. You had assembled, male and female

young people, to sing the bad vestiges of the old society…”

 74

I was unable to express my anger; I raised my hand to contradict his words. Hong, sitting by my

side, held my hand, as he knew my attitude, he was afraid that we would risk being kept here.

The president spoke for a long time… Two hours later, he called to his subaltern colleague to

bring blank papers. He said:

“Write down your confession of all wrongs which you had committed. Do not forget to notice all

person who were relate to your group.”

Then he let us work on the floor of the room. At 5 p.m., he came along with two others. They took

our texts and read them attentively. I had written exactly ten lines. The three last ones were my

excuse not to be talented in literature. I had a very weak standard of composition (essay).
He finished by setting us free. But he had decided to give us an appropriate correction. He said:

“You all will be sent to the common field to contribute two weeks of socialist work.”

*****
 75

16) In the socialist labor field

On Sunday 24th August, it was still oppressively hot. In the morning, the thermometer indicated

39 degree. My mother was mending a backpack that had been ripped. I brought her all what she

had asked me to look for: military boots, first-aid kit, trousers, t-shirts and kettle,… She

expressed her worries:

“You will perhaps be very hot in the mountain area. Be careful. Always boil the water for drinking.

It is malaria environment. ”

In fact, all members of our group were presented at committee house in the afternoon. We would

be driven to the public socialism labor field in order to work for one week. This area was still a

tropical thick forest between two chains of mountain which had been a secret zone of the

communist soldiers. It was located behide the immense paddy-fields cultivated by the “Nung”, an

ethnic minority group having come from China. My mother had imagined that we would live in a

dead area called “sacred forest, noxious water” by Vietnamese people. She was right to warn me

to drink the water that had not been boiled in the kettle. She had also worried, because there was

no mosquito-net at home. She asked me:

“How can you be protected from dangerous mosquitoes?”

As I was a former scoutboy; a good idea had just flashed through my mind. I told her:

“You know, in our kitchen garden, there were many citronellas. They had been used to chase all

insects away from our tent when I had camping.”

Indeed, my mother had used them as condiments in her cooking. Specially, I could have not

forgotten the “Bun Bo”, the famous vermicelli’s dish of the Hueê people. I remembered that she

had stewed the beef’s bones for few hours in the boiling water added citronella with hot chili

pepper. Having thought of this delicious food, I stared at the sudden question of my mother:

“How will you use it?”

I answered her:
 76

“It is easy to turn them into a kind of balm. I will cut them into very thin slices; then I chop them up.

Finally, I press that product to obtain perfume oil which I will put on my face and skin before

sleeping.”

*****
When I arrived with Dung at the yard of the committee hall; all female members were already

present. These former town-dwellers wore a conical hat made of palm-leaf. I could not have

recognized anyone as their face was wholly veiled. They would fear to be sunburned. A person

came giving me a military cap and said:

“You are not careful. You may risk of getting suns burnt.”

I recognized Thien’s voice, I thanked her and I cracked a joke:

“You risk dying of suffocation with your voile.”

Two soldiers drove us to the labor field, about ten kilometers away from the village. When we

reached it, the evening had set in. There were two rows of cottages on the hill beside the forest.

They told us:

“All female takes up the residence cottages on the left and the male people take on the right.”

A hundred young people welcomed us with joy. There were young men and women who had

come from Cam Ranh city to offer their free time to the public work, according to the president of

the labor-yard. In reality, the Military Administration’s Committee of the Cam Ranh County had

sent them here as a punishment. Each of us occupied a small place in the cottage. We tried to

negotiate with the others so that our group would be together. Dung searched for a bamboo pillar

to hang his guitar. I showed him a harmonica that my mother had given me before my departure

which is belonged to my eldest brother. A staff person gave each of us a dry provisions cube and

two cylindrical manioc cakes for dinner. Each group of ten or fifteen people occupied a spot on

the hill and sat in circle. Son collected dried branches and made them into light. The fire crackled

joyfully and cheered us into the night. We shared food with one another. We cooked rice and

boiled the water in the kettle. We put dried cylindrical manioc cakes apart. They were very hard,
 77

wretched and uneatable. We were satisfied with our tinned foods. I put some tea leaves into the

kettle in order to lose the smell of mud in the water from the pond. Thieê n gave me some sweets.

Thuong borrowed my harmonica and began to play some melancholy music, the melody that I

had already heard in the western American film. Dung went looking for his guitar. The people of

the other circle came around behind us; they wanted to sing with us. A young woman staff came

hastily to warn us:

“I suppose that you know our rules. It is forbidden to sing all love-songs of the American and

quisling regime. We now have many nice ones, the revolutionary songs, sound musical words…”

We lacked enthusiasm. We knew only some boring songs such as “Day ma di” (Rise and go) or

“Truong Son Dong, Truong Son Tay” (East mountain’s long chain and West mountains’ long chain)

that related the love story of the female soldier in the east mountain who thought of her lover

soldier in the west mountain. At 9 p.m., the woman staff obliged all of us to return to our cottage

to sleep. She said:

“Go to sleep now. You have to be healthy to work hard tomorrow;”

Before leaving, Thien asked me:

“It seems you have no mosquito-net? Will you take mine, because I could share it with my sister? In

other words, I could sleep with her.”

I answered her:

“Thank you very much. I do not need the mosquito-net; as I have the citronella oil that will protect

me from all insects.”

*****
I could not sleep all night. A herd of mosquitoes hovered over my face. They had made noise at

my ears. And I had just a wink of sleep when the cock crowed. At five o’clock, a person came to

wake us up with his bell. I added the water into my kettle and heated it with some tea leaves.

Some of us were not fully awake. We had no time to brush our teeth as we had to be ready for 6

a.m. then I went to put my dungaree on and returned to the kettle to take some tea. All my
 78

comrades came and said good morning. Their eyes looked red as they would have a prickling

sensation from lack of sleep or from crying. Thuong looked at my military boots that belonged to

my father, he said:

“They are a little bigger than your feet. But they will protect you well in this forest.”

We were divided into small groups of five or six worker. Each group was guided and

superintended by a “foreman”, in fact, it was a young man or woman of the staff whose mission

consisted to prevent worker from idling away their time. Each must use their bush-hook skillfully

to cut down all the bushes before us. We progressed into the forest. We must chop the trees to

make our way through. Other groups came following us to gather all branches and dragged them

away. The thorny bushes made my hands scratched and bleeded. At 10 a.m., we were quite

soaked with sweat. I told my worker colleagues:

“Are you tired? We can stop cutting for a moment.”

I went and sat down by side of my “forewoman”. I took my water-can to drink at a stretch and

then I stroke up a conversation with her:

“Why do we open this future way?”

She was an open-hearted person; she explained to me:

“It is not the future road. We are between two chains of mountain. The project of the hydro-

committee consists in building a big dam to create a lake, the future reservoir which will supply all

the paddy fields of our area more water. The distance from this point to the other measure is one

kilometer.”

I pointed at the big trees far out in the forest. I asked her:

“Who will cut down these big trees? Many animals will lose their environment.”

She answered me:

“You are right. I do not like to damage our forest. Tomorrow, professional workers will come sawing

these big trees.”

 79

Laê m (her name signified forest) had not yet finished her school years; however, she wished to

become a future forester. Her father was a communist who had been living near Cam Ranh. She

then allowed all of us to rest from our labor hard. At eleven o’clock, we began to eat our dried

cube food. Some black snakes were crept into the pile of branches. We worked again at two

o’clock until the sunset. All men plunged into the pond and the women washed themselves

discreetly under the running stream between the stones.

*****
I lay down on the ground in a corner of the cottage rows. I felt very dizzy like I was falling down

from the cloud. The house seemed turning round quickly. I was feeling unwell. This afternoon,

Thien had not gone working with the other she was look after me. She touched my forehead and

said worriedly:

“Your forehead is very hot. I had cooked a bowl of rice soup for you.”

I asked her to look for some pills in my backpack. She helped me to seat up and eat some soup

and made me take the pills with water. My head was very heavy so that I could not remember

anything. I asked Thien:

“Please tell me what happened to me?”

She said:

“You were bitten by a poisonous snake, perhaps a copperhead. Lâm, the responsible of your group,

had looked for Dung. Finally, all our friends had rushed toward you, lying unconscious on the

ground, and tried to give a first aid. Having tied your right leg with a cord, Dung opened your

snakebite at the heel of your right foot with a sharp knife and tried to suck out poisonous blood. He

did that several times as he was afraid that you will die. Everyone would have liked to stay here

with you, but the staff had allowed only one person of our group to look after you. They all had to

go working.”

I began to remember what had been happened this morning. I was very sad not to see my

military boot which I had put in a corner where I slept. The people had stolen my precious

possession. I had not listened Thuong who had already warned me that the people could take my
 80

boots. He had advised me to hide them wherelse. I had gone to work by a barefoot. I walked by

inadvertence on the black snake, then I felt a great ache at a heel of my right foot. I told her:

“You are my guardian angel, thank you very much. I think I had not been bitten by copperhead as I

was still alive. It was perhaps a krait.”

In the evening, everyone returned from their work. They were very worried to see me in

delirium. They poured cold water on my forehead to reduce the temperature. Hong had gone

calling for the president of the public labour’s field. He had decided not to leave me here. He told

my comrades:

“Tomorrow, a bull-carriage will come here. Your friend will be carried to his home. One of you will

accompany him.”

In spite of their fatigue, my friends in turn looked after me over the night. When the carriage

pulled by an ox, they put me inside and Thien came along with me.
*****

17) An unexpected return

The primary school would open on Monday September 15. My brother would have to go to the

school at Cam Ranh city as he was in year 9 th. For a whole week, I went fishing every day in order

to kill my spare times and ruminated about what had happened. I fished in the canals along the

way leading to the mountain. These irrigated all paddy-fields. I sometime caught the gudgeons,

with their shining grey white scales, swimming against the flow. There were also anabases living

in the rice-fields. My basket was heavy full of fishes. Where the current was strong, there were

big and beautiful gudgeons. I was feeling like these fishes, I could have not leaned on the current;

I walked against the wind. However, I was very lucky. The fire had not consumed me. The adder

poison had not killed me. For six months, I had grown rapidly; it was not in size but in mind. I

was only sixteen years old but I was able to resist a new power. I was suddenly afraid to think of

Thien who seemed to love me but I appeared to be always carefree. During that week when I was
 81

confined in bed she came and spent time with me every day. I felt the loss of books in the parish

house, the harmonium in the church, the meeting with all friends…
*****
At four o’clock, on the road toward my house; I met my brother who had been sent to look for me.

He said:

“Come home hastily. Mum waits for you at home.”

When I arrived at the gate of our garden, my mother and sisters spoke to me quickly:

“A soldier has just come here telling me that your father is now in the Administration Committee

hall. He was set free.”

I asked my brother to call Dung to go with me to the Adminstration Committee hall. Some other

cousins were also come. My mother was joyful, but she also looked worries. She said alone:

“If he had been released, why didn’t he go home?”

We rushed to be on the road and reached the administration committee hall. A police man

received us at the door. He guided my mother into his desk; he asked her to sign a paper and

came to us and said:

“Mr. T. has granted a reduction of his reeducation, thanks to the revolution’s tolerance. After three

months, I hope he becomes a new person.”

Then he let some of us into the room where I had been two weeks ago. My father was lying on the

ground, only skin and bone, wearing ragged clothes and could not get up. He seemed very sick.

He asked for some water...

My mother quickly organized the first paramedics. She had his head learn in her arm and she

made him drink water in which she has dissolved some antibiotics. Then she gave him some

sugars. In the meantime, I left the room and went to my father’s cousin house on the other side of

the road. He had lent me a hammock. Then he found a bamboo palanquin and came along with

me to the Committee Hall. We helped my father into the hammock and carried him to his house.

On the road, many people came to greet my father. They formed an impressive suite…
*****
 82

My father was confined to bed throughout the week. He began to rise from bed and my mother

had helped him to sit in the wheelchair. He told us that he felt still dizzy but we saw him

improving. All neighbors paid him a visit but they did not stay long so as he could rest. They

brought him eggs, tins of condensed milk, honey, oranges which were high-priced in this period.

His old friends hoped to come again to discuss the current event, but he was always quiet. Two

weeks before, he had come near to death as he had dysentery. The jail keepers had let him die

alone in a corner of the ranch of 8 and 5 meters where fifty persons returned to sleep every

evening. Some prisoner colleagues had pity on him and in spite of their fatigue because of

working in the field and under an aggressive sun they had looked after him with the natural

medicine. Thanks this human solidarity, he had survived all perils. The director of the

reeducation camp, who had not wanted to see him dying there, signed his release order.
*****
On Monday 8 September, it was the Blessed Virgin’s Nativity Day, my father wished to have a

mass at home to thank the mother of Christ as she had supported him throughout the past few

months. He had prayed to her every day. He had wondered if father J. could agree to say

thanksgiving mass in our sitting-room. Three days before, I had suddenly remembered that the

Nativity of Mary was the patron saint of Stella Maris, the seminary of Dung and Son. Thanks to

this, three of us had succeeded in persuading father J. to celebrate this mass at my house.
At five p.m., a hundred people had already assembled in the yard and veranda floor. My mother

had only invited relatives and neighbors. All members of our choir were present in the sitting-

room where we had prepared a beautiful altar with white and blue pastel tablecloth and many

flowers. I had borrowed the mantle lamp of the parish house to brighten the house. Hong and

Thuong came along with father J. My father walked limping because of his broken leg to welcome

them. All the people were emotional. The priest was moved to see the faithful of his parish. He

led my father into the sitting-room.

After mass, the people stayed to share with us the feast. My father invited them to sit down on

the floor as we had not enough chairs for all. The women, cousins and neighbors, came to help

my mother in the kitchen. Each one brought some dishes to share with others. Yesterday, my
 83

cousins had killed a big dog which my mother had fed up in the hope of earning some money for

the family’s budget. But my father had asked his wife to offer him this animal in order to

entertain his friends. For the first time since April, we heard the people laughing away their fears.

Between whiles, two strange men entered the crowd asking for my father. One of them, it was Mr.

Truong Xuaê n (forever spring), the former director of the primary school. All guests suddenly

stopped their conversation. Having understood their caution, Mr. Forever Spring come greeted

father J. and shook the hand of my father. Then he turned to the people to speak:

“Don’t be afraid. We are not the police men. Our primary school will begin a new term on Monday

15 September. We come to ask Mr T., my friend and also your cousin, to teach our young children

again.”

I saw my father being emotional. He wept tears of joy.

*****
My father’s friends began to assemble again to discuss the current events. They took more

security precautions; they reduced the volume of their wireless radio to listen to the VOA or BBC.

My father had been cautious not to narrate so much of what had experienced in the reeducation

camps. Little by little, he again gained the confidence of his friends; he began to tell some events

of his imprisonment life. According to him, the A 30 was a very spacious mountain area in the

Tuy Hoa district. This camp received many categories of prisoners; the great parts of its residents

were the officers and the civilian cadre of the South; however, there were also a lot of young men

and women, caught because of their failure to escape by boat. All of them were considered the

enemies of the people. As soon as he arrived the reeducation camp, having gotten out the

military truck, he was as their colleagues of prisoners, made to sit down in rows on the hot soil to

listen the first lesson. Each must have taken an exercise book to write down the intramural

regulations. A political agent started the meeting with a historic discourse concerning all the

victories of the Vietnamese people. Following, another person wearing military uniform had

changed his tune; he had spoken threatening tones. My father asked me to look for his exercise
 84

book hidden under his pillow. Then I was required to read the text that had been carefully noted

by my father:

“Never forget that you are culpable components of the People. Throughout many years, you had

lent a hand to the quisling Army to repress our innocent compatriots. You are worthy of capital

condemnation. However, with the policy of tolerance, the Party and the Revolution want to

transform you into new people. You now have a unique opportunity to become a good citizen

thanks to the re-education program. Be involved in the re-education program and apply yourselves

to all tasks. Take out of your heart all mawkishly family nostalgic. Be content to stay here until the

further decision of Revolution who will recognize your progression to be able to serve the people.

You must execute seriously all interior regulations. You must dominate all defects and fight against

wrong attitudes of your colleagues. In other words, you must denounce in time all reactionary

people, inside or outside of the camp…

I stopped my reading and said:

“I could not continue to read it. This text has made me angry.”

My father changed his story. The residents were divided into small unit of twenty, superintended

by five men armed with AK 47. They were ready to kill any rebellious individual. Every morning,

at five o’clock, except Sunday, they had to work in different fields until midday. Each person

received two cylindrical manioc cakes and a small dried sardine for lunch. At one o’clock, they

had to work again until five p. m. It was a great chance for people having worked in the field near

a flowing spring. They could wash themselves before returning to their barrack. For the other,

there were only a very deep well to share. They had waited their turn to have a sip of water every

one hour. In the evening, each person was provided a bowl of manioc soup for dinner. They were

conducted by a group of armed soldiers to their ranch of 20 square meters. The soldiers locked

all doors and nobody could get out during the night. The prisoners had to use their seal for a pee

and excrements if they could not retain themselves. Three times a week, they were resembled in

a great field to listen to some revolution lessons…

 85

However, my father had not told all the facts. When some of his friends had taken leave, he

continued his dramatic story:

“When the jail keepers had knew that I had not gone working, he came instantly to my bed, in

reality it was not a bed, but there was only a sedge mat put in a corner of the barrack; he told me:

‘You are still in the blood debt before the people, but our Party and government had exempted you

from the death penalty. You pretend to be sick because you are lazy. You didn’t understand the

tolerance of the Revolution and you have transgressed the intramural regulations…”

My father stopped his talking because of his deep emotion. A moment later, he continued:

“This guy ordered two jail keepers to put a cord on my neck and pulled me like a dog out the

barrack. All co-residents of my barrack rushed together to be against this inhuman act. The director

of the camp happened to be present. He recognized himself that I was really ill. ”

In fact, all prisoners had got the dysentery. The stronger men survived. The weaker would be let

in the jaws of Death.

******
 86

18) A memorably picnic

At the end of September, the weather was nice. The rain had eased up abit. After the Sunday

mass, I wanted to stay on for a few minutes alone in the church. The sun began to appear

announcing a very beautiful day. I sat again to play the harmonium; all comrades of the choir

came back into church as they had heard the music of this sweet instrument. We missed one

another very much as we had temporally stopped our meeting. I suddenly wished to pass this

beautiful Sunday with all friends of our group. We hadn’t been gathered for three weeks. It was

such a long time. I told them:

“Would you like to go for a picnic today?”

They were surprised by my suggestion; Son agreed:

“It is very good idea. We will go to Ha Thanh where there were many beautiful coconut-palms

orchard by the side of the beach.”

I suddenly remembered I had an old comrade whose family had been living there. Some years

ago, I had played drump sometime with him under the coconut palms. We immediately began a

mini meeting; we could not easily prepare for it. Everybody should return home quickly and

would come back here with their picnic gears. I looked at Thien and told her:

“Can you ask your sister if she wants to come with us?”

She was very happy at my sugession. Her eyes were sparkling with joy. She said:

“I do not know if she agrees to be with us. Anyhow, I must be with you all. I will tell you important

news today.”

We left the church. Thien came to grab at me and told me in a whisper:

“Don’t worry about your picnic items. I would like to prepare all things for the two of us.

Furthermore, I have a pretty cap to offer you. I will not need to come back here, because my house is

situated on the main road to Cam Ranh.”

*****
 87

The crowd of bikes flocked to the church yard on time. We rode by a long line following each

other. Nobody was on the road at the time except us. The people in the village would be happy to

see again a group of young joyful people enjoy this beautiful Sunday, as they seemed to be

forbidden of hope in the future. From time to time, we met some cows grazing quietly on the

roadside. The morning wind blew the red dust of the pathway. We approached Cam Ranh city. We

rested at the three ways crossroads, on the left there was a small market town where I had been

several times for selling the mangos. On the right, it was the direction to Phan Rang, the road

leading to our coconut-trees orchard. We wanted to pay a visit to this small city, as, since the

collapse of the old regime. The townhouses situated on two sides of the national highway still

had all traces of the bombs and bullets. Some were destroyed. Some others were empty. The

houses owners were perhaps in another city or in the country. The old stores had disappeared…

The town people looked disappointed. We looked at the public high school, my former school,

deserted and desolated. Some cows and goats were grazing hayed grass in the playground. At the

gate, the metal place covered the sign indicating the name of the high school had been peeled and

there was still only hanging the wooden frame. Some bombs had been dropped in the

residencequarter, like a big chessboard, where many small townhouses of the same architectural

model had been built in straight rows. Some were also in ruins because of the recent war. We

wanted to stroll in a ghost city. The greatest part of population had already left the place. We did

not know where they were now…

Finally, we changed our direction. We turned toward Ba Ngoi, after the bridge, we turned on the

left, riding on the rough pathway. The wild beach appeared in front of us. I told my friends to sit

in the beautiful place, on which the stones were in disorder and in the way blended with the

sand, absolutely white as the salt. In the meanwhile, I went searching the house of my former

school comrade, his father is a fisherman, was owner of the wide coco-palms’ orchard. Thieê n,

having thrown her bike on the sand, asked the others to keep an eye on her belongings, came in a

hurry with me going toward the fishing village. We were walking carefully on the small dikes of
 88

the salt-marshes. She held my hand to avoid not falling into the salt-water. When we reached the

pathway; she walked hand in hand with me; she began to tell me in confidence:

“I had just been in contact with my parent. They are now in Long Khanh, not far from Saigon. They

got into a plane with their three children. They landed in emergency at Saigon. They were there

three weeks in that big City without knowing anyone to lean on. They had witnessed a triumphant

arrival of communist Army to Saigon. They could not have left the country by boat without us. They

had decided to go to the Long Khanh province where they just bought a house with small farm and

a garden. Thanks to the people being native in our country, they had found us. We will join them

soon.”

She kept silence in a moment and asked me:

“Will you be sad if I can’t be here?”

I had not expected for this question, I hesitated to speak. I suddenly recognized the house of my

former comrade. I saw him lying fully stretched out on the veranda floor.
*****
Like a monkey, Son climbed easily onto coconut trees. He had chopped some bunches of coconuts

and let them drop down. We were afraid to see him moving from one tree to another thanks to a

solid rope. Thy, my former comrade was very generous. He told us to pluck as much as that we

wanted. But we did not abuse his good nature; we asked Son to come down as there were

sufficient for us. He hung on to a palm and swung down to a sand hill. He told us:

“The sea seems to be full of fishes. Being above, I saw many big mullets hovering between the

mangroves.”

Thy excited to propose to us:

“Wait a moment. Someone go home with me to look for some fishing tackles. I will teach you how to

catch some mullets.”

He returned to the orchard with three bamboo fishing-tools and a basket. They were conical in

shape. The top was a round mouth of 10 cm of diameter and the bottom was more spacious, 30

cm of diameter. While all female friends were busy with the meal that we had collected, Son and
 89

two of his friends prepared a simple cook hot-spot with fish. We took off our trousers and shirts

go into the water. Two by two, we waded to make a plashing noise. We through our fishing tackle

into waters for sometime, many fishes wriggled violently in the water. Thy acquainted with this

kind of fishing, he had caught twenty grey white mullets, fresh and ready to grill. We returned

Thy’s house to take a bath and put on our clothes before joining our friends for lunch under the

coconut orchard.
*****
The fire prepared by Son was scorching hot. He was waiting for our good hand of fishes. Three

meters away, on the canvas, a beautiful multicolor picture had been drawn with several

concentric circles. The middle point was a big pomelo, regionally famous for its taste. The first

circle, one meter away, was formed by small heaps of glutinous rice, dyed red with a northern

fruit, and put on each lotus leaf; the following circle the green one was decorate of kind of

glutinous rice cooked with green peas. I was amazed by the third circle; many grilled turtle dove;

partridges, cock of the wood, looked attractive. Son, talented hunter, having used his cross-bow,

had skilled them as they built their nest on the coconut trees. The green and yellow brown

coconut made the last circle. We very much liked their nectar, the coco-milk. I suddenly

remembered that I had brought two big bags of mangos, the last fruits of the season.
Thy was interested to hear our stories. We reviewed all the events that had occurred in the past

six months. The joyful day seemed to forewarn us of an uncertain future. The sea resounded with

all murmurs of the waves beating on the sands which were as an invitation to melancholy.

Thuong borrowed my harmonica, his melody kept pace with the wind:

“Sông vô mien man nhu cau ca dao cua me diu dang…” (The wave resounded unceasingly as a folk-

song of the sweet mother…)

Thu (autumn) asked Dung to accompany her. She, the eldest of our group, raised her beautiful

voice to sing a song by NGO Thuy Mieê n having been composed to music by Nguyeê n Sa poem:

“Nang Saigon anh di ma chot mat, boi vi em mac ao lua Ha Dong. Anh van yeu mau ao ay vo cung,

anh van yeu mau ao ay vo cung. Anh van nho em ngoi day toc ngan. Ma mua thu dai lam o chung
 90

quanh…” (Walking under the Saigon sun, I suddenly feel fresh, as you wear Ha Dong’s silken dress. I

forever like this color dress; I forever like this color dress. I still remember you were here with short

hair; but the autumn was around me very long…)

My friends continued to sing the songs which had been forbidden. Although nobody else was

around near us, I feared that it would behave as a killjoy, I told them:

“Why don’t we walk on the nice beach? We make some footraces. Thirty years after, we will perhaps

remember it; the former place will be always here.”

Thien entreated me to listen to her last song:

“Tomorrow, you leave from here; the sea still remembers your name to call back. To call the

mournful soul as a weeping willow; to call the white sands beach in the deep night…”

*****
In the afternoon, being lulled by the wind-sea, some young men lay stretched on the sand

gloomily sleeping. Thuong watched out far in the ocean. Dung continued to play his guitar to

accompany some female singers. I would have liked to offer the rest of the mangos to Thy

parents. I asked him to go to his house with me. Having been attracted by Thien, he requested

me:

“May I ask Thien to go with us?”

His parents received us with joy. His father invited us to drink some tea and narrated their family

stories. His son had spoken often of me as the best student of the high school. He wished him not

to carry on his work. His fishing boat was strictly contralled by the Revolutionary power, as if he

was its partisan. Thy had tried to show Thien his fishing boat, all fishing equipments. She looked

impatient to leave here. She finished by asking me:

“Could we go back to the orchard? Our friends wonder perhaps why you stay here such a longtime.”

I thanked Thy one more time and his parents for welcoming us to his coconut orchard. We bade

them leave. When we were on the pathway toward the orchard, she told me:

“Please do not return to the coconut orchard. I would like to walk with you on the beach.”
 91

We sat down on the warm sand and Thien began to give me her confidence. She waited my

response to her question that she had put to me. I felt absolutely very clumsy to answer her and I

kept silent. Despite my attitude, she continued to talk:

“I am quite happy to see my parents and brothers again. We will leave here by Monday. However, I

feel very very sad. I have a feeling of losing something so precious that I never possessed. In the past

five months, a thousand things have happened to me. But one that I wish to happen had not

accurred. You are all for me. You are entering into my heart for ever. And you, what do you think of?

I was voiceless. I hadn’t expected that. I looked at the ocean’s waves. I searched for some words

to answer her:

“You know, me too, I will soon go to Nha Trang because I have just received good news from my

diocese. With Dung, Son and all friends, we could again study. I’m very happy to meet you. I wish

you to be happy in the future. I wish you could go again to the high school.”

I heard Thien crying discreetly. She gave me a paper and returned alone to the coconut-trees

orchard. It was a very nice poem. I read it:

“You are the sea and I’m like a small boat.

One day, the boat was seduced by the freedom of the sea.

A thousand of dreams appear and disappear.

Be travelling through all oceans,

The desire boat is great as the sea is immense.

It is ever flowing but the sea is no limit.

The boat can’t live without sea.

I have not yet left you; my heart is already in storm.”

*****
 92

19) Preparation for departure

On Monday morning September 22nd, we were once more present at the military administration

Committee. This time, we had not been summoned by them but we came asking a kind of the

passport paper that would allow us to go to Nha Trang for our study, as all movement from town

to town were strictly controlled by the Revolution. I anxiously watched the clock on the wall, it

was already ten o’clock. Dung had come to meet me at six o’clock. We had made an arrangement

with Son at six thirty a.m. here. The office began to open at seven o’clock. They were surprised to

see us waiting in the yard. A woman soldier had received us at her desk but she had not

understood our requests. She wondered why we must go to study in Nha Trang while our

families were living here. She asked her colleagues what meant the word of seminary but no one

could not explain it to her. Finally, she told us to wait for the president of the committee who

would come perhaps to his office this morning. In reality, the communist government wanted to

make an inventory on the people and control all their movements and acts. If someone had to

move to another province by an absence from home or received friends/relatives in their house,

they must go to register declare the curriculum vitae of their guest at the Administration

Committee office. I impatiently asked the military women at the desk:

“How long could we wait here?”

She answered me irritably:

“Return to the waiting-room. I don’t know when the chairman will come here. He is very busy.”

I came back to the waiting room and held a conversation with Dung. I was anxious to see Son

arrive. I asked him:

“Why hasn’t Son come here yet? You know, we have been here since 7 o’clock”

Yesterday, at our picnic, we had known that some friends had given up their study. Hong (Rouge)

and Hoc (Study) lacked of support to their future study. Thuong hadn’t wanted to return Quy

Nhon, his diocese; furthermore, he was the eldest son of his family; he could not leave his family

in this circumstance. Dung shared my worry about Son:

 93

“I think Son must give up his studies; A lot of obstacles are now before him. Like Thuong, he is the

eldest of his family, his father is in the reeducation camp and his mother is ill.”

We held our conversation until eleven; a soldier woman came talking us:

“You have to leave here. The office will be closed now. Come again in the afternoon.”

As we were near Thien’s aunt house; I asked Dung to drop in to visite our friends, the twin sister.

We passed the house, its door was open but no one was present. We entered the garden; a young

girl washing the clothes by the side of the well looked at us as she wanted to ask about

something. We approached to ask her:

“We would like to meet your cousins, Thien and her sister?”

She suddenly recognized me and said:

“I am alone at home. My parents went with my cousins to Long Khanh this morning. They will

return home tomorrow. Thien had written a letter for you.”

******
I had pity for Son’s mother. She was confined in bed three days ago. She looked very sick and her

face was pale. She appeared to have typhoid fever as the weather was hot but she was feeling

very cold. Son covered his mother with several layers of blanket. Son tried to give his mother

some water with a small spoon. His brothers were gloomily sitting down in a corner. He told us

sadly:

“Mum is very ill. We have no more rice to cook soups for her. We only have some sweet potatoes for

our meals.”

His father had been an administrative master of our commune. He was considered as a

dangerous man for the revolutionary people. He now was in one of reeducation camps. Son,

himself did not know where his father was keept. The small paddy-rice in front of his house was

in fallow, some buffalo of the neighbor was soaking in the wet rice-field. As Son was a good

trapper, he could have caught cocks of the wood, duck-hawks, to nourish his younger brothers. In

the past, as his mother was sick, he could not have gone trapping… yesterday, when he came back
 94

home, he realized that his mother had been very feverish; her temperature was 39 degrees. He

had gone looking for Sister Grace who could give some medicines to his monther. His younger

brothers brought some hot sweet potatoes for lunch. He picked two out and gave them to us. He

said:

“They are very good these sweet potatoes, they have a buttery taste and sweet.”

I was touched. I remembered that he had cooked many delicious dishes for our picnic. I told

Dung:

“I could ask my mother for some kilos of rice. When we come again to the Administration committee

office this afternoon, I will bring it to Son.”

Dung agreed with me, he said:

“I still have some tinned-fishes; it should be useful to him.”

Son changed his conversation:

“Have you obtained your papers for Nha Trang? I think I must give up my vocation. I cannot predict

my future life; I know it will not be easy. How are about the twin sisters? Are they leaving here?”

We had the whole morning to discus our sad and bad things. We rose to take him leave. We had

finally obtained necessary administrative papers for the new beginning journey to Nha Trang

seminary. The president was acquainted with us, he was especially gentle. Having from profited

this opportunity, he had given us some moral politic lessons.

“I believe that you are the good young men. I wish you would become the future guides of the

people. Try to love our country and its revolution.”

*****
I walked along a small stream go to the rice field to looking for my father. After lunch, he had

taken his fishing-rod and got out the house to go fishing. For some time now, he had taught at

primary school in the morning. In the afternoon, he was free to do his own things he loved fishing

very much; he used to search a good spot by the side of streams to fish. He had caught many

catfishes, some tilapias, sometime he brought home even the big eels. I thought he had not gone
 95

too far. I arrived at the spot where he used to fish but he was not there. I sat down at the foot of a

tree. I remembered Thien’s letter. While waiting for my father, I would read it. I was surprised to

discover another poem without title:

I feel suddenly mature when I must leave this memorable summer.

My uncle had asked me why I have tears on my eyes.

Aren’t you joyful to see your parents again?

I try to smile, but my heart was as cut.

I always remember the days of this time.

I had a lot of pain but also many delights.

A love has just come into life,

It will go away from today.

Yesterday, I had shown joy and happiness.

My sister had asked me why I was crying.

I answered her dust dropping in my eyes.

She smiled: “perhaps, the sand dust of yesterday.

I have to smile so that my heart should be less heavy.

Around me, there is only the silent space.

I’m waiting for someone before my door.

The sad night, I have seen a lonely star.

*****

“What are you reading?” said my father.

He had returned but I had not paid attention.. He looked happy as he had caught five good size

catfishes. He said that he had just discovered another spring which seemed to have more fish. He
 96

asked me why I had not taken my fishing rod. In fact, I had not expected to fish the catfish which

were living in the stationary water; I preferred crucian-carps that swam against the current. I

asked him to sit down and talk. I began:

“I’m very happy to go again to Nha Trang. I wonder that our family could support my studies. If that

would be a heavy charge for the family, I could accept to break up my dream.”

My father was astonished to my question, he answered me:

“I had not had any opportunity to study as I had wanted. I had passed my French bachelor when I

had two children. That is to say, I was always a good self-educated. I had learned English when I

had been in the Army and I would like to learn Japanese now. I wish all my children to pursue to the

best of their study. Although we are now in the new situation, we have no more all means, but I do

not want to see them abandoning their way. I’m very happy that you can go on your study, because

you are very bright young men. I wish you to become a good priest.”

I asked him again:

“But I am not alone in our family. What do you think about my sisters and brother?”

He answered me:

“Your eldest sister, she is mathematics teacher, she had married. She hopes to teach again in her

high school. And your second sister, she is in the first years of the Nha Trang School of Pedagogy

when the communist arrived. I think she can’t return to Saigon city to finish her study. At the

moment, she stays at home and waiting the new opportunity for her way. Your brother had just

begun his high school at Cam Ranh.”

After a silent moment, he advised me:

“I hope you know a little bit about the communist. From this time forward, I wish you to be careful

and behave in your reaction to the new authority. You read often the bible; do you remember this

famous passage: ‘I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore be as shrewd as snakes

and as innocent as doves’ (Mt 10:16).”

 97

On the road toward home, he told me more about his life. He was born in the traditional

education; that meant Confucius education. To become a good person in the society, all boys had

to possess these virtues: humanity, ritual manner, loyalty, intellect and trust…
*****
 98

PART TWO
20) Seminary, the Beach and Nha Trang city

On Friday October 3rd; it was only ten o’clock, but the temperature reached 35 degree in the

shade. My shirt was already wet from sweat. We were waiting for the train in front of the former

railway station since seven a.m., the train tracks were deserted and damaged by years before. The

previous Sunday, I came with Dung to the main railway station “Nga Ba” (three way crossroads),

located in the commune where I had been attacked three months ago, to consult the railway time

table. The station keeper had told us the train would pass here the next day in the morning but

he could not give us its exact scheduled time. Some weeks ago, the new government had restored

the old railway network which had been abandoned during the war because of communist

soldiers attacked and mines were set along the tracks. Every few days, a train called the

“Revolution” ran from Ha Noi to Saigon. With Dung, we waited for the train returned from Saigon

to Ha Noi, which would stop at Nha Trang railway station. At eleven a.m., my brother came again

to the old railway station in order to see if we were still there. This morning, he and Dung’s

brother had given us a liff by bikes to here. We did not want to wait for the train at “three way

crossroads” as we thought we could catch the commuter train running 15 km an hour. My

brother told us:

“Because the train had not arrived yet, will you return home for lunch?”

I looked at Dung to seek his opinion. He said:

“If the train comes when we are at home, we could miss it.”

I thought of Duc, our choir member, whose mother had a goods stall in the market. His family

house situated in the same quarter. The commune market had begun its activities, but in the

middle of the day, all stalls were deserted. If we were at Duc’s house, we could watch the train

arriving. I asked my brother to return home, and we continued to wait for the train.
*****

“Hoooo….”
 99

The train’s whistle just sounded in the distance. We had to leave in hurry from the lunch with

Duc’s family. He helped us to pick up our hand bags running toward the track. Far out on the rails,

the train was advancing… When it passed by us, we tried to run as fast as possible after the cars

to catch the door bar in order to jump inside. Dung had got into one of the car, and I had

successfully climbed into the following one. Duc was quickly running after the train and threw

our luggages into the wagon. When he gathered the second bag to throw it on, the train had

passed; he was unlucky and had to leave it behind… I moved toward another car to find Dung. He

had recovered just one of the bags, he told me:

“You are unlucky. Your bag is left behind…”

I again found some comrades coming from Phan Thiet, Phan Rang and even Saigon. They also

received the invitation of our bishop to go to Nha Trang for the new school-year likes us. My

former seminary was different from Dung, named Stella Maris; it had been founded for all late

vocations; that was the reason why this seminary had taken many young men from the other

dioceses as well. Dung was very happy to meet his friends who have lived in Phan Rang. We got

together and occupied the whole car. One gave me a ball-point pen, an exercise-book, the other

some pants and shirts… as I would have come to the seminary by an empty-hand…
We arrived at the Nha Trang railway-station at three o’clock. The train traveled sixty kilometers

in three hours. I felt tired and sick. My friends helped me to get out and I fell flat on the ground.

The railway station was dirty and delapidated as that had been abandoned during the war. I tried

to sit down on the quay. Dung and some friends stayed in the main house to look after me, while

the others had shouldered their luggage and walked toward the new premises for the seminary.

Warned by the new arrivals, a young priest came searching for us by car at the railway-station; in

fact that the distance between two spots was only a kilometer.
*****
It was a boarding school managed by the sisters Daughters of Charity and their convent; about

six months ago after the fall of Sai Gon it was abandoned to have it running located at the foot of

the hill of the cathedral called “stone church” builded by the European style. Half of the sister’s
 100

property was requisitioned for the new republic high school. The Nha Trang bishop used the

other empty half of the establishment to assemble the young men who had studied at two

seminaries in his diocese in the 11th and 12th grade.

The first one, the Stella Maris was a great domain located by the seaside, in the middle of the

coconut-palm orchards, had been destined for the schoolboys from 6 th to 12th grades (junior

seminary). This beautiful house now received the seminarians of the Nha Trang diocese who had

been sent to four major seminaries of Vietnam in the big cities such as Da Nang, Hue, Da lat,

Saigon, being closed now after the April 75 event. As I have already mentioned, the other

seminary of the diocese called “Laê m Bich”, transcribed from the name of the first missionary

bishop, which founded for the belated vocations, was located in the bishops’ domain, it had

received schoolboys from 10-12th and 13-14th grades, the two last supplementary levels allowing

all young men to complete their education in foreign languages. The young priest who had come

to look for me at the railway station was nominated to assist father Thaddeus, our superior.
We were very happy again to see our former comrades and make acquaintance with the new

friends. We were gathering in the chapel to pray before our dinner. It was situated in the big

house with large veranda floors. We were guided to the communal kitchen and the refectory. We

were introduced to five sisters of the religious community who were in charge for our catering.

They were sisters of the Sacred Heart of Mary, a diocese congregation destined for local missions.

As for us, we would have to set the table and wash up the dishes. After dinner, we walked up and

down along the pathway bordered by two rows of coconut-palms, connecting the chapel with the

dormitory as our short break. We finished our first day by praying together in the chapel.
*****
I watched my comrades organised their belonging in the dormitory which was divided into three

big rooms. In each room, two rows of beds were set in parallel lines. A small clothes cupboard

stood alongside each bed. Some comrades brought a lot of possessions likes clothes, exercise-

books, novels, toothpastes, cakes, flash lamps, mosquito-nets… I saw them working patiently but

I myself I hadn’t changed because the clothes that were offered by my comrades on the train did

not fit me.

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“Where is your luggage?”asked a comrade.

I answered him:

“I missed it when my friend threw it into the carriage of the train”.

He said:

“Don’t worry; I have two pairs of pyjamas. Take one of mine. I believe that it will fit you”.

His bed was by the side of mine. As we could not sleep we talked too late into the night. At five

a.m. we were waked by a loud sound is from the tannoy hung on a pillar in a public square at the

six way crossroads.

“What’s the matter?”

I asked my next friend who was an inhabitant of this city.

“You know, for their propaganda, every early morning the communist broadcast the revolution

music inviting all young people to run out into the public square for collective dancing.”

He went on to explain to me during our morning washing:

“The priests had to move their mass schedule for new activities, revolution activities. We will have a

mass in the chapel at six o’clock. If you want to go there, I’ll come along with you.”

*****
On Sunday morning at five a.m., our new school year was officially beginning with a mass. I again

saw the bishop, recently ordained about two months before the collapse of the South. He was

very young, only forty four years old. He was very satisfied to see numerous young men, in spite

of the new circumstance, still being faithful to their vocation. One hundred seminarians had

answered favorably to his call. He hoped we would quickly get used to the new situation.

According to him, before, we had been confined in our own seminary; but now we would have a

good opportunity to study in the public high school where we could meet the other young boys

and girls. In fact, previously the seminary had been a private educational establishment for

formation of the future priests. The new authority did not allow any private school. All the
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education of youth would be assured by the public establishments. The new condition was

interesting for the future apostles of Christ.

“I wish you should be a leaven into the flour, flour of youth,” concluded the bishop’s homily.

We were all happy abour this perspective. Our hope seemed to be lost from all of us. Whatever

difficulties we could encounter, it would allow us to move on. As we were sometime woken up

after a long nightmare, we wondered that we weren’t dreaming. To go again to the school gave an

immense happiness that had seemed to be dead with all recent political upheavals.
After mass, thanks to the presence of our bishop, we benefited from good breakfast with bread

and fried eggs. We made acquaintance with our new bishop. He was gentle and righteous. He

spoke slowly like a wise person. He was a good pianist; during his presence in Rome for studied

theology, he had spent a majority of his time practising the piano. It appeared that he enjoyed

taking classical music, after a quarter an hour of discussion; he led us to the musical universe.

Every day, he played the piano for at least one or two hours.
With some friends, I spent our Sunday afternoon visiting the new coast town, renamed because

of its white sandy beaches. Like Cam Ranh, this city was emptied out of a lot of its inhabitants

because of the war. All shops were closed but it was not due to being the Sunday, but because the

communist regime had not supported any merchants. A few people were sadly walking on the

streets. One of the streets which connected the six way crossroad to the beach was covered by

dried leaves and dirty papers as there were no cleaner who had tidied up the road every

morning. We passed in front of the Vo Tanh high school, a famous public establishment destined

only for boys, which would be ours in some days, as there had been another school for girls in the

same city. But in the new situation, there would be no more this separation; all school students,

male and female, would be mixed in two old public establishments. The next domain had been

the former French college where the children of the rich families had studied before April 75. We

arrived to the side of the bishop’s house of which the gate was closed. The Duy Tan Avenue is

along the long beach appeared like a road in the desert, sometime; a melancholy cyclist would
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cycle in the dreary day… On the beach, only a few people were going for a stroll. The sea calm

without waves was dull as if it was thinking of something. The city seemed to lose its soul…
 104

21) Liberty versus Socialism in High School

It was already five months that I had been in this high school, a new school of the Revolution. I

was admitted into the 11th grade C1, mathematic class with 80 percent of boys. Happily, I was not

alone as a seminarian, my comrade Chien arrived in the same class. He was elected to be class

prefect. I was chosen to be its secretary. The vice head of class was a very good school girl. All the

seminarians who had come from the Stella Maris were in the different classes, 11 th and 12th grade

B, as having studied the French program, and they were talented with foreign languages. A

former communist soldier was nominated as the head master of the high school, whose staff was,

formed people having come from the North area. Many former teachers of this high school were

either sacked or left this town. Some were sent to the reeducation camp as they had formerly

been in charge of the education system of the South. We now found these teachers teaching

scientific subjects such as physics, mathematics, chemistry, biology. However, the arts subjects

were taught by the Northern members of the communist Party. The Revolution had decided to

cancel all former literature in order to introduce us to the revolution and communist literature.

We had to make acquaintance with the Marxist philosophy and moral revolution, taught three

hours a week. Our old schoolbooks had been destroyed in the furnace. They were substituted by

the new ones which had been printed and offered by the friend and allied republic people of

China. I was very conversant with mathematic; however I had a big problem with the literature

composition, because of my free style. In the communist literature system, we must have to

change our mentality and adopt the new method of expressing ourselves. We had to use the

words and even style coming from the revolution literature. That was to say, the students weren’t

free in their expression. When all students were happy to wait for the Teê t’s holiday, two weeks of

vacation for the New Year of Vietnam; I was summoned to the disciplinary council of the high

school. I wondered what they could reproach me with. Chien tried to console me:

“Don’t worry! As you are intelligent and you had obtained good results, they should ask you to

become a sympathy member of the communist youth union.”

 105

*****

On Saturday January 24, all seminarians whose family weren’t living in the Nha Trang city had

taken the train or coaches early in the morning to return home in order to welcome the New Year

with their parents, that would happen in a week. I had to be present at the school at eight o’clock

according to the disciplinary council. Chien could not come along with me to this boring

appointment; Phuong, vice head of our class, wanted to accompany me in this anxious meeting.

As she was living in this city, she had been at our visiting room at seven o’clock. I suggested to her

to leave the bicycle at home and walk with me to the school. She seemed to be worried and tried

to discuss with me how to behave so that the disciplinary council should not to be hard on me.

She advised me not to argue with them as they would always consider themselves to be right.
We had waited for an hour in front of the head master office, at 8:30 a.m., our literature teacher

came looking for me. He did not allow Phuong to be present at the meeting. She told me that she

would wait me in the school yard. The teacher was a gentle man having come from the North

Center. Although he was a member of the communist party, he seemed to have made

acquaintance with the Catholic Church. He knew my situation, he had understood what I had

written down in different compositions; however according to him, I had not respected the new

language of the Revolution. My style was too free, I had written down as I thought. He introduced

me to all members of the disciplinary council. I was told to stand in front of five respectable

persons. The chairman was the head master of our high school. He looked very serious. Sitting by

his right was a political agent who did not belong to the teaching team; however, he was always

present in the establishment. He had his own office. by his left, it was my literature teacher. I

wondered why the mathematics teacher was present, as he was a former one of the high school.

He was always very gentle toward me, the best mathematics student according to him. I was not

surprised to see the English teacher. As he had chosen the texts concerning the president Ho Chi

Minh to teach us; I used on purpose a play on words in some writings. The chairman began to
 106

explain why I was summoned here. He then allowed the person by his right to speak. He took a

paper out of his folder and said:

“On the wall in the newspaper that had been produced by each class at the end of the year, you had

composed a poem that made fun of the president Ho Chi Minh’s words. Even if you had not signed

your text, after a brief inquiry, we knew it is you, the author of this poem.”

The other members of the disciplinary council asked him to read it. I was proud of this very

simple text of no literary value as I was not a poet. Our friendswould laugh as they knew that, and

as the poem that was qualified “toad” in school slang had become an important text attracting

attention of our political agent. He read it:

“Nothing is more precious than freedom and independence,

The words of uncle Ho are really strong and potent.

Only some months ago, the first word had become true.

Nothing is daily reality of all Vietnamese people.

There is not a shadow of doubt for the freedom.

We don’t need to think by our words.

The revolution had thought for our head.

Henceforth, our mind will be in rest.

Thank to Uncle HO for our independence.

Actually, we must look after our parents.

Each one will make report on his friends.

The people will live in whole confidence.”

The mathematics professor gave a faint smile as he agreed with these humorous words. The

chairman saw me taking a glance at the mathematics teacher. He asked him to accuse me of
 107

making a mistake. My professor looked puzzled as he could not find anything against me, he

finished talking:

“He is much endowed with mathematics but he never needs to take notes; furthermore, he doesn’t

have exercise-books.”

He looked at me and said:

“What do you think about that?”

The chairman told me:

“You can answer!”

I said:

“My parents are very poor; they didn’t have the money to buy my exercise-books. So I tried to

remember by heart all the lessons. However, I always had good mark in exams. I have not needed

the time to learn the new expression and I will try to practise it better. Concerning the poem, I had

not composed it with bad intentions, when my friends asked me to contribute something for the

wall-newspaper; I had to create some humorous words…”

The English teacher interrupted me:

“Be careful your humor. You had often played a joke on the texts concerning the president HO Chi

Minh.”

The chairman was impatient to know the problem, he asked him:

“What is the matter with him?”

The English teacher cited an example of a problem caused by my translation. He got up and went

to write an English text on the blackboard and underlined the word ‘head’:

“The president Ho Chi Minh was the unique head of the communist Party of Vietnam. The supreme

leading body is the Politburo (Political Bureau) headed by the General Secretary. The Politburo is

elected by the Central Committee, and the Central Committee is elected by the National Congress…”

According to him, I had dared to translate the word “head” into “dang truong”, term designing the

head of the band or the gang, instead of the word “lanh tu” indicating the leader of the Party. I
 108

would have liked to say something, but the chairman forbade me to talk. They asked me to go out

to deliberate what punishment should be given to me.

*****
When I left the discipline committee, the sun had risen higher, it was midday. Phuong waited for

me for a longtime in the schoolyard. She was sitting on the bank reading a book. She looked

impatient to see me again. She wondered why I had been held a longtime in the meeting room.

She went to look for me at the door. I had not yet finished the session. She asked me:

“What will we do now?”

I answered her:

“Thank you for coming along with me. You had to wait patiently for me. It is late now. Will you take

lunch with me at the seminary, as you had left your bicycle there?”

When we returned home, our big house was deserted, as everybody had already left to go to their

families. Father Thaddeus was absent; he probably went to his home town, 12 km away. I

introduced Phuong to his assistant, father Joachim who came with us to the kitchen and we

shared our meal. He wanted to hear all that had happened with the disciplinary council. I said:

“They decided to punish me by making me work for a week from Monday 26 to Friday 30, the eve of

Têt. I have to be present at the high school at 7 a.m. to 5 p.m. to tidy up all the toilets. Once more,

the chairman wants to see the schoolyard cleaned up of all leaves before the New Year. I have to

work with some other school student punished like me.”

Phuong looked thoughtful, she told me:

“If you want, I could come to help you sometime at the school.”

Father Joachim said:

“How could you return home to your family before the New Year? Or will you come to my family for

the Têt?”

I answered him:

“Whatever happens, I will go home, because I haven’t seen my parents, sisters and brother for four

months. I miss them very much.”

 109

******
 110

22) The long travel for the New Year

On Friday 30 January 1976, I had decided not to go to the high school to finish my punishment

work, as it was the last day of the lunar year. My parents should be preparing the traditional

foods for the New Year. I had waited from 4 a.m. at the railway station but no train had passed. It

was already 6 a.m.; nobody was present in the hall. The ticket-window was closed. There should

be no more trains as it was the eve of the New Year., The last train had come to Nha Trang at 5

p.m yesterday; although I ran in eager haste to the station; I had missed the train. I walked

gloomily toward the seminary which was like an uninhabited desert. At the entrance, I met father

Joachim on his bicycle, ready to leave. He told me that he would go to his family and stay there for

the New Year day. He wondered how I could leave here to home as there was no bike in the

house; the other way I would go to Cam Ranh by bike. I was thinking how I could go home

without train and other transports. I calculated the distance from Nha Trang to home in my mind

and told father Joachim:

“It should be more than sixty five km. I think I can walk for that distance. If I could do 8 km an hour,

I would arrive home in the afternoon or worse until the evening.”

He walked with me into the yard and we went to see Sister Gabriel. She was in the chapel for

morning prayer (laudes). We got into the little chapel and kept silence prayer with her. When she

had finished, we followed her into the kitchen and brought a cup of tea. Father Joachim explained

to her what had been happened to me, he entrusted me with her then he left. I said that I would

walk home from here. She was quite amazed and asked me:

“Good heavens! Aren’t there any coaches?”

After having thought a moment, she said:

“Wait here. I will prepare for you all items that you will need for a long walk.”

All the sisters came to ask after me, wished me a happy New Year and “to be alive” until I reached

home. Sister Agnes put a nice woven straw hat on my head and said:

“You look very handsome with it. It will be very hot. You will be protected against the sun”.
 111

Sister Gabriel also advised me to change the sandals. She touched at my feet and said:

“Take them off; I will lend you another pair which suite for walking.”

She brought me a pair of sandals whose soles were cut in the shape of a rubber tyre. These straps

were created from the inner tube - left in a complete circle and inserted into the spliced

underside of the shoe - so the rubber gripped in place. She said:

“It is called the uncle Ho’s sandal.”

Then she gave me a box of glutinous rice for lunch, some cakes, ginger jam, coated coconuts and a

bottle of water. She put all of them into a backpack which I could carry on my back and I should

walk easier on the long road. She made careful recommendations to me:

“Don’t walk too rapidly, you will quickly tire. Every ten kilometers, you have to stop to have a rest. If

your feet hurt, don’t make too much effort, but sit down and care for them. Eat something now to

charge the necessary energy for the long road. Good luck! God bless you and be safe on the way.”

*****
Feeling quite exhausted, I sat down below a rock bridge built over a small river, plunging my feet

into the fresh water. They were considerably swollen and had become red. I had eaten some

glutinous rice and my water bottle was empty. It was about ten o’clock. That meant I had been

walking for three hours, but I did not know where I was. Nobody came here so that I couldn’t ask

anything. Only in the distance, on the paddy field several cows and buffalos were grazing

peacefully. Some daring little fish came nibbling my toes. I did not want to get up to continue my

route.
On the pathway that was across the river, cutting the rubber plantation into parts, an ox-cart

advanced slowly toward the bridge. When it had passed, the driver made his cart stop, getting

down and coming to see me. Another person wearing white clothes whose face was veiled stayed

on the cart. The country man asked me:

“What do you do here now? Everybody has to make things ready for the New Year.”

I had not answered his question but I inquired of him:

“Where is this place? I come from Nha Trang and I will continue to walk toward Cam Ranh.”
 112

He looked at me as he would like to seek some information:

“We are at Suoi Dau (Oil spring, where there is a Yersin’s tomb). You will have more than 30 km to

walk. It’s very far for you. Why you have to do that?”

I had not wanted to narrate my life to this strange person. I kept silence a moment. He spoke

again:

“Like you, I also go to Cam Ranh. But I was in a very special circumstance. My friend and also a

neighbor, lived in this town, had just passed away because of his malaria. He had been here for

some months after April 30. He only has one daughter who had called me to help her yesterday. If

you accept my proposition, come in the cart with us. Then you could feel easier for the hard route.”

I followed him to the ox-cart. The man spoke with a young lady and asked her to give me a place. I

got into the cart in front of her. Under our feet, a man body was covered by a mat. Because of the

heat, he smelt already. The cart started to move. The oxen pulled slowly under the sun. For two

hours, I hadn’t exchange any words with the girl, sometimes, I had a conversation with the driver,

because I was scared to look at the death body. I could smelt the body odour getting stronger and

stronger event our cart moved parallel the sea; I tried to watch the white sands and the turquoise

water to forget the death body in front of me. On the road, there was nobody 3. When we went

through the village, some onlookers came and looked strangely at us without questions. We left

the main road go to a path-way. Two rows of the eucalyptus stood sadly along the way. I suddenly

remembered that these trees could give us the peppermint oil. I told the man:

“Do you see the eucalyptus? If you stop here, I can cut some of the leaves and will burn them to

dissolve the odour of the death body.”

The man conducted his cart to the field bordered by the eucalyptus. He detached his oxen so that

they could have a rest and graze for a moment. I got out of the cart and helped the young girl to

jump down. She pulled her veil and went to help me to break eucalyptus’ branches with me.

3
Before the arrival of communist, in the days leading up to Tết, the streets and markets are full of
people. Everyone is busy buying food, clothes, and decorations for their house. If someone lives
far away from home, they will try to go home to celebrate it with family.
 113

Following, we gathered them into a heap behind of the cart in the path of the wind. This young

lady was about sixteen years old with meek and affable eyes. She began to talk to me and tried to

hold a conversation with me. She came near me and said:

“How will you make the fire?”

I was content that she started up the conversation. I answered her:

“I was a former scout boy. I can make the fire with two rocks”.

Then I asked her to gather some straws from the field, in a meantime, I went looking for two

pieces of stone. When everything was ready, I struck them against each other. After several hits,

the straws had caught fire. As the leaves were still green, these released a lot of smoke which

made us cry. The mint odor chased away the one spread from the death body. We were comforted

the new odor, more agreeable. As I had told her that I was a catholic seminarian, she asked me to

pray for her father in order to be delivered toward to the happiness place. I taught her the

catholic ‘our father’. The driver also joined our prayer in silence in front of the dead man. The

evening had set, we went on our way. Something had just happened among us. Linh, the young

lady told me in confidence about her family. She had been living in a town-house in Cam Ranh

city. Once day in March, the bomb was dropped on her quarter; it had damaged her house in

which left her mother and brother death. As her father and she were absent that day. Without

home, the father and daughter had gone to “Oil Spring” and set up a poultry farm in the mountain

area behind the rubber plantation. A month ago, her father caught malaria and he had just died

from being worn out. According to the will of her father, she had asked her kind neighbor to have

him bared in the same cemetery with his wife and son located near Cam Ranh City.
*****
Finally, we arrived at a commune called “third kilometer” where the cousins of the dead person

were living. The evening had set in; some villagers came to meet us and the families that were

related to this person. A cousin received his relatives, said an acknowledgement to the driver and

thanked me for my supported them. As the driver had told him how he had met me on the road,

the cousin of the dead person asked his son to take me to my home. As they were Buddhists, he
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thought that we could carry the body to the pagoda next to the cemetery. We formed then a new

funeral procession, walking across the village. We were accepted into the pagoda garden, one of

the bonzes indicated the place in which we could temporarily lay the dead person to rest. We

entered silenced into the pagoda and stood praying before the main temple. Although Linh was a

Buddhist, she asked me to pray for her father, mother and brother. Before my departure, I gave

her an address of my parent home and said:

“If you want, after your father’s funeral, you can come to see me and my family.”

*****
Although it was very dark, there was no moon on the New Year eve. Thanks to the rider. I reached

my parents house after a very memorable day filled with extraordinary events. A petrol lamp had

lighted in the kitchen while the main house was still in darkness. I invited the young man to enter

the kitchen for a moment, but he wanted to return home. My mother shedding tears as she was

overjoyed and rushed to welcome me at the door step. She wanted to grab the young man who

had driven me home to give him something drink before starting off again, but he had left hastily.

All members of the family were very happy to see me again; furthermore, they had been

informed by Dung of my misfortune at the high school. My mother made me sit down and took

away my stubble-hat, water bottle and backpack. She cleaned my face. She made my sister

prepare a glass of lemon juice. Everybody already had their dinner; my mother told me to have a

bath before my meal.

Throughout the day, all former choir friends had heard of my return. They gathered at Dung’s

house; having watched over mine, they knew that I had just arrived. When I was taking a bath at

the well; they arrived in the yard and shared the joy of my family. They sat around me in the

kitchen to watch me eating. Two beloved people were absent: I wondered where Thien was now;

as Son as well, I would ask the other friends his news. Some friends had brought me cakes, fruit

coated sugar, watermelon seeds dyed in red. They were very astonished and moved to hear about

difficulties at school and my trip home today. When I finished my dinner, my mother invited them

to stay with me to welcome the New Year around the big cooking pot which would be heated
 115

many hours for boiling a kind of traditional cake necessary for Teê t: Banh Chung 4. We sat in circle

around the burning fire joyful. As before, we sang, we talked and we drank until midnight. Then

we welcomed the New Year, the year of the dragon. The picture of the poor girl whom I had met

today appeared in my mind; I was talking about her. Duc told me:

“For the non Christian, you must avoid all contact with the family in mourning; because everything

or every one you were in touch on New Year’s Day should change your life”.

I answered him:

“I’m content to pass my day with this poor girl and her dead father. I’m Christian and seminarian.

My life is in God’s hand.”

*****

4
Bánh chưng (rectangular) that the cake essentially tightly packed sticky rice with meat or bean
fillings wrapped in banana leaves, symbolically connected with Tết and are essential in any Tết
celebration. Preparation is time-consuming, and can take days to cook. The story of their origins
and their connection with Tết is often recounted to children while cooking them overnight.
 116

23) The Dragon’s Lunar New Year

It was perhaps about one a.m.; I felt wet with dew on my head. My sister and brother had already

gone to bed. My father was still listening to the radio in his room. My mother came out to the

garden to oversee the cooking on the fire. She wanted to send all my friends home, but she hadn’t

dared tell them. She called on me to go to the kitchen. She told me that it was too late; we should

make an end of our meeting, as we would have to go the church at five a.m. for the New Year

mass. She finished telling me kindly:

“Your friends ‘xông dât’ our house this year; I hope the whole year will be full of blessing.”

“Xoê ng daê t or dap daê t” was the act of being the first person to enter into house on the first day of

Teê t. According to Vietnamese tradition, the first visitor a family received in the New Year would

determine their fortune for the entire year. Non catholic people did not like to welcome any

person without being invited first on the first day. The owner of the house had often invited a

person of good temper, morality and success to ‘xoê ng daê t’ hoping that he or she should bring luck

and happiness for the year. The Christian people did not believe this pagan tradition, but

sometime, they spoke about that for a joke. I returned to the garden, everybody had wished also

to go home. Thu (autumn), a female friend with magnificent voice, would like to offer me a last

song, a romantic one composed by Duc Huy. She sang a cappella and her voice echoed in the deep

sky of the night.

Bay đi cánh chim biển hiền lành The wings of a good-natured Sea-bird filed away,
Chẳng còn giấc mơ nào để giữ đôi chân em There are no more dreams to hold your feet.
Chẳng còn tiếng nói nào để trách cứ em There are no longer words to blame you,
Khi mặt trời đậu trên đôi cánh vỗ As the sun had appeared on your wings.
Theo tiếng hát của người thủy thủ
Following the song of the seaman,
Lượn trên sóng vỗ về ghềnh đá chim bay qua
The sea-bird hovers above the waves and caress the
Lang thang cánh gió chiều buồn trắng men
san down stone,
hô
Đất trời rộng sao em không bến đỗ The white coral wings wander in the wind of the
melancholic evening.
Why haven’t you found a landing stage in the wide sky
and earth?
Giấc mơ của tôi và cánh chim hải âu My dream and the wings of a gull
Bay ra khỏi tầm tay và tiếng sóng Having flown away from my hand and the sound of
the wave.
 117

Em đã muốn ra đi nhiều lầnYou wished to leave many times,

Trời lên tiếng kêu gọi và gió reo tên em The sky calls for you and the wind calls out to your
Trùng dương vỗ sóng về để đón bước em name.
Quay mặt lại nhìn nhau một lần cuối The ocean’s wave flaps to welcome your step.
Turn your face to see me a last time.
Bay đi cánh chim biển hiền lành
Chẳng còn giấc mơ nào để giữ đôi chân em
The wings of a good-natured Sea-bird flew away,
Chẳng còn tiếng nói nào để trách cứ em There are no more dreams to hold your feet.
Khi mặt trời đậu trên đôi cánh vỗ There are no longer words to blame you,
As the sun had appeared on your wings.
Giấc mơ của tôi và cánh chim hải âu
Bay ra khỏi tầm tay và tiếng sóng. My dream and the wings of a gull
Having flown away from my hand and the sound of
the wave.

I was very moved at the song by Duc Huy. The dream of each one was perhaps different but it was

as if everybody should be called by the liberty of the ocean. Before taking our leave, we fixed

another meeting at Thu’s house (autumn), as she had invited us.

****

“Get up! It is already four o’clock.”

My mother tried to wake us for the mass of the New Year. I was not fully awake as I had just slept

a wink since two a.m. I forgot that it was the first day of New Year, the first Teê t after April 75’s

event. The people had not prepared for Teê t as usual customs. The church was sadly and faintly

lighted by some kerosene lamps. There were no more “Hoa Mai” (Ochna itegerrima) bushes in

the middle of the chancel as in the previous Teê t. These yellow blossoms were essential for the

celebration of this feast; in the North, the people used the rosy peach or peach flower to decorate

their houses. They announced the spring, the renewal of life. There were only two flower plants

such as chrysanthemum, marigold… The Christian people prayed for the future life, but the smile

was lacking on their lips. After mass, people exchanged for formality sake some traditional

greetings such as “happy new year or peace, good health and longevity…” They no longer lighted

firecrackers to welcome the New Year as it was prohibited by the government. Furthermore, the

Church hadn’t sounded its bells. According to the traditional celebration of festival of Teê t, the

people had made as much noise as possible using anything drum, bell, gong, firecrackers, to ward
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off the evil spirits. However, the Christians people had abandoned this practice. They wished to

offer their New Year to God.

I returned home quickly for a traditional greeting in wishing grace to my parents who will be

offered me a small envelop inside there was some monies. They already came home from mass.

My mother opened all windows widely and the main door. There was on the coffee table, a red

box of six small cases in which contained different sugar-preserved fruits, two packages of the

Vietnamese cigarettes and an ashtray displayed. Although this New Year was poor and

melancholic, the sitting room was decorated with some of flowers which had been plucked from

the garden. My parent and my father’s uncle sat on the armchairs to be ready to receive our

traditional greetings. My eldest sister and her husband arrived; they first began to wish them

“plenty of health to be joyful with their children.” Normally, my second sister must say greetings on

behalf of the rest of us. But she had not repeated the traditional sentences for that, she asked me

to do it instead of her. I accepted her proposal; I looked at my grand uncle and said:

“I wish you live up to 100 years, be happy with our family.”

I then addressed my father:

“You have experienced some ordeals. The peace and courage of God be with you. I wish you have a

good health and may a lot of things go well according to your will.”

I turned to my mother and said:

“I know that your heart is too full to support us in this difficult moment. I wish love and grace to be

always with you. Your joy is ours, your suffering is also ours; may the New Year bring happiness to

you…”

My parents were very touched at our greetings, although I had forgotten to greet them “a happy

new age” as was usual custom. According to the Vietnamese tradition, they should have to give

each of us a red envelope containing some money to celebrate our new age; but this year, like

many other people, they had no more resources, therefore, they had nothing to give us. My

mother told us:

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“We are poor now, but we are very rich with loves. We have no money to offer to you, but I pray

always for you all, so that you could grow in peace and study successfully.”

She then asked us to sit down to take the New Year breakfast together. She went to get boiled

sticky rice and rectangular pork cake in the kitchen. She carried it to the sitting room; she

detached its bamboo strings; then she peeled its covered which was banana leaves. She threaded

a bamboo string under the cake to cut it into square parts. She then prepared a dish of powdered

sugar and small pickled leeks. She said:

“You can eat the cake with sugar or pickled onion.”

After breakfast, my father stayed home to receive visitors. For us, we started to pay our relatives

and friends a New Year visit.

*****
I was the first friend who arrived at Thu’s house. A nice house divided into two parts and

attached to each other and was located in the market quarter. Her parents were having decided

to stay in this commune. They had left from her grand parents place for this new house which

they bought from a former merchant. Thu received me with joy, and then she led me into the

room which we would be assembled for this evening. The meeting place was fair sized as it had

been the merchant’s rice storage room. She was proud to show me the decoration of the room.

She had been in charge of this work while her sister Thuy (water) had to prepare traditional

foods for us. In a corner, a pretty ‘hoa mai’ branches full of small buds and yellow blossoms was

in a ceramic pot. On each small branch, some pictures printed in red papers and more than ten

New Year cards were hung. She said softly in my ear:

“Do you know what it is inside of these cards?”

I had not yet answered, but she continued:

“I am telling you a secret. I had successed to draw on the inside of the card the head of each of us.”

Then I helped her to unroll two sedge mats on the cement ground. On the borders, she put

cushion seats so that we would sit comfortably. In the middle of the two mats, she spread out a

pretty tablecloth which was hand-embroidered with our names. I noticed that she had omitted
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some of first names such as the one of the twin and Son, my seminarian friend. She realized that

she had committed a foolish thing not to think of our absent friends when she had embroidered

them. She asked me to write down their name with a felt pen. Thuy (water), her sister had

finished preparing several dishes which were displayed square slices of Banh Chung, savory

cakes made by sticky rice, mung bean, pork, fish sauce, pepper and salt and Banh Tet. In the

meanwhile, Thu (autumn) brought all kinds of sweet and candied fruits such as vegetables

-coconut slices, ginger, lotus root and lotus seeds, roasted watermelon seeds valued by red color.

She explained to me that if I had not known the foods for Tet:

“Banh Chung should be eaten with other savory dishes such as pork stewed in coconut juice (thit

heo kho), but we are poor now, the meat had become a luxury food. We will eat our traditional

cakes with vegetables in fish sauce5.”

Her sister, Thuy, had already prepared another delicious dish. She led me to the kitchen and

showed me a pot on the wood stove. I asked her:

“What is it?”

She answered me:

“I am preparing a kind of mung bean sweet soup.”

Although the people were in the learning period, seemed this family still to be able to celebrate

Tet in usually way. Furthermore, Thu was an artistic town-person; she had found many of little

candles and put them everywhere in the room. She said:

“We will have a romantic atmosphere thanks to a multitude of light gleaming in the darkness. I

have forgotten somethingelse.”

5
Here is its recipe: 1) Combine the fish sauce, sugar and 1-1/2 cups of water in a small saucepan.
Bring to a boil and boil for 2 minutes over high heat. Cool thoroughly. 2) Peel the turnip and
carrots and cut into sticks 1/2 by 1/2 by 1-1/2 inches long. Rub the vegetables with the salt; let
stand 30 minutes in the sink. Rinse under cold running water to remove all the salt. Squeeze out
the water and pat dry. 3) Spread the turnip and carrot sticks on a baking sheet or roasting pan.
Place in the oven and leave the door ajar. Let dry out for about 2 hours, turning the vegetables
every 30 minutes. The vegetables are ready when they have shrunk by two thirds. Remove from
the oven and allow cooling thoroughly. 4) Place the dried turnip and carrot sticks in the bottom of
a 1-quart stone jar. Layer the shallots, garlic and chilies on top. Pour the fish sauce-sugar mixture
over the vegetables and close the jar tightly. Refrigerate. After 2 weeks, the vegetables are ready.
They can be eaten at once or refrigerated for several months. Drain before serving.
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She went to look for some cigarette boxes and three bottles of Vietnamese alcohol, made with the

fermented rice.
*****
We were as normally very happy to gather together, almost in the traditional joy of the New Year,

however, paradoxically, we felt also the sadness. We had begun to sing some joyous songs, such as

the well-known one composed by Pham Dinh Chuong, we raised our glasses to greet each other

with the famous words of his song:

“Ngày xuân nâng chén ta chúc nơi nơi (The New Year, raising our glass, we say greetings to all

people). Mừng anh nông phu vui lúa thơm hơi (We wish the peasant will have joy with the perfume

of his harvesting), người thương gia lợi tức (the trader would earn more), người công nhân ấm no

(the worker would shape a comfortable life,) thoát ly đời gian lao nghèo khó (getting out of the

grueling hard and needy life).

But following, we turned to the sad love songs, forbidden songs, which were more suitable with

our feeling. We missed our absent friends. Nobody had any news from the twins. Son had signed

on the communist Youth Works Movement. He worked hard in the former military base Toê Hap in

the mountain area. Outside, it was raining, the first drops of rain knocked sadly on the corrugated

iron roof; we sang together the melancholic song “giot mua tren la” by Pham Duy, one of its

couplets impressed my mind:

“Giọt mưa trên lá tiếng nói thầm thì (The rain beads dropping on a leaf is a murmur)

Bóng dáng Phật về xoa vết thương trần thế (The Buddha’s silhouette comes healing the earth’s wound.)

Giọt mưa trên lá tiếng nói tinh khôi (The rain beads dropping on a leaf is the first quintessence word,)

Lúc Chúa vào đời xin đóng đanh vì người (when the Christ incarnating to be crucified for human kind.)

Giọt mưa trên lá tiếng khóc chơi vơi (The rain beads dropping on a leaf is a lonely cry)

Thế giới lạc loài chưa thoát ra phận người (of the solitary world gas not yet escaped from human destiny)

Giọt mưa trên lá cố gắng nguôi ngoai (The rain beads dropping on a leaf is a small effort),

Nói với loài người : xin cứ nuôi mộng dài (to tell the human to nourish always the long dream).
 122

Like all my friends, I was sunk in the cigarette smoke although I smoked for the first time. Some

drops of alcohol led me to the distant future. I thought of Thien, I wondered what she is doing

now. I remembered Linh, the poor girl whom I had met on the road, what’s destiny!!!!!
******
Dung shook my arm several times to wake me up; I was falling sleep during the priest’s sermon.

We had not been slept for the whole night last night, but we tried to present at mass on the

second day of the New Year, the mass was dedicated to all people who dead like our grandparents

and relatives. My whole family went to the cemetery in the morning after mass. We prayed and to

pay our respect before the relatives’ tombs. I was also thought of Son’s family as well. His parents

would be missing him very much. I was wondering if his family would have the traditional square

glutinous rice cakes for the New Year; I would ask my mother for some and wanted to tell my

friends to pay a visit to his family. I thought I would go to see again the girl who had just lost her

father that I met her on the way home from Nha Trang…
Dung and Thu agreed to come along with me to visit Linh at Cam Ranh. I vaguely remembered

the house of her cousin. We had been driving almost two hours to search for this. I had forgotten

the way to her village. We were going around all streets of the fishing quarter. My two friends

began to be discouraged they wanted to return home. I begged them to continue for a while.

Having asked any inhabitants on the road, we finished by finding a cottage located in the garden

near the beach. Having recognized me, the young man who had driven me home on the eve of the

New Year was very happy to welcome us. His parents invited us into their house which was not

divided into rooms. He asked his son to climb coconut-tree to pluck some fruits so that we would

have some coconut juice to drink. They told us that their cousin Linh had left here to the South

where she hoped to be received by her aunt. We went to the cemetery where Linh’s parent buried

and prayed in silence before the new tomb of her father. Before our leaving, her cousin gave me a

letter and said:

“My cousin was unsure that you could come here again. For all of that, she had written a letter for

you. As my son knows your house, I had the intention to send him to bring it to you.”
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We regretted not to see this poor person again. Some words from her consoled me. I read it aloud

so that my friends could listen to the letter:

“I was imaging that you would be reading this letter. Having spent the New Year Eve with you on

the road toward Cam Ranh, I thought I have known you very little. I believed you would come to

Cam Ranh looking for me. When you asked my address and gave me your family address; I was very

touched. However I couldn’t give you any address because all who I had known weren’t in this city

except for the people who lay in this cemetery. I can’t return Suoi Dau (Oil Spring) where you had

met me and the man conducting our cart. In the moment that you read this letter, I perhaps should

be in Saigon. In this big city, I hope I can find a job to earn for my living. Thank you very much for

your generosity. Throughout my life, I will always remember this journey. ”

*****
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24) Friendship, country and ideology

Thursday June 24th 1976, the first session of the National Assembly of unified Viet Nam held in

Ha Noi adopted the new country’s official name, the Socialist Republic of Viet Nam, its flag,

emblem, anthem and Ha Noi capital. To prepare for this historic event, we had to go to the school

whole day. In the morning, we studied in class as usual, but in the afternoon we had to be

assembled in the schoolyard to study the communist revolution’s history of Vietnam. Moreover,

every evening, I stayed in the classroom to prepare the streamers for the future meeting that

would be organized by the city in the stadium. Each class would have to fabricate one banner on

which we would write down a sentence of greetings or a slogan given by the staff of the high

school. Phuong showed me some phrases and required me to make a choice of one of them. She

became now the prefect of the class as my friend Chien was resigned this responsibility. However,

we asked him to accept to be Phuong’s assistant. I told her:

“Would you please chose one, the slogan you estimate to be the best. Your choice will be mine.”

Phuong insisted:

“Help me, please. We have to finish it by next Monday July 28. As on July 2, 1976, the Republic of

South Vietnam and the Democratic Republic of Vietnam (North Vietnam) will be officially reunified

as the Socialist Republic of Vietnam. The government will change the name of Saigon to Ho Chi

Minh City and the Vietnamese Workers Party will be renamed the Communist Party. Our great

meeting will be happening on Saturday July 3. ”

I remembered my former regrettable experience with Ho Chi Minh’s words. I did not want to take

part in this work. Phuong had been nice to me when she had accompanied me to the discipline

committee before the Teê t, I could not refuse her request. I accepted her proposition and she took

her leave.
*****
The Sunday 27th of June, in the morning, I was playing the piano in the chapel. Thanks to my

assiduous practising every day, I could play some easy piece of music by Mozart or Beethoven. In

only a week, it would be school holidays. I will be busied myself with the famous favorite waltz of
 125

Mozart; I hadn’t paid attention that two persons standing behind me for a few moments. I started

at the sound of Chien, touching my shoulder and saying:

“Phuong has come to see you.”

I looked back at him and I saw Phuong smiling and she asked me:

“Are you free this morning? May I ask you something?”

Having come out of the chapel, we walked along the main way bordered by coconut-palms. She

wanted to work with me all Sunday to prepare what we would need for the final day of school

year and the future meeting to celebrate an unification day of Vietnam. I had not wanted to fritter

away my Sunday on useless things. I had set aside that this time to learn playing the drums, as

Ng., a good drummer promised to teach me this art. I told her:

“Why don’t you ask Chien to work with you? He is your assistant, our ‘classes vice prefect.’”

With arguments, she insisted that I could accompany her:

“You are a good organizer. I think you have good ideas for our future days. Please, help me to do

that”.

She thought an instant and said:

“Please, I need your help! Besides that I would like to ask you some other questions. These are

important to me. I think we will have more time to hold our conversation.”

I became relaxed before her words. I asked her to wait for me a moment. I went to see father

Thaddeus to have his permission and at the same time, I wanted to borrow his bicycle in order to

get around.
*****
We both rode to “Cho Dam” (swamp market), as according to its name, the central market of the

city, perhaps that should have been constructed on the former marsh. One year after the collapse

of the South, the old beautiful and rich big market had been transformed into a miserable one.

Except for all dairy foods, all other shops had not been allowed to be opened again as in the

socialist country; there was no place for the capitalist store keepers. We soon found a former

good store that we could buy all we would needs: textile fabric for propaganda streamers, paints,
 126

paintbrushes. By chance I met a person who I knew was living at the market quarter. She

indicated us a former Chinese merchant who still conserved his stock and things that we would

like to look at. For the day of the end of school year, Phuong was a good housekeeper she

prepared herself of all eventualities. However, regarding to the entertainment the party, she was

very worried then she asked me:

“What will you suggest for the day? Will we be drinking, eating candies, smoking and singing?”

She was right to ask me this question; I did not like the new revolution songs. It would be boring

to listen to accusing words telling struggle against the non communist people; likewise, I was

afraid that my comrades would sing the former romantic songs forbidden by the government.

However, I had to suggest something to make fun and joy for the students of our class. I told

Phuong:

“Do you know the skit or sketch? I think some of our comrades could do it.”

But Phuong had not understood what I meant was. I gave her a short explanation:

“It’s just a short act that might be a few minutes long and it usually has its own plotline, usually

makes fun. I will give you an example at home.”

*****
I was a little surprised to see the house which Phuong was living; in fact, it was a very nice white

villa in the city center, builded by western design. These had formerly belonged to the rich and

notable people; the majority of them had already left from Nha Trang and their house was now

occupied by the new revolutionary leaders. I asked her:

“How long have you been living here?”

She answered me:

“Our former house was located two kilometers away. My father now works in the municipal city

hall. The revolution committee has given my family this big house abandoned after April 75.”

I had suddenly understood. Her father was not a native of the North; he did not join the northern

soldiers who entered in triumph on March or April of last year. If he had an important position
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staff of the Nha Trang city; he should be a well-known member of the communist party and he

would have worked with the North as a spy in the offices of the South. In other words, after April

75, many houses of the former notable persons of the South regime, who were considered as

reactionary were impounded and these were allotted to the new worthy revolutionary senior

officers. My reasoning seemed to be right, because Phuong had a local accent, and her family was

living in this town for many years. She guided me into the big room; according to her, this room

was a former garage, and converted so that she could use it to receive her friends. We had this

space to work; we could spread our banner to write or to glue the letters which made our slogan

for the meeting. Before working, she introduced me to her parents…

*****
I had not wasted my time, I finished the banners quite quickly and I began to write down the

sketch that I had told her about when we were in the market. I tried to laugh at the tragic and

miserable life resulting in the complete reversal of the situation. The former teacher became the

worker in the field; the household servant rose to be the mistress of the house,… I gave Phuong

my text and took leave:

“I had finished my task. May I go home now? It is soon noon; you will need to take lunch with your

family.”

She appeared not to be satisfied and tried to keep me there:

“As I had told you this morning, I will have something to ask you. We have no time to discuss it this

morning. Furthermore, I told my mother that you will stay to have lunch with us. Please, don’t

disappoint her. ”

I was shy of being in front of strange persons during the meal. Phuong had an elder sister who

was in the last year at high school. Although she was a year older than me, she considered me as

her young brother. I behaved toward her as I had done with Phuong. They seemed to talk about

me often to her parents. Phuong’s father said that his daughters admired my intelligence, and her

mother wished to know more about me, but I had not wanted to confide them my situation. I was
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in an awkward situation during the lunch which is last too long for me. I wished that it would

quickly come to end.

*****
We had stopped our bicycles on the way leading to “Hon Choê ng”, smooth rock stacking on one

another, as next to it, there was a place looking down on the sea. We were rather cold from the

ocean wind. Having sat down together on a rock, Phuong had kept still for a moment. I was still in

meditation. She finished asking me a question, a question that nobody had asked me before, the

question made me embarrassed:

“Are you Christian? What does it mean to be a Christian?”

I had believed that to say being a Christian was like saying Buddhist or any another religions. I

thought that everybody would know a little about who was Christian people as I had made

acquaintance with Buddhism thanks to my reading. I wondered if I could answer her as I had

done catechism lessons for the Christian children. In any case, I had to know her faith:

Buddhism? And I had to search for the appropriate words to make her understand. After a

moment thinking, I said:

“I was born in a Christian family. I believe in God, but my God isn’t only in heaven. My God is Jesus

Christ. He was born in our world to share our human condition. He offers me love and freedom even

now as when I have no freedom…”

I suddenly became talkative. I was a good missionary delivering a gospel sermon. It seemed that

she had not understood all my words, she interrupted me:

“I had heard the name of Jesus three years ago when I had followed two friends from my previous

girls’ high school, going to the Christmas mass at the Cathedral. However, who is your God? How do

you know of his existence? How are you in relation with him?”

Her series of questions, pertinent questions, made me think. The religious term “God” that was

evident in my mind became a vague notion. I remembered that in the Vietnamese culture, the

people had used the term “heaven” to name the supreme person who should govern sky and
 129

earth. They called him Mr. Heaven. I had to now make acquaintance with Phuong’s beliefs before

giving her an approximated explanation. I asked her:

“And you, who do you, believe?”

She said:

“I don’t know. I had never thought of this question. My father, a convinced communist, thinks that

our universe has happened by chance. Man has created God as a way to control and govern others.

Thereby, all religions are only the opium destined to lull the people.”

I had used all my religious knowledge to discuss with her. But, I suddenly remembered my

father’s advice before my departure; I was careful in my argument, as I was afraid that she would

report our conversation to her father. I said:

“Thank you for your confidence toward me. Your father is free not to believe in God. In the same

way, my freedom is to believe in God.”

I was so busy with explaining all these questions to my comrade that I had not paid attention to

the wind which made me cold and the time was late. The sun going down appeared before my

eyes like a big round orange rice cake. I told Phuong:

“It’s five o’clock. Let’s return to the city. I have to go home for vespers.”

She moved nearer to me and said:

“Allow me to ask you my last question. You are living with all the boys in the seminary. Chien, your

comrade had told me that you wish to become a priest. When will you become a priest? I had asked

my father what it signifies to be a priest…”

I interrupted her:

“We are still only in high school. To become a priest, we have to study at least eight years after our

‘A’ level (high school diploma in USA), in the seminary, we should be chosen by our superiors that

are to say according to their discernment. What do you want to say more?”

She answered me with hesitation:

 130

“My father said that the priest is a lazy person and an odd fellow; one who doesn’t want to work

and lives on his flock…”

Her words made me angry:

“If you believed in your fathers’ words, it will be better not to be in acquaintance with us, odd

fellows…”

She told me that in the beginning of this school year, she detested me; because I had looked

haughty and I hadn’t spoken with anybody. Later, she understood that I was very shy, but

intelligent, fair and accommodating. She admired me for the maths. She always wanted to

become my friend. However, with my response, she seemed to have the sulks with me and said:

“My father is right. You are really bizarre!!!”

*****
 131

25) Kieu Sa, a friend budding poet

Two months of the summer holiday had just passed like a flash of lightning, as it would soon be

the beginning of the new school year. On Friday August 27 th, the seminarians from Saigon arrived

first at the seminary; the following day, those who lived in Phan Rang region, and came from

different communes of the areas. Those, whose families were in the areas around of Nha Trang

often arrived last, the mass to celebrate the beginning of the year would be on Sunday August

29th,, several days before the start of the New school Year were consecrated to spiritual

recollection, guided by a Franciscan priest. On Sunday afternoon, while all my comrades were in

the dormitory, I had to water more than twenty lettuce’s beds to grow under the afternoon

sunshine. I was busy in the kitchen garden everyday in the summer. At the end of the class, I went

home for one week. During this time, I felt very sad, for the communist government had begun to

make all people under their control to prepare their new politics. I had recognized the same

feeling on the faces of the people that I met. Paradoxically, while the Northern people seemed to

be joyful in celebrating the reunification of Vietnam; the Southern people had been plunged into

deep hopelessness. So, in accordance with the suggestion of our priests, I had returned to the

seminary; some seminarians who lived in the Nha Trang city and had slept there during the

night. During the first week, I was absorbed with piano practice and drums. The following week,

father Thaddeus asked me to help him to work in the kitchen garden. He had taught me to sow

beds with lettuce seeds; he had showed me how to plan onions. Sometimes, Phuong came to

review our mathematic lessons for the new school year; also to discuss with me some matters

that were close to her heart. She also asked me to grow some flowers such as roses, tulips and

daliah….
*****
The staff of the high school had moved me into other class. I was now in year 12 C2 as there were

three mathematic option classes (C1, C2 and C3). The former teams of the class delegates

(Phuong, Chien, and I) were divided into three different classes. After a week, I was in a strange

class where I had to make new friends. As I was small for my age, the teacher in charge settled
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me in the first row of chairs. I was awkward in this spot, as I never had need of any notebooks, I

could remember all lessons if I had listened to them or read them only once; no teachers could

accept that their student did not write down their lessons in the exercise books. Another first

row of chairs in line with separated by a walk way was given to five school girls who were among

35 boys in the mathematic special class. When the bell announced the end of the morning

classes, a female comrade, who like me sat on the first rows of chairs in the class, came to make

acquaintance with me, and introduced herself to me:

“I’m Kiêu Sa. I was a former comrade of Phuong in the old ‘Girls High School. She told me about you.

I know that you are very good in math. My favorite subject is literature, but the type that had been

taught before April 75… Can you help me with math?”

This school girl was likable person. Her name a quaint sounded “Kieu Sa”. I asked her:

“What does Kieu Sa meant? Does it mean a snobbish haughty woman, a beautiful and mysterious

gaze or proud grain of sand in the desert?”

She began to laugh and said:

“I prefer the third interpretation.”

We went out into the schoolyard; Phuong who stood before the main school gate came to greet

us. She told me that she had waited for me and she wanted to talk to me. Kieu Sa left us. I

suggested to my former comrade to walk toward the seminary, so that we would have a little

moment to talk together. She held her bicycle and walked along street. I started. The

conversation:

“Which subject would you like discuss with me?”

She answered:

“Nothing, I think you may return your former class. If you allow me, I would ask my father to speak

up for you to the staff of the High school.”

I told her:
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“I don’t know why you ask me to change my class again. It’s the same to me to be in C1 or C2. My

aim is to study for A-levels success.”

She tried to convince me:

“You know C2 consistes of all students classified by the staff as rough and indisciplined students.

That meant the special students.”

I felt miffed at her argument:

“I’m a special student? And your former friend Kieu Sa? Is she an undisciplined school girl?”

She felt something was wrong what she said; she tried to justify her thoughts:

“I think you are a talented student. In your new class, Kieu Sa, my friend, is a gifted writer. She has

written a lot of nice poems.”

In reality, the students whose parents had been working as staff officers in the former political

regime were ranked in 12 C2, the special class. It was from now on overseen by the famous

literature teacher, Mr Van, a member of Communist Party. This matter was in fact considered as a

good ground for communist propaganda. The Vietnamese literature was limited in texts, poems

of Uncle Ho and also of the poet Toê Huu who had to state that he loved more the leaders Lenin

and Stalin than his own parents.

*****
Monday morning was always the hardest class of the week. All school students were afraid of the

quiz questions at the beginning of the class. Mr. Mathematics teacher, a young man of small

stature, looked very unwell this morning. He watched me entering the classroom as I sat at the

first row next to the central gap. Everyone had displayed their notebooks on the table except me

because I had none since I startedthe school. He called me to stand up on the right side of his

desk. Having risen from my seat to go to the front, I took the notebook of Kieu Sa who had

pushed it toward me. The teacher began to blitz me with questions. I had succeeded in answering

all of them correctly. He seemed not to be satisfied and ordered me to go to the blackboard. He

wrote on it three very hard logarithm integral exercises and told me to solve them. In reality, it
 134

was not difficult for me answer them. After that, he took the notebook showing it all the students

of the class and he said:

“Who is the owner of this exercise book?”

Kieu Sa lifted her hand. The teacher turned toward me and said:

“Bring me your book next week. As you had rightly answered all the questions, I awarded you a very

good mark, 20, into two parts: 10 for you and 10 for Kieu Sa,…”

I felt it was unfair toward her. She could obtain more than 10 if she should be called for a test.

The following class was the literature and political lesson. Mr. Van spoke eloquently of the

independence of Vietnamese People in history. He called me to stand and told me to read the

famous historic poem talking of the nation's traditional undauntedness in Vietnam’s struggle. I

read by heart the poem of General Ly Thuong Kiet, our national hero who had expelled by the big

Chinese Army long ago:

“Nam quoc son ha nam de cu

Tuyet nhien dinh phan tai thien thu

Nhu ha nghich lo lai xam pham

Nhu dang hanh khang thu bai hu”

This poem had been considered as the first independence proclamation of Vietnam. It was

written in chino-Vietnamese language, hardly understandable for our comrade. My literature

teacher asked me to translate it into the current Vietnamese. I translated it instantly:

“Song nui nuoc Nam vua nam o (The Mountains and Rivers in South belonged to the Southern

King).

Ranh ranh dinh phan tai sach troi (It had been God’s will to be written down in the holy book).

Co sao lu giac sang xam pham (Why had you, the robbers, invaded it).

Chung bay se bi danh toi boi (You will be totally defeated).”

Obeying my teacher, I explained to my comrade:

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“In 1077, 30000 soldiers of the Tong dynasty led by Quach Quy had overflowed into Vietnam. After

many drastic battles at the river Nhu Nguyet in Quang Ninh province, the Army of Quach Quy could

not advance into Vietnam and decided to make camp and waited for their military aid. The general

Ly Thuong Kiet had composed this poem to encourage his soldiers. It goes roughly like this: The

South country must be ruled by Viet Kings. This was seen as God’s will. Now the northerners have

conquered. Now soon they would be defeated by a stronger force.”

In my explaination, I had tried to toy with the words North and South to allude to our actual

situation…
Mr. Van, our literature teacher returned our last week composition to us. I was surprised to see

my surprising score, 18/20. This communist person had not mistrusted me as I thought. Kieu Sa

glanced at me as if she wished to know my result.

*****
At the end of the class, I asked Kieu Sa to wait for me at the soccer field behind the school yard

where she had put her bike. I wanted to beg her pardon for the misadventure of the notebook

that morning. She assured me:

“Don’t worry about that. I am very content to have 10. If I have to have a test this morning, I think I

would have scored below this mark. You know, mathematics is my worst subject. Why Mr. Van has

asked you to read Ly Thuong Kiet poem which we never had listened to in class? How many points

have you got for your essay?”

All the girls were very curious. They wanted to know all things even one that was not concerning

them. But I answered her questions:

“I cited this poem of General Ly Thuong Kiet in my composition which was well judged by Mr. Van.

He has given me 18/20.”

She was suddenly free from all “problems.” She told me:

“Everybody had been amazed at your reciting by heart and your comments. Like them, I had

wondered where you had picked up all the historic information. Wow, you are very strong. May I

come to the seminary to work on my math with you this afternoon?”

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I told her:

“Yes, you could come between half past four and six o’clock. It is my spare-time.”

*****
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26) The dissolution of the seminary

I liked all Sundays very much, this was my favorite time to do many interesting things. It was

more than three weeks since we arrived here as we were now at Sunday September 19, we were

accustomed to the life of the seminary. In the morning, after mass, we had our breakfast and each

had gone to work in their study room. Before noon, the Holy sacrament was displayed for

adoration. After lunch, most of us preferred to take a nap. I often used this time to play the

harmonium. I thought I had made important progress in this musical technique. In the afternoon,

some comrades went swimming at the beach; some others played soccer or basketball in the

fields, in front of the second dormitory. This afternoon, I had an arrangement to meet with Kieu

Sa, I would prefer to go to her house to work with her, as I had done with Phuong last school year.

In fact, the day before at the end of lessons, Kieu Sa, had just been elected with our unanimous

agreement to be vice-prefect of our class, in-charge of the cultural activities. She asked me to be

her assistant. She also accepted in the project of producing a souvenir record book of the class. I

had not wanted to involve myself in this new work, but before her beautiful eyes I melted and I

could not say no.

When I arrived at her house, in the sitting room, Kieu Sa had already displayed all necessary

things for the work. Some friends had also come to help us. After a discussion, she brought a heap

of drawing papers 20x30. She began to explain her ideas:

“Here are about forty sheets. On each one, I would like to present one person of our class. We are

thirty two students; we will arrange our future pages in alphabetic order. We will reserve two or

three first pages for the names of our high school and teachers…”

I asked her:

“But we do not know what each comrade will put in their own page?”

She caught the idea behind my question and demonstrated her artistic talent. She showed us her

own page; it is ready to be attached to the souvenir book. She gave us explanations:
 138

“We will design it in two or three steps. We will deliberate how we can choose the form and content

of each page. We will present it to our comrades and invite them to work on their own decoration

and content. In the last step, we will gather all texts to make the final souvenir book.”

I presented another idea:

“If only one book will be made, who will keep it? I think that each of us could design from now on,

thirty five sheets of the same content, at the end of the school year, there will be thirty five books,

enough for all of us.”

Then I asked Kieu Sa to show us her pattern. On the left corner of the top page, her pretty picture

was a sticker. A title line, well-decorated, designed to put either one’s name or an expression

indicating one’s name. Kieu Sa had written down in this frame the meaning of her first name:

“proud sand dust in the desert”. Below this title line, she had composed a poem to narrate her life.

But she had not wanted us to read it. She has got a very good stroke. She drew the ducks, cats,

dogs, and flowers to decorate her page. She was endowed with graphic art… When the public

lamps in the street was weakly lighting, the others had already left for home. I still stayed to read

her pretty poems. Finally, I must go home. She told me:

“Wait for a moment.”

She went looking for an exercise book, which she gave me and said:

“I had recopied all mathematic lessons on this book. Your future notes will not be divided into two.

As for souvenir book, don’t worry about that. If you tell me your life, I will set it up for you.”

*****
I walked by thinking on the way toward the seminary. I worried a little as I had never come back

home late. It was now seven o’clock, I had missed the vespers, and my comrades perhaps in the

refectory for diner. They would be surprised at my unusual absence. When I arrived to the

seminary, I was astonished to see the main gate closed from the inside. I tried to push the door up

but I could not open it. I became afraid; I knocked strongly on the iron door frame. A man looked

out from the yard by the small door next to the main porch. He asked me harshly:
 139

“Who are you? Go away. It is forbidden to enter here. ”

I trembled of fear but I tried to answer him:

“Here is my house. I live inside.”

This man was a soldier who took me inside and said:

“Stay here. Don’t move.”

He went and talked with his colleagues, I saw a lot of dark silhouettes hiding in our kitchen

garden, in my mind these guys had ruthlessly crushed all my lettuce beds. I thought they did not

need to be there in order to oversee our house. Another soldier accompanied by father Joachim

came to see me again to recognize me, then he led me into the room next to the meeting hall

located behind our chapel, this room was destined to be the health service that was to say, there

was inside a small common pharmacy and a bed for a sick person. He rushed me inside. The

room was not lighted, there were already more than twenty comrades sitting together on the

ground in the dark. Before the door opening onto the big veranda of the chapel, two policemen

kept an eye on us. We chatted together. A friend said when he had come back home at five o’clock,

he had seen many soldiers having surrounded our seminary. At six p.m., while the vespers in the

chapel, they entered suddenly in our domain and blockaded it. Then they divided us into small

groups in order to imprison us easily in rooms like ours one here. It seemed they were working

with our responsible priests, father Thaddeus and Joachim. The other comrades should have

been without doubt confined in other rooms. There should be someone who had not yet come

back to the seminary… Hearing us talking in whispers, a policeman came in and obliged us to be

hushed. Two hour of being confined in this narrow and hot room without light appeared never-

ending. At about nine o’clock, I heard the noise of military cars starting. Some heavy steps

sounded in the pathway. Someone said:

“It seemed they had left our place. We can all get out.”

As I was the last person who returned late and sat near the door, I stood up and opened the door;

nobody was on the veranda and the pathway. We lit kerosene lamps and began to get out. The
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priest in-charge came toward us, asked us to go to other rooms and called all other seminarians

to be present in the refectory for dinner.

*****
Except for a few absentees, everybody was found in the refectory. We were silent; some were

talking in a whisper. We expected to receive father Thaddeus’ discourse. I thought we were all

hungry, but nobody wished to eat. My Comrades seemed sad and more upset with the weak light

of some kerosene lamps. Father Thaddeus and his assistant, father Joachim came into the room;

Father Thaddeus took a small spoon knocking smoothly on a glass to call our attention, he said:

“I’m very sad to announce some very bad news. According to the government edict, our

establishment is illegal, that is to say, the bishop’s house had not requested their permission. As a

result, our seminary can’t continue. The police gave us a week to disperse. Tomorrow, with father

Joachim, I will see our bishop who had been warned of this problem.”

Many questions were posed:

“If we are not here, what will happen to you? How about our house? Will it be requisitioned by the

government?”

Father Thaddeus answered:

“The domain always belongs to our diocese. There are two different communities that are officially

living here. Our address, of father Joachim and I had been registered in this administrative county

from the beginning of the politic change. Our three sisters will stay legally in this house. We will

discuss with our bishop for another problem tomorrow. You will go to school as usual; I will let you

know the precise decision after the discussion with our bishop.”

It was very late, perhaps eleven o’clock, normally, we should all be in bed, but this night, we were

not in the mood for sleeping. We had discussed the situation until mid- night. Then we gathered

in the chapel to pray. The bad news had fallen down on us as a thunderbolt. I felt like a tender

bird having recently learned to fly and its wings had just been cut. My hope was like a comet

disappearing in the sky. Some of my friends were already deeply in sleep. In reality, it was less

dramatic for the comrades whose family was living in the city. They would move to their parents’
 141

house and continue to go to the school as usual. I wondered if I could give up school. I wished to

stay home to share a few rare and precious moments with my comrades. We would separate and

we did not know when we could meet again. Our seminary would be first ‘consequence’ of the

reunification North-South. The communist Party and the government of Vietnam couldn’t

authorize any grouping of youth without its control. In the deep night, someone had sung a

revolution song humorously:

“The party had given me good eyesight and open mind… ”

Throughout the night, many of of us hadn’t wanted to sleep. Some were preparing their luggage;

some others continued to hold the conversation with their friends. I sat on the balcony of the

veranda smoking cigarette after cigarette until the mass at five o’clock. In the morning, the storm

cloud was hiding the new sun. It began to rain.

*****
On Monday, a few persons were courageous to go to the high school. The storm over night had

broken branches of the big tree near the building; some fell in the kitchen-garden. The leaves had

covered the lettuce beds which had been stamped by the soldiers yesterday. Ragged lettuce’s

leaves confused with small leaves from the tree looked as dismal as our present feeling. Some of

my friends were packing their personal bags. Some went to the school to say farewell to their

friends. I had not wasted my time with my little luggage; I had used whole morning to play the

electric organ, to chat with friends, to give thought to my changed future. At lunch the spectacle

showed a somber picture, many were absent at the usual table, the refectory lacked the usually

laughter. Some comrades had gone down town after lunch. I went to practise the organ in the

chapel again…
A comrade told me:

“A pretty girl is looking for you outside.”

I turned on my face and saw out of window of the chapel Kieu Sa, swaddled in her rain coat. I

walked out greeting her. She told me:

 142

“Wow!!! I had not known that you play the organ well. I am very worried not to see you in class this

morning. You look sad. What is the matter for you?”

We went together to the study-hall as it was still violently raining; we could not go down town or

to the beach. Before leaving, she gave me a paper folded in two, she said:

“If you are not going to see me in the future, please don’t forget me.”

When she had gone, I opened the paper and read the text, it was a poem named “ Naïve and

foolish”:

“I wonder why being naïve and foolish.

Write down my confidence in poem’s verses.

Each word flies lonely into the dream’s area.

It was not expect it laden my mind.

***

This morning, I was felling strange,

Look for someone in the class.

An absence made me worry and sad.

It rain outside or inside my heart.

****

Do you ever hear my voice?

Hovering following the wind,

Carrying my feeling just born,

Ready to spread to the horizon.

***

Meeting and leaving is only a hazard?

The life is never a dream.

Why and why, who could answer me?

It storm, a tree is bared, lonely.

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***

Where is now a little ray of sun?

I will be looking for it.

A promise is rising in heart,

I hope a poem’s love for ever…

*****
In the evening, we all were called for an extraordinary meeting. Mgr H. (Peace) came to speak

with us. According to him, after having deliberated with our priests, he decided to create a small

group of ten voluntary persons who would stay here in order to look after the garden and house.

To make possible this new community, he thought that ten voluntary members should be in the

same level at the high school, that meant, our priests would select the seminarian of the last level,

Grade 12. He concluded:

“Wherever you will be, I continue to look after you all. We had lost a battle but not the war.”

*******
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27) The birth of the group of Ten

All Saigon’s seminarians had caught a train in the early morning to return their own town. The

house was quite deserted. The friends, who were living in Cam Ranh, would leave here tomorrow

by bus. They asked me to go home at the same time with them. But I must stay on for one or two

more days from father Thaddeus requested. I had spent my morning to walk through all the

street of the City with different comrades. On later this afternoon I went to the school looking for

Kieu Sa if I could meet her at the end of classes. I would have liked to say farewell, as she was a

very nice friend. I admired also her artistic talent. She was a budding poet. She looked brighter

when she saw me at the foot of the stair leading to our class. She wanted to spend this afternoon

in company with me. But I refused her suggestion because I must pass some rare moments with

my comrades. She followed me and walked to the seminary gate and took leave regretfully; some

tears had just flowed off her eyes. She turned in hurry to her bike and started. A comrade, having

taken out of the domain, told me:

“Father Thaddeus is looking for you.”

I went straight to my superior’s office. Father Thaddeus was glad to see me. He asked some

gentle question and invited me to sit down in an armchair. He rose from his desk and sat in front

of me. After a moment of silence, he said:

“You know, we are in a hard circumstance, but we tried to work for our new plan. Will you agree to

stay here? With father Joachim approval, I wished you belong to our new family. That means your

name will be registered in this town. You could not be a member in your own family book. Don’t

answer me now. You will need to think bout that important decision and give me a response

tomorrow.”

I asked him:

“May I know who will be the future members of this group?”

He answered me:
 145

“Naturally, there are eight persons who had been in the former Stella Maris. Two other members

had come from the former Lam Bich seminar; besides you we had requested Chien, your comrade at

the high school, to be a member of our group. He has given me his positive response. His family had

moved to the farm land, a new economic zone named Phuong Lâm, in the Lam Dong province, I

think, at the foot of the mountain of famous Da Lat city. If all reply favourably to my request; you

will know them all in the end of this week at our first meeting. ”

*****
On Saturday September 25, 1976, the last seminarian had quitted the seminar. The members of

the group were known. We began at once to tidy up all rooms in the building. At six o’clock, after

the daily mass and a breakfast, we folded all iron foldable beds in the dormitory, and carried

them to the store room. Then, we carefully scrubbed floors, washed them with water carried

from the well. For the study hall, we took out some benches so that it should be more spaces.

Khanh (his name signifies diamond bell) who was absent since 8 o’clock, arrived saying:

“You had worked hard. Take a rest!”

He had brought us some rare soap which would be useful to clean all stains. He was a veritable

city man and had a good looking appearance. His family dwelled in this city possessed a small

grocery, although there were many difficulties owing to the new rules for the private trade, it

could pass rather well. He brought us also some delicious candies. Also, we all were delighted to

see him bringing out from his pocket a box of foreign cigarettes. He seemed to be the eldest of

our group. In fact, he was a year ahead of us. He suggested:

“I notice a good room for two persons in the main house where is found the office and bedroom of

father Thaddeus. I think I will occupy that one. Who will share it with me?”

In any way, nobody wanted to move to the main building. We all liked to stay in this former

dormitory. Ngoê n (word or parole) a musician, who could play many instruments, our singing

conductor, wished to settle in a room of the study hall. He had lost his father years before. His

mother and brother were living in the parish in the City and near Nha Trang airport. We seven
 146

would share the three big rooms of the dormitory; in the same building, there was also the

unique flat, office and bedroom, destined for father Joachim. Dung, nickname red Dung, had

chosen the right one next to the study room. We called him Red Dung because his hair was a little

ginger and in order to distinguish him from my compatriot Dung who had not asked to stay here.

Dung’s family had moved from Nha Trang to Long Xuyen province after 1975. He was a good

guitarist; he played the guitar-bass. Duyet whose parents were still living in the city would share

this big room with Dung. There were only boys, perhaps 7 brothers in his family. His former

comrade of the Stella Maris had given him a nickname “three ship”, expression of the Chinese in

Vietnamese slang. I asked Tien (advance), a gentle, shy young man, of a few words and knowing

that his parents who had lived in Nha Trang and also moved to the Southern part of Vietnam:

“Where will you settle down?”

He answered me:

“I don’t need to move my luggage. I am already in the third room. I think it is the same room with

Dac.”

Dac’s family was known in Nha Trang city, some of his cousins were priests in this diocese. His

family lived in Van Gia, about 40 kilometers futher north. Like them, I remained in the middle of

big room. I set up my bed againt the wall and separated by a grand porch. Khoa and Vuong (king)

who came from the same province Phan Rang, but in different parishes, shared my big room.

Khoa’s father was a country doctor; while in contrast with the signification of his name “King”, he

was poor, as his parents are peasants. Khoa urged us to work:

“Please continue now for our work. It was ten o’clock; things need to be done…”

*****
The first community’s meeting of our new group happened in the meeting room next to the

chapel and separated it by a dark corridor. The hall which could hold a hundred people became

too spacious with our community shrunken. The sisters of the Sacred Heart of Mary also

participated this meeting, their community was also reduced; as in the new situation the other
 147

members had been moved to another community. Father Joachim, a young priest, having a very

good voice for hymns, gentle and likable, came to chat with us. In the afternoon, after our hard

work, he played soccer with us; he was a good player. Father Thaddeus seemed to be a little tired

because of this event. He had worked with us in the afternoon, and he was very satisfied with our

noteworthy termination. He began to pay a compliment to us having finished all works quickly.

He then reported his vexed meeting with the police. According to him, the next Monday, one of us

will have to go to the commissariat to register all the new members. Thereby our names will be

written down in the family record book. It was a great matter of the new authority that it could

control exactly the people in each small group. From next Monday, we would go back to the high

school as usual. Father Joachim would help us for the French and English lessons; he would

collaborate with us to organize all activities of the house. As for father Thaddeus, he wanted to

care for our kitchen garden. Tomorrow, he would try to provide a bike for each of us. Finally, as

we had worked hard through these difficult times, he invited us to spend a relaxed day at his

parents’ house in the country area about twelve kilometers away from the city. Each day, one of

us needs to assist the sister to prepare our meals. After some important exchanges between all

members at the meeting, the priests and sisters had left the hall and let us organize ourselves.
In order to compose a family was taking shape. Like a normal family, we searched to determine

the order to respect of each other. The person who was born one year or some months older was

the older brother in relation to our culture of aged. Khanh (diamond bell) was born in 58; he

would be the eldest brother. Following Ngoê n (words), born at the first month of 59 was second

one. As both were talented in music, they were in charge of the hymns of all masses. Duyet, third

brother, a good basketball player, was chosen as a head of all sports matters. Following, it was

Red Dung who must pay attention to all tools and engines. Khoa was in fifth position. He was our

agency nurse. The sixth was Chien (fighter) in charge of cleaning duties. Dac would take up all

questions concerning the kitchen and sewer. Vuong (King) must help Chien in the hygiene task of

the house. I was trusted by all friends of the first important problem. I would collect the
 148

administrative papers of each one; put them in a personal file to be ready for the subscription at

the commissariat. Besides this urgent work, I would irrigate the kitchen garden every evening.

The last person was Tien, telling little but often smiling, who was requested to keep an eye for

the sacristy.
*****
On Monday morning, while all my comrades went back to the high school after a week of

unplanned holiday, I was in a room of the police-station. It was already eight o’clock but nobody

had paid an attention to my presence. When I had arrived here, a policewoman, receptionist, told

me to wait, but I had not found any seat to sit down. I had already several experiences of this

reality. From the change of politic regime, many things put me in touch with the police.

Sometimes a police man having entered into the commissariat, seeing me standing in the

courtyard, asked why I was waiting here. Each time, I had to give some explantion and continued

to wait. When the cathedral clock had just struck ten, I knocked strongly to one of the door, a

police man got out and became angry in meeting me, he said:

“The comrade who works for all family-registers is not yet present. Don’t disturb us.”

He showed me a chair settled against the wall in the narrow corridor and ordered me to sit down

and wait. I regretted not to bring with me any book to read. Two hours slowly passed, they

seemed to punish me in letting me wait impatiently here. At noon, a policewoman came and told

me:

“You may return here this afternoon! The office will be closed very soon.”

Although I was hungry and thirsty, I had not wanted to leave here without meeting the person

who worked for family-registers. Furthermore, they had obliged us to be in accordance with the

legal administration as soon as possible. They could come to control us no matter when. I became

stubborn to answer her:

“I am waited from early morning. I did not go to the school to be here according to the demand of

one of colleagues. If you do not want to register our group, please write down officially on a paper

so that we could show it to your superior, because the head of the police officer had been agreed
 149

with my bishop for this problem. He asked us to bring all paper today, and he said no difficulties for

our demarche. I do not leave here without seeing your colleague.”

The young policewoman was astonished of my reaction; she was speaking down and became

quiet:

“We were very busy. Please come back here at two o’clock.”

I became very obstinate:

“No, I would like to stay here until two o’clock.”

She told me:

“In any case, you can’t stay here. If you want to wait until two p.m., I’m obliged to put you in jail”.

I answered her:

“Do what you said. But please don’t call me at two p.m.”

I was very tired because of hunger. I was kept in this cage for more than two hours. I got up

suddenly at a call of a policeman:

“Come now in the office. This is an afternoon nap spot.”

He opened the iron door. I tried to stand up and made some movements to wake myself up. I

followed him to the desk of head of police station. He let me standing infront of his desk. So much

worse! I displayed all the papers on his desk. He hadn’t looked at my papers but he told me:

“Mr. Thaddeus is a head of your family-group. Why didn’t he come to rpapegister his members?”

I answered him:

“We aren’t a family like the other one. Each member of ours is enough mature and is able to share

our tasks. I am in charge of this problem for all my comrades.”

He took a paper and wrote down on some lines, and then he appended a seal, and finally signed.

He told me:

“With my authorization, you must go to your administrative quarter to add all new names into your

family record book.”

 150

When I had got out of the commissariat, I was waiting by all my comrades. They had worried

about me as I had not returned home for lunch. Khanh gave me a sandwich and we went together

to the Administrative Quarter located behind our seminary.

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28) Father Thaddeus, a scapegoat

A school year had rapidly passed; we were already in June. In two week, from Monday 13 to

Thursday June 16th in 1977, we prepared for the important final exam year of the high school.

This General Certificate of Education would allow the student to be entered for the entrance

examination of different universities. We had a week without classes to review all our subjects.

All my comrades were busy with their revision; I thought rather of what would we do after our

tests. Besides the irrigation of the kitchen garden, I had spent my whole time playing the organ.

After lunch, some had left for the school to return the borrowed books; some others withdrew

into the study room to continue their revision. I returned to the chapel; to play the organ. Chien

followed me and sat on a chair infront of me and said:

“Do you want to go to the school library with me this afternoon? All my books are ready to be

returned.”

I asked him:

“At what time do you want to start? I will prepare mine.”

Chien told me:

“You seem not to worry for the examination. I had not seen you working. I know that you are very

intelligent, bright in many subjects; but if you don’t revise your lessons, I fear you may fail to this

examination…”

To say truly, Chien was a little jealous of my facilitated in all subjects and of my offhandedness.

For the high school level, I was never busy with the lessons and homework. I had spent my time

doing other things, such as music, garden,… While Chien and Ngoê n had passed whole night

without sleep to read and read again all lessons, I slept earlier in the night. Even friends having

come from the Stella Maris seminary, they had not worried any about this exam. This testing as

being in the literature and language classes, their linguistic level was above that of their school

comrades. I did not want to boast for my natural behavior, I told him simply:

“Please, wait for me an instant; I will come along with you to the school.”
 152

*****
I had just signed the administrative paper on which was written that all borrowed books had

been given in good condition. A person behind me touched lightly at my shoulder, I turned my

face seeing Kieu Sa with her kilos of books. She told me:

“May I see you after that, I have some mathematic questions?”

I told Chien to return home without me, I should stay at school for a while. He wanted to go home

at once to revise more on his lessons. Then Kieu Sa suggested me to accompany her to walk on

the beach. She begged her father having carried her heavy books by bicycle ans a permission to

stay on a little longer in the school. In fact, she had hardly worked for this examination and she

had not wanted to let her mind free at the moment before the D day. She had not needed to ask

me for the mathematic problems. We went to the beach, sat down under the shade of the willows

and watched the immense ocean. We kept silence for a moment as each was concerned with our

thoughts. I suddenly felt anxious and wanted to go home. She insisted that I stay still a little

moment as after the examination, according to her, there would not be the opportunity to see

each other again. She told me:

“You know, I like to compose poems. I will read one which I had written yesterday. Listen to me and

don’t laugh at it. That’s calls ‘the summer’”

I admired her poetic talent. In spite of the worry for her examination, she could still have

inspiration for the poem. I answered her:

“I am ready to listen to your muse.”

She took a pretty paper out of her school bag and read:

“Yesterday, I was wandering about the beach.

The summer was melancholic with cloud’s color.

It was sunny and windy as it speaks with a halt.

I called the yellow summer to ask lightly some questions.

***
 153

Have you been feeling sad at the summer’s coming?

I beg him to give me a little sun smiling.

So I will feel warmed joy in heart.

I hope some love words falling as a dream.

****

Former words, I understand suddenly now.

You and I, two ways look like two summers.

The mine is like flamboyant flowers in school yard.

And yours which color will be drew?

***

I have nothing else out of this souvenir summer.

The days were cheerfully shared in class.

I have already been feeling to lose it.

I dream that we should share still it together.

***

Be joyful now, don’t be sunk into thinking.

Please smile as I am still next to you.

Like all summers, there is some sadness.

Another time will arrive with hope.

***
In reality, my mind was somewhere else. When I had got out of the seminary, I had a strange

feeling. I thanked her for her poem and said good bye. She told me:

“I will come along with you toward your seminary.”

*****
When we arrived at the traffic circle called “six way crossroads”, I saw a lot of spectators standing

on steps of the stone stairway leading to the Cathedral. Having seen me approaching, they tried

to warn me by hand-sign not to return home. Indeed, some military trucks were parked before
 154

the seminary gate. I told Kieu Sa to leave from here but she wanted to come along with me inside.

I was ready to open the small door next to the main porch closed secretly. Two policemen rushed

forward and hand-cuff me. I cried:

“You hurt my hand!”

They threw me into a police van. My head collided in an iron rod above the seat. It bled. I tried to

sit on the seat and saw Kieu Sa being put inside like me. She took her handkerchief to cover the

wound being bled and making dirty my white shirt. She asked me:

“What is happening?”

Like her, I did not know why many of policemen had encircled our house. However, I was not

surprised to see this spectacle because I had witnessed the arrest of father Ng., my old parish

priest in 1975. I answered Kieu Sa:

“I think that one of two priests has been arrested by the police, perhaps father Thaddeus, our priest

in charge.”

Kieu Sa had not understand, because according to her, to arrest a ordinary man, non-violent, had

not needed as much people with arms. I said with humoredly:

“You know, we have an old proverb: ‘to kill a fly doen’t need a big knife for dissecting the buffalo’ (to

crush a fly upon a wheel). Against the religious domain, the communist police want to manifest the

grandiose force to make people afraid.”

The Kieu Sa’s handkerchief was dyed red by my blood. It blotted my white shirt and some drops

of bloods were on the white dress of her. She successfully stopped the stream of blood. She was

afraid I would be in coma as I had lost a lot of blood. So she gave me some caramel. She tried to

say anything out of context:

“I would like to read another poem if you wish to hear me.”

I kept silent. One hour later, the main porch was opened wide; three police vans left our domain.

Finally, they set us free, it began to become dark. I told Kieu Sa:

“Wait a moment. I can drive you home with my bike.”

 155

But she refused and said:

“I can go home alone. I think you will be busy with this event. I will see you again after our

examination.”

***
We assembled with father Joachim in the Chapel. He hadn’t really known the reason why father

Thaddeus had been arrested. According to the indictment read by a policeman, he had committed

reactionary acts. But they could not clearly state his crimes. Father Joachim would go to the

bishop’s house to report this event to Mgr Hoa. He thought that this arrest should announce

something else.
Khanh had not yet returned his books to the school library. He told me:

“When I was ready to get out of the seminary, the police asked me to open our main door in a hurry.

Three military vans drove rapidly inside and five police men rushed to the father Thaddeus office.

They then closed all exits and ordered me to call all members of the house to assemble in the yard.

Then we confined together in our health service room next to the chapel. Father Joachim was

present with us in father Thaddeus office …”

Some Christian people who were living in the same quarter came searching for some

information. But we asked them to let us have a quiet time as we were preparing our final

examination.
*****
 156

The exam of A-Level

The Monday morning, I went to the former female high school, destined before only to school

girls. It was my examination center. My first test was literature and philological matter. As I was

very punctual, I arrived early at half pass seven to my exam spot. I searched for my exam room

and took out watching different candidates looking worried before the important moment. I had

not been strong in literature, also Marxist philosophy; however, I thought that in four hours I

could easily write a correct essay. Kieu Sa, accompanied by a young woman, came into the school

and looked happy to see me. She introduced me to this person:

“Here is my mother.”

She turned to her mother and said:

“This is my best friend! I had often spoken of him to you.”

I greeted her with a nod and asked where her exam room was. She told her mother not to look

for her after examination as she would need to meet some comrades. I was ready to go to my

exam classroom, but Kieu Sa caught me by her arm and said:

“Please, don’t go! We still have about twenty minutes. I have waited for you since seven a.m. This

was my former high school; I know very well always.”

It was true that I came in this school for the first time. Here was a public Girls High School,

renamed for having a lot of beautiful female students in the city. She wished to show me her

classroom before 75. Finally, we must go to our classroom for the examination. Before leaving,

she told me:

“I had asked my mother if you could take lunch with us after this test. I want to revise with you my

mathematic. I wish to spend my whole afternoon with you. ”

She was very attentive toward me; she shared at once her rough papers with me. She said:

“I think we need some draft papers to write our ideas. You can’t write the text straight on your exam

paper. You should do it before on rough paper. Please write all what you think. Don’t forget that we

are in the communist politic regime.”

 157

I was very touched by her words. She was an intelligent student. Furthermore, I could have not

forgotten the moment that we had been together in the police van some days ago and I accepted

her invitation for lunch. I answered her:

“Good luck! I will wait for you here. I am very happy to revise our lessons with you in the afternoon.”

****
I waited for Kieu Sa sitting down at foot of a leafy tree. There was still about one hour before the

end of exam time. As I could not write down what I had really thought, I decided to finish my

essay as rapidly as possible. A half hour after, Kieu Sa appeared at the corridor leading to the

school gate. She seemed to look for someone, when she saw me, she came toward and saying:

“I was worried not to see you here. How was about your exam?”

We sat down on a step of the stair of the corridor. I told her:

“I had not chosen to comment the Tô Huu’s poem. I tried to work a famous Ho Chi Minh’s phrase: for

the benefit of ten years, grow trees; for the benefit of hundred years, grow men.”

She said:

“Like you, I don’t like poet Tô Huu. He is the general secretary of the communist party. I commented

also the word of the president HO. What are you thinking of it?”

I answered her:

“I am quite agreed with this excellent metaphor, however, I had written that like a tree, man should

need three environments conditions following: good ground, fertile soil and airs’ purity for

respiration. The airs’ purity for me should be freedom, individual freedom; because we were already

living in a country of freedom. I forget to justify my thought concerning the poet To Huu. I said I

don’t like his poems as I love all poets.”

She laughed at my words:

“Thank you to your gentle speaks. I was always afraid that you could say something reactionary. I

hope you had been wise when you wrote your essay.”

I said:
 158

“I had tried to write down what it seems to be just for me. You know, in reality, it is not the idea of

uncle Ho; as in Chinese literature, I had already read a similar idea: ‘Nhất niên chi kế, mạc như thọ

cốc, thập niên chi kế, mạc như thọ mộc, bách niên chi kế, mạc như thọ nhân,’ that is to say: "the

best of the plan for one year is to grow rice, for ten year is to grow trees, for hundred year is to grow

men.”

She was surprised:

“I know you are endowed with mathematic, but now I think you are also talented for literature…”

I saw Chieê n arriving, he told me:

“I am an easy one. A worry is over.”

I asked him:

“I won’t return home for lunch. I will be workingthe mathematic with Kieu Sa. Please tell it to our

comrades.”

*****
Kieu Sa’s family received me with a warm welcomed. They lived in a small house with a narrow

flower garden at the front. She was perhaps a native of Nha Trang. Her mother was open, very

natural to welcome me. She made me entered her sitting room and offered me and her daughter

each glass of lemon juice, cold and very thirst-quenching. While Kieu Sa changed her school

uniform dress, her mother stayed talking with me. She seemed to know many things about me.

She wished that I should continue to see her family sometime after my high school time. Kieu Sa

came asking her mother:

“Will I help you to prepare our lunch?”

She answered:

“No, you stay here with your friend. Furthermore, you had worked hard this morning. Take a rest

before meal.”

Her mother went to prepare the lunch in the kitchen. She called two her young sons to set the

table and asked them to let us be quiet to revise our work in this afternoon. Kieu Sa sat down
 159

infront of me and showed me a picture put on the cupboard; I saw a young man in military

clothes. She said:

“It’s my father; he was a former officer of the Southern Army. After April 75, like many people, he

was pushed to go to the re-education camp in the North where I can’t locate it. I desire so much to

see him again. He has been absent from home for more than two years.”

For earning their living, her mother had a strange job. Kieu Sa showed me a new trousers that

her mother had just finished and explained:

“You know, the people are lacking of cloths to make new pants. By example, in the last days before

Têt, a family could only buy 4 meters of material foreach member, it had been enough to make a

shirt or a trousers. So my mother’s work consists in transforming old pants, threadbare ones into

new ones. Every morning, she sits in a corner of the market, with a footstool, a pair of scissors, a

razor and some rolls of thread. If the interior side of the pants is good, she unstitches it and reverses

the material to sew the new one. For the threadbare trousers, with razor, she scrapes a layer of fur.

She can hide all tears of trousers by the way of embroidering some flowers on to place of the tear”.

I asked her:

“Can you do it as your mother?”

She laughed at my question and answered me sadly:

“You know, after high school, I wish to go to the university. However, I don’t know if my family can

support my future study. I wonder if I have to look for a job to help my mother. My young brothers

are still in high school.”

*****
Although she was poor and working hard to nourish her family, Kieu Sa’s mother had prepared a

good and delicious lunch. Her table was bright with four cheerful colors of food. Plain steamed

rice showed its joyful white, although many people eat brown rice mixed with maniocs. Kieu Sa

brought a big bowl of Braised Pumpkin with Coconut Milk, that gave light yellow on the table. Her

mother said that if she had prepared this dish, she wished our success. Green was the colour of
 160

hope; it was present by the mixed salad with lettuce, peeled and sliced hard boiled eggs. Finally,

like the majority of Vietnamese people, she placed with mung bean 6 that was homonymous with

the verb meaning “to pass exam”, she had prepared a mung bean sweet dessert. I was feeling

confused as I was received as an important guest. To thank her mother, Kieu Sa had written “a

poem for mother” and read it after lunch:

“This poetic word offers my mother.

She carries on shoulder a heavy burden.

It is too unjust for pretty young woman,

She keeps in silence her suffering.

…………………………………………………”

The poem was long, but Kieu Sa could not finish it because of her emotion. She read only the last

strophe:

“This poem is my whole heart.

I offer it to mine and all mothers.

The ones protect secretly their children,

as a big tree which they lean on.

***
In the afternoon, we revised our mathematic lessons together. I tried to help Kieu Sa to solve a lot

of analytics problems. She wasn’t only talented in literature but also mathematic. I thought it

would be wrong if she could not continue her study, I told her:

“You know, there is a new higher pedagogy school in Nha Trang. My sisters were admitted into a

final year as she had already done three years in former university of Saigon. I think you can

prepare for that exam7.”

6
Mung bean, also known as mung, moong, mash bean, munggo or monggo, green gram, golden
gram, and green soy, is the seed of Vigna radiata which is native to India. The split bean is known
as moong dal, which is green with the husk, and yellow when dehusked. The beans are small,
ovoid in shape, and green in color. The English word "mung" derives from the Hindi moong. It is
also known by the names hesaru bele (Kannada), moog (Marathi), payiru (Tamil), cheru payaru
(Malayalam), pesalu (Telugu). In the Philippines, it is called munggo or monggo
7
In education system of Vietnam, The success of examination of the end of high school doesn’t
admit the students into the university or higher schools. They have to pass another exam for
 161

******

29) A glorious success

We were already at the end of June; my comrades had gone to the different exam centers to know

the results of their exam. This morning Chien asked me to come along with all of our friends. I

refused his invitation as I preferred to play drums alone in the meeting hall. When I left there, it

was after ten a.m., Sister Gabriel having met me wandering in the orchard came asking me to

help her to prepare our special lunch, an important meal for the end of the school year and our

future success. She was astonished to see me staying alone, she asked me:

“Why don’t you go to find out your exam result? Are you afraid not to see your name on the list?”

I answered her:

“Yes, perhaps.”

In reality, when I had finished my exam week, I was absorbed in other things such as music,

future exam for the engineer school or staying here. Anyway, I had never been worried about my

result; I thought all people in my group would pass this exam. Moreover, I was not worried, as

Chien and Kieu Sa would inform me soon what they had seen. I followed the Sister to cut some

lettuces in the kitchen-garden. Then she entrusted me to pluck some chickens helping Sister

Agnes. This sister tried to ask me about my exams:

“Have you done well in your tests? I had not seen you during the exam week. One had told me that

you should have revised your lessons with your school girl friend.”

I thought suddenly of Kieu Sa, she had been very satisfied with her exam week. She had finished

in time for her mathematic subject test. I sat still on the ground of the kitchen; a lot of feathers

covered my clothes and even my face. Sister Agnes told me that she must go to the kitchen garden

to cut some sweet basil for chicken salad. When she returned, she said:

“Wow, many school girls come looking for you.”

competition of the matter elected.

 162

I did not believe her and asked her:

“I had not known many female friends. Besides, in my mathematic grade, they are rarer.”

But she said:

“It is true. Wash your hands and clean your clothes to receive them.”

*****
I was ashamed because of my dirty clothes. I saw father Joachim looking joyful talking with Kieu

Sa and some others school girls. I would like to hide from them in the orchard but father Joachim

made a sign so that I came toward them. I was in an embarrassing situation. He greeted me:

“Bravo New laureate!!! Invite your friend in our sitting room.”

Happily, my comrades began to come home. We were in a circle in the room next to father

Thaddeus office occupied by father Joachim. I introduced Kieu Sa and Phuong, our old friends to

my comrade. The others girls were in literature and linguistic grade with my seminarian

comrades. Kieu Sa said:

“Do you know why we are here now?”

I answered her:

“I think all of you and all of my seminarian comrades pass an exam with success.”

Kieu Sa told me:

“You are right, but it is not the reason that we are here. You have the best result of our academic

province. Congratulations!”

I did not believe her:

“How did you know that?”

Kieu Sa explained:

“After having seen our names in the notice-board, we went to the academic center. Our rector was

very happy to tell us that you are in laurel wreath. You’ve got the best marks of examination up to

national standard. It’s very good for the reputation of his school. He was proud of your

performance.”
 163

Then she showed me the result of marks that she had abtained from the rector. I had obtained a

very good performance: 10/10 for Math, Phisics, and Chemistry. As regards of language,

literature and philosophy, I should be very happy with my marks: 8/10. All of Kieu Sa’s friends

looked at me and I was very shy. They were also quite proud of me. Father Joachim went to get a

last bottle of champagne in his office. We then asked Khanh to invite our sisters to share our joy.

When they arrived, father Joachim told them:

“There is the first laureate of exam here. We celebrate him now.”

He asked me to stand up among everybody. Sister Gabriel seemed to doubt his words, she said:

“It’s true. I hear He had never revised his lessons. He had spent his time to play drums and organ; he

had irrigated our kitchen- garden and helped me often for common meal.”

*****
During our lunch, we put our joy aside in order to discuss our timetable for the summer holiday.

Father Joachim thought that we could divide our group into three. The persons whose family was

in the Nha Trang city would stay the whole summer, because they could go seeing their parents

as they would want at any times. Khanh wished go to Saigon in August to pay a visit to his aunt.

There remained Duyet and Ngon who must oversee the house and look after our kitchen garden

in the summer. Chien wished to leave for home in Phuong Laê m, it was a new economic area

where his family had been settled for more than a year ago. He said:

“The next Sunday July 3rd, there will be a train for Saigon. If I take it, I will get off at Xuan Lôc, where

I will catch a coach for Vo Dac and Phuong Lâm. My parents said that this region is very fertile, they

cultivate banana farm. The La Nga River that flows across this region seems to be plenty of fish. ”

Tien and Dung wanted to take the same train, they must go further south-west, Long Xuyen

province. They would drop off by their cousin at Saigon city and the next day, they could take

coaches for Cai San where many people native of the north had been settled after 75 in different

villages separated by canals A, B, C, D… Dung said:

“At least, we will be together some hours on the train.”

 164

Having listened to our discussion, Ngon and Duyet wished to come along with Dac toward Van

Gia, where Dac family house was, about 60 kilometers away to the northern direction. They

hoped to meet again other seminarians in their former Stella Maris. Father Joachim told them:

“You can be absent for a week. If nobody here, our garden could be dried up.”

*****
Finally, we three whose parents were living in province next to Nha Trang left from the seminary

that was in the second week of July. At nine a.m., it was already gloomy, the sky was covered by a

lot of dark clouds and the sun had a difficulty to shine. We each carried our heavy bag walking

toward the railway station. One kilometer walk seemed too long. It had been raining the whole

previous day, as a result, on the street were many branches and leaves broken by a wind-storm

yesterday. Khoa was muffled up by a large raincoat. I had only been protected by a conical palm-

leaf hat so that I was quite wet. We were very glad to arrive at the railway station where its main

hall was safe covered. Khoa told me:

“Be patient! We must wait about thirty minutes. Last week, when I had accompanied Chien, Dung

and Tien, the train had stopped at ten a.m.”

I answered him:

“You are very optimistic. You believe that the socialist train is on time. Furthermore, it should be

slowed up because of the summer storm”.

Vuong remembered my old story that I had narrated them two years ago. He asked me:

“Will you alright at the three crossroad ways station or will you jump out of the running train?”

If I got off at the station, I should still walk three kilometers with twenty kilos of luggage on my

shoulder. An idea suggested itself to me:

“If the train runs about 20 kilometers in an hour, I could jump out to the ground. Then you throw

my bag.”

Khoa had not been agreed with me:

 165

“It is so dangerous to do that. Moreover, the train runs more and more quickly now. I think I will get

off at the station with you. While I stay at the station with our luggages, you walk home and then

return by bike. I am happy to know your family.”

The clock of the railway station had just struck ten. I laughed at Khoa:

“Our train is still busy with its problem. It is late.”

He replied me:

“Turn your head and see: ‘in the seventh month, the rain lasts, Chuc Nu come to say adieu Nguu

Lang8.”

I suddenly recognized Kieu Sa muffled in a raincoat. She told me happily:

“Ah! I’m afraid to be late. The train hasn’t yet arrived.”

She was worried to see my clothing soaked by rain.

“You have to change it now. You are risk of being ill.”

I said:

“Don’t worry about that. I’m very strong.”

8
In the Chinese and Vietnamese culture, the best romantic love story is the legend of The Milky
Way or the love story of Nguu Lang and Chuc Nu. The last one was the daughter of the Jade
Emperor, the ruler of Heaven. She was a beautiful, laborious, and skillful weaver who could make
the most exquisite tapestries. One sunny summer’s day, she happened to look out the palace
window and saw her father's herdsman driving the royal cattle along the banks of the Milky Way.
Their eyes met, and both knew that this was love at first sight. As the herdsman Nguu Lang was a
very handsome and conscientious worker who had always been a loyal servant in looking after the
royal cattle, the Jade Emperor allowed them to get married. The couple was very happy together,
and their love grew stronger and sweeter each day thereafter. However, they were too devoted to
each other, and consequently neglected all their work. The Jade Emperor warned them
repeatedly, but they were so deeply in love that they kept forgetting their duties. The Emperor
decided to banish Nguu Lang to the other side of the Milky Way, so that he could tend to the cattle
there, and the two lovers could never meet again. Chuc Nu pleaded with her father not to pass
such a harsh sentence, but to no avail. However, soon after, the Jade Emperor took a little pity,
and promised that they could meet once a year on the seventh day of the seventh month. So
every year, on the seventh day of the seventh month, Chuc Nu stands on one side of the Milky
Way and appeals to the crows to help the parted lovers be together again. The crows from all over
the world would unite, and form a bridge so that Chuc Nu and Nguu Lang could cross and be
together again. The crows in the legend are most likely the birds that migrate across the sky
during the seventh lunar month. In Vietnam during this time of the year, a light rain falls
throughout the day. The Vietnamese call this rain “Mua Ngau,” and associate it with the happy
tears of long parted lovers. During hot summer days, these light rains are welcomed with joy, for
it means the crops will have enough water to avoid a drought.
 166

At twelve noon, Vuong and Khoa were happy as the train arrived slowly into the railway station. I

spent a long time talking with Kieu Sa. She asked me to return soon in order to help her to

prepare for another examination, I understood:

“That means you have decided to pursue your study?”

She hadn’t answered my question but she gave me a book, a mail and a small box and told me:

“Please do not open them now; you will discover it at home.”

*****
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30) Suspicion and investigation

My mother was very moved to see me arrived home. She called my father and brother to

welcome me. Having seen me empty handed, she questioned me:

“Have you lost your luggage?”

She made me sit down but I told her:

“A seminarian friend had come with me at the three crossroad ways station, I had not jumped out of

the train at our market station. With Hung, we go there now by bicycle to look for him.”

But my mother gave me another suggestion, she said:

“I think you are very tired after having walked three kilometers. Stay home. I will ask your brother

in law to search for him by motorbike.”

My father looked a little worried, he told his wife:

“Please ask Thoi to report their presence at the commune’s hall.”

Then he asked me:

“How long will your friend be stayed in our home?”

I answered him:

“If there is a train every day, he will leave here tomorrow.”

I felt something being wrong with his behavior. My father had always liked to receive friends of

his children. I wondered why he looked worried for our presence. I asked him:

“It appears you are concerned about something. May I know it?”

He became quiet. Having understood my anxiety, my mother explained:

“For some time in the past, you had no doubt listened to the new economic zone’s program. The

government wants to dislodge all undesirable family. They search and to separate them from the

people. They obliged the family one of whose members had been in close relationship with the old

political regime to leave in the cruel zone. My family seems to be entered on this unpopular list.

They wanted to move us and occupy our house.”

*****
 168

Although worrying real worry threatened my family, Khoa was received with joy. His presence

made us forget the imminent menace issue by the government. He understood all the worries of

my father as his family was in the same situation. Having seen my father walking lame, he

thought of his own father must lean on a cane. They wished to escape from Vietnam. My eldest

sister came home to join us with her husband who had gone and picked Khoa up at the station

with our two heavy bags. She had not taught mathematics subject in the high school, she had

been sacked because of her husband who was a former officer of Southern Army. My father said

to Khoa that his second daughter was named as physic-chemistry teacher. For the next school

year in the high school located at the Ba Ngoi “three way cross sources”. She had gone to a friend’s

home to find an accommodation for her to live while she is teaching out there. Khoa observed

that my family was destined to the education but in the old politic regime, his family and father

was one in practice of the health services. His father had not finished his medicine study but he

worked as a private medical assistant in the country commune near Phan Rang. He asked my

bother:

“And you, what are you doing now? I have a young brother who is perhaps same age as you. He was

a former seminarian in the former Stella Maris. He wishes to become a doctor. ”

My brother was shy and could not found some words to answer to his question. My mother said

that he was not have admitted into the Cam Ranh high school, he worked as a bookkeeper in the

agricultural co-operative, created and compelled to submit by communist ideology. Paddy-fields,

orchards soil, animals, tools and engines had been bought symbolically by the nation; all those

belonged to the common good. His task consisted in counting the work time that each peasant

worker had spent on the field. All peasant people became then public servant of the country. In

spite of his shyness, my brother gave a humorous observation:

“Before the people worked in the field, today many persons worked on the rim of the paddy-field. In

the past, all peasants were stick in the mud today thank to the Revolution, a lot of people become

functionaries overseeing a few workers in the muddy water.”

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Being informed of Khoa’s presence, Dung and Son accompanied by some other friends came to

great him. They had been together in the same class in the Stella Maris seminary. Although it was

very dark because there was no moon, as we were in 29 th of the fifth month according to the

lunar calendar (Friday July 15 th) and the house was lit weakly by small kerosene lamps; it was

brightened by much laughter of old comrades; furthermore, we all had passed with success our

exam of “A level”. But our joy was short; we stopped talking abruptly when two policemen

arrived. One of them asked my father to show him the famous family record book. He demanded

then our passports; happily, I had finished this task for each of us before leaving. However, the

policeman told my father:

“Two persons having just come here this evening are not registered on your book. Your son in law

has declared their presence when they have already been here. We are obliged to lead them to the

commissariat.”

Many neighbors crowded into our cement yard, encircling us standing in front of two policemen.

My father told them:

“Be tolerant as President Ho Chi Minh. Here are my son and his comrade who will leave from here

tomorrow if the train will pass through.”

In view of many people who came to defend us, they withdrew without speaking.
*****
On Monday July 18th, from an early morning, when I and my mother came home from the daily

mass; we met three persons, two men and one woman with their briefcase in our yard. My father

having been at the church had not arrived at home, as he walked slowly. They intercepted us at

the step door to inquire:

“We came to work with your husband. Where is he?”

My mother seemed to have a bad premonition to such an extent that she was scared to death and

she could not speak. I came before the man who had just asked this question and replied to him:

“My mother could not answer you if she did not know who you are. Every day, many people come

here to beg as they are poor now. Who are you? ”

 170

Another man wearing police uniform became very aggressive, catching me by my shirt’s collar

and said:

“Mischievous boy! Don’t be insolent.”

My mother trembled fearfully, hurrying me out from them, and then she invited them to go into

the sitting room. She asked me to stay there and she went to make up a teapot. When my father

arrived, they expelled me from the room. With my brother, we hid in the next room to listen

secretly their conversation. Then my father introduced himself. A man clothed civilian asked him

to call all family’s members. My mother and brother were present except me as I belonged

administratively to my family. He demanded then our family-register book.

“How many sons do you have? I read only one on the book. I saw another one just now.”

My father tried to explain that I belonged to another family book. I would be here for some

holiday weeks. The woman began to write down all what she had heard, while the man in civil

clothes introduced himself and his colleagues:

“I am political agent working for Cam Ranh County. Here are two policemen of the local

commissariat who will help me work with you.”

He turned toward my mother and said:

“Please let us work tranquilly now. You and your sons please don’t leave here. It is forbidden to

recieve anyone today.”

My mother had laid her teapot on the table, but the man told her:

“We have our water to drink. Please move it.”

But my mother said:

“When my husband thirsty, he drinks it.”

The man did not respond to her question, he said:

“Please, do it as I have told you.”

I withdrew secretly from the room, taking the bike of my brother and went to Cam Ranh to

inform my sister. We returned home at once.

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*****
At noon, three people got out and stood up in the veranda floor, the police woman took

something out of her bag; she appeared to prepare their lunch; while two others smoked. My

father stayed alone in the sitting room, they had not allowed him to go out. My mother looked

very worried, she made many turns from the kitchen to the door of the sitting room, and she rose

and sat down over and over. The morning seemed to last for a century. Like my mother, I was also

anxious; I thought they were cruel not to allow my father to go out to pee. He was tired, thirsty

and hungry. I talked in whispers with my mother:

“Mama, let me ask them to bring water and food for daddy.”

My mother answered me:

“Let your sister do it. She knows how to speak with them.”

She looked in a corner of the kitchen, taking a bunch of banana which had been covered by straw

so that it should be ripe. She asked me to select some bananas that were turned yellow; it meant

they were very ripe. Then she asked my sister to search for a meal tray which she putted in order

twenty fruits and a teapot with cups. She gave me and my sister two ripe bananas and said:

“Eat some bananas. I have no time for cooking.”

My sister got out of the kitchen, having carried a heavy tray; she advanced slowly toward the

sitting room. She was ready to enter, the policeman cried:

“Stop there! It is forbidden to enter the sitting room.”

My sister tried to smile his anger away:

“My mother wants to offer you bananas. May you give some to my father? If you let him be hungry,

he risks to be in hypoglycemia and falls into coma. So you could work no longer with him.”

The policewoman approached my sister; she took all bananas and put again two fruit trays at the

table. She said:

“You aren’t allowed to speak with your father. Put your tray on table and get out off here.”

When my sister had returned to the kitchen, I asked my mother:

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“May I go out.”

My mother said:

“Be careful.”

I left discreetly from the kitchen by jumping over the window. My mother passed me a cluster of

bananas. I went around the house and crawled along the wall; when I touched the window of the

sitting room; I appeared quickly behind window bars to make sign to my father. I saw him sitting

on the ground although there are three armchairs in drawing room. I used a long small chunk of

bamboo that at the end was hung my cluster of bananas. I got away from there when my father

had picked it up.

*****
They worked again with my father at one p.m. and finished at five p.m. Then they left the house

without saying goodbye. The political agent told my mother that they would come again the

following day. My father, exhausted, was creeping toward the kitchen. He finished by lying down

on the ground as he couldn’t sit on a chair. We rushed encircling him; each of us tried to give him

massages. My mother washed his face with a fresh towel; my sister made him drink cool

lemonade. Several neighbors came into our yard. A quarter of an hour later, my father began to

recover his strength and tried to rise. When everybody had left the house, we began to eat. He

said:

“Someone should denounce my former status. During the interrogation, they tried to force me to

vow the truth. I spoke such as I had done it in a re-education camp. They hadn’t obtained something

else from me. Tonight, I must narrate my whole life writing it down in this book. They will come

again tomorrow.”

I suggested to my father:

“You know that I have a very good memory. When you told me what you had written in a

reeducation camp, I had recorded it by heart. You can go and rest tonight. I will do it for you.”

I searched for two others books and throughout the night I did not sleep in order to fill up three

copies relating simply but exactly my father’s story. I hid two of those under altar cloth in our
 173

sitting room. The inquirers would come again in two following days, but they hadn’t obtained

what they wanted to find out from my father.

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31) Peninsula Binh Ba

After a very emotional week, some parts of me wanted to go to Nha Trang, as I wished to see Kieu

Sa again and my comrades; but some parts of me wanted to stay here to support my family

especially my father in this difficult time. I confided this secret to my mother. She commented on

my situation:

“Anyway, you could not stay here, as you are suspected by the police. You can support us by your

prayers. However, I don’t want you to leave soon from our place; we had missed you when you were

not at home. Moreover, I think your father should have an important project for you and him. In

spite of my mother’s heart, I was in whole accordance with him. As for your vocation, it depends on

you. If that ways makes you happy and in conformity with God’s will, you will not avoid it;

Otherwise, I believe he will prepare for you another route. Be confident.”

Throughout the day, I ruminated about words “another route” of my mother. I wondered what

she had wanted to signify exactly. After my A level, I had a unique desire, only one and nothing

else, it was “to study”. I could not stop at the starting points of my way. I had not thought of

fleeing overseas, as there were not any fisherman in this agricultural country. In the evening, my

first female cousin came to our home to discuss secretly with my parents. Her parents lived next

door. She had married several years ago and had two children. Her husband was a marine soldier

who had just died in the battle a few days before April 75. He was in a fishing family living in the

peninsula Binh Ba. From the death of her husband, my first cousin had moved to live with her

parents in law in that fishing village located in this famous peninsula which lived the former

military harbor of the American Marine. She often offered a nice tuna fish as it was a precious gift

for my family, when she returned to her parent’s house. She gave some explanation concerning

the quantity of this size of fish after the withdrawing of the America Marine. According to her

because the American Marine occupation’s period, it had been absolutely forbidden to fish in this

ocean area, all fish had “lived a long peace time” without fear of death, they produced in great

numbers. But the joy of fishing hadn’t been lengthened; the peninsulas’ fishionery priced their
 175

fishing boat to fishing co-operative after the reunification of country in 76. The government had

put all of them under its surveillance. The fish, the fruits of their hard work no more belong to

them. However, when they went fishing in the ocean, they mustn’t bring much diesel fuel; each

boat was allowed to carry the fuel enough for one or two days at the sea. Their fishhaul must be

sold to the fishing co-operative. Many fishermen had already fled overseas by their small wooden

boat. While I was thinking of that, my mother came asking me to be present at their meeting in

the room with my father. He said to me:

“Your first cousin had proposed me a place in her boat to flee overseas.Of course we have to make a

financial contribution to this organization. I wish you could accompany me in this adventure,

happily, your first cousin had accepted my decision even though we had not enough money for two

persons. I thank her and her family in law for this generosity.”

*****
Sunday afternoon, July 17th, I was called to a secret meeting with my father; I knew what he

would tell us, all members of the family were present in his room as well as my first cousin. My

father was hardly to begin his talk. After a silent moment, my mother told us:

“For the sake of the last event, your father should risk to return to the re-education camp. I do not

want to live again in this bad experience. Thanks to D. your fist cousin, she had accepted to receive

your father to go abroad with her family. That is to say that your father will flee here by boat…

However, he had negotiated with her in order that one of his sons could accompany him. It would be

quite expensive for us, but his life is more precious. Furthermore, your brother should continue his

study… ”

My sister looked at my father and asked:

“When will you leave here?”

My father gave a glance to my first cousin; he seemed to ask her to tell how and when we could

start this project. She answered:

 176

“In some days, a man will go to meet you here and will conduct you to the peninsula Binh Ba. You

will be hidden in a fishing tower set in the salt marsh area. Thereby, you will be ready to start when

the day D to be happened. This fishing tower belong to my family in law, nobody could come to

disturb you. ”

I was very happy to hear that, at the same time, my chest was throbbing with anxiety. I

remembered my burnt accident on March 75. I said to myself:

“Man proposes; God disposes.”

I took leave. It was after five p.m., the evening had set in. Having sat in the dark before the altar, I

prayed.
*****
We, my father and I, were confined in a small and simple fishing stilt house raised above the salt

water. It was not far out of land, as we could see the fishing village by the distance. We looked at

the guff that was a basketry round boat made by bamboo which the man who had led us here

was going away toward the shore. This man had been very agreeable; he had carried my father

on his back for some kilometers and had helped him to climb into this pile dwelling of four

square meters. We sat down on the rudimentary wooden floor that let us see the surface of salt

water under our seats. A simple bridge built by two bamboo horizontal bar led to empty fishing

net suspended in the air. I asked my father:

“Where are we?”

He observed the surrounding area and tried to locate our position as he was a former officer of

the intelligence service of the Southern Army. Then he told me:

“We are in the interior of the Cam Ranh bay. Our fishing tower is raised in marshy area near to the

peninsula Binh Ba. This inlet was very deepwater on the South China Sea. It is about 30 kilometers

long from north to south and up to 16 km wide. Thanks to the long protective seaward peninsula

and natural deep inner and outer harbors, the former French navy as well as old U.S. air and navy

had used this bay as an important military base which could receive many big ships and protected

them from monsoons and typhoons. This bay had been discovered by a Russian Admiral Zinovy
 177

Rozhestvenski 1905; The Japanese also used it to assemble their warships and transports as they

prepared for the invasion of Malaysia…”

The sun began to down. I benefited a little sunlight to prepare our diner; followed by a meal, the

man who conducted us here had given us a big box of rice; another one contained cooked fish with

caramel. He left us one spoon; two pairs of chopsticks and five liters of water jerry can. Because of

fatigue, my father served some spoons of rice with fish and told me to eat more for to have strength

to travel overseas. We shared the meal in silence and in the darkness, as the moon appeared like a

very small croissant. My father wanted to smoke; he brought with him a cartouche of cigarettes but

he suddenly remembered that he did not have a cigarette-lighter. He said:

“Please remind me to ask our guide to give me a match’s box when he comes here.”

An idea suggested to my mind, I said:

“Daddy, if you allow me to break one pair of chopsticks, I could create a fire.”

With his agreement, I ripped a paper found in my upper pocket, setting them into a small pieces

in a bowl and then I chafed energetically two pieces of bamboo chopstick; happily, fire burned

suddenly, I tried to light a cigarette…

*****
My father smoked in the silence of the night. I remembered the days that we had just passed. The

previous day, I could have not slept throughout the night. Monday morning, July 18 th, it was

extremely difficult day. My mother had been hiding her emotions. My first cousin had asked his

brother in law to search for us by his motorbike. He took us to an old wharf at three crossroad

ways at Ba Ngoi; he guided us into an unoccupied house and told us to stay there until three

o’clock in the afternoon; another man, perhaps a middle age fisherman, had gone looking for us.

We got into a small fishing boat that conducted us to Binh Ba bay; a basketry round boat had

intercepted us between the seas water to lead us there at this fishing hut raised among the see-

reeds growing in the salt-water. According to him, we could be called to start anytime from now

to the end of the week. That meant we must wait here at least two, three or four days. We were

hidden here in peace. He came again here perhaps in the night to give us all necessary things.
 178

The wind was lightly blowing bringing some cool air. Far out in the sea, a lot of lights moving, it

was the boats going to fish. Waves clapped to the fishing hut trembling lightly. Some cries of the

nature such as the one of night-birds hunting in the night. Abutted against a wooden pillar of the

hut, my father was asleep because of deathly tiredness. I was awake all the night. A lot of lights

gleaming from the stars in the sky and from fishing boats in the ocean distracted my mind.

Sometimes, several fishes wriggled violently under the water below our hut. I fell into sleep in

the deepest night.

I suddenly woke up; the sun has shined into the fishing hut and warmed my face. It was cold

because of the sea wind in the morning. My father had been awake for a long time. He told me to

take a lite breakfast as there was only water and some rice. He looked at me eating in silence. I

suddenly decided to plunge into the water for the morning toilet. I asked my father to allow me to

do that; he told me to be careful as there were perhaps jelly-fishes. I watched the seawater and

saw little fishes swimming. I jumped into the cold water, it was not deep here. I said to myself:

“The deepest ocean for the whale’s living while the flounder is happy in boggy water.”

I had been born in the freedom as I was suffering to be confined in this hut even though for some

days. Like a fish, I swam joyfully in the sea. My father watched me and he told me not to move far

away. One hour later, he asked me to come up otherwise I risked getting a cold.
The day was very long almost interminable. I observed the activity of a poor fisherman far out in

the marshy area. I heard the plashing noises spreading from his steps in the swamp. He

wandered and put regularly his two fishing tackles into the salt-water field. Sometimes, he thrust

his hand into the fishing-tackle and got out a mullet. Sometimes, he strenuously threw a sea

snake far away. We impatiently expected someone coming to see us, but when sun set the evening

arrived, no guffaw appeared to come toward us…

*****
There were now three days we had been confined in this “prison hut”. My father asked me:

“What day it is?”

I had pity of him. He had forgotten the time as he missed his wife and all his children. I said:

“We are on Thursday 21st.”

 179

He had a presentiment that we couldn’t leave from here. He said:

“It will be good; I love very much to see my family again.”

I was scared not to be leaving. I dreamed to escape from here for the promise of the freedom. My

father went on:

“Yesterday, in the deep night, I had heard a chain of sounds from the AK 47. Perhaps, the bordered

police should have fired theirs submachine gun on the people, like us, who were ready to move into

the boat for escaping.”

We prayed then together.

Saturday 23rd evening, a young man was driving his guff toward us. I was very anxious as I had

realized that was not the person who had been in contact with us from the beginning. When he

approached near to the fishing hut, he said aloud:

“My brother had been booked by the bordered police as his boat had contained much foods and oil-

fuels. He had asked me to look for you here. Don’t worry. I will lead you safe and sound to your

home.”

*******
 180

32) A blue summer

After this failure at the peninsula Binh Ba, I returned rapidly to the seminary with some sadness.

My first dream of the freedom had just been blown away by the “sea wind”. In the beginning of

August (Sunday 7th), it was still hot and windy; I wandered an aimlessly in the street of the city.

My comrades had not yet come back; they would perhaps, take advantage of the summer

holidays to stay longer at home with their parents. I passed by twice in front of Kieu Sa’s house

but I had not dared to enter knocking at the door. I wished to see her to ask many things; I hoped

to see her going out of the house, but the small garden gate was always closed and seemed

people to be insided the house. Besides, its doors and windows appeared to be locked by a rod. I

wondered in my mind:

“What is the matter for Kieu Sa’s family?”

I stood still at a moment and I decided to ask their neighbors. A young woman appeared at her

door, I immediately asked her in pointing my finger to the Kieu Sa house located at the other side

of the street:

“I come to meet my former high school friend, but her house is always closed.”

She looked at me as though to be surprised, and then she said:

“Why haven’t you known it? This family had fled abroad by boat about one month ago. Don’t be

staying here. The police could book you to inquire something.”

Some parts of me was very glad at this news, I hoped that Kieu Sa and her family could reach a

foreign country safe and sound, thus she would be free and continue her study; some parts of me

was sad because I began to miss her, the brief time we had been together was transformed into

souvenirs. I had suddenly remembered that Kieu Sa had given me a little gift box at the railway

station; because of all disturbances of my family in July, I had forgotten it. At the same time, I

remembered what she had recommended me before my departure: Please do not open this box

before August.”
*****
 181

Khanh left his bike leaning at a tree in front of his room. He was joyful to see me sitting on the

balcony of the chapel. He came toward me and said:

“I am very happy to see you coming back. I begin to be bored to be alone in this big house. Why do

you look pale, will you go to the cinema with me tonight? There is a good Russian film ‘all my heart’,

perhaps, I did not retained exactly it title.”

I hesitated to agree his invitation because I wanted to read and read over and over, the letter of

Kieu Sa. But Khanh insisted so that I would accept it, he said:

“It is not good to stay sadly at home in Sunday evening. I hear that the Russian film is very

interesting. Furthermore, it is a story of two pianists; I think you will like it. I will present you to my

family; we will share dinner with them and then we go to the movie. My parents are living not far

from the cinema.”

I asked him:

“Do we have to go now?”

He answered:

“Not at once, I will take a bath. We will go about six p.m. Give me an hour for my refreshing up.”

When he went away, I again read my forgotten letter:

“Dearest Si,

When you read these words, I hope that my family had successfully arrived at a free country. With

the agreement of my Dad, my mother had accepted to abandon our country and city full of

memories to me. I dreamed to be with you in the boat that will conduct us to the free land. In fact,

my mother had been in connecting with a family, my father’s relative. Accoding to them we could

leave here on 7 or 8 in July.

If my future boat would conduct us successfully overseas, immense liberty; I have to pay an

expensively a lot for it. I leave behind me two dearest persons of my life: my father and my best

friend who had trusted in my ability. This second one had savored my modest poems. From this

time, I recognized my growing maturity, I had known of missing, waiting, expecting and thinking.
 182

I’m very ashamed to say it, as you never tell me your sentiments. But I guess you love and esteem me

very much. You had taught me how to solve hard mathematic problems. You were interested in my

future studies. You are very loved by all members of my family. I can’t forget it… But there is a

unique problem that you can’t solve: an equation of my heart, equation of thousand degrees. I cried

in my heart. Life had just offered me a hope in love and I soon got lost. It is unjust. I very much

wished you to stay some more days in Nha Trang, but I respect you. Your mother must wait for her

beloved son to come home. I have nothing to offer you unless me. However, I confine only my poems

among them one was reserved to you and a gold chain with a dolphin which I was wearing around

my neck. You are perhaps my dolphin. If I should die in the ocean, I dream to be eaten by him…”

I started at the sound of Khanh’s voice. He was behind my back, he told me:

“Wow, you had just left from your country, a missing letter is already sent. Will we go now?”

I asked him:

“Some comrades told me that you a very good song-writer, it is true?”

He answered me:

“About two years ago I composed a gentle love-song. Why are you asking me of that?”

I said:

“From April 75, I had met at least two poet friends. Their texts seemed to be simple but fine, nice

and romantic. Can you write the music for that?”

Khanh answered me:

“It depends on the text. If it is well written, I will try to set it to music,”

I gave him Kieu Sa’s poem of who named it “It is only a dream”:

“Where you are now, the morning was dawning.

In a coner of the sky, the sunrise was brightening.

Men steps go and come, moving in hurry on streets.

I look for a familiar silhouette, but there is nothing.

****
 183

I was awoken in order to measure what I had just lost.

Have you ever loved me or only for your God?

Why do you come and go so rapidly like a broach?

From now on, who will share with me joy and sadness?

*****

If was only a dream, I wish not to meet again it.

I say to myself being strong to look ahead.

Having raised my hand, I say goodbye him.

To forget all pains which remained in heart?

*****

Are you hearing the time sound regularly beating?

At each one, my heart feels like hurting?

What I am hoping as the current life is always flowing?

I had only lost and never picked up anything.

*****

If who could give me a simple wish,

I beg him to take me back to the past,

For a living again a moment the happiness.

It is very simple why it could not be.

*****

I wondered myself to listen to my deep heart.

Having gone far out in time, I could not seize it.

Let be free love having not begun but gone away.

I have only some remembrances remaining in mind.

Khanh felt that it was very moving. According to him, this person was in despair; if he set it to

music on these words he would be afraid to betray her deep sense.

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*****
We hardly got out of the cinema because of the numerous people who was hustled in the dark.

The love films were very rare so that there was the one everybody rushed to see. We were wet

with sweat. Khanh suggested to me going to drink a glass of fresh cane-juice at the ambulant

merchant settling his vehicle on the side of the street. When we had sat each on a stool; Khanh

began to strike a conversation:

“You look a little sad because of the film or other thing?”

I did not know well Khanh with whom I had only made acquaintance from some months, but I

felt he was companionable. I told him:

“The film is not joyful but it could not be the reason of my sadness. I am bored of the future

perspective, we could not continue normally our way. I am sad when my friends move one by one for

another country. And you, do you think of escaping one day from here?”

Khanh answered me:

“I am living each day as it comes. My family did not have any idea to go abroad by boat. You look

like one of pianist in the film who thinks only of his piano competition so that he had forgotten his

girlfriend being ill and needing his care.”

I told him:

“It does not concern me. Anyway, some friends had looked after her and finally win her heart. As for

me, I am thirsty for freedom, I wish be in the country where I could realize my dream or will. I am

bored to confront the Revolution which hurts my believing. What will we do tomorrow as we had

finished our high school?”

We go back home in silence of the darkness.

*****
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33) A new life

In September 77, every person except Khoa had come back to the seminary. His family had gone

abroad by boat successfully. I felt a little sad because of losing a brother of our new family, at the

same time, I was satisfied for him who from now on could begin another life perhaps more

fulfilled. Under the responsibility of father Joachim who moved living into lodging with father

Thaddeus, we began to organize our new life. As said the proverb: “a hungry belly has no ears”, so

that our community could live, we first had to search how to earn our living. There still were a lot

of rice bags in the warehouse, as it had been reserved to cater for more than a hundred people.

Father Joachim told us that our budget amounted to some hundred thousand Dong, Vietnamese

money. However, we had to work in order to increase our resource, besides, “working is glory” as

Ho Chi Minh said. On one hand, we continued to develop our kitchen garden; we could cultivate

other vegetables such as tobacco-plants; we had to take care of our custard apple orchard so that

it would be more profitable; on the other hand, we would collaborate with sisters of the pure

heart of Virgo Mary to breed pigs because we had a good breeding farm in which a hundred

swine could be easily confined. If it would not generate enough jobs for all of us, some had to go

to the Stella Maris to work. Therewas so soon to organize our theology studies, father Joachim

engaged himself to teach us French and Latin. Each evening, after prayer and dinner, we had to

read and teach ourselves in the study room. We, the best school boys of the high school were

transformed into simple workers without salary; while our friends who had not had the chance

to stay in this house were absorbed with their preparation for different examinations (entrance

exam) that would admit them into the university. Every day, I continued to occupy the kitchen

garden and I was assigned to work with the sisters in order to provide some kind of food for the

herd of swine that would be placed inside next week. I had prepared myself for future testing of

life…
*****
Sister Tuyeê t Linh waited for us, Khanh and I, two seminarians had been assigned to go searching

for the vegetable foods for our pigs. She could drive a van that could hold a metric ton of
 186

hyacinth, abundant natural food that could easily fill the empty belly of the swine. She looked

very cheerful and amiable. Although we met her for the first time, she was open-hearted person;

she easily struck up a conversation with us. Khanh asked her:

“Hi, Sister Snow Soul, that what does your name means?”

Sister Tuyet Linh explained to us:

“When a sister makes a solemn vow; she has to choose another first name, as she is born for the

second time. The sisters who were our elder generation, they had an European name, in fact it was

the names of our saints. For us, the previous bishop had an genial idea; he had named us with

Vietnamese words; thereby, each promotion had a common term like Linh for us, signifying Soul, or

spiritual, or sacred, or unnatural,… Each sister could choose a different second word for herself. As

for me, I think my word tuyet meaning rather snow but it could call to mind it white color, pure or

purity… You could understand what you want to know my religious name.”

I teased her gently:

“I have another interpretation for your religious name. Linh signify also the bell. If we will associate

the bell with the snow, your name calls up European Christmas picture. As that doesn’t exist in our

country. I am afraid that you could not last long in your congregation…”

*****
Like cowboy slinging lasso to catch a cow, I threw a crotchet tied up a cord into the middle river

covered of fully hyacinths. I pulled a grove of them toward the riverside so that Sister Tuyet Linh

would pick them up and cut its roots. From early morning, at 8 a.m., we were gathering about two

or three kilos, enough for the carriage-cell and I began to be tired. I asked Sister Tuyet Linh:

“I think that’s enough. May I take a break?”

She told me:

“Brother, make a little more effort. We have to take at least a ton of water hyacinths that it will be

enough to nourish our pigs for a week; because we can do it every day. We will stop to rest at noon”.
 187

The water hyacinth weren’t very nourishing for the pig, however, these could easily fill empty

belly of swine because all real food for them was missing in this period. Furthermore, these

aquatic and floating plants were the fastest growing in the river and the ponds. It might rise one

meter in height and quickly covered all the surface of the lake. Sister Tuyet Linh explained to me:

“You know, this floating plant had been introduced by Japanese Army during the second world’s war

39-45. They would place a board on it for walking across the water areas.”

In any case, the local people were very contented of the fact that we had taken these invasive

plants which were a major problem: boat traffic was halted and many rivers, ponds and lakes

were covered from shore to shore with up to one hundred ton per acre that asphyxiated a lot of

fishes. We hadn’t come back home for lunch. Sister Tuyet Linh had prepared our meal. She

wanted us to continue our work in the afternoon. In this way, my first test arose: abandon my

desire of studying in exchange of this hard daily work.

*****
At four p.m.we returned home. When we arrived at the seminary, my comrades had already

finished their tasks; we had to still unload all the water hyacinths. A young girl who had been

taken on to help Sister Tuyet Linh in this breeding farm was cutting these water plants into small

pieces. These being mixed with rice bran and alcohol drafts would be transformed into a food

provision for hungry pigs. Currently, our livestock consisted of several sows which could drop

about fifty or sixty piglets a year. Sister Tuyet Linh said that the success of our breeding was

possible due to the fact that we had to care for the animal wellness.
Duyet nicknamed “boat” came to help us; Sister Tuyet Linh asked him to wash all swine and in

the same time clean all floors of the pigsty with the running water. He had worked the whole day

to prepare the soil of the custard apple orchard for future vegetation which would grow between

the lines of these trees. I asked him:

“What will you cultivate in this orchard?”

He answered me:
 188

“I want to cultivate tobacco-plants which could easily grow on the sandy soil. Then when these

mature, we will make cigarettes with these leaves. In fact, I will go to see the person who had

already had some experience for that this evening. After diner, if you and Khanh wanted to come

along with me?”

Khanh answered him:

“I am busy this evening for my new choirs. I agreed to help our young people to sing in church. Si

was agreed to accompany me for this.”

Khanh was the first person who had got involved in pastoral activity. As he was talented in music,

at the demand of his parish priest, he had just assembled a group of teenagers from 11 to 14

years old to create a youth choir in his parish. He had to teach them all new hymns every

Wednesday evening. He had asked me to accompany the voice of his singing members with the

harmonium.
*****
During our supper, father Joachim tried to do a making-up of our working week. He was happy to

observe our easily adaptation to new situation. He thought that we had some good ideas such as

the fabrication of cigarettes with the tobacco’s cultivation plan. Another idea occurred to me, I

told him:

“As we had a large quantity of rice, we could use it to make the alcohol, more paying in this

moment.”

He asked me to study this problem, as he thought I had a scientific mind. Some comrades would

help me in this future enterprise. The other would go every day to the former seminary “Stella

Maris” to work.
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34) The Stella Maris

On Thursday August 8th, the seminary Stella Maris invited its former studentls to the feast of the

Nativity of our Lady. She had been elected the patron saint of this establishment. Anyway, the

Latin name indicated the role of the Christ mother for the seminary. Stella Maris meant that our

Lady was considered as a morning star that would guide all boats in the ocean. It made us think

also of a starfish that we could pick up at the beach. In fact, this pretty domain was located by the

sea side. Two lines of yellow houses were surrounded by the coconut orchard and were bordered

by rows of trees. It was the former school of eight persons of our group. The minor seminary had

been constituted in 1958 in order to receive the young school boys from year 6 th. As the picture of

the trees nursery, it was considered as a training school for the future priests. In reality, to

become a priest, the men having achieved their “A level” and two years of vocational training in a

parish and to study about six or seven years in the seminary, called major seminary. After April

75, this establishment had been transformed into the spot which was destined to receive the

signor seminarians of the diocese who could not return to their major seminaries that existed in

five big cities of Vietnam such as Ha Noi, Hue, Da Nang, Da Lat and Saigon. We who were

considered as the junior seminarians had to make a relationship and respect to the signor

seminarians. We also met many new ones who had come from other dioceses but they were

present in this establishment after the 75 war. Like us, their new life consisted of working,

praying and studying. The majority of them had already passed at least two or three years of the

philosophy and theology. They were very friendly with us. Almost all of them worked hard for

their living like us to work in the breeding pig’s farm and poultry, the kitchen garden and the rice

fields; however, some of them who also shared their experience such as an ambulant merchant of

ice-cream for children. I liked to strike a conversation with bother Ph. (wind) who had a

wonderful sense of humor. I asked him:

“It seems that you speak English very well?”

He answered me:
 190

“You are right; I can not only speak it but also laugh in English, cry in English... Are you playing

drums, aren’t you?”

There was no need to respond to his question as I would play it for the solemn mass of the

nativity of Mary. Although we were only junior seminarians but we were respected by our elder

seminarians. Someone in our group was known as a good musicians and instrumentalists. Four

of us were asked to accompany the hymns in the mass. Ngon conducted a hundred seminarians

for this mass; Khanh played the organ; Dung with his guitar bass. We also met some talented

musicians among these signor seminarians. Phuong Anh was a very good song writer who had

composed already more than hundred hymns some of which were largely known…
*****
After mass, I had introduced myself with a priest who had just been ordained; he still stayed at

the seminary because the bishop could not name him in any parish. He was a middle-aged man,

about forty years old, who had been a De la Sale brother. These religious men were not priests

and the purpose of his former institute was to educate the young and Christian’s people,

especially the poor, according to the ministry which the Church had entrusted to it. After April

75, he wished to become a priest and had changed his primary vocation; he had been admitted

two years ago to the Stella Maris. The opportunity that the last Christmas, the bishop argument

and wanted to send some priests to the new economic zone where many people living in without

support from the church, he had asked the agreement to the government for permission to

ordain two new priests. Although, Pio D. had not yet achieved his six years of major seminary, he

had been chosen to be ordained priest, the bishop had considered his age and his religious life as

a Brother in the congregation. After this Christmas, the government had not considered him as a

priest, they believed that he had been ordained only for this Christmas event; they had no idea of

the definitive character of the Catholic Church. Thereby, he continued to be present in the

seminary. He was a good musical instrumentalist. In his office many musical instruments were

displayed: drums, several electrical guitars, Hawaiian guitar, accordion, piano, organ and a lot of

other instruments such as clarinet, saxophone,… I asked him:

 191

“Do you know how to play allthese instruments which I see here?”

He answered me:

“Before 75, I had been a musical teacher; I taught all these instruments. However, I was a skilled

musician of the Hawaiian guitars. In the mass, you played drums well, but it is hard to accompany

the hymns with drums, the instrument for modern and pop music. If you want, I could teach you

more on technical astuteness for this art.”

I told him:

“I would like to learn the Hawaiian guitar. I will come here one or two days a week for work and

study; I love to follow your musical lessons.You are now priest, what do you do every day here?”

He answered me:

“I continue to learn theology as usual. I am workingat the kitchen-garden which is my litlle extra

work to refresh during the day. I am also an old technical teacher, instead of laboring in the

vegetable field; I give the lessons to repaire and fixing TV, and other electrical wireles to anyone

whose wish to learn it.”

We were busy to our discussion and forgot the lunch. A brother called us to go to the refectory.

He said loud outside the door:

“It is not Lent; you don’t keep lent. Go now to the feast meal.”

*****
There were sounds of laugh and talking in the refectory when we arrived late. I was led to the

priests’ table in the middle of the room because there was no seat anywhere. I was very

overwhelmed to be facing the superior, father Peter. He was a big man, with a full lips and a sweet

smile. He welcomed me at his table and said kindly:

“My son, eat well, because you do not have these foods every day.”

In fact, the meal was both an exotic but tasty. There were portions of roast chicken on the table.

We only had every day foods which some rice, dried fish, lettuce and fish sauce. Father Peter

asked a seminarian to bring me a bowl of “bun bo” (beef noodle soup) for entree, because I was
 192

coming in late, my comrades had already eaten it. It was a delicious dish of people in the middle

part in Vietnam, almost the famous one of Hue where I was born. Bun Bo Hue was a beef noodle

soup consisting of thick bun (vermicelli noodles), thin cuts beef, and a couple of varieties of spam

sticks dressed up in a dark sweet meat-thick broth. Its predominant flavor was of lemongrass.

The broth was very nice but spicy, stingingly hot. I liked all vegetables very much that were used

to go with Bun Bo Hue. It was bean sprouts, lime wedges, cilantro sprigs, and thinly sliced banana

blossom. I was served also some cold pork slices and squares of “gio” (seasoned pork pounded

into a paste) and as we were in a fishing area, it had dried-shrimp broth. I became more

accustomed to these personalities, responsible and professsion priests, I noticed with humor:

“We thank to our Lady. I think we have to celebrate her nativity on every Saturday week.”

We finished our meal with the olive-sized fruit called longan and cinnamon apple. The Stella

Maris superior would like to meet all ten of us, the new seminarian group which combined

students from Stella Maris and Lam Bich with father Joachim in his office at two p.m. Some of us

would take a nap under the coconut shade; some others would chat with the major seminarians.

I got out of the seminary and went to the deserted beach to watching the boats out far in the

sea…
*****
We gathered by a semi-circle infront of Father Peter’s desk. His office was rather wide to receive

all of us included Father Joachim. He had begun his vocation in this old minor seminary and he

had been sent to the Theology Faculty Pontifical Pie X in the Dalat City where Father Joachim also

studied. He had had the chance to continue his study in Rome and obtained his Divine Doctorate

in Theology. He had made a doctoral dissertation on Buddhism. He invited us each to drink a

small glass of Cognac, rare and very good perfume of French alcohol. He told us:

“I have carefully discussed with our bishop and father Joachim last week. We are agreed that you

are now rather mature to engage in a new stage more important for your vocation. You have to

come here three days a week to take in the life of the major seminary. Of course, you could follow all

theology courses with the older seminarians in the morning, however, I will teach you theology and
 193

other priest will also give you an introduction to philosophy. You can also learn other lessons such

as technology or music with father Pio D. In the afternoon, you will work with the members of this

house for different activities, eg. Breeding farm, kitchen garden,… It seems the number remains now

only nine of you, one had left Vietnam?”

Father Joachim answered him:

“Khoa has not returned to our seminary; but we have just received a replacement seminarian who

had come from the Lâm Bich. He was not here today but his name was officially recorded in our

family book. He is living legally with our community. We welcome him because his parents have

gone abroad by boat and he stays alone in Vietnam.”

I lifted my hand to ask a question:

“Who will work for our breeding farm, kitchen garden and custard apples orchard?”

Father Joachim said:

“It is not a problem. We all have to come here for one or two days a week when there is a theology

course on. For the other days, seven of youwill be working here. I had already asked Khanh and Si to

work for the kitchen garden and making of alcohol, Duyet will care for tobacco plants and the

custard apple farm and Luong, your new comrade for the breeding pigs…”

It seemed father Peter thought well of me. This priest who appeared humble, kindly and wise he

asked me to work with him. According to him, we would have more time to speak to each other.

We went to collect all the coconut palms spread over the field around the building and putted in

one spot because he wanted to see the ground to be cleaned. He told me:

“I go to get a kerosene lamp. We will burn these...”

I had suddenly understood why this seminary had nicknam called Neron; Fr Peter spent his

spare times to burn out the dried leaves very often..., I told him:

“You know; what’s wastefulness!!! All of that had been thrown away could be transformed into

energy to fire.”

He answered me:
 194

“You are a little philosopher. But it must clean up our domain as it’s dirty.”

I gave him suggestion:

“Your establishment is located in a very pretty spot, in the middle of the coconut orchard, beside the

most beautiful beach; it could be an object of temptation for the local government.”

Having listened to me, he looked worried and finally trusted a confidence:

“You know, last week, there were two men, perhaps it was the secret policemen, who had come

meeting me and they had inquired of our historical seminary. They seemed to have in mind about

our place.”

I asked him:

“Do you worry about it?”

He answered me:

“Yes, however, we will be strugleling to conserve this place.”

He had known he ought not to reveal this serious worry, changed the subject, he told me:

“I had forgotten to discuss with you an important decision for your future. Father Joachim will tell

you about it. You are now considered as a major seminarian; we are agreed that you all will be

admitted officially in the new stage. There will be a liturgy ceremony for your first engagement.

Even, the major seminarians had not yet worn their cassock daily; the ceremony for receiving the

cassock will be a symbolic to mark for this new stage.”

*****
 195

35) Taking cassock

As before an important event, we tried to discern God’s will. We began the first day of the

spiritual reflection for a week. Normally, we should have to leave our usual habitation for a

monastery so that we will have our whole time to be ourselves to meet God in spiritual way; but

the present period had not allowed us to be wherelse, we had to stay home and decided to keep

silence for praying and meditating. A Franciscan priest had come to preach for us during that

week. Before April 75, having finished their minor seminary, several candidates were sent to the

major seminaries for six or seven years to prepare and study for their priesthood. In reality, after

this high school stage, almost 80 percent of minor seminarians had decided not to pursue their

sacred vocation. The 20 percent who remained had not gone straight to the major seminaries. If

some them who still be immature the seminary’s professors advised them to pursue their study

for another two or three years, before continuing their priesthood formation. The seminarians

wore the black cassock and were considered as clergy although they hadn’t yet achieved it.

People called them brothers with respect.

Walking silently in the custard apples orchard, I tried to be attentive to the presence of God in my

life. It included the withdrawal of mind from external and earthly affairs in order to attend to God

and Divine things. It was the same as interior solitude in which my soul was alone with God. It

was true that God and his Son Jesus had given me many graces. I abandoned my desire very

strong in me, desire to pursue the higher study, desire to escape from my country for the

freedom,… I tried to pray daily to Him and I felt him often being absent. It was most difficult to

make me progress in virtue. Multiplicity of occupations, of indulging was perhaps obstacles to my

priesthood life. I passed in review all people, friends, enemies, who had marked my life.

Throughout them, I should recognize in my mind the Divine presence…

A week had passed, I had realized that I had been very happy and had many chances throughout

the difficult period which allowed me to grow in maturity, in human and in spiritual experience,

in love which God had offered me. Certainly, I could not know what would be my future, but I
 196

knew that I was very happy although I was confined in this circumstance… I told myself I had to

go home to ask my mother for money to have my cassock made.

*****
Like the bride and broom before their wedding, each of us had been busy with our clerical

clothing. It was true we were attracted by the elegance of this black tunic, universal everyday

clothing of clergy, long and close-fitting, looked like an ancient toga. Who had money would buy

four or five meters of black silk, rare and expensive, to custom make sewing a new one that

would fit perfectly. Chien showed me his nice cloth and Khanh told me that his mother had

already found material for him. I myself did not have enough money to make a new one. I bought

an old cassock from a former major seminarian who had not continued his priesthood vocation.

Unhappily, as he was bigger and taller than me, his cassock was too large for me. Khanh, having

looked me in the ample black dress, burst out to laugh and said:

“My sister is a good dressmaker; she could alter your old cassock. Come with me tonight, I will ask

her to do it.”

After dinner, before coming along with Khanh to his parents’ house, he asked me to find a picture

which his sister could see a cassock or a man wearing one. He explained to me:

“My sister is quite talented for dressmaking, but she has never sewed a cassock. I hope this picture

will give her some ideas. I think if she examines this attentively, she could draw it and will make my

cassock well and alter yours.”

As Khanh had said, his sister who was a teacher in a high school and was very skilful. She

observed the picture which I brought her and I was surprised by her question:

“How many buttons will I need?”

We looked at the man wearing the cassock in the photo and began to count slowly the buttons on

his. Khanh answered his sister:

“There are thirty two.”

I asked him:

“Are you sure? Do you count well? There are thirty two only?”
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I told him:

“I think that there must be thirty three buttons, in raison of 33 years of Jesus’ life”.

His sister told him:

“That’s right, Khanh, count again.”

It was true that the number of buttons on the cassock was fixed in function of the life of Christ.

His sister took our measures and assured us:

“Don’t worry my two brothers. You are really coquette like young girls. You will be very handsome

next Sunday.”

*****
The Sunday October 2, 1977, the house was opened to welcome all parents, friends of ten of us

and many faithful people who were living in different parishes of the City. Our group began to be

known by the Christian people. Dac and Tien were in charge of the cordial to welcome our guests.

Parents, friends, external seminarians, and signor seminarians, brothers from Stella Maris

occupied the entire space inside and outside the chapel,the veranda surrounding from five a.m. I

was a little sad because no one of my family could come for this ceremony. In reality, they could

not obtain their passport for Nha Trang. In the mass of people, although they were in the dark as

the sun had not yet risen at five a.m., I was surprised to see Phuong, my former comrade in the

high School; she was not catholic and her family was unfaithful.
We had always known the solemn mass such as ordinations and solemn vow of the sisters, but

our ceremony was the fact that we would dare to use the musical instruments of the rock and roll

for the hymns. We had already done it at the nativity of Virgin Mary ceremony on September 8,

but the mass was not opened to the large Christian community. The drums were displayed in a

left corner on the same line as the electric organ. The guitarists would occupy the place before

these. Furthermore, instead of singing the old hymns, we had chosen the ones, very rhythmic,

which were set as the profane songs in vogue. These kinds of new hymns were called “holy music

in life.” Luong, the new unofficial member of our group who had replaced Khoa, already perhaps

in a foreign country, was adjusting his guitar strings with Dung who would play the electric bass
 198

guitar. Although they had played the guitar well it was the first time they used the electric one for

the accompaniment of the hymns. Khanh made introduction interestingly with his electronically

Yamaha keyboard. It offered numerous modern sounds to musician Khanh who had played the

old harmonium in the chapel. As for me, in spite of my novitiate as a drummer, I had to care not

to make too much noise and support the hymn melody singing by the people. I would not play

with usual baguettes but with brushes in order to make its soft sound. For the mass, Ngon had

chosen the hymns composed according to the European melody such as slow rock, blue, soul,

surf and even tango. In this period, even if before 75, some young musicians and catholic

songwriters such as father TT, had adapted the religious words to the musical rhythm that for

youth mass. By example, the hymn of the Holy Communion, our musician friend Ngon had chosen

“Lam sao dam mo rang co? (why could we dream it…?)” by Redemtorist father who set this hymn

with tango rhythm. He did not use the ordinary of the mass written by our bishop as he had

selected the one by father NVT who had set it by slow rock rhythm.
The mass was offered as usual in devoted spiritual atmosphere. The young people were perhaps

surprised and interested to listen to the hymns accompanied by our orchestra. At the beginning

of the ceremony, we had still been in civilian clothes but after the homily, each of us came to

receive our cassock, wearing it and after this ceremony, we returned our place to accompany by

the Christian people singing. I felt slightly ashamed in this new uniform and I was awkward in

playing drums with this long black dress. My comrades almost the ones were taller were elegant

in black. In that suite they became another man, manifestly mature and more attractive…
*****
I was walked with Phuong the lenght of the pathway bordered by two lines of coconut palms. I

thanked her to be at our solemn mass and asked what she had thought of it. She had not been

bored during this long ceremony; in contrary, she had been interested by all aspect of the mass.

She felt the joy in our liturgy and she very much liked all hymns sung by the Christian people. She

told me:
 199

“I have already assisted to some Christmas mass which I listened to the Christmas songs that were

accompanied by the organ. But when I heard the rhythm sound of your drums, I wanted to dance.

You are a priest now?”

I answered her:

“Not at all, Cassocks are the religious clothes of the Roman Catholic priests, but they are also worn

by seminarians studying for the priesthood, by religious brothers. We are only the beginner on the

long way that we could know now for our achievement. Before 75, we should be admitted into the

major seminary for six or seven years of theology courses.”

She gave me an interesting notice:

“My former friends who are faithful to Christianity called you brother with respect.”

I told her:

“We will be a real clergy of the church when we will be deacon or priest. We are only now students

for the priesthood… The Christian people consider us like a religious man, belonging to God.”

I asked her:

“What are you doing now?”

She answered me:

“I was in Saigon to pass my exam for the Communication University, called also Post University. I

wait patiently for the result. May I continue to hear your news sometimes?”

I did not known how to respond to her question. She could give me her news if she wanted; for

me, I knew that I was a very bad pen friend. In the mass, there were packed of people attended, I

suspected two or three persons whose faces were not familar like the others. Perhaps, they could

be police spy people came to watch us…..

*****
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36) Making rice alcohol

The feast time had quickly passed; we returned to the current life; we began to think of our

envisaged projects. All of us went to the same direction, but at the three crossroad ways in Thanh

Hai, my comrades turned on the right to go to the Stella Maris to work while I continued on the

National 1 and turned toward Ba Lang named by the fishing quarter along the beach. It was a

catholic village whose habitants were native of Thanh Hoa province situated in the North of

Vietnam. They had migrated here as the Geneè ve accord had divided Vietnam into two regions.

They were Catholic people fleeing south to escape the atheistic communists who had suspected

the Christians. Bien, a former Stella Maris’ student and being external seminarian, had told me

that in 1954, the Christian people had a bloody struggle with the Vietnamese communist soldiers

in the North. The president Ho had allowed them to flee South on two Polish ships Skilinki in

1955. These ships had landed at Saigon and then they were conducted to Xom Daê m in Phan Thiet

province. But it was a real promised land; more than a thousand people had taken a train to Nha

Trang and they went straitht to Thanh Hai, to stay provisionally. They had taken the name of their

old village and called it new land. They had quickly built their new village. Two lines of houses

had been builded and they lived along the beach. Each cottage house was in the middle of the

coconut orchard bordered by the willows. While the men had not only taken again their old

profession to fishing but also the fishsauce industry; their women fabricated the alcohol and

used the draft for the breeding farm. The communists caught them up again. Their fishing boats

were bought by the fishing cooperative; they continued to make the alcohol and breeding pig’s

farm. Many priests and seminarians had come from this native people. They were strong in faith

and supported their children to continue to be a missionary.

Our seminarian friend lived in the small cottage on the seaside. Behind that, a small coconut

orchard, the palms were bending toward the ocean. I putted my bike against the entrance led to

small flowers garden bed. I started to smelt the perfume of vinegary like a fermented distilled

grains. I wondered if it was normal because I came here to learn this technique of manufacture. A
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big black dog rushed toward me barking. A woman with hair tied around her head came to

receive me; she ordered her dog to be silent and said:

“Hi, do you come to see Bien?”

I answered her:

“I think that Bien had spoken with you about my visit.”

She suddenly remembered that her son had already warned his family what I wished to do. She

made me entered the kitchen and Bien to join me. His mother invited us to drink a good coconut-

juice and some cakes. In the corner of the kitchen, a rudimentary big cooking pot was heated on

the wooden fire. His sister watched the bottle in which alcohol drops had fallen one by one to a

transparent nylon tube connected to the cooking pot. Bien mother asked me:

“Bien told me that father Joachim had wanted to make rice alcohol. Have you ever done it?”

I answered her:

“No, I have never done it. So, father Joachim sent me here to learn it. Do you agree to teach me the

methods of this work?”

She told me:

“It’s not hard to do it, but it won’t be economic now as the rice is dear.”

However, Bien told her perhaps that we had a lot of rice in stock. Our responsible priests had

bought a big quantity of rice for two hundred seminarians for a year but they could not stay.

Father Joachim has been afraid that the new regime would uncover our rice stock; he wanted to

transform it into alcohol to recover our money. I said:

“It’s true; however, we hope we could learn a new occupation. It’s one of the ways to share the

people’s life.”

*****
After learning for a week, I had not learnt all the process but I thought that I would learn in

making it. I began the first step of making alcohol. I took twenty kilos of rice and I asked Sister

Agnes to wash it. Then the washed rice was immersed for one hour and steamed. The steamed
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rice was spread out on a large cloth to cool down to room temperature. Then I pounded some

lumps ferment into powder and spread it on the steamed rice. Sister Agnes asked me:

“What are these white clods?”

I said:

“It is ferment-wine. It’s starter that contains Rhizopus which has the ability to decompose amylase

and Sacharomycopsis which have the ability to promote alcohol fermentation.”

She seemed not to understand what I had just explained. I asked her to find three wide-mouthed

Chinese jars in which I would transfer the steamed rice spread with starter. Once we had

finished, we placed it in a corner of the kitchen and covered them by cotton cloth. I told Sister

Agnes:

“I will distil it in two or three days.”

Then I examined the other equipment for distillation. I wasn’t a real still as I had seen in the

former technical magazine. I found a big cooking-pot which would be covered by a lid joined

together with a small pipe on the top.

Sister Agnes asked me:

“How could you make it airtight?”

I answered her:

“You know I will search for the rice chaff and then I mix them with argil and finally I will cover all

joints with this substance.”

*****
We had not worked on Saturday; normally, the day was destined to study or pastoral activities.

However, I was busy with my distillation element in the kitchen. The rice fermented was

transformed into a pasty substance immerged in a liquid which smelled sweet and strong. At

lunch, everyone had smelled the perfume of the rice fermented. Duyet said:

“It is smells good, a little sweet, and very strong. May we taste it?”

I told him:
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“You are greedy. It will be distillated for alcohol. But don’t worry, I will you give you some to eat as

dessert.”

Khanh remembered that his parents had made the glutinous rice, but violet rice fermenting into

the kind of liquor pasty substance, delicious to eat. They had pressed this fermented pasty

substance to harvest a very good alcohol that would be used for the New Year days.
I asked him:

“How did they make it?”

Khanh told me:

“Wait a moment. I will look for the recipe which is written down by my sister?”

I wanted to read this recipe to compare with the one that I had learned for making of alcohol.

Then, like that, I could discover some new method. When Khanh came again and gave me the

text; my comrades were also curious to know this method, almost the northern native, they loved

this dish very much. I read aloud:

“Please listen to me and note it carefully.

Ingredients: 2 kilos of glutinous rice, 1 lump of ferment, 1 salt spoon blended into 3 water boiled

spoons.

Here now how to make it: first step, to well cook glutinous rice, then spread it on the tray to let

grow cold, second step, to mix it regularly with the powder of ferment, thirst step, to use one’s hand

wet with salt water to make this rice into round lumps and set them in circle in a stainless steel

recipient, and finally, to cover this container with glass paper and place it in a warm corner. Three

days after, add to it a half of a bowl of sugar, and the next day, rice alcohol is ready to eat…”

I told my comrades:

“Attention, my rice alcohol is not rather delicious, because it is fermented with normal rice in order

to be distilled for alcohol. I need someone to help me to do it this afternoon. ”

At the end of lunch, I offered each one a rice alcohol bowl. They tasted it happily.
*****
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I only needed one person, but all comrades came to help me for the distillation. Anyway, they

wanted to see how the fermented rice would transform into alcohol. I asked Tien to stay to help

me and Sister Agnes and sent back all of others. The kitchen had no place for more than ten

persons. I told them:

“If we let fermented more 6 days; we will have about 50 percent alcohol. But I must distil it now

because tomorrow it will be Sunday. Please leave now. I will report it to you later.”

We began to put the big cooking pot on the furnace. Tien and Sister Agneè s went to find five jars of

fermented rice and then they helped me to pour out their contents into the cookingpot. I put on it

the cover on top of which was connected to a pipe that curved towards the ground. At the end of

this pipe, I connected another nylon transparent pipe rolling two rounds in the water basin and

its tip entering into a one litre bottle. After that, I put my pasty of argil mixed with rice chaff on

all rims of the cooking pot so that it was perfectly hermetic. Sister Agnes brought me another

bottles, but I said:

“I had hoped to make about twenty litters of alcohol. But I do not need so much of them. However,

please give me two ten litre jerry cans. I will pour out the alcohol into them.”

Then we inspected the fire in the furnace so that it was neither too hot nor weak. A quarter of an

hour later, the first drop of alcohol began to fall into the bottle.
*****
On Monday afternoon, Bien conducted two alcohol merchants to the seminary. They bought daily

the production of his family. We examined together our harvest. In the first jerry can, I showed

them ten alcohol litters of good quality. They were pure, very clear, and also strong. One of

merchants measured this one with his alcoholmeter. He said:

“It is 43 degrees. We can blend with the less quality, about 35 degrees.”

But when we observed the second jerry can, its liquid was not clear and in the bottom there were

drafts. This alcohol measured only 30 degrees. We could not blend with the first one. Finally, He

bought all of them. I won the sum a fewer above the price of rice and ferment… When they got

out of the seminary, Bien told me:

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“You know, we have a method to make clear alcohol.”

He whistled it in my ears, but I refused absolutely this method:

“It is very immoral and dangerous to apply it. Our alcohol could be clear but not pure. It will make

dirty also our soul…”

To make clear the bad alcohol, the immoral people put a drop of insecticide into it.
*****

37) Christmas event

After the ceremony of receiving cassock, we continued to accompany the hymns with guitars and

drums for mass. Thereby, a number of young boys and girls came to assist with our dominical

mass in our chapel. Sometimes, a hundred of people stood up outside along the veranda. Tonight,

it was nine p.m., but more than three hundred people had already arrived to the seminary, our

Christmas mass would begin in one more hour. We were afraid to see so many young people for

this event. This mass of teenagers, young men and women risked attracting the suspicion of the

police. But we could not stop these faithful people as they wanted to be here. We had asked some

friends who would agree to oversee this assembling and warn us quickly if something wrong

would happen.
At ten p.m. more than five hundred people squeezed one against the others around the chapel;

inside there were only a hundred people. This space could not hold more, otherwise, we could

not move inside. Perhaps, we were very happy to welcome all of the people presence; however,

we were anxious during the mass. I prayed so that the police would not disturb our Christmas

ceremony. Furthermore, Ngon and Khanh began to write some hymns for Christmas. Their music

was light and bright. Also Khanh had a hymn that would be loved by the young people. But he

was not at home because he had to be with his teenager’s choir singing for the Christmas mass of

his parish. Our garden was like in a dreamy place thanks to many small lanterns that I asked

some young Christian people to make them with bamboo and transparent color paper. We had a

wonder Christmas then ever before. The people made appointment for the New Year mass…
*****
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The Monday January 2nd, we were celebrated Christmas and New Year days, we forgot all worries

that had appeared in our mind. This early morning, two policemen without uniformed had come

asking for father Joachim. They had orderred us to leave the seminary. My comrades were forced

back when they had left the house for going to Stella Maris. I was also ready to carry twenty

alcohol litters to Ba Lang because our buyers were living there. One of them stopped my bike and

said:

“You must stay home during our work with Mr. Tri.”

T. was the first name of Father Joachim. “Work or working” was a new communist vocabulary

meaning inquiry, request, when they interrogated someone. They demanded us to call the others

to assemble at the chapel. Then we, all seminarians and sisters, were assembled in a small room

next to it. A third policeman arrived to watch us and he said:

“Please stay here, don’t move and you are forbidden to chat each other. Do you understand?”

Throughout the whole morning, we were tightly confined in the silence. At noon, I saw another,

fourth policewoman, brough lunch to others. I hoped that he would allow us to get out, to drink,

eat and go to toilet. Half an hour later, the policeman had finished his meal but he appeared not

to pay attention on us. One of sisters was tired as she was almost colapsed because of lower

sugar in her blood. We went out of room to call the police man who made sign to us staying at the

door. But I continued to move toward him and said:

“You have to look after a sister who could be in coma because of her hypoglycemia.”

He seemed not to understand what I said but he called his female colleague. She then followed

me into the room and went looking over Sister Agnes. She told us:

“It is not grave. She is hungry. Have you had something to eat?”

Sister Gabrielle. Answered her:

“We are here since 7 a.m. How could we prepare something to eat?”

I suggested to her:
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“If you allow me to go out, I will get some ripe papayas in the orchard near the pigsty. This fruit are

very sweet it will quickly give her the glucose in blood.”

The policewoman did not let me go alone; she wanted to come along with me to the pigsty where

there were some papayas trees. I did not followthe pathway bordered by two lines of coconut,

but I led her to go across the custard-apples orchard. I regretted that they had not yet ripe fruits

in this season. I very much liked this tree, its shade was large with green leaves spreading around

and falling down to the ground. Also I had adored its light yellow trumpet shaped flowers. Last

summer, in later afternoon, I loved to walk in this orchard to gather not only the fruits but also to

smell the sweet perfume of its flowers. The Custard Apples fruits could provide a very well

balanced food having ample protein, minerals, vitamins, energy, essential fiber and little fat. We

arrived before the papayas row that I had planted with Duyet six months ago. In reality, Papaya

was not a tree but a plant. Our garden light and well drained-soil, wasn’t fertile but planted with

papayas, short lived and fast growing. The hollow deep purple trunks, straight and cylindrical,

carried a lot of fruits shaped like a big pears (1 or 2 kilos) under their nice foliages. I saw already

four or five fruits which skin had attained amber to orange. I plucked five papayas. As I had no

basket for them, I asked the policewoman to carry two for me. When we were going across the

kitchen; I asked her to allow me to look for the rice. In fact, we hadn’t cooked rice; I took a simple

pail and put in it my ferment rice, sweet and good smell, ready for distillation spirit. I laughed to

myself thinking:

“We risk being drunk as we hadn’t eaten any food since this early morning. The alcoholic rice will

set free our mind”.

I took a bowl and invited this woman, because I knew that the Northern people very much liked

this alcohol rice:

“Will you taste it?”

She forgot a moment her function and became open hearted. She began to eat and told me:

“Is it you who did make it? It is delicious.”

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I took advantage this new opening situation to ask her to look for some bottle of water in the

kitchen. I told her:

“I hope you allow my comrades one by one to go to the toilet. It is already five hour they were

immobile in the small room. Or if you want, ask your colleague to move to the refectory. It is larger

and we can sit on the table for lunch, even with some papayas.”

She hesitated without answering me but I added:

“I think your heart is as nice as your visage. Please convince your colleague to do it.”

*****
At 3 p. m., Father Joachim followed two men. They came to the refectory. Father Joachim looked

them quite pale as perhaps they would be very hungry. Khanh gave him a glass of juice. We felt at

ease with this more spacious room. One of the men, he introduced himself the lieutenant

inspector in charge of all religious problems. He told that he was very contented to have worked

seriously with father Joachim for 6 hours. Then he explained why he and his colleague must

beeing here since this morning. He said:

“A month ago, you received many people, almost young men and women in the chapel for dominical

mass. For example, on December 24 th, there were about more than 500 people being present to

Christmas mass at 10 p.m., you have to send them back to their parish. I think their priest should

not be happy to lose his flock.”

He continued:

“You had attracted these people in playing the rock and roll musical instruments. I think your

bishop did not love this music in his church. Furthermore, the melody and rhythms of these hymns

look like the love-songs of the petty bourgeois class that were prohibited by the Revolution.”

He concluded finally:

“Henceforth, I advised you to stop these activities.”

I suddenly remembered the experience that I had lived right after spring 75 in my commune. I

said:
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“We have no authority to forbid the people coming in our chapel. The religious houses have to

welcome all the Christians or non Christians. However, if you want to forbid the people to

participate the mass; send your policemen standing up infront our gate every Sunday. Concerning

the music, we play what we wish to play. The bishop, our spiritual leader didn’t inhibit us from

doing that. Does the music disturb you? I believe that the Revolution had not interdicted the music

but the words of songs.”

My comrades were amazed to listen to my reaction. They were very afraid for me. The policeman

had not responded to me. He repeated again what he had said and told me:

“You will do what you want, but you are warned of our opinion.”

They left then from our seminary.

*****
All of us were very tired, but father Joachim was exhausted. He was fallen down on the ground.

We were very anxious; we tried to look after him. Sister Gab. went in a hurry preparing a fresh

lemonade drink. We supported him to get up and helped him to sit in a chair. He began to drink

and became better. Sister Agnes brought us a small bottle of peppermint oil. Dac tried to put it on

father Joachim forehead. A moment later, he said:

“I am feeling better. We now prepare a rapid meal. They had made us fast since seven a.m.”

During the meal, the late lunch or early dinner, father Joachim reported in details his meeting

with two religious police agents. The fact that they had reproached us to receive many young

people at the mass was an apparent pretext to set their sight on the big domain. They suggested

us to reflect upon the “vocation” or “usefulness” of the pretty establishment located in Nha Trang

city center. Father Joachim said they had told him:

“What do you think that your young men have to pass whole their life here? They were not religious

brothers. They will need to be present in their society to work… Some of them perhaps will get

married if they meet someone.”

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According to father Joachim, they possessed much private and confidential information of each of

us. They knew even whom each one had associated with whom. It seemed that they should have

constituted one restricted record for each members of our community. Khanh asked him:

“What will we do? Do we continue the plan which the bishop had decided for all external

seminarians?”

He made mention of the first purpose of our group; if we were staying in this establishment; it

was not because we had to save our property/building but the diocese wished to hold our hope

for the future sacred vocation. In some weeks, we would be in charge of the reception of the

comrades who were living outside of the seminary for two or three days every month to study

philosophy and theology.

Father Joachim answered him:

“I will deliberate it with the bishop and father Nho, superior of the Stella Maris. We have to continue

our work as we had planned. As for the rest, we entrust to God…”

*****
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38) Philosophy courses

Throughout the week, we had stopped all usual occupation in order to prepare two new

dormitories which could receive about 60 seminarians who would come from different parishes

of our diocese. They were our old comrades who had formerly been in two minor seminaries

Stella Maris and Lam Bich. After high school, they became actually the major seminarians, being

at home and working pastorally in their own parish. There were only about thirty persons who

lived in two other communities like Hoa Yen, about thirty km away from Nha Trang and Tan Tai,

100 km. Some others who had being to the former Lam Bich would come from Saigon, 460 km

away. For the first time, they would pass a week and they would have to stay only three days.
On Saturday evening, we had to have a last meeting to verify all things. Khanh and Ngon, two of

our song writers would have to organize all Masses and prayers for the students. Three persons

would help the sisters in the kitchen and three others would set the table in the refectory and

made a good management for the washing of the cutlery after meals. We had to find a person

who would accept to play the role of nurse, if someone could be sick, he had to look after them.

As I was not named for a task, I asked my comrades:

“And me, what will I do?”

Khanh answered me on behalf of the others:

“We need someone being free in order to observe attentively all unusual events. You can help any

groups as you wanted; but your official task consists to guard against all mishaps… Tomorrow, on

Sunday evening, I think many people will be arriving a night before the day. On Monday morning,

after a short opening meeting, we began our first course with Father X., he will teach us

metaphysics… ”

*****
On Monday morning was given to the first meeting of the common presentation where we met

father X. our philosophy teacher. Like father Joachim, he had been at the former Faculty of

Theology Pio X, the Pontifical seminary of Vietnam in Dalat. Although he was ordained in 1976,

he was not recognized as a priest by the government and he could not be named in a parish.
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Father Joachim strongly recommended us to be absolutely discreet; because we were assembled

here illegally, that meant the local government could not have allowed this formation week if we

asked for permission. All courses would happen in the meeting hall room in the same building as

the Chapel. I locked with a padlock on our small and main gates at the entrance. Then we,

inhabitants of the seminary, introduced ourselves and organized to all future tasks for the week.
This early morning, after daily mass, with some other comrades, I had helped our sisters to

prepare the rice being ready to cook for the lunch, because I had used the rice cooker for making

alcohol. I had an interesting cooking system of the rice by steam from water. On the fire stove, I

had set fourteen aluminum pots with handles close together. Each one measured three litters, in

which I had put four bowls of rices and then added a litre of water. They were ranged in

pyramidal form, the first circle was built with seven and another in the middle; on second stage,

and there were five and the last stage three. I then used a big cylinder tower covered by a circular

cone to put on this pyramid of rice pans. On the top of its lids, there was a handle which was tied

a long rope hung on a pulley fixed on the ceiling of the kitchen. When the rice would be ready,

one used this rope to uncover the pyramidal rice pans. Sister Agnes asked me:

“Do you think the rice will be enough for more than 60 young men?”

I answered her:

“Each rice pan will be served for four men; we have 17. I think that will be largely sufficient for us.”

In the meeting, my mind was busy with the lunch for all comrades. The previous week, one of the

family had offered the seminary three wooden barrels in which the entire small cuttlefish mixed

with a quantity of salts had been conserved. These salt cuttlefishes would be used for lunch. In

spite of this poor dish, I thought that our comrades would be happy to eat the pure rice, because

at home, perhaps they had to eat the rice blended with manioc.
*****
In the afternoon, it was hot and everyone wished to take a nap; but as we had not much time, we

had to begin our first course, the hard Greek antique philosophy that was very strange for all of
 213

us. Although I was a little dozy like my comrades I tried to listen to the eulogy on the philosophy

from father X. said:

“Without philosophy, we cannot understand the theology. The philosophy is the necessary servant of

the theology…”

One hour later, he had introduced us into the other universes, more unfamiliar, that was the

metaphysic of Aristotle. He had spent an hour to explain to us the Greek words, Meta meaning

after in the antique language and “phusic” meaning physic. He tried to make understand that this

philosophy consisted to study the essential question above the physic, transcend physic…
In reality, he had not got onto all general questions of this philosophy such as “ what is the nature

of reality? How does the world exist, and what is its origin or source of creation?...” He taught us

exactly ontology, a main central of the metaphysics. According to him, the ontology sought to

describe the basic categories and relationship of being to define the entities within its

framework. It was not difficult to both metaphysic categories, mind and matter, object and their

properties, identity and change, space and time, religion and spirituality,… I did not seize at once

the three levels of abstraction to understand the conception of being. I vaguely heard some

rhetoric questions of father X., the questions served to explain to us the essential notions of the

ontology:

“What is the being or existence of an ant? How we can call ant an ant? Why do we call it ant?”

I saw Khanh drawing a strange picture with two circles, the small one with two antennas was

touched with the big one. I wrote down my question on a paper:

“What’s this picture?”

By the same way, he answered me:

“It is being of an ant.”

Like me, all my comrades had to make acquaintance with new vocabulary. At dinner, we still were

busy with some hard conceptions. This meal was not better than the lunch where we had tasted
 214

very salty cuttlefishes. However, we were happy to have whitebaits which w called with humor

whales. I told my friends at the dinner table:

“According to ontology philosophers, the appetite doesn’t depend on the appearance of these small

fishes but on our mind that find it good like beef.”

*****
The following days, we began to be acquainted with the rhythm of the courses. We had to let

aside temporaly Plato and Aristotle in order to enter into another philosophy universe. We had

already heard the names of Chinese savants such as Lao Tsu, Tsang Tu and Confucius; but we had

never known their thoughts. A professor of philosophy, was a former seminarian, came to teach

us the Asian wisdom. We had to remember a new concept; he defined the principal on of Tao:

“The Tao or Dao is the order of Universe. It is a primordial concept of non-being...”

We had just left the basic concept of being in ontology, and we had to learn the non-being of Tao.

He gave each of us a small paper on which a definition of Tao was written down:

“The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao; the name that can be named is not the eternal

name. “Nothingness” is the beginning of heaven and earth. “Oneness” is the mother of everything.

Ever desire less, one can see the mystery. Ever desiring, one can see the manifestations. These two

springs from the same source but differ in name; this appears as darkness. Darkness within

darkness, the gate to all mystery.”

(Gia-Fu Feng & Jane English, 1972)

I understood that “All things change and move unceasingly” in the universe according to Lao Tsu.

Once more, the wu-wei concept of Lao–Tsu haunted my mind. I tried to remember the words of

the professor:

“Wu may be translated as not have; Wei may be translated as do, act, serve as, and govern. The

literal meaning of Wu Wei is "without action" and is often included in the paradox Wei wu Wei:

"action without action" or "effortless doing"”. Have and not have or being and not being weren’t

paradox reality but in moving relation, as being was born from non-being.”
 215

Having been bored by hard discourse, I drew a caricatural portray of the professor on my note

paper. Having paid attention to my action, he approached me and saw my picture. He told me:

“It’s better to listen to what I say than to do what I appear.”

I answered him:

“According to Lao Tsu, a wheel without hollow isn’t wheel but a banal wood; a house without space

isn’t house as it isn’t habitable; in the same way, my head plentiful isn’t my head.”

*****
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39) Le Têt of Horse (Mâu Ngo, 07/02/78)

It would be soon Teê t, the third lunar New Year after 75. What was a change for us from more

three years! Many events, many emotions, and many movements had happened for us in a short

interval of times. After lunch, father Joachim called us together to plan the holidays of each

members of the community. He asked me to call all the sisters to come for this meeting. Everyone

was presented in his office that was also his sitting room. He said:

“For less than two more weeks, the Têt of Mâu Ngo (Horse) will soon come. Many people have not

returned home since the last New Year. I wish you can do it this time. Who was born in the year of

horse?”

Except for father Joachim and two sisters, we had not yet turned to 24 years old. Sister Agnes

said:

“I am the one who was born in the horse year.”

The lunar calendar that was common for many Asian countries, it had been conceived according

to a system of twelve animal’s zodiac associated with ten heavenly stems. The astrology added to

these years the other elements such as wood, fire, earth, metal and water. There were still two

other distinctive characteristics that intervened in the Asiatic universes: Yin and Yang. This

system produced a combined cycle that repeated every 60 years. Roughly, all Vietnamese people

knew their zodiac signs. It was classed in the following order: rat comes first, and then ox or

buffalo, followed in order by tiger, cat, dragon, snake, goat or ram, monkey, rooster, dog, and lastly

pig. However, Most Christian people had not understood the other elements of the zodiac. Sister

Agnes asked us:

“What means the word ‘mâu’ that accompanies the one of horse?”

Nobody could have given her any explantion. Duyet went looking for an old astrology book and

gave it to me. As I could read its contents rapidly I said:

“I cannot understand all significations of these elements, however if you want, I can set these

elements in a panel.”
 217

But they seemed not to be interested in my heavenly stems combined five earthly elements and

two main characters’ table. Sister Agnes said:

“Please read rather the signification of horse.”

I answered her happily:

“I am not an astrologer, but I can say that like a horse, you run as quickly as this one. I am afraid

that we will enter in agitation this year…”

Father Joachim interrupted me:

“We risk being moved soon. Some authority persons had met our bishop last week. They seemed to

take our domain. Anyway, we have to continue our life as if nothing will happen. The people whose

families were not in the Nha Trang city can return home for the Têt from tomorrow. The others will

stay here..”

*****
My mother was overjoyed when she saw me got home. I was absent from home more than a year.

However, I felt that there was something bad about to happen. It was soon the New Year but I had

not considered for any signs of preparation as usual. The doors and windows were not cleaned

up. Normally, before 75, they should have been painted again to become as new. The front of the

house was dirty with lots of black traces. I remembered the former administrative problem; I

asked my mother if she had thought of declaring my presence at home at the police office. During

the dinner, I began to understand the worry of my parents. According to their conversation, their

cousin, my former seminarian comrade’s parents, had left to the new economical zone. There

were a lot of town-dwellers having been there since 1976, because they had not lived in this

town. However, my comrade’s parents lived in the country; they worked like every peasant in the

paddy-field. Thereby, it was not due to the economical problem, but without doubt it was a

political decision. The communist government wanted to move aside all people being considered

as dangerous. In fact, Dung’s father was a former colonel of the old Southern Army, was still in

the reeducation camp, but his family had not escaped this punishment.
I asked my father:
 218

“Will our family belong to this category called dangerous?”

He answered me:

“I think I begin to know some communist behavior and I can guess what will happen. Many million

people had been moved to this death area called “new economical zone’. The northern communists

continue to exterminate, punish and isolate a large portion of the southern people where one or two

members had worked in the old political regime. The "new economic zone" was in reality the

wilderness without facility even waterto drink and many others diseases…”

*****
Two days after, my father’s fear became real. The Wednesday January 30, as the 23 rd December

according to the lunar calendar, seven days prior before Tet while all Vietnamese families offered

a farewell for Mr. Tao, kitchen’s God (two men and a woman) go up to heaven in order to make an

annual report to the Jade Emperor of all family affairs; My family received the decision of the

Revolution Committee which sent it to the new economical zone Khanh Son. My father read

carefully several time and he looked very sad and worried. Then he shut himself away in his

room. After lunch, he called us together in meeting. He said:

“Khanh Son is a mountain area, a little plateau which is not far from here. It is known by the former

secret military base of the communist Army. To Hap Valley was already reputed with glorious

victories during the wars of resistance against the French. The soil is fertile but I think we will be

thrown in the middle of the forest. If we have to go there, we will be dead gradually. I decide not to

obey this decision. If you accept to help me, I will struggle against their decision, their authority.”

I asked him:

“But how can we do it?”

He told us:

“I had observed the removal of our cousin last week. In early morning, when the people had been

still in sleeping, two military trucks had come infront of their house. Some soldiers rushed to all

rooms, seized all furniture hastily, and threw them onto the trucks. Finally, they compelled all
 219

members to climb into the vehicles and they started when the sun had not risen… Here is my idea:

the empty home, absolutely empty. They will have nothing to take, and I will be alone in the house.”

Throughout the week, cousins helped us to move all furnitures out the house. They were

consigned to the neighbor’s houses. During the night, we all slept on the sedge mat spreaded on

the ground. My mother and sister had to go to my elder sisters to prepare our meals. Nothing

remained in the house. We could not welcome friends and visitors at this occasion of three days

in the New Year. However, although friends and cousins were poor, they all brought us many

traditional foods for Teê t. I had not found my old friends; some had quit the country by boat, some

had left here for another town, some had been in the new economical zone… Briefly, it was a very

sad Teê t, without joy and hope, but we all were ready to enter the struggle with the Revolutionary

force. Although my father asked me to return to Nha Trang, I decided to stay here to assist or at

least to witness the vital struggle of my father…

*****
On Monday 13th February 1978, seven days after the New Year, two men came to our home. They

asked my father to call all the member of the family, except me, because I was not

administratively belong to my family. They were in the sitting room and I hid out behind them in

order to observe what would happen. One of two men read the decision of Revolution

Committee. In view of the economic context, the local government had decided to send my father

and his family to new economic zone Khanh Son, a mountain zone covered by the thick forests.

They would come here to look for us tomorrow. After that, they hastily left. My father, like an

officer before the combat repeated again his plan:

“I think they will come here quite early tomorrow morning. I will try hard to stop them. Nobody will

stay at home unless Si because he is considered as a visitor. You all have to go and ask our relatives

to stay overnight with them. You must obey me absolutely; if you don’t respect my word, I should

risk to death.”

After lunch, he asked me to come along with him to fishing in the river. In reality, it was a pretext

so that he could make me know by heart step by step his program. I left him alone at the riverside
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and went to see my friends who were still in the commune. I wanted to warn them if my father

was in danger they could come to rescue him. Dung and Thuong were actually in a foreigner

country, perhaps in one of refugee camps, Philippines or Thailand. They had left by boat about six

months ago. Son still was in Ho Chi Minh Assault Youth Force (usually term was the AYF), the

core of an amorphous organization called the Young Volunteers Force or volunteer service. I went

to meet Duc who would inform the other friends what I had asked him.
*****
The next day, we were in an anxious situation, but no military trucks had come. We were always

ready to struggle with the people who would compel us to move from here, but throughout the

week, nothing had happened. Every day, we assembled at least once to support each other. On

Sunday 19 February, my mother and sister had gone to the mass at five a.m., I stayed at home

with my father. The Christian people were still in church, the road was deserted in the darkness,

a military cargo truck, soviet model, had already parked at front of my house. Two soldiers

opened the main door of my house and entered the sitting-room, empty of all objects. Three

others stayed outside.

My father sat down in the centre of the sitting room. He was encircled by a lot of jerry cans, filled

to brim, well written “gas petrol”. He held in the hand the burning candle. I and my several

friends hid outside behind the sitting room and tried to observe what will be happening. When

the soldiers entered at the step door; they were afraid to see something strange. Besides, my

father cried aloud:

“Please stop there.”

One of them told my father:

“We are sent here to help you removal toward the new economical zone. We only execute the

decision of the Revolution Committee.”

My father answered him:

“I do not want to leave my house. If you force me to move from here; I will burn myself.”

The other man began frightened and said:

 221

“Be calm, please. We are here to help your family. Where are your wife and children?”

They went checking all room. Three other persons came telling them:

“There is nothing in the kitchen. The house is quite empty.”

By this time the sun began to rise and the Christian people were returning from the mass. I

invited them to come to the house, while my mother, sister and brother had avoided not being

here. Twenty people arrived in the yard, following a mass of people. My friends asked them to sit

down without words on the veranda floor and they filled up the whole yard. The soldiers tried to

order them to move away, but they could not have opened a way. One hour later, they decided to

withdraw from my house. When the military truck had gone away, my father thanked the people.

They had promised to arrive again here if the soldiers would come. I and my friends were in

charge of these tasks such as watching the arrival of the military truck and going to warn all

neighbors…
At noon, my mother and sisters brought us some foods for lunch. They were quite terrified to see

the petrol’s jerry cans because they remembered my scalding accident. I tried to assure them and

said:

“Don’t worry about that. Pray only for us.”

But having considered the fear of my mother, I had to reveal the secret of my father’s strategy. I

told my mother:

“It is not the petrol cans; you know, it is impossible to buy now so many litters. With my friends, we

had filled them with water.”

In the afternoon, they came again and they were powerless by face to face with my father,

appearing headstrong and unshakable. The struggle was last for six days. The Sunday following,

my father seemed to win the battle but he said:

“It is only the first combat. I think we have to continue this situation at least some months…”

*****
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40) Peppermint’s Plantation and distillation

I returned the seminary on Wednesday March 1 st. Father Joachim and my comrades were glad to

see me again. They had not known why I stayed longer time at home; they had believed that I had

already gone abroad by boat like Khoa. Father Joachim told me that during my absence, two

other comrades were unsuccessful in making alcohol. They had tried to do it but their alcohol

wasn’t good quality. He decided to stop this manufacture for fear of frittering away our rice. I

quite agreed with his decision as I had already noticed this result; our alcohol had not been quite

clear, pure and blended with draft. Furthermore, in the market, any alcohol manufacturers made

us scared because of their dishonest and dangerous method for making clear alcohol. They

dropped a small drip of insecticide into the alcohol non clear and this one would become

transparent. He informed me of other bad news:

“We have to stop our philosophy formation at this house. The police began secretly to watch our

house. It is very dangerous to receive illegally a hundred people here for three days each month.

However, for our group, we continue to study one or two days a week.”

I asked:

“What will I do for the other days? Will I go to work in the Stella Maris like my other friends?”

Father Joachim answered me:

“No, I want you work at home like Duyet. Our garden needs a good worker. You have to rest now.

Tomorrow I will discuss that with you.”

*****
At seven a.m., all my comrades had gone to Stella Maris. The big domain became deserted. I

entered the greens garden that was a big rectangle of 30 meters in length by 10 metters in width.

I had made a pathway that divided it into parts and in each of them, there were twenty five beds

on the ten of which I had transplanted lettuce seedlings. The onions and shallots began to wither

on their beds because of the lack of water. During my absence, nobody watered them. The

Vietnamese egg-plants looked sad; its small white fruits became yellow because no one plucked
 223

them. I had not succeeded in growing tomato. Our soil was perhaps lacking of the manure. Father

Joachim came to join me at the garden. He carried a basket inside of which five or six faggots of

white root. He told me:

“Sniff it. That smells hot and good. It is the roots of the peppermints.”

I told him:

“Ah, I know it. We used its leaves for the salad. It gives a spicy taste of the disk.”

Father Joachim said:

“It is often used as flavoring in tea, ice-cream, confectionery, alcohol and a cigarette…A small

amount of the peppermints’ oil is cost a lot. The plant grows and develops quickly. If we could distill

a little of it, we could earn much money.”

I asked him:

“How can we distill it?”

He answered me:

“You know how to make the alcohol. I think we can use the same method. Besides, we will employ

our still making alcohol to distill the future peppermint oil.”

With him, I prepared the ground. On the left side, I made ten beds of five meters by one metter.

Then on this I ploughed several lines to bury peppermint roots. Following Father Joachim helped

me to water all of these beds. He told me:

“I think we have to grow it in the whole garden beds as well. I will get some more at my friend’s

garden.”

*****
Two weeks later, a natural green carpet was spreading before our eyes. Twenty five beds of

peppermints thrived and expanded quickly thanks to their underground rhizomes. I irrigated

them every day and sometime, I dissolved the chemical fertilizer in water. The green leaves

appeared very fast. I plucked some mint leaves, crushing them up in my palm, and I smelt a pure

and refreshing odor, pungent and burning taste. It was the odor of menthol. Their odor was very
 224

pungent and refreshing because they were formed daily sunlight during long periods of April. In

one more week, the plants would be ready for harvest; we could cut all of them and began to

distill for peppermint oil. Many questions came in my mind. I wondered that our distiller could

adapt to the peppermints; how I would use the city water to distill it as an ancient English article

said that we had to take the pure water, without chlorine and other harmful chemicals, I hoped

that water in the fields at the farm is spring water.

In the afternoon, Mr. Th. a modest artisan whose family poorly lived in a very small house of 8

square meters came in order to examine our former distiller at my request. I led him into the

kitchen where there was our rudimentary and laboratory distillation set-up. On the furnace, a

heat source, I showed him our still pot made of cast iron where volume was about 50 litters. The

still head was a big cover on the top of which we had set the joining with a condenser system that

would be cooled by the water. This one ended up in a still receiver. Finally, our distillate was a

simple transparent bottle, or exactly a former fish-sauce bottle. I told him:

“We had used this distillation set up to make alcohol. But as for the peppermint oil, I think it must

absolutely be airtight and its drainpipes.The condenser has to be smaller and perhaps be twisted in

circles so that the steam could be transformed into liquid in arriving to the receiver bottle. The

biggest difficulty was to make a strong safety valve on the covered top. Can you help me do it?”

He said:

“I can resolve the airtight problem with the rubber rope that I had cut from an old rubber tyre.

However, it was very hard to curve the aluminum condenser. I think it is rather good for the

peppermint oil distillation.”

In fact, our laboratory distillation set up was simple. The hot vapors produced are immediately

channeled into a condenser which cools and condenses the vapors.

*****
The peppermint plants were ready for the harvest. Duyet had helped me cut them all. Then I

dried them in the sun so that they reduced their volume. When they were dry, all water had

evaporated them but the peppermint essence remained. I asked my comrades to gather them up
 225

into bundles and put them in bags. The peppermint dried plants were well compacted in fifty

bags. I estimated that I could harvest about two or three little of peppermint oil.
Duyet asked me:

“Do you have enough wood fire to heat it? If not, I can buy it tomorrow at Dong Bo. They are so

much cheaper out there because the people who have no other resource, they went to the forest to

chop down all trees for wood fire.”

He seemed to be interested in the peppermint oil:

“Indeed, what use is this peppermint oil?”

I asked him:

“Why do you love the Salem cigarette very much? It is because of the menthol perfume. However,

the peppermint oil was considered as the world’s oldest medicine. Anyways, you can smell the

menthol and methyl esters in many products such as confectionery, chewing gum and toothpaste. It

is said that it helps against upset stomach too, inhibits the growth of certain bacteria, and can help

soothe and relax muscles when inhaled or applied to the skin… ”

Duyet was amazing to listen to my talk. He said:

“Wow, how did you know all of these things.”

I answered him:

“I read only all articles in the “Science and Life” news magazine.”

*****
I put and tried to compact the peppermint branches and its leaves into still pot. It could contain

at maximum three bags. That meant I would have at least two weeks to distill all our fifty bags. I

began to count up all the cost in my mind. If I could press at least four or five bags into the still

pot, I could reduce the cost of wood fire. However, I had to add the water in the pot; otherwise

there would not be the steam. Father Joachim came to watch my work, he advised me not to

distill at once but it would better to let them in the water. He thought that way it would deliver

more oil. By doing that, I covered the top, making the pot and the condenser quite airtight, and I

putted the furnace fire.

 226

After lunch, without taking a usual nap, I wanted to start the distillation. I began to light the

furnace. Then I putted in order all elements of the laboratory distillation set-up. When the water

was coming to boil, I noticed the peppermint smell spreading out the whole kitchen space. My

eyes were stung by the pungent air but my nose was cleared up thanks to the fresh air. I appeared

as if I had just swept my tears. I had to leave the kitchen and think of how I could protect my eyes

from the pungent air. At the same time, I realized that our set –up was not quite airtight. When I

returned to the kitchen, I was very happy to see the liquid falling drop by drops into the flask.

Three hours later, when I saw the water layer at the bottom of the bottle; I understood that there

was not the oil but only water was getting out. I extinguished the fire. I changed the bottle and I

was very content to harvest about 400 centiliter for the first time. This modest quantity of the

peppermint oil would be worth more than a hundred litters of the alcohol. At five o’clock, two of

our sisters went to the kitchen to prepare dinner. They asked me:

“Who has made you cry?”

I laughed at their question:

“Have you smelled anything? I think your nose must be blocked. Never mind, if you stay here a

moment, they will clear up.”

Father Joachim came also to see me at the kitchen. I gave him the bottle of peppermint oil. He

sniffed it and said:

“It smells very good. I think you had just succeeded in a very good distillation procedure.

Congratulations!!!”

Duyet helped me to arrange the distiller. The peppermint branches and leaves were still smoking

and their perfume continued to spread. I told him:

“There are no insects here. The smell of the peppermint expelled all mosquitoes and flies.”

He asked me:

“What do you think if I blend the leaves of the peppermint with the tobacco? Thereby, our cigarette

will have a menthol taste.”

 227

*****
 228

41) Tobacco’s manufacture

If every evening, Duyet had come to assist me in arranging the distiller, I had to help him to care

for his tobacco’s plantation in the custard-apple orchard. He had ten tobaccos plant lines of 50

meters the length. It is growing in the sandy soil between rows of custard-apple trees. Six months

ago I had reserved Duyet a small garden bed in my greens garden. He had scattered tobacco

seeds onto the surface of the soil, as their germination was activated by light. Then this seedbed

was protected by the branches framework so the future young plants would not be damaged by

the heat of the sun. When the seeds had budded, I gave him some chemistry fertilizers that made

them grow rather quickly. When the “baby” plants had reached about five centimeter height,

Duyet had extracted them in order to transplant into the spot prepared. He had made about sixty

big holes on each line in which he had put some manure. He then placed each plant in the hole

and gives them water every day. They had grown quickly, last week Duyet had noticed that some

leaves had become dark yellow. He decided to harvest them in a next few days.
After breakfast Duyet asked me:

“Will you help me to cut off the stalk at the ground with a sickle? Thereby, both of us will finish our

work this morning. I will find two sickles one for you and one for me.”

I answered:

“There still are many young bright leaves on the tobacco plants. If we cut off the stalk at the ground,

these ones will be useless. Allow my suggestion to you how we can harvest them.”

Duyet said:

“I don’t want to lose so much time for that. I think we can finish the cutting this morning.”

I told him:

“In any case, I think you will need more time after that. Tobacco leaves must be pulled from their

stalk and you have to separate them in different categories…”

Duyet asked me:

“What will we do then?”

 229

I said:

“I think tobacco has to be harvested by pulling individually ripe leaves at the stalk from the ground

upwards. In other words, we will crop all tobacco leaves which are ripen from the bottom of the

stalk up. Thereby we can shake them in order to clean away all sandy dust coated on the leaves

against the ground. We will make these byhands and we will transport them to our veranda floor of

the dormitory…”

*****
Some days after, my comrades had complained that tobacco leaves smelled too strong in our

dormitory. Duyet had feared these would be damaged when it is raining; he had not dried these

in the sun. He took a large room of our dormitory to cure them. He had stretched five iron wire

lines across the room.I had helped him to hang our tobacco manually on five wire lines. I asked

Duyet:

“If tobacco leaves are only cured in the house, these ones will take eight weeks to dry. We have not

enough time to transform them into cigarettes. An idea suddenly comes in mind. I think we have to

spin other wire lines in the sun. We will hang all of them on these lines out side when we have fine

weather and full of sunshine. We will move them to the room when it about to rain.

During this curing, Duyet went every day to his friends’ house who was a good cigarettes maker.

He had to learn how he would transform these tobacco leaves into cigarettes. He had bought

from his friend all necessary tools for this future enterprise… He seemed to be interested in this

hard work, as he was really a neophyte for this future manufacture.

*****
We were already in the midle of the April. The spring rains were sparse. At breakfast Duyet asked

us:

“With Si and me, I need one more person to begin our cigarette manufacture. Who would be stay

home with us?”

Finally, Dung agreed to collaborate with us in this “adventure enterprise”. We spent the next

several hours laying out the former study room which became our tobacco factory. We had
 230

prepared a corner next to Chien’s room for the tobacco storage area. Duyet then spread plastic

linen in the middle of the room. On this limited space, he installed his famous cutting knife

machine, a big basket and cured tobacco leaves around; while with Dung, I continued to transfer

all tobacco leaves from the dormitory to the former studying room. Then we selected for Duyet

the large and nice leaves, piled and folded them in a small pile that would be ready to cut. Duyet

began to use his cutting knife machine. The leaves ‘boned’ were rapidly cut into thread fibers

falling down in the basket. I watched attentively these fibers and told him:

“I find these not being so thin and fine. I believe you have to make a little effort to cut more slowly so

that the fibers will be real fine.”

Duyet told me:

“I think you do it better than me. I will choose tobacco leaves and pile them for you.”

I answered him:

“No, I will prepare the peppermint distillation for this afternoon.”

****
Dung came to help me to tidy up the kitchen after the peppermint distillation. Duyet arrived

latter to ask me:

“I need a big container for the tobacco fibers. I will aromatize them. But before this step, I think I

have to dry them on the furnace.”

We searched together for a big cooking pan and we had to scour it so that it was clean and ready

to dry tobacco. Then I set it up on the furnace. Dung and Duyet carried two big bamboo round

baskets of the cured tobacco fibers. I had to carefully oversee the fire as it risked burning out our

products if it was too heat.

At dinner, Duyet had reported his work and asked us what perfume we loved for the cigarettes.

He told us:

“Normally, the people ‘embalm’ them with fruity alcohol or rose oil. But we have none those things.

As we have now a quantity of the peppermint oil, may I use it for perfuming the tobacco fibers?”

Father Joachim made a suggestion:

 231

“You can. But before, you have to think its profits. The peppermint oil is very expensive. It is worth to

waste it for the cigarettes?”

I told Duyet:

“I think that we will not need the expensive oil to perfume the tobacco fibers. We have large

amounts of peppermint leaves in the green garden. We can blend cut leaves with tobacco fibers. Our

cigarettes will certainly smell menthol…”

*****
This morning, Chien stayed home to work with us at the tobaccofactory. Duyet had set up three

cigarette rolling “machines” or the cigarette maker machine. It was rectangle box inside of which

there was a roller that moved from down to upward in rolling a cigarette thanks to two coulisses

on his both side. Duyet displayed infront of us all of necessary things to roll the cigarettes. Last

week, he had procured two big packs of the cigarette rolling papers. According to him, if we used

all of these, we would have 10000 cigarettes. Then he explained carefully how we could make a

cigarette. I was exempted to run the machine; my task will consist in cutting the excess fibers at

two tips of each one. He explained:

“The first step, place two cigarette rolling papers on the cloth against the roller and wet their glue

borders with water. Then spread regularly the tobacco on the rolling paper surface. Then take two

handles of the roller to move up and down diagonally inside of the machine. Finally, two cylindrical

cigarettes were made.”

Dung asked Duyet:

“Do you have filters?”

He answered:

“The filters are preferable, but they are expensive. Now, we are content without them.”

Duyet began to operate his machine and to demonstrate us how we had to do. Then I picked two

first cigarettes to cut away excess threats to equalize of two tips of one. It wasn’t hard to do that.

However, some are more skilful with their hands than others. We worked until noon and we had
 232

made four thousand cigarettes. Duyet was very satisfied with this result. We each picked each

one to smoke. But our cigarettes felt strong, a little bitter, and hard to light. We would see this

problem with our future buyers. So that our mind could be relaxed, I narrated a humorous story:

“At the Expo 75 on the Island of Okinawa in Japan from July 20 to January 18, 1976, a great fire had

burned many pavilions; among them was the one of Socialist Republic Vietnam. The entire zone was

destroyed by the fire except one pavilion. All journalists were amazed at this resistance to fire and

wondered who the proprietor of this pavilion was. They found finally that it belonged to the

Socialist Republic of Vietnam and rushed to interview the President: ‘well, what building material

have you used so that your pavilion could resist to blaze?’ He could not respond to the question but

invited them to discover themselves the mystery substance.”

Duyet asked me:

“Well, what were there in the pavilion?”

I said:

“It had contained the Vietnamese cigarettes.”

*****
Two weeks later, two merchants had come negotiating our twenty thousand cigarettes. One of

them seemed to be a specialist of taste and flavor in tobacco material. He took one cigarette for

pressing and smelling it. He finished to rip out the paper and watched attentively the cigarette

thread. Finally, he told us:

“First, your rolling paper isn’t fine that’s why your cigarettes weren’t looking coarse. Furthermore,

so much of threads made your cigarettes hard that couldn’t burn to ash from one end. You had

blended together two conflicting products, liquor remedy alcohol and peppermint. Your cigarettes

have a triple tastes: piquant, sweet and bitter. Finally, the color of cigarette has to be brightly

yellow; now your cigarette looks dark brown, quite uninteresting.”

Duyet asked them:

“Do you want to buy it?”

 233

A woman answered:

“As your cigarettes lack many of these qualities, it is worth only a half of the marketprice.”

I said:

“If our cigarettes are a little compact, as we had put much tobacco in them. We can modify easily it.

We will embalm tobaccos only with menthol; I think everyone will like it. We could also easily dye

brighten yellow our tobaccos fibers, because we knew how to make it; but we did not want to do it

because it is not moral. The brightened, blond and nice tobaccos that you had sold in the market

had been dyed by a very dangerous processing.”

They looked at me inquisitively. The women trader told me:

“If you know how to make clear your threats tobaccos, please do a private demonstration.”

I answered them:

“Wait for me here. I will show you how to transforming dark cigarettes into a pretty bright.”

I went to my room to look for a small bag of gunpowder that I had emptied out from some

cartridges. At my return in the kitchen, I poured out the gunpowder into a pan on which I put a

lot of cigarette threads and I burned the gunpowder. A yellow smoky fire cured cigarettes’

threads. Using a big pair of flat chopsticks, I blended it. Miraculously, the dark brown threats

tobaccos became clear and they were brightened yellow. Having considered my demonstration,

they agreed to raise their price. Duyet was agreed with me and said:

“Anyway, cigarettes kill smokers, but ours will slow down their death.”

*****
 234

Escape from death

I was very happy for my success of peppermint distillation. We had harvested the first liters of oil

which color pretty yellow white, and also it smelt good. In kitchen and refectory area, there were

no more mosquitoes, either flies or other insects. The strong peppermint scent had expelled all of

them. Father Joachim came giving me a cheerful compliment and then he noticed:

“As well, I feel no longer the pungent taste in the air. Have you succeeded in making hermetic with

your distiller?”

I explained to him:

“You are right. Some days with Mr. Th helped. I had glued the rubber wire around the side of the still

pot, covered and checked it exist a joining point. I think we did not let our precious menthol vapor

oil escape in the air… We will have some centiliters of oil at each batch.”

Then I began to put peppermints’ leaves and branches into the still pot as usual. But our greens

garden had not supplied enough peppermint plants for our distillation. The still pot was not filled

up. Father Joachim told me:

“Normally, Khanh and Ngon had to return home with peppermint leaves.”

My comrades had been sent to buy these this morning at Dong Bo, a new economical zone, about

12 kilometers away from here, but it was already one p.m., they had not come home yet. As I was

talking with father Joachim, they arrived and discharged the container of their tricycle. I had not

wanted to distill the leaves still green, because they had just been cut from the field. However, I

was obliged to fill up the still pot because I could not cook the pot not filled… Duyet put a lot of

green leaves and branches of the peppermints into a big cooking pot, stamping them on the dry

plants to press them strongly. I was afraid to see his pressing act, I stopped him:

“Don’t press them hard. You know, it is a double charge you had put inside the pot. There is perhaps

no place to fill the water.”

We covered on the still pot to make it hermetic with the new procedure and began to set fire

underneath the furnace. Khanh and Duyet left for other tasks. I stayed in the kitchen overseeing
 235

the distillation. Fifteen minutes later, I heard the loud sound, more strong as usual of simmering

water. Some drips of oil began to drop down into the bottle. I told father Joachim:

“Our system is very effective. After only ten minutes, the water had boiled and the peppermint oil

comes into the bottle.”

I remembered that I had to water to the peppermint field and I had to get out of the kitchen.

Father Joachim came with me to the garden. I said:

“I had put enough wood on the fire for one hour. I will come again at three p.m. to see it.”

*****
I was counting the peppermints beds. An hour and thirty minutes later, I had only water fifteen

rows and still had fifteen more to go. I wanted to stop my work in order to go to watch the

distillation. I wondered should I go now or should I keepwater them. I saw Duyet getting out of

his tobaccos’ factory, Father Joachim came along with him, I asked him:

“Please, will you replace me to shower the rest of peppermints beds?”

He answered me:

“I am not free. Excuse me.”

Father Joachim told me:

“Let me do it. Go and care for distillation.”

I put my two water buckets on the ground and was ready to return the kitchen. Suddenly, a very

violent explosion had occurred and a lot of small things were thrown up in the sky. I lay at full

length on the ground. Many peppermint leaves fell down on my back. A huge pile of the smoke

and fire flew straight to the sky from the kitchen roof. Some tiles were thrown up in the air and

fell down in the vegetable garden. I smelt the perfume of peppermints dissolving in the air. All

comrades rushed out toward the kitchen zone.

“What’s the matter?” They demanded.

I cried:

“Quickly! Each takes a water container in hurry to stop the fire.”

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We had not enough buckets for drawing up water from the pool its containing the raining-water;

we stood in line from garden to the kitchen to pass on the buckets to each other the water to

extinguish furnace. As I was in the last line; my eyes was irritated by oil-peppermint and also the

ashes.
*****
The kitchen looked like a battlefield after the combat. On the surface of the furnace many ashes,

drafts, tiles, branches were in disorder. The broken and deformed distiller had been thrown in

the corner. Its distorted condenser arm lay on the ground. The peppermint leaves and branches

ejected were stuck anywhere on the wall. The furnace had been out because of being covered by

the wet peppermint leaves. The tile roof had been broken and showed a big space where we

could see the gloomy heaven. This strong and violent explosion had attracted the attention of our

neighbors who came in numbers of times in order to know what had just happened. Father

Joachim ordered us to quickly tidy up our kitchen. He had feared that the police would come in

too. Thirty persons began to clean up the kitchen. Some picked up all broken pieces on ground;

some gathered all leaves and branches and swept the others one on the wall. Two other men had

mounted on the roof; they covered it again with a military canvas. Everybody was dirty with dust

and ashes. A quarter of an hour later, all was clean and in order. Father Joachim warmly thanked

all people who had come to help us. However he asked them to withdraw in a hurry because the

police would not be slow to act. We all went quickly to take a bath and put on clean clothes… We

smelled of menthol…
*****
A half hour after this distiller accident, more than twenty soldiers entered our domain. As usual,

they blocked all gates and called us to assemble in the refectory. They forced us to sit tight on the

ground. Some went to look for two sisters and led them into the refectory. Another group of

soldiers went to rummage throughout all houses and corners of the domain. One hour later, as no

suspicious objects had been found, they came again to the refectory with several parts of the

broken distiller. They threw these in front of us and one of them said:

“What have you done with this distiller?”

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Father Joachim answered him:

“As you had known no doubt that the distiller had been served to make the rice alcohol, but since

the liberation of the South, the alcohol fabrication had been regulated. We had used this object to

distill the peppermint oil that had been allowed and stimulated by the industry minister of the

government. But we had no experience for this kind of “machine”. It had been exploded…”

They ordered us to stay immobile in the refectory and told father Joachim:

“We have more many subjects to ‘work’ with you. Where can we do it?”

He answered them:

“If you want, please follow me toward my office.”

When they left the refectory, we discussed the cause of the explosion. Khanh asked me:

“Your distiller had worked very well for a month. Why did it explode now?”

Duyet tried to give an explication:

“We had perhaps put too many peppermint plants inside.”

I searched in silence for the cause of this accident. I had suddenly remembered the physical

lesson concerning the steam engine. I told my comrades:

“I am really stupid. I had known by heart the story of the invention of the steam engine, but I had

not prevented the accident of our distiller.”

Ngon asked me:

“What does it mean?”

I tried to bring to mind the invention story of the steam engine to explain our explosion:

“The expansion of steam exerts force upon a piston or turbine blade, whose motion can be

harnessed for the work of turning wheels or driving other machinery. Each engine possessed two

constant pressure valves. Or, our distiller had not supported the valve well. I had tried to protect

and watched our distiller so that it was entirely hermetic. I think that the peppermints leaves had

filled and blocked all holes which allowed the steam to escape, it had become naturally powerful

bomb…”
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I thought about it for a moment and continued:

“When I had arranged our former distiller, I had not paid attention to the part named ‘vacuum’ that

is a volume space could allow reduction of the high pressure. But it was very hard to make it. When

the distiller had not been hermetic, the steam had evacuated naturally in the air and thereby it

reduced the pressure of the still pot…”

Khanh told us a French proverb, as he was talented in language:

“Le mieux est l’ennemi du bien.” (The best is the enemy of the good).

*****
One more time, when the soldiers and policemen had gone, the sun was down. Father Joachim

came again to the refectory; he looked tired, worried and sad. He said:

“We will have dinner now and after that, I will report what they had said to me.”

According to him, the local government had used all opportunities to bring back the problem

concerning the domain. They had wanted that the bishop’s house would offer our house to the

City. They would discuss this seriously with the diocese in the next days.
Good bye the seminary
In June 1978, we weren’t yet in a full summer; however it was quite hot. Two days ago, from the

early morning to later evening, many tricycles (xich lo) got out the seminary toward the direction

of the beach, to the bishop’s house. Two persons were in charge of a tricycle which carried all

furnitures of our seminary. The first days we had transported rice bags and all objects in the

kitchen. The following day, we moved two hundred of military iron beds which had been used to

the seminarians before the dissolving of the seminary. I had teamed up with Khanh for a tricycle,

we had to check and discharge objects to be carried. The road was not long but it seemed to be

more and more endless. Many Christian people had come to help us for this sad removal, but on

the street sides, many curious people looked at us moving unceasingly. Someone had dared to ask

us what was the matter for our community, but having been advised by father Joachim; we had

not responded to these inquisitive questions. We were soaked with sweat and very thirsty. Khanh

suggested that we would stop at the ambulant merchant of the sweet cool drink set along the
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street infront the Vo Tanh our former high school. We had wished to get something sweet, fresh

and cool in order to quench our thirst. The saleswoman was the mother of a former seminarian,

she had observed since the first day of our removal asked us:

“It is said that father Joachim is booked by the police? The communist policemen have chased all of

you away.”

Khanh answered her:

“Not at all, Father Joachim is not in prison. It is you who commands us to removal our house to the

bishop’s house. From now on we will be living there. ”

The other friends copied us to take a rest at the sweet potage modest merchant. We had finished

our glasses of sweet fresh potage and paid for it but she said:

“I have nothing else to help you. I can offer you all at least something useful for you.”

*****
The Wednesday June 7, three people had come “working” with the bishop, father Peter and father

Joachim throughout the day and they had continued the discussion with the two following days.

In the Saturday evening, father Joachim had called us for an urgent meeting. I still remembered

his voice sad and depressed:

“What would happen and happens. The members of the interior minister had obliged us to sign a

paper according to this we offer the Vinh Son house to the government. In exchange, they agreed

that we will live in the bishop’s house. We have exactly one week to empty all our objects. We begin

to do it next Monday.”

All Saturday night, we could not sleep. As we had more than a thousand cigarettes, we all had

smoked over and over. Khanh had sung throughout the night all nostalgic songs, some had been

written by himself, some by another former seminarian, named Do Vy Ha…

“It seems my Lord, you had abandoned me.

You have no pity for me having attrition.

And it seems my Lord you had left me,

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You let me every waste day away in thousand of bitterness.

*****

Having stretched my hands out on cross, I crucified because my suffering.

Having stretched my hands out on life, my body was bloody.

Oh Lord, you are gracious father

Why did you abandon me?

………………………………………………………..

It seems, my Lord, you had not worried about me.

Although once more, I tried to repent.

It seems, my Lord, you are always absent.

You left me in the sin increasing according to my walk in years.

It was already three a.m., father Joachim having listened to the noise from our dormitory, he

came and said:

“In two more hours it will be the Sunday mass. Please go to bed now. Don’t waste your health. We

will need your energy for next week.”

Although he asked us to go to sleep, but he stayed smoking cigarettes with us; these ones had

been produced by ourselves. He felt that it was not bad. The cigarettes had a good taste, they

smelled menthol, he said:

“What will we do with these cigarettes? There are about more than thousand.”

Duyet answered him:

“You know, at the dominical mass, there will be a lot of young men, we will give each one some

packs…”

Instead of going to bed because we could not sleep, each of us went to the bathroom to take a

quick shower. The fresh water made us clean and awake for the mass.
*****
Saturday June 17th.
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We had not worked hard during a week. Everyone had been bored, wearied, exhausted. We had

to finish our last step; we had to check all corners of the house so that we could not forget the

important objects. Like a monkey, Dac had climbed on coconut trees to pluck all the last fruits.

They were young trees which had not yet produced a lot of fruit. However, it was sufficient to

quench our thirst during the hard removal on the road full of sunshine. Luong asked me to help

two sisters to move their last luggage to their new house. As his parents had been in USA and he

was alone in Vietnam; the sisters of the Sacred Heart of Mary had received him in their domain

located facing to the beach on the very nice boulevard of the Nha Trang city. When Khoa had left

our seminary, he had been admitted illegally into our group. I hesitated to respond favorably him,

Duyet came saying me:

“It doesn’t need two persons for it. Will you help me to gather all custard apple fruits? I don’t want

to offer these to new invaders.”

In fact, we had a magnificent custard apple orchard. They were called different names such as

sugar apple, sweetsop. I knew also its biological name Annona Squamoza. This shrub tree was

not big; it could reach 6-8 meters tall. Its leaves were evergreen, alternate and oblong-lanceolate

5-17 cm long and 2-5 cm broad. I loved the shape of this fruit, round or oval look like a military

grenade, slightly pine cone-like, 6-10 cm diameter and weighing 100-230 g, with a scaly or lumpy

skin. When they were well ripen, its flesh was white to light yellow, blend with blackish-brown

seeds, sweet and good taste like custard. They had flowered at the end of March but two months

later, their fruit had not been quite matured. I loved also the good perfume of this orchard when

the custard apples had been in flowering. I had smelled them produced in clusters of 3-4, the

yellow-green flower were very nice with spotted purple at the base. I told Duyet:

“Our fruits have not yet matured. I suggest that we will pluck only the one which could be ripen in

some days in the warm spot. We offer the young fruit on the tree to new occupants. Perhaps, the

sweetness of our custard apples should make soft their heart.”

Duyet answered me:

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“Dream on. I think I will take off all neon lamps in the house too. We will leave them only the walls.”

I told him:

“What have you known about our domain? According to father Joachim, it will be using to the

Children, perhaps it will become the children place. It least, the house will be useful for the children.”

Duyet said:

“In this case, they will destroy the custard orchard in order to build more houses.”

*****
We had a cheerful picnic on the veranda floor of our dormitory. Having looked at to the water

tower, cylindrical container of 10 meters in diameter, and lift up to 30 meters in height, father

Joachim told us:

“We don’t have much water inside. I wish to clean up before our departure. It seems there are many

bird-corpses inside, even mouse.”

I said with humor:

“Wow, it had been perhaps the sportive swimming mice. But how they could climb up to 30 meters?”

Khanh told me:

“You will know this feeling, if you want to go up with me this afternoon. Are you scared of heights? It

is imposing when we are on the top.”

I was a little anxious, because I would have to climb on the iron ladder without protection,

leading to the container. Some parts of me wanted to mount at least one time to know the

imposing sensation. Furthermore, from the top of the water tower, I should contemplate Nha

Trang City. If bad luck I would fall down from the height, it should be also good, it would be a

rapid death without suffering… I recalled a small poem that I had composed at the struggle with

the death three years ago.

“Death for people and for God,

Death when we were in spring year old,

Death like my Christ because of love,

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Why I do not dare to taste it?”

*****
At five p.m., we went out together. We said good bye to the house in which we had lived for two

and half years. Many people had gone to take leave from us in front of the gate. Some could not

stop their tears. In the night, we would sleep in a new house for the nice dreams. The following

day, it was Sunday; we would have to prepare our mass that would be celebrated by our bishop.
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PART THREE:
42) The Bishop’s House

I liked very much to sit down on the cement seat that lay in two lines on the terrace balcony

connecting the roof of bishop’s house and the second floor of our building, as the sea breath was

very pleasant in the hot summer. Furthermore, I adored looking at the twinkling stars in the sky,

dreaming for forgetting the reality of living. It was already two weeks that we had been living

here in the bishop’s house. The former missionary priests had made a very good choice of the

site where the Bishop’s House had been settled. It was a great domain of about a hectare facing

the wide and long beach of Nha Trang city. In the center of domain, was built a tropical house that

had the walls which were in reality wide windows made of iron rattans, beautifully decorated

with a flower design. In front of this main house, resident of the bishop, there was a statue of

Mary situated in the round space bordered by a round circle of white stones. The house where

our bishop lived is connected to the chapel by a big covered corridor 6 meters wide and 12

meters long. This private prayer space was one of the long and large rooms on the first floor of

the main building of three levels. Another smaller room close to the left of the chapel was used as

the reception room of the Bishop House. On the right of the chapel, there were many blocks: the

first one was divided into two rooms, one was our sitting room and other was our musical and

instrumentalist hall; following was an open space that connected with the large cement pathway

leading to a porch between the wall limiting the private space; the second one was also divided

into two rooms that Father Joachim was used as his bedroom and office. At both sides of the

building, there were two comfortable stairways leading to the second and third floors.
There were four rooms next to both sides of each floor, the second and third level were

essentially two long wide dormitories in which more than one hundred Lam Bich seminarians

had lived before 75. Ten of us occupied the dormitory of the third floor. In a big long room, two

lines of 60 iron military single beds had been set. We had chosen any bed that we wanted. Fifteen

windows on the back walls looked down at the former French female high school. Like Chien, I
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knew this building as I was a former seminarian of the Lam Bich. My other comrades who had

not been here before they came from the Stella Maris, it was their new house.
*****
The bishop was not living alone in this important domain before our arrival. A community of four

sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary Congregation was also present in this domain for several

main tasks. They were essentially in charge of the catering for the Bishop’s House. One of them

received guests or people who wished to meet our bishop; another was a sacristan of the chapel.

To welcome us, the Bishop had invited all residents to the diner. Everybody was very happy to

receive our community into their house. I again met father Pio D. who had moved from Stella

Maris to the Bishop’s House. He was always recognized as a priest by the Revolution government

and in consequence he had not been named in one of the parishes of the diocese. Anyway, he

would be useful for us as he would perhaps open instrumentalist courses. Father Joachim

introduced us to all the members of the house. Another priest, middle age, greeted us joyfully, he

said:

“Father Ngoc.”

Father Joachim told us with a little humor:

“It is he who is a very important personality. Father Ngoc is the finance minister of the Bishop’s

House.”

In reality, he was a manager of the bishop’s house and in the same time, he was in charge of the

finance of the diocese. He brought some French’s wine to offer us an aperitif. According to Father

Joachim, he had studied in Europe for a year, he spoke French rather well. I also met a family, the

man was the driver of the former bishop who had possessed a big Mercedes car, and his daughter

was about sixteen years old. After 75, he continued to stay at the Bishop’s House although he was

no longer the driver for the new bishop. The Bishop used to move from place to place in the City

with his bicycle. In fact, he also had a tropical Citroen car that was driven by his secretary, Father

Th., the newly ordained priest and having been sent to the Bishop House in 74 as the

housekeeper for the former Lam Bich seminary. In two weeks since I arrived here I saw the
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Bishop playing the piano daily. He was a very good pianist. I wondered if he could be my teacher,

it would be good, I asked my bishop:

“Will you teach me the piano?”

He answered happily:

“Well. You begin when you want.”

At the response of the bishop, Khanh said:

“Will you also teach us musical harmony?”

On the same occasion, he wanted to ask him the permission to play modern instruments for Mass

as we had done at Vinh Son chapel. Bishop H. answered him:

“You can do it, but not every Sunday. Here you have a good drummer who knows how to play in

church.”

When we were at table for dinner, a young married couple arrived. Father Ngoc introduced them

to us:

“Here are my young brother and his wife, Hoanh and Phuong. They had just married a year ago.

Hoanh work for the diocese at the morning glory field in the Dong Dê commune.”

In the Bishop’s House, there were four administrative families, the first one composed the Bishop

and his resident priests, and the second was the sisters’ community, the third was the family of

the driver for the former bishop and finally our group which had just arrived two weeks ago. I

had already mentioned previously, all juristic members of each family were registered in the

city’s administration committee and our names were written down on our family record book.

The police would come unexpectedly checking if there would be an absent from the house or the

presence not declared at the commissariat.

*****
After two weeks devoted to the arrangement for the new domicile, we had to return to our usual

works. There was a little switching in our working place. My comrades no longer went to the

Stella Maris to work but they had to go to the morning glory or water spinach field which Father

Ngoc had entrusted us so that we would earn our living. On the same road, instead of turning
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toward the Stella Maris, my comrades continued about a kilometer further to reach the field. At

home, we no longer had the sisters for our catering, every two weeks, two of us were in charge

for our meals, and one of us had to bring lunch to our comrades working in the greens field.

Except me, I was asked to make the level both surfaces before the main house; the soil had been

blended with many stones because it had been a playground of the former seminary. In fact, the

rooms bordered both side at the front of the Bishop’s House, there were the old classrooms.
I began to carefully examine the first level of the soil on the left side; it was sandy and dirty

because many metal objects were laid in disorder on the ground. Father Joachim came from the

beach as he loved to swim in the early morning after the Mass told me:

“It is a large surface, about 200 square meters. If only it could be transformed into a kitchen-

garden, we will have then many greens.”

I answered him:

“The soil is very stony. It will be impossible to transform it. But a good idea had occurred to me. You

know, the Vietnamese people like all kinds of cucurbitaceous very much such as calabash, luffa and

also bitter melon. I can make three lines of five holes 1x1 meter each one and one meter in depth. I

will fill each one with green manure and pigs’ excrements. Then I will place in each some

cucurbitaceous seeds…”

Father Joachim responded to my suggestion, he said:

“I will help you to do it. I think we have to make its support because they were the vine grown for

their fruits.”

Father Joachim was right, I had to think how about making scaffoldings and large nets on which

calabashes, luffas and bitter melons would climb and develop their plant. Their future fruits

hanging down will give a very nice picture of nature. I wondered how I could make it. When I

returned to the bathrooms quarter, I saw a barbed wires roller abandoned in a corner. Instantly, I

thought, I could use these wires to make a web for my future vine plants. However, I had to ask
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some friend to help to take off all barbs first and secondly to detach two wires twined around

each other.
I was happy to recognize a big line of trees at the border and ten pillars of the classrooms line.

They would serve as the mains support so that I could weave the wire web…
*****
Like my all comrades, I had soon forgotten our former home thanks to this beautiful beach

spreading out from the former harbor to the fishing villages. The sea of the summer was quite

gentle and the water was very warm. In the evening, after a hard working day in the morning at

the glory field, we went swimming in the ocean water. The beautiful beach was still deserted

although the war was over. Perhaps, the sadness remained still in the minds of the people. They

could remember that thousands and thousands of people had died on this beach. Three years

ago, the sea water was dyed red because of the blood of these victims. Father Joachim, a very

good swimmer, accompanied sometimes by Khanh or Duyet, preferred to do a long trip about

three kilometers from our house to the airport in early morning. I hadn’t dared to go too far out

in the ocean as I had not been a good swimmer. This sea was considered as dangerous because of

its abrupt depth just two or three meters from the beach. I tried to lie stretching out on the water

surface without moving. Around me, a crowd of jellyfishes were floating. They were very

beautiful with their bell-shaped like the umbrellas. People had caught them to make a delicious

dish. I had already tasted it at Khanh parents’ house, his sister had displayed a very nice

jellyfishes salad blended with aromatized vegetables. She had explained to me how I could make

it. First, I had to choose the best bell-shaped, then I cut them into thin slices; I had to drain them

carefully. Secondly, I had to put them in the warm water soaking for twenty minutes. Then I must

drain them again and mix with cucumber and a young lotus’ shoot. In the end, I had to blend

them in soy and vinegar with garlic adding sesame oil, salt, pepper, and sugar.
Having thought of it, I was very hungry. Suddenly, I felt a pain on my side. The pain was so

excruciating that I had to cry strongly. My comrades swam rapidly toward me. They pulled me

out of water and laid me on the sandy beach. Tien said:

“He was stung by the box jellyfishes.”

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It was a very beautiful creature with blue and transparent bell cubed shaped that had hurt me.

Dung, our orderly nursing rushed toward me. He asked other friends to look for the domestic

vinegar. According to him, the cooking matter should counter the venomous sting as soon as

possible. In spite of my pain, I told him:

“You know, I had been thinking of the jellyfishes salad mixed in the vinegar, and now it is me who is

mixed with vinegar.”

*****
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43) Autumn 1978

The summer was over. The school had just celebrated its opening day. On Sunday September 3 rd,

we were happy to receive another fifty students having come from the major pedagogy school,

for our early morning Mass at five o’clock. Their actual establishment had been at the former

Catholic high school conducted by De la Sale Brothers. They seemed to appreciate our animated

liturgy because we had played guitars, organ, and drums to support the hymns. When the Mass

was over, I went quickly up to the dormitory, took off my cassock and got down on the yard by

the side of our refectory. As some comrades had not returned home after their parish mass, I had

to wait for them to take breakfast. In fact, only five of us still stayed home for the Sunday mass,

the others were a conductor for different choirs of the town center’s parishes. Some students had

not yet left the Bishop’s House; they came introducing themselves to me. One student said:

“Wow, you did play the drums well. I very much liked to come here for the mass. As I am free on

Sunday, may I come to see you?”

Her comrades said the same thing. I hesitated a moment and tried to explain to them:

“I will be no doubt very happy to see you again in the day. But in the morning, after breakfast, I will

have a Hawaiian guitar lesson with father Pio D. and in the afternoon, I will have to water my

calabashes, luffas and bitter melons.”

One of them answered me:

“My brother, we can help you to water you garden, and after that, we love talking with you.”

I was anxious to ask them:

“What matters will you discuss with me?”

They said:

“All things: study, life, faith, music and love…”

*****
At four o’clock, the sun became less fierce, some friends went to swim, and some others stretched

out on the terrace above the large corridor connecting the bishop’shouse to the chapel to read a
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long Chinese cape and sword novel. As I was in charge of the home garden, even Sunday, I had to

water my pretty calabashes, luffas and the bitter melons plants had climbed on the wire web and

were flowering white for the first time, and yellow for two latter ones. I went to turn on the tap

above the collective cement water tank to get water. I had two alternative buckets for my work. I

took the first one already filled to pour out in each square hole on the foot of cucurbitaceous

plants, while the water continued to fill the other.

“May I help you, brother?”

I started at the question of the young girl who was perhaps same age as me and I was a little

ashamed with my dirty working clothes. Having seen my embarrassment, she introduced herself:

“My name is Tu Quyen, I am student in the Teacher Training College of Nha Trang. I have been at

the Mass this morning. My friends said that we could see you in the afternoon.”

I gave her a bucket and said:

“If you want to do it, I will take water on the tap and you will water all the dried holes.”

Thanks to her help, all plants were quickly watered. I asked her to sit down on the veranda floor

of the classrooms, and began to strike up a conversation with her. I had a habit to pay attention to

the nice name. I told her:

“You are light and intelligent in accordance with your name, the suamp hen, kind of water bird that

its voice called back many memories. It seems you are not native here?”

I had asked her that because she had a pure northern accent, as the people native of this region

who was living in South had not had it. She was an open-hearted person who easily struck up a

conversation. She told me:

“You are right. I was born in Ha Nôi, as I love Nha Trang very much, renamed by its nice beach with

coconut-palms. Although my parents had not agreed with my choice, I decided to pass the exam for

the Teacher Training College of Nha Trang. We had found this kind of school in Ha Noi. This

morning, I loved all the hymns very much.”

I was a little surprised by her words, I asked her:

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“In the North, have you ever sung these hymns?”

She answered me:

“My father is not Christian; he is a higher civil servant in the government. My mother is a former

Catholic. Because of her husband, she had not gone to Church in years. I had heard from her the

story of Jesus, but I had never gone to Mass before. Do you remember the young female student who

had talked with you after mass? It is she who asked me to go to church.”

She looked at some young fruits of the calabash and continued to speak:

“You know, it is said: ‘O bâu thi tron, o ông thi dai’ (to live in calabash becomes round, to live in pipe

becomes long’ Vietnamese saying). I had been educated and formed by my family, but at heart, I am

attracted by spiritual things. Will you listen to my many questions?”

*****
On the third Monday of September (09.08.78), the Bishop’s House was bustling, as many

musicians and catholic hymn writers arrived in the yard. Our bishop had opened a harmony

musical course. They were new or composor who had just discovered their talents after 75 like

Khanh and Ngoê n of our group. However, all of us would be present at this theory harmony

musical. As usual, I would have to water my kitchen garden first before learning the musical

theory course. I had to work quickly because I only had half-hour to do it. A very pretty and

agreeable woman stood up before me and said:

“Hi, are you brother S.?”

As I had not known her, I answered shortly:

“Yes.”

She introduced herself:

“Th. D., I’m a sister of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. I heard that you play the drums well, I do too, I

had played them, not in the mass, but with my orchestra, instrumentalist group of my congregation.

Will you be with us in the harmony course?”

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I saw many young hymn writers arriving. Th. D. said “see you later” and followed inside. There

remained about more ten holes and each one had grown two plants. I looked at them and I

wished to be able to compose hymns and songs,… but perhaps I wasn’t a poet as it was hard for

me to write some romantic words or nice strophes. I perhaps had a scientific spirit so that I had

not abandoned myself to the poetry universe. Anyway, I had to finish my work because it was

time. I left my bucket and returned inside the separated wall. I again met Th. D. who seemed not

to know me, I was miffed but I tried to call her:

“My Sister.”

She turned her eyes on me and waited for me:

“Who are you?”

I said:

“I have seen you in the kitchen garden.”

She burst out to laught:

“It was my sister. I’m Tr. D. ah, are you brother S. who played drums in mass?”

*****
We had already spent three months in this Bishop’s house. The life gradually became difficult, the

people were very poor, and every day we had a small meal at lunch and for diner we ate soup.

After dinner, some comrades went to bed not to sleep but to avoid doing activities that would

consume their energy; it meant we do not have enough food for our daily meals… I was playing

the piano in the sitting room. Father Joachim had just returned home, he left his bicycle against

the wall and talked to me:

“Where are the others? We have a community meeting this evening. Will you go to call them all?”

When we were present in the room, Father Joachim offered each of us a foreign cigarette. This

was called “Samit”, its label, imported from Thailand. He began to speak:

“I’m now a counselor to Monsignor H. We had an important meeting last week. He trusts our

community to organize different courses as we had done at Vinh son. I think they will be destined
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for only external seminarians who are living in Cam Ranh and Nha Trang. We aren’t able to invite

the others from a distance. I will propose some courses less difficult but more interesting. Do you

know father Ninh my former comrade in Da Lat? He will teach the parish organization.”

We all knew him well. He was a very good worker, methodical and serious. He was not a priest of

our diocese, but during the war, he had come and lived with his godfather, father H. and stayed in

our diocese. Khanh was in charge of the minor choir in his parish and Luong for major choir.

Then we spoke of our pastoral works, Khanh suggested entrusting his choir to me. Father

Joachim said:

“S. knows the music well, I think he can conduct a choir. However, as the students of the Teacher

Training College like him, I think he will agree to create with them a catholic student group. By

example, after dominical mass, they will stay on with him to discuss together…”

*****
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44) First vineyard

At five o’clock, the seminarians who had agreed to the recommendation of father Joachim

gradually left the bishop’s House not to draw the attention of the people. Father N., our new

lecturer, had watched carefully my cucurbitaceous fruits. He approached me as I was watering

my plants and said:

“It is very good work. Your different fruits are very attractive.”

I said to him:

“I will give you a calabash; do you want some bottle gourds or cylinder one? Anyway, you also can

take some bitter melons; with them you will have a very good soup.”

In fact, the Vietnamese people loved to eat the calabash soup. They had chosen a young fruit or

one of its parts which would be barked and cut into thin fibers. They put some oil to stirfry some

shrimps first, then the water and finally the calabash fibers. In Vietnamese folk-song, it was said:

“Heads of shrimps cooks with ‘tripe’ of calabash,

Man souses woman drinks; they nod their head in agreement.”

Father Ninh said:

“You are very good. I prefer bitter melons.”

I told him:

“I like to consume the raw bitter melon slices with dried meat floss and the stuff being made bitter

melon soup with shrimp. Bitter melons stuffed with ground pork are served as a very good summer

soup…”

He was amazed with my words:

“Wow, you are also a good cook. Your plants are nearing to decay. What will you do after for your

garden?”

I had not known what I would grow in our holes, small kitchen garden. I looked at him to seek

information. He told me:

“Come follow me, I will give you some branches of the grape-vine. You can create here a vineyard.”
 256

I answered him:

“It is strange for me; I have no idea for that.”

He told me:

“Can you read French? I will lend you a small book that will describe all techniques of this vine

plant. ”

*****
When I had come to teach hymns for the minor choir at Phuoc Hai, Father Ninh had given me a

bunch of vine cutting branches which were 15-18 cm long. The previous day, I had come to the

market “marsh” buying many small long plastic bags. I washed sand carefully that I had taken

from the beach so that it was no longer salty. Then I filled them up into these bags. Finally, I put a

vine branch in each sandy bag and I placed them all under the shade. I watered them. According

to the book that father Ninh had borrowed me, I hoped I had correctly understood what was

written, because I read it with my dictionary, I had to put in my hollow gardens some loam, small

stones, compost, a little iron. Monsignor H. watched my work with interest, he said:

“Do you think the vineyard can grow here?”

I answered him:

“My father, I have no idea. But nothing forbids me to attempt it.”

He told me:

“In Europe, a vineyard is often characterized by its ‘terroir’, a French term loosely translated as "a

sense of place" that refers to the specific geographical and geological characteristics of grapevine

plantations. You are right to begin this period. In French, they had planted it in November.”

Before returning to his office, he told me:

“I see you begin to play the piano well now. Come with me one hour a week, I will correct a little on

your playing.”
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Some days later, it was wonderful to see some buds starting shooting out of vine branches. I came

looking at them two or three time a day. I attentively examined the little green buds having just

begun to show.

“Green was a colour of hope”, I wondered.

*****
1st November, all Saints Day.
Many churchgoers had been at the mass, they were too crowded standing outside the chapel. For

the first time hundred students, joyful and with enthusiasm to assemble in several groups to

discus together. After that, some volunteers stayed to water the vineyard. Thanks to their help, I

had more time to examine vine plants having extended its branches upward to the wire web

above our head. The young green leaves ribbed and web footed, in heart basic shape with five

ending points, plus or minus well serrate. I had seen many yellow spots sticking on a lot of leaves.

I was anxious to discover these acarids and I wondered how I could care for my pretty plants. I

said to myself:

“There is always a solution.”

I did not have phyto-pharmaceutical products to treat it. According to the book, in the earlier

period the Europe people had used copper as pesticide in the form of Bordeaux’ mush. It was

written that the winegrowers of 19 century had used copper sulfate to treat the parasitical

fungus on the plants. I had not read the following chapter which would warn me that this copper

was a toxic product and non- biodegradable matter. I went searching my old chemistry lesson in

order to fabricate this necessary pesticide. It would be combined by one copper ion (Cu2+) with

one sulfate ion (SO42-). But it had been impossible to have the sulfuric acid.
In the afternoon, Tu Quyeê n, “a pretty bird with a melancholic cry”, female student of the Teacher

Training College came to see me in the vineyard. I had been a little surprised not to see her this

morning at the All Saints Day mass. I told her:

“I believe you were unwell because I had not seen you at the mass this morning.”

She answered me:

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“I had courses in the morning. Today, Wednesday is not a holyday for us. The head of the

establishment had complained when he noticed that more than hundred students had been not

present in class but in the Church…”

I suddenly was aware of the problem. For the communist, All Saints Days was not counted in the

holiday annual. I asked her:

“Do you have any courses this afternoon?”

She answered me:

“Normally, I should have to work in the laboratory, as I was in biology class; but there are many

absentees and I did not like to stay inside this cynic’s room.”

An idea flashed in my mind, I asked her:

“Wow, you are the future chemistry and physic teacher. Can you help me to make the copper

sulfate?”

I tried to explain to her my problem. Then I showed her the yellow spots on the vine leaves and

said:

“I will ask you to kill all these acarids.”

*****
Some days ago, father Th., bishop’s secretary, came often to observe my vineyard. Some months

later, he had not believed of the success of vineyard because according to him we could do

something against the nature. I always remembered his remark:

“You know, I prefer your calabashes and luffas. The vineyard belongs to the Europian culture. Will it

live on our sandy and stony soil?”

When he had seen a lot of green leaves spreading and beginning to cover the wire web, he came

daily to look at it.

“Bravo, I admire your work. You are really patient and confident. Your vineyard is beautiful. We can

picnic under them.”

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It was true as he had said. The grapevine plants had formed a nice green carpet above our head.

Father Th. asked me:

“When will they flower and give the raisin?”

I realized that he had not known anything concerning these plants. I answered him:

“It could flower and give the fruits; we will have to prune its branches.”

I began to explain to him what I had read in the book which father Ninh had lent me. I said:

“I will select all stronger stems and remove all of other stems at the base of the plant or these ones

at the useless branches. I will allow the strong stems to grow vigorously from the main branches. In

some months, perhaps in March or April, I will cut all leaves and let bared stems of 5 or 6 buds…”

He said:

“You are very professional. May I ask you some service?”

I answered him:

“Voluntarily.”

He told me:

“The local government had wanted to take the domain of De La Salle’s congregation. The Superior

Brother does not want to offer a great harmonium, imitated of grand classic organ of his

community, to new owner- occupants. He will give it to our bishop.”

After a moment of silence, he continued:

“I know you are very busy for your vineyard; but I think you can help me to dissemble this

instrument; because you are very methodical and have a very good memory. We will have only

about ten days to taking this harmonium apart”.

I had stayed quiet and wanted to say “no”, because I was absorbed in other projects. But I would

like to say “yes”, because my bishop, a good pianist, had taught me how to repair and tuning the

pianos and harmonium, used and damaged. It would be the very good opportunity to practise my

lessons.
*****
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45) Mount LaSalle

Father Thu had driven me to his parents’ house, a great domain located in the Xom Bong quarter.

I had not known why this fisherman commune had been named “Bong” named after a kind of fish

“ca boê ng”. The house was at the foot of the La Salle Hill where the De la Salle Brothers were

situated. His parents were related to the people of Ba Lang. They had fled South like them and

followed perhaps the De la Salle Brothers to this village. Thanks to their hard works, they had

become rich. Although every fisherman was poor after 75, his family continued to maintain their

factory of the fish sauce. This family had ten children and named each one indicated his range in

the family. The eldest son called “Ca”, Vietnamese word meant biggest or first child. Father Thu

was the second son, his name signified “second” or “inferior”. But from the third one, they named

each with a number. The youngest child was a daughter calling “Ten”. He told me:

“We should come to say hello to my parents then we go up to the hill for our work. They have invited

us for lunch; we will have more time to speak with them.”

When I arrived, I smelt the strong odor of the rotten fish, the odor of fish sauce. Miss “Ten” was in

hurry to welcom us at the gate of the house. She told her brother:

“My brother, I have prepared a breakfast for you two. Will you take it before your work?”

Father Thu looked at me to seek my answer. I had only a bowl of maize and I wanted to taste a

copious breakfast with bacon and egg, and coffee. I said:

“As your sister had prepared it, I do not want to displease her. Moreover, we will have more time to

prepare our working plan.”

While father Thu was checking his tooling, I wished to write a plan for our future work. I asked

his sister:

“Miss Ten, will you get me an exercise book and a pencil.”

Father Thu was astonished at my demand and said:

“What’s for?”

I answered him:
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“As we have to work for several days, I think I have to write down exactly what we will do every day

so that we will have a plan.”

*****
The Brother Superior Gaston led us to the grand chapel on the top of the hill overlooking to the

ocean and surrounded by many trees. The government would take all catholic domains one after

the other. I wondered what would become of this sacred spot. All long wooden banks had been

given to different churches of the diocese. An enormous harmonium was still at the back of the

chapel. It seemed to be more gigantic and looked like a giant black monster, as the chapel was

quite empty. It was 3 meters in length and 1. 5 meter in width and more than a meter height. The

instrument had been connected with a big pipe that had been served to furnish the air for the

instrument, thanks to an electric pump located behind the chapel wall. Father Thu asked me:

“As we do not have any camera, if you know how to draw, please sketch it first.”

Then we began to move the electric pump, the air pipe and the wooden seat. We loaded them into

father Thu’s van. He wanted to detach the three levels of the harmonium keys but I stopped him

and suggested:

“If is possible, I think we have to unscrew all wooden board which covered the instrument, this will

allow us to observe the complex interior machine of this instrument.”

Before having come here, father Thu had thought that we would have at least two or three days

to dismantle this big and complex instrument. At noon, when the clock had just struck twelve, we

had nearly finished our work. It the most difficulty thing remained, we had noticed carefully all

keys we would take apart and assemble them in order to their transportation. Father Thu

appeared to be very satisfied with the morning work. He said:

“We are really professional. We are very efficient.”

I did not answerbut I thought that it would be extremely hard to assemble them again. The

Brother Superior invited us to go to his private community house half way from the hill and on

the foot of it where father Thu’s parents’ house was located. There were only six or seven
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brothers living in this house which is also be taken by the government. All brothers had lost their

jobs in the high school. Some began to practice the popular works to earn their living.
*****
Fr Thu’s parents received us at the table where a copious meal was ready. Thu’s sister Ten had

not been at the table with us; she played the role of the good servant in restaurant. Thu’s mother

invited us:

“Please eat some modest meal. In this period, there is no good thing to eat.”

According to the behavior of the Northern, the younger had to invite the older to begin to eat. At

the table, I was a youngest person, but I had never learned to do that, I hesitated a moment and

father Thu told me:

“Well, you have worked very hard; eat now because you have much to do this afternoon.”

The Northern people were very good as communication, father Thu’ mother said that her lunch

was a simple one, but in the reality after April 75, I had not had such a wonderful meal like this.

The perfumed rice was beautiful. We started to eat the cuttlefish boiled with a special sauce. In

the middle of the round table, there were three big dried fishes, perhaps butterfish, immersed

into the fish sauce. She also prepared two plates of fried water spinach with shrimps. Another

yellow dish was a kind of an omelet cooked in the traditional way by the northern people; the

chopped pork mixed with onion had also been prepared. Finally, we were served a tomatoes soup

with fish. Father Thu told me:

“I think you can work alone, I will drive my van to carry our charge to the Bishop’s House. You will

range them in a corner and I will collect them tomorrow.”

And he asked one of his brothers:

“Will you drive S. to the Bishop’s House in the evening?”

But I said:

“Don’t worry about that. I will walk home because I love the sea breezes. However, I need someone

to work with me; so it will be easier for me to arrange all elements in order.”

Ten told me:

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“I will help you to do it.”

After a good lunch, Miss “Ten” guided me to visit her family fish sauce factory. I followed her into

a big hall which contained two lines of the enormous pots 3 m in diameter and 2.5 m high. She

tried to explain to me how they made the sauce fish:

“My parents bought small fish, “ca com” from the fisherman when they returned home from the sea.

They were mixed with a lot of salt and my brothers put them into these big pots. They will

decompose to transform into sauce which will drop from a tap fixed at the bottom border of each

pot.”

I told her:

“Wow, your family produces thousands and thousands litres of fish sauces.”

She said:

“You know, before 75, we had produced over tenfold. Many fishermen had already quitted the

country. Those who stayed had sold their boat to the fishing cooperative.”

I told her:

“It is very interesting to listen to your explanation, but we have to go working now, if we want to

finish this evening.”

We went together up to the LaSalle hill. I asked Miss “Ten” to cut a lot of small pieces of paper

which I would mark a number with a letter. Then I attached one of it to each of the element keys

to indicate its location in the harmonium. I asked her to look for some big baskets which would

hold each category of elements. Two hours after, all pieces had been well classed and ranged in a

corner of the chapel. I told miss ten:

“Thank you to your help! I will go now.”

****
Before April 75, I had heard about the famous LaSalle mount. It was trully very beautiful to look

at the ocean from the height. I followed the way bordered by the trees, such as pillows and

coconut palms. The pathway had followed the hill. I wanted to do a stroll in the fisher’s village
 264

and walked along the beach near “Hon Chong”, other sides of the seminary Stella Maris. When I

got out of the LaSalle domain I had the impression of being watched by someone. I walked

quickly to the big rock and climbed it and sat down to look at all the boats returning from the

ocean in the sunset. I began to feel cool because of sea breezes. I rose and lookind for a way down

the rock in order to go home. Two policemen came to stop me; one of them thoroughly searched

my body and said:

“Please follow me to the commissariat.”

They sat me down and began to interrogate me:

“Who are you? Why are you here in this village at this time?”

I answered him:

“I had just finished my work at the LaSalle hill. You can ask Mr. Chinh. Are the people forbidden to

go around in the beach?”

I mentioned Mr. Chinh, father Thu’s father because he was very highly considered in this village.

But the policeman did not want to hear me. He put me into a dark and fetid room. Throughout

the night without sleep, I thought about my fate and wondered why I had been always suspected

by these people. To forget my reality, I tried to make a poem:

“The long night I look at the sky.

Did God see me praying in darkness?

I try to smile like an ocean wind.

A cloud is broken as my dead soul.

Full of hate invades my heart.

Where can I search for my love?

Sad night, moonless, stars disappeared.

Why the day did not quickly come to me.

 265

At seven a.m., I heard Mr. Chinh’s voice and his daughter, Miss Ten at the office. The policeman

went to look for me and lead me into his office. I followed Mr. Chinh out the commissariat of the

village. He told us:

“Everybody had worried because you had not returned home yesterday. Finally, some friends

informed me that you had been booked by the police. I went there at ten p.m. but the police office

keeper could not release you. We had to wait the sunrise to come search for you.” *****

46) Morning glory fields

In December, the stormy rains had broken branches of the big trees growing in the interior yard

of the Bishop’s House. I said to Ngoê n:

“Is it me or you who will bring lunch to the water morning glory field? Anyway, who’s staying home

could clean it up in the afternoon.”

Ngoê n had not wanted to go there because he had arranged an appointment at noon. In this

season, I was free from gardenworks; my vineyard growing naturally, besides the autumns’ rains

had furnished the water for it. For these two weeks, I helped Ngon in catering for the meals of

our big family; one of us had to bring lunch to our friends who had worked in the water spinach

field every morning. After a week, it will be other team to take over as our roster to keep up the

catering for the house. No one liked this housework, because it was difficult to make a good meal

with little money. We had a limited budget for lunch so we had cooked a big pot of fish and rice

soup in which there were only two slices of tuna for eleven men each day.
It was lunch time; my comrades were gathered at Mr. Bao’s house on the veranda floor and sitting

down there. Mr Bao very kind to receive us every day between twelve to two p.m.. His house was

close to our field that had been divided into five pieces of land in which the water spinach had

been planted for years. From Nha Trang, I had followed the national road A in a northern by

direction, I went through the Ha Ra and Xom Bong bridges, after the communal road to Ba Lang

about five hundred meters, I left my bike and led it on the pathway going to the Mr. Bao’s house.
 266

Some of my friends had waited for me as they were hungry; some others were stretching out on

the floor to rest.

Tien helped me to display a lunch which containing of rice blend with manioc as our main

substance. Ngoê n had bought some fishes at the morning market; he had cooked them with

caramel and fish sauce, to accompany the rice. As we cultivated the water spinach, the popular

vegetable that most use in Vietnamese meal; my comrades had boiled these delightful and

nourishing greens to “enhance” a little quality of this poor lunch. This was a famous and popular

vegetable “Rau Muoê ng” was translated in absentia ‘water spinach’ or ‘water morning glory’ in

English. As I had forgotten to say that we ate these boiled greens with nuoc mam (fish sauce) or

tuong (soya sauce) that had been well prepared with a little sugar, lemon juices and also hot red

chilli cut into small pieces. Sometimes, if we have more time, we cooked this water spinach as a

kind of vegetable soup with dried shrimps. At lunch, some of us recommended to have the

reputed dishes that should be eaten cook water morning glory. Tien said:

“I desire a stir-fried morning glory with beef.”

He was perhaps thinking to the dish that had been prepared with garlic, sweetness of beef,

greasiness of the oil and almost crispiness of “rau muong”. The others spoke of the split raw

morning glory, serving with “bun rieu” (noodles in crab chowder), or “bun cha” (noodle with

grilled pork), or “bun nem” (noodle with spring rolls)... Unfortunately, it was the dishes which

had been sold in restaurant. We did not actually have meat neither crabs or shrimps but we had

only abundant water morning glory vegetables. I suddenly remembered that I had to take out the

electric pump in order to water our field during the lunch and nap time. Normally, Hoanh, father

Ngoc’s brother, who had been hired to work in our field, had been obliged to do it, as he had just

got married, he has returned home to lunch with his wife. It was he who had asked me to replace

him in this task. It was good to water our field in the afternoon because in the morning, friend of

me had plucked up all weeds blending among water spinach… having considered my action, Tien

told me:
 267

“Eat first! Then I will help you to do it later.”

*****
Before 75, peasants had used the bucket with a long handle settled on the edge of the water canal

or the fuel pump to water their paddy field, but after 75, almost in 1978, petrol was extremely

rare and expensive, one began to modify the coal engine so that it could work with coal. Happily,

our electric pump was small and light, enough for our field. Hoanh had placed it by a house

behind the small pond. In fact, we had two; the other was nearer the national road. As the people

had not bought electricity, only the national agricultural cooperative had taken out a subscription

of it, but it had not always operated. Tien had set up the water pump at the foot of an electric pole

and connected its pipe lying on the side of the pond to be put into the water. I asked him:

“Why Hoanh didn’t water the field this morning?”

Tien answered me:

“There was no electricity this morning. Perhaps, there will be no more in the afternoon.”

As there was of course no wall socket on the electric column planted at the side of the road, to

connect to electricity, Mr. Hoanh had invented an alternative way, he attached at the end of each

wire (negative and positive) a metallic, and then we could lift it up and hang it on the appropriate

connection. The people of the agricultural cooperative had allowed us to take their electricity for

a good price. Some buffalos were grazing in the area near by. I told Tien:

“Will these animals graze our morning glory?”

Tien said:

“It seems the buffalo do not eat water spinach.”

Then he changed his subject:

“Mr. Hoanh won’t be free this evening; he had asked me to replace him in order to negotiate with

the traders… I do not go alone; will you come along with me?”
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He then tied several fagot of morning glory and attached them to my bicycle. I would carry them

to home; we continued to serve them for our diner and would give some to the poultry as well. I

said:

“Since he had married, he was often busy. Or his wife had not wanted him leaving the house during

the night.”

*****
After dinner, some friends went to teach hymns for their choirs. I followed Tien to go to the

village located on the left side of the road to Ninh Hoa. It was very dark; we hardly see the way to

go to this very poor area. We searched for the house of a trade woman who bought wholesale of

the water spinach and she could sell to her retailers. Then they would sell them at the market. It

meant that, this woman had to get up very early in the next morning, at three o’clock she will go

straight to the water spinach field where she has fixed the price with us, then the merchants

would sort out themselves, to cut and bunch their vegetables and pay to the main trader who

would paid us two days latter.

Some big dogs rushed toward me barking noisily. Their master came in a hurry to stop them. A

young man, perhaps the son of our trader woman, invited us into the sitting room. His mother

came from the kitchen meeting us she said:

“Brothers, please sit down.”

She asked her daughter to prepare a teapot. Tien told her:

“My aunt, we have no time, will we discuss straight our problem?”

But she insisted so that we had to drink some tea. Then she began to tell us:

“You know, the market is now difficult. I sold them alot. But I wish you understand me. I will pay you

only 500.000 piasters.”

Tien told her:

“You have to pay us according the price that I had fixed with you. You reduced yourself 100000. The

fertilizer and electricity for water had cost very dear.”

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Finally, we were agreed to receive from her 550000 piasters. Tien had to negotiate again for the

new field that would be ready to be cut.

When we had left this quarter, I asked Tien to drink cane-juice at the merchant vehicle settled

over the Ha Ra Bridge. I again discussed problem of the wholesale, I said:

“We sell our morning glory only to one person. Thereby she can pay us what she wants. I know

certainly that she had earned much money because she had our products to many retailers. If we

find at least two different wholesale women, I think they will pay us according to the price fixed.”

Tien answered me:

“I am not talented in commerce. Will you speak about it with Hoanh tomorrow?”

I understood the saying of our ancestor: “phi thuong bat phu” (no trade no rich). Tien had been

entrusted with his task, as he had been free from the other pastoral activity. However I had not

wanted to get involved into this business, I had spent much time to be with the student group.
*****
The last Sunday of November 26 th, Mr. Hoanh and his wife came to have lunch with us;

particularly we were exempted to eat our usual soup. He suggested to us to hire also his sister-in-

law to work with us in the field. She was fifteen years old and the youngest sister of Phuong, the

wife of Hoanh. I asked him:

“Doesn’t she go to the school?”

Phuong answered me:

“Trang is very bright, but we are very poor now, she has to work and perhaps she will follow the

supplied courses in the evening.”

I suddenly had a good idea:

“Will she become a wholesale? She will earn more money like that.”

Hoang laughed and said:

“Thank you for your good ideas brother S., she is too young for doing that. It seems you are looking

for a second wholesale to make a concurrent with our current one? I know, it is a difficult situation

if we had no new ideas.”

 270

I told him:

“This morning in the meeting with students of the Teacher Training College, a girl had shared with

me that the difficulty for her mother when she had to buy things on every single morning at the

wholesale. According to her the term to retailers were very importances. Then I asked this student

would your mother want to buy the watter spinach at the field and sell to retailers. She told me that

her mother had been a good trader before 75. She thought that her mother can do it if we ask her…”

Tien having listened to me attentively interrupted me:

“In this case I wish S. to come along with me every Tuesday to reclaim our money. If he can then we

will make more money for Christmas. ”

*****
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47) Festival of Christmas Hymns (December 1978)

Christmas would soon arrive. Three Christmas had passed; the nativity of God had brought the

Christian people joy in spiritual ways. We had no longer organized flamboyant processions with

decorated lighted cars. We were all anxious to do something more joyful for our youth. Some of

us had a conversation with our bishop who had suggested if we would organize a Christmas

Carol as many of us were in charge of a choir. We decided that this event would happen on the

Sunday 17, several days before the Christmas Eve. Ngon said:

“Mgr H. wishes that we invite the choirs of which we were in charge at the Bishop House for a

Christmas Carol service. He said that we have to do it with careful preparation in order not to

attract attention of the police.”

Khanh added his opinions:

“Also parish choirs of the City were conducted by us. It is the same if we extend our invitation to the

choirs of the surrounding parishes in Nha Trang city such as Thanh Hai, Vinh Phuoc, and also the

others as well. Each choir had prepared a Christmas hymn for this festival.”

I said:

“I think we have to act quickly. Tomorrow our musician friends will come here for the harmony

course; we will inform them of our program. In this case, we have to deliberate now what we wish

to do and prevent all Ricky things.”

Dac asked us:

“Will we also invite our usual churchgoers, for example, the students of the Teacher Training

College?”

Everybody looked at me seeming to wait for my opinion. I thought the question over and

answered:

“With more than 13 parishes, we will receive more than 200 singer members that included minors

and major choirs. I think it will be rather crowded for our first festival. If the Christian people come

to joy this occasion, our chapel will be too cramped to welcome all of them. If we wish to keep our
 272

future festival discrete, do not invite the students who were not all Christians. Some of them would

be the reporters to their school. ”

Duyet said:

“To avoid the attention of the police, I think that we have to fix a schedule time indicating the hour

that each choir will arrive in Bishop House. That is to say, they will not arrive at the same time.”

*****
In the Sunday afternoon of December 17 th, it was the D. day, in spite of many worries, we did not

change our habit, some of us went swimming in the beach but for a shorter time; the others were

playing the piano in the reception room. I was walking in the vineyard below its shade of the

frame on which the grapevine grew. I was trusted to receive and guide all chorus singers toward

the corner reserved for their preparation. Two other comrades would be bicycling unceasing

around the bishop’s domain in order to keep an eye on the police presence. And their job is to be

reported to someone that would watch our house, one of them would have to come warning me.

In that case, we would transform our choir’s festival into the Eucharistic adoration which all

churches had proposed every afternoon Sunday for their worshippers.

As we had programmed, the choirs of the parishes nearing the Bishop House had to come earlier

in the afternoon and the others would arrive one hour before the beginning of the festival. Some

singers had come speaking with me in the vineyard. I then invited them to enter to the room next

to the chapel. Having been warned, they were exactly obedient to our recommendations; they

looked very happy to participate at this festival, as the unique religious group having still legally

been in activity was the catholic choir.

As it was said the Vietnamese saying: “Co taê t giaê t minh” (when we do thing wrong, we are

worrying). I had started at the question of someone who spoke with Northern accent:

“May I ask you something?”

He examined attentively my vine grape and told me:

“What is this plant?”

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I had not really responded at his question, I searched for the solution and wanted to send him to

go outside the gate. If I answered him exactly the name of my vine grape, the others questions

would come following. A good idea flashed upon me: absurdity, if I answered him with an absurd

response, he would leave me undisturbed, I told him:

“My uncle, it is the water spinach.”

He was extremely surprised at my answer, he exclaimed:

“What! ‘Rau muong’!”

“Rau muong, water spinach or morning glory was the traditional and popular vegetables for the

northern people. It was unbeliveable to say this vine plant as water spinach. I added more words:

“Yes, it is rau muong. When this vegetation arrives in South, it changes its nature.”

*****
At seven o’clock, it was already dark. Yellow lamps of the road were spreading very dim lights. I

went to close the gate l. nobody was walking on the street. I search for a tree to stand against so

that I would not get weary. I had to be faithful to my task and I regretted not to be present at the

festival Christmas hymns. The sound of music was echoing to my ears from the chapel. Sometime,

I walked back there to listen the singing of the chorus singers, who were all very beautiful in

their white Vietnamese tunics. I saw about four hundred people were packed in the benches of

chapel. I wished to stay longer to watch them but I had to return to my task, to oversee the

entrance at the gate. Like me, two other comrades were faithful with their work. They came

occasionally to see me. One of them told me:

“Can you bring some food for us, because we are hungry?”

I also felt hungry too, but we had nothing more to eat in our kitchen, we had already had our

meal, every dinner we had the same kind of rice soup at six o’clock. Being disappointed, my

friends went on and on their rounds in the streets. I was dreaming of a sweet Christmas, I prayed

to God for the peace of our country; suddenly I started at the sound of someone standing in front

of me:
 274

“Why are you here?”

I had not wanted to explain to her and said:

“Who are you? Are you Th. D or Tr. D?”

She answered me:

“My sister Th. D. is living in the main house at Binh Cang. She is not here in Nha Trang.”

I asked her:

“You both are in the same year of the religious vow? You have both names D in your religious name.”

Sister Tr. D asked me to go across the road to go around on the beach so that we could have a

conversation. But I refused it:

“I have to keep watching over here.”

****
I asked her to sit down on the veranda floor of the old classrooms near the gate; thereby we

could have our conversation and keep an eye on the gate at the same time. She answered my

previous question:

“My sister is in the class of sisters named with the word Thien that means heaven; I had returned to

the convent one year after and I was in the year of Truc meaning pretty bamboo.

I asked her:

“I heard that you and your sister are good musicians, aren’t you?”

She answered me:

“I did not know if we are good musicians; however as my father was a musican and a song writer

for the children; he had taught us to play the mandolin. When we entered the convent, my sister had

learned to play drums and me playing guitar. I am now living in 88 Hung Vuong Street, and I also

learned to play the piano with our bishop. Every Wednesday, I am in charge the minor choir of the

Holy Family parish. The young singers had just sung their Christmas Hymn otherwise I could not be

here to talk with you.”

Having considered my silence, she asked me:

 275

“I know that you also play drums and piano and you learn the harmony of music with Mgr H. like

us. Why didn’t you conduct a choir?”

I answered her:

“I sang badly and I didn’t yet master my sight singing well.”

She suggested to me:

“If you want too you are welcome to come along and help me to teach hymns for my young chorus

singers, they are very nice young men and women. I do not command you to do that, as you know I

am illegally living in the 88 Hung Vuong convent, that mean my name had not been subscribed in its

family record book, and my risk always being booked by the police. If you accept, it would be very

handy for sometime when I am unable to look after them.”

I asked her:

“Where is your parish?”

She said:

“The church was a former chapel near the military barracks of the South Army; it is located at Quan

Tran. If you know where I am living, you follow the street ahead about 500 meters, then you will see

the church on the left hand side, there are some meeting rooms behide the church and people are

assembled every Wednesday to practice hymns. My choir sings for the evening dominical mass.”

If I should accept her proposition, I would be present two masses every Sunday, the morning

mass at the Bishop House I had to be with the students group and the evening with the minor

choir of Sister Tr. D. As I had hesitated to answer her proposition, she told me:

“I needed you to play the harmonium for Christmas mass. Please come with us next Wednesday for

practice”

I heard many people talking noisily from the chapel. Perhaps the Christmas Carol had just

finished. She returned to her choir. I went to open our gate wide. It was only nine o’clock; the first

group of bicycle began to move out of the Bishop House. I felt cold because of it being windy and

it was a winter night.

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*****
 277

48) Trip to Dalat (01/1979)

Dalat was not perhaps geographically too far from Nha Trang; however it appeared for all of us as

a far-distance city, a romantic city with lakes and valleys, city of eternal spring with flowers and

pines. We were fascinated by this town that we had not known as we had heard of it in poems,

songs and novels. It was a dreamy city in our mind which often associated it with oriental

characters, temperature, mist, vegetations, pines, valleys, universities, French… Dalat had

fascinated us because there was the major seminary ‘Pie X’ which had been a unique pontifical

theology university of Vietnam where Father Joachim had studied before April 75. Many

seminarians who had finished minor seminary and pastoral training course had dreamed to be

sent to study there by their diocese. In reality, each diocese would have elected at least two best

seminarians for this establishment every year. The church had been compelled to offer its famous

seminary to the government in 76.

We had made acquaintance of Dalat, the mist and fanciful city when Ngon had taught us the song

“Da Lat trang mo” (Dalat in dim moonlight) of four voices by well-know hymn writer Hai Linh:

“The Moon light, dreamy sky in real fanciful scenery…”

Sometimes, we had received Father Joachim’s friend; they were the extraordinairy people of this

former institute. Some were poets; one of them was celebrated with his pen name “cross moon”,

some were musicians. We had admired their intelligence; some could speak many

foreignelanguages. It seemed before 75, they had studied Latin and spoke this language daily

among them. Father Joachim loved Dalat very much, according to him it was located on high

lands 1500 m above sea level, and this city had an eternal spring. He had spoken of its lakes and

waterfalls. Finally, he had wanted to lead us to this famous city. But the first difficulty which

appearing was, we wondered how we could obtain the necessary passport to travel from town to

town. In reality, we could not ask to have the passport at the Administrative Hall of our quarter,

because we were not yet really considered as good citizens. Father Joachim told us:

“We have to use false papers for that.”

 278

In any case, it would be not hard to have false passports. Each national enterprise had delivered

to their employees or military agents this kind of paper to move from town to town for their

mission. We had friends who worked in these organizations; they could give us the empty

passport form in which each of us would fill with our own name. Khanh would have to make the

official seal in drawing it on a stencil paper, and then we would apply it with red ink on our false

passport. As for the signature, then we could easily imitate for each one. Father Joachim said:

“Of course, we cannot leave the house together at the same time. We will be divided to three groups

and we will take our departures one after the other by each week. Hoanh and Phuong will come

along with us. It will be also their honeymoon. Luong cannot come with us because he had no paper.

It is cool there; I will offer each a pair of shoe and you also prepare your cardigan sweater…”

We were very excited with this adventure to the dreamy city. We would wear the pair of shoes

and the woolen jacket for the first time. We would taste the real cool of the temperature region.

We would meet the civil people in the city center of these former universities and the biggest

schools… We would see the beautiful scenic and a dreamy nature which had been admired in the

novels. One had said the places called the romantic names such as Xuaê n Huong lake (spring

perfume), Cam Ly waterfall (stream of cool fresh water leaving an impression), and Valley of

love…
*****
Two week after Christmas, the first group of “tourist” was ready to go. We were six persons,

Father Joachim, Khanh, Tien and I included Hoanh and his wife. We had gone near the railway

station in order to catch our coach for Dalat. Finally, at 5:30 we had succeeded to hop-on the

small coach that had already filled up with people. We were packed like sardines in tinned food.

There was a very big container settled above the van; it was the furnace working with coal which

had replaced the petrol, rare and expensive in this period. The route from Nha Trang to Dalat was

not far but we seemed to involve ourselves in a long and hard adventure that made us tremble

often with excitement. Being car sick, I was always feeling dizzy but I tried to refrain from

vomiting. Sixty kilometers after, we had kept in silence at the first checking-point at the bridge a
 279

km way from Ba Ngoi (three crossroad ways). The police men made us get out of the bus and

searched it carefully. Although I was anxious at this control, I felt better thanks to getting out of a

narrow coach. The second checking-point was in Phan Rang, 110 km away from Nha Trang. Our

bus arrived to Soê ng Pha at eleven a.m. We were at the foot of Langbian plateau 1500 m (4,920 ft)

above sea level. We would go down the ‘Ngoan muc’ mountain pass (beautiful view). We had

travelled only 170 km in six hours. Except Father Joachim, all of us were very exhausted because

of the bad state of the road full of pot-holes. He reminded us to prepare our passport as we would

arrive soon to the important checking-point located at the foot of this mountain. Many coaches

packed a long line at the side road leading to the check-point.

Each vehicle, coach or truck was one by one checked carefully by two police men; each passenger

had to show their passport to them who would delve into their luggage. After one hour, our bus

arrived slowly to the level of the check-point. A young woman, sitting near me, was trembling

with fear, she brought with her many drugs, product rare and absolutely forbidden to traffic. She

looked at me imploring some help. I could not respond to her discreet demand as we both had

falsified passport. Two police men had discovered the bag of drugs that belonged to this young

woman. One of them began to beseech them to have pity of her for what she had to traffic of

drugs in order to nourish her young children. The police men who seemed to be used to this

scene had not ahown any pity. They confiscated her luggage; they ordered to get out of coach and

led her to the post. A quarter of hour later, they returned to the coach; looking at the long row of

vehicles, one of police men told the other to search more quickly. After they had looked at our

papers and had not noticed any abnormal elements. Our coach climbed heavily up to the pass. I

was always anxious to think that it could slip into the ravine of the mountain side.
Finally, we arrived at the mist city in the afternoon, it had just rained, and the sky was still very

gloomy and sad. At the coach station, I looked at the water of the romantic ‘Xuan Huong’ lake

which was muddy in brown color. I felt cold and tired. Father Joachim told us:

“Well, make a little more effort. We have to walk about a kilometer. We will stay in the house the

Salesians of Don Bosco.”

 280

We were walking in line on the pathway along the Xuan Huong Lake leading to the big building

hidden behind the pine trees. I suddenly remembered that some months ago Father Joachim’s

friend, a hymn writer priest “Oanh soê ng lam” (Oanh Lam River) had came to the Bishop House to

see his friend again, in the meeting evening, he had told that in April 75, when the communist

soldiers had entered Dalat city, a mass of red carps were floating on the surface of the fond. I told

Khanh lightly:

“Do you remember the story of carps narrated by father Oanh Sông Lam?”

Khanh answered me:

“Ah, they had wanted to greet the triumph communist army or fight them?”

I said:

“I think because the water of Xuan Huong Lake was very opaque and muddy.”

Father Vo Ta Khanh, the Salesians priest of the order and a poet “Cross Moon” had welcomed his

former comrade with joy. He told us:

“Well, I expected for you throughout the afternoon. I will lead you to your own room. Take a rest

first and we will have dinner latter. This evening, there was no electricity. You have to use a little

kerosene lamps in each room.”

We had a room for each one, because this building had received more than two hundred students

before 75. I tried to turn on the tap in the bathroom, but there was no water, even one drop.
*****
Perhaps because of the strange bed and the cold weather, I did not sleep. After our supper,

Father Poet “Cross Moon” told us not to wake up early, because we were on holidays, but at five

a.m. I already got up. I thought that I would go to the bathroom to take a shower, when I opened

my door; a small water bucket was laid at the door. I glanced at the other rooms; someone had

put each water bucket in front of each room door. Father Joachim had invited us to the Pho

restaurant to take breakfast, he said:

“Father Poet ‘Cross Moon’ is a very helpful man. It was he who put a water bucket at each room’s

door.”
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Throughout the morning, the gentle poet guided us to visit the City. We had discovered Xuan

Huong Lake, in the center of the town. Approximately 5 km in diameter, this lake was made after

two dams on the Cam Ly River were destroyed during a storm in the 1930s. We went also to

Valley of Love, about 5km outside of town, it had been very popular for the couple on their

honeymoon before 75 and Lake of Sorrow or Lake of Sighs, 5 km northeast of town along Ho

Xuan Huong road. The Lake of Sorrow is named because of a tale of two lovers; one who

committed suicide after the other was called up to serve in the army. The exactly tale changes

depending on the age and gender of the storyteller!

Anyway, a week had quickly passed; Dalat of my mind had been more beautiful. The city was sad,

poor and humid. Dalat in poem and novel was largely more interesting. Perhaps, we had not had

any souvenir in this town. The beauty was in our mind and it will be in our heart as our best

experience. However, Father Joachim’s friends had left much admiration in my mind. A woman

about thirty years old had been the head of the French education center before 75; another

Professor in the Pontifical Institute Pio X… according to Father Joachim, she spoken French like

French people. Some young female students appeared lovely and joyful; they accompanied us for

the week. This evening, with Khanh, we went to the coach station to welcome the second group,

Dac, Tien, Vuong, Dung and Ngon… They would replace us in the Salesians building. The

following day, except Father Joachim, Hoanh and his wife, we all would return to Nha Trang.
*****
We waited very long time at the coach station to meet our next group to be arrived. It began to be

dark, many coaches had arrived but we had not seen our friends. We had been waiting for three

hours, I told Khanh:

“If I had known the time that they will be arriving; I could visit some other places. I regretted that I

did not have enough time to visit Prenn Falls, at the foot of Prenn Pass, about 10km outside of town

and Pongour Falls, 30km South of town on the highway 20.”

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We saw the last coach, perhaps, arrived. Three “countrymen” got out of it. Khanh called them.

They looked tired and sad, but very happy to meet us. We had not seen two others, Ngon and

Dung. We asked them:

“What’s the matter with you all? Where are Ngon and Dung?”

On the road, Dac told us:

“Dung and Ngon were booked by the police at the checking- point of Song Pha at noon.”

We trembled for fear about our return home. Tien explained to us:

“This morning we could have not been in the same coach. Dung and Ngon had taken the second one.

Vuong had forgotten his passport, it was Dung who kept it. Two coaches had met at the Sông Pha.

Our coach had been ready to start again and I saw a policeman looking over Dung’s luggage, in

which he found Vuong’s passport. He decided to arrest Dung. Having considered Ngon as Dung’s

friend, they signed Ngon to follow them.”

Father Joachim exclaimed:

“What’s a catastrophe!!!”

We passed worries nights; the new arrivals weren’t happy as they would discover the City of

their dream; the outgoing friends were afraid a new problem would come up. Father Joachim

wanted to break off the holidays in Dalat to return Nha Trang in order to find a solution for Ngon

and Dung. But Father Poet “Cross Moon” advised him not to leave the new arrivals here alone:

“A week won’t take long; it needs time to sort out the problem. Please stay here and perhaps some

helpful ideas will come to you.”

*****
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49) Song Pha

A very heavy and tense atmosphere invaded our meeting room. We had tried to avoid the bishop

who inquired about two absent persons. We had been told that after Dalat, we had returned

home to prepare the Teê t with our families. Father Joachim said:

“By any means, we have to take Dung and Ngon out of their prison as soon as possible.”

We all knew that in this period, one had to pay money or gold to obtain the release of someone

who was in prison. The liberty always cost a lot. Father Joachim wondered how we could find a

great sum of money, how could we get in contact with the police of the Soê ng Pha province, and

who could help us… Finally, he thought of Father Nhi his friend, an assistant priest to Father Lang

the hymn writer, responsible for one of the rich parishes in the Phan Rang town. He told us:

“We will entreat help of Father Nhi and Lang. They will certainly lend me money and as they are in

this region, they know the important people who can put us in contact with this strange and hostile

situation.”

Father Joachim had not travelled again; thereby he would run a big risk. He would write a letter

to his friends and one of us had to bring it to them. Khanh wanted to go with me for this mission

but in the new circumstances, we had to avoid any risks. I had been selected to make it; of course,

I would go there with a false passport. In this case, I should have to take charge of this enterprise

in the name of Father Joachim…

*****
Again, I had to get in the small coach, it engine was running by coal in order to get to Tan Tai

parish in Phan Rang. I had accepted this hard mission as I thought of my friends who would pass

their New Year in prison. In fact, the next Sunday, January 28 th, 1979, we would enter the year of

Goal. My parents would wonder why I had not returned home this New Year. Last week, I went to

the Administrative Office at our quarter to ask for my passport, they had easily given it to me

because perhaps of Teê t. They understood that I need like them to pay a visit to my parents or

friends in this traditional period of times.

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At the check point, the police men were less than vigilant. My luggage was heavy. I brought with

me some gifts for fathers Lang and Nhi. They quickly looked over my paper without comment. All

were in order. It was the first time; I had in my pocket a great sum of money. I would buy some

food for my friends in prison; I would ask Chaê u Tuaê n, a seminarian friend whose family had been

relocated in Song Pha after 75, to help me.

It was very hot in this town although we were in January. I walked in the sun to look for the

parish house. A Christian people guided me to the church. The priests were very amazed to see

me here. They read attentively Father Joachim’s letter. Father Lang lifted his hand to exclaim

aloud:

“What’s heaven!!! ‘Who is deaf doesn’t fear of the gun’s sound’. Your Father Joachim had joked with

the communist. He toys with fire, when he was burned, he cries for help.”

I was well received in this parish. We had discussed many things at the meals. Father Nhi was a

young and handsome priest who had been in Stella Maris in the same year as Father Joachim. His

family was still well off; he had known some people whom worked higher position in the popular

committee of Phan Rang district. He told me:

“Tomorrow, I will ask my parents to invite one of the people I knew to enquire about this problem. I

think he can put you a connection with someone who works in the penitentiary in Sông Pha

district.”

Father Lang said:

“For me, I will lend your Uncle Joachim some money, but he will pay with a high interest. And we

have to be patient to expect a favorable answer from father Nhi’s friend. The Têt will come soon in

some days, you have to act quickly and return home for New Year.”

*****
Father Lang was afraid to let me go alone to Song Pha, 60 km from Phan Rang; he asked a

parishioner man to accompany me. Thanks to Father Nhi family friend. I had an appointment at a

popular restaurant in the market quarter. We had arrived Song Pha in the afternoon; we easily

found the rendezvous spot. The small and dirty restaurant was deserted at four p.m., nobody
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appeared at the tables, only one man, being half-naked, was taking a nap on his miserable

hammock. Long, my companion went to ask him:

“Do you have something for diner?”

He said:

“We have individual meal for lunch, sometime a coach stopped here and guests took their lunch like

rice, fried fish or meat and water spinach. In the evening, we have chicken soup for dinner, but it is

still early. We begin to receive the clients from five p.m.”

Long asked him:

“We wait for a friend who will come to dinner here with us. Will we take some drink?”

He answered:

“I have neither beer nor alcohol. You can drink coconut juice or lemon squash. Sit down here.”

And he looked at me saying:

“Young brother, take off your hat, we are in the house. Besides, your red hat is looking funny.”

He had well noticed it, because if I wore a red hat, so that our guest could recognize me. Long had

asked coffee for him and I wanted the same for me. He offered me a cigarette. I asked him:

“What are you doing now?”

He said:

“I was a soldier of the south army. Now I am a poor peasant working in an agricultural cooperative

of our commune, but it is not enough to make a living for my family with three children. I traffic the

foreign cigarettes and sometime I come to help Father Lang in church. I know a little about the

behavior of our communist ‘cadres’, they take advantaged their authority to receive a bribe for

anything. As they become the lord, they are very corrupt.”

A middle age man entered, he saw us and came to sit down at our table. I took off my hat. He

asked us:

“May I be here with you? Do you come from Phan Rang?”

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Long offered him a cigarette, I observed him without a word. My companion at once offered this

man a carton of foreign cigarettes that were rare and dear at this period. Long asked him:

“Will you take some chicken soup with us?”

He told us that he could not dine with us, because he was not free this evening. He looked at me

and said:

“Do you come here to meet your friends in prison?”

I told him:

“Yes, my uncle. I think you may have a son as same age as us. My two friends dreamed to see the

famous city Da Lat. So they had used false papers for their travel. Their parents were very anxious

to have them home for the New Year Eve.”

He had not said anything. After a moment, he told me:

“I think you are sent here by their parents. I will help you.”

I gave him an envelope in which I had put a great sum of money. I told him:

“We are poor; please accept a small gift from us. I would like to know, if our friends could be present

with their family in the New Year.”

He answered me:

“I am unsure but certaintly. Tomorrow, come to the police office. I will conduct you to see your

friends in prison.”

After that, he left us. We called two bowls of chicken soup. When the sun began to set, Long took

leave, he would catch an inter-province coach to return Phan Rang in the night. Before his

departure, he worried, looked at me and said:

“Brother, be very careful. Go at once to enquire the inhabitants where is the house of your

seminarian friend.”

*****
I had a great respect to Long, very kind and helpful. I wondered how I could find Chaê u Tuaê n’s

house, as it was dark. I walked about an hour in the night, sometime a coach passed but nobody
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was on the road. Far out in the paddy field, I saw a kerosene lamp weak light. I went to that

house, a dog rushed to bark at me. An old man got out and asked:

“Who is it?”

I answered him:

“My uncle, I am looking Châu Tuân’s house he is friend of my.”

But he did not know this name. Suddenly, I felt stupid, everybody could know where the Catholic

Church was, I had to change my request:

“Where is the Church?”

He answered me:

“Ah, it’s not far from here. You will have to walk a kilometer. You will turn left and enter the village.

Ask someone who will indicate the church to you.”

When I arrived at the presbytery, it was already late, perhaps nine p.m. and I was very thirsty

because I had eaten the salty soup and walked about two hours. A very small wooden house was

closed and no light inside. I was very thirsty and I felt feverish. I sat down at the veranda floor

and fell asleep…

When I had got up, I realized that I was in bed. I happily recognized Father Hoang, parish priest

and Chaê u Tuaê n, my friend. He said:

“Oh, what’s a surprise? When I came to the presbytery to return the church’s key. I was very afraid

to find a body lying at the door.”

Father Hoang asked Chaê u Tuaê n’s mother to come to extract blood from my forehead with a thorn,

it was a traditional Vietnamese care when one was ill. Father Hoang told me:

“I was in Phan Rang this afternoon. Father Nhi had told me your story.”

Chaê u Tuaê n said:

“Tonight, would you like to go to my home and we will have more time for our conversation.”

Furthermore I could not stay in presbytery, because Father Hoang had not asked the permission

at the Revolution Committee Hall; I had to go with Chaê u Tuaê n to his home. Eight persons in his
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family lived together in a very small house, the Vietnamese traditional house was made by clay

and soil blended with straw. They were very poor. Their daily meals were only manioc and salt.

Chaê u Tuaê n found his joy and satisfaction in working for the parish choir. In two more days, it

would be the Teê t but his family had no traditional confectionery or nor the sglutinous rice pies. In

spite of my fatigue, we were exchanged our stories until two a.m. at the yard in the open sky. We

were bitten by mosquitoes and went to sleep. There was no bed; we slept on a mat in the open air

over the night.

In the early morning when I got up and asked him:

“Where is the market?”

He said:

“Do you need to buy something? The people were very poor here, although the Têt will arrive

shortly; there is nothing in the market.”

I answered:

“As you know, tomorrow, I will go to see Dung and Ngon, I would like to buy them some sugar and

two square glutinous cakes.”

He said:

“They are lucky; I wish to have a bit of that square glutinous rice cake.”

I was full of emotion at his words. I thought I should buy two cakes and I would offer his family

one.
*****
The next morning, I came very early to the commissariat office. I asked to see Mr. T.. It was him

who had given me all notices to meet him. When I walked in the office seemed noone to pay any

attention to my enquiry. They told me to wait on a bench. Three hours later, I saw Mr. T.arrived

who had been with us the previous day. I arose at once to stop him but he appeared not to know

me. He asked me aloud:

“Who are you? What do you want?”

I suddenly understood the situation, putting humbly my request. Then he told me:
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“Wait for a moment!”

I saw my two friends at noon. Dung and Ngon, they were wearing only underpants and looking

thin and exhausted. They did not restrain their tears when they saw me. They had just finished

their daily drudgery and they would receive each other two “history wheels”, slang word saying

that the round manioc cake for lunch. They ate with a great joyable my glutinous rice cake. In

spite of their hunger, they had taken apart each half of the cake for their prisoners’ friends who

lived with other thirty people cramped in a room of forty square meters. Every day, they had to

work under the sun in the vegetables field. In the evening, they must listen to the propaganda

talk. Dung and Ngon told me:

“We wish to get out from here as soon as possible.”

I assured them that we had made all things to obtain their liberation. In fact, two weeks after the

Teê t, on Sunday February 11th, they were released and returned the bishop’s house.
*****
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50) Event of Stella Maris

Spring 1979, a tense atmosphere invaded the Stella Maris domain. Some of the government

officials had arrived and ‘working’ with father Nho. His worried through although that he had

been known with his usual apealled. We had come here in this establishment every Wednesday

after the Vietnamese New Year to attend the Buddhist class that gave by Father Nho. He had

obtained his Ph. D. in theology on this subject. When we arrived as usually at Stella Maris, he

came and spoke to us:

“I will not be with you today. Last week, every day I had to receive people who discussed the

‘destiny’ of our seminary. They wanted to appropriate all our buildings. Anyway, they had taken all

other religious domain in our diocese; in that case it is now our turn. Go and tell the other brothers

to return the Bishop House right now.”

Some of us went to work at our morning glory field and they would return here for lunch. I went

to see the brothers whose parents were living in Cam Ranh. They were gathering in brother Doê ’s

room. They discussed on their future life. Having seen me coming in, one of them said:

“You are in peace now in the Bishop House. It is our turn to be suffering. They will appropriate our

domain, many brothers will return to their family, and a few of us will be move in with Father Nho

to one of the parish of our diocese…”

I asked him:

“What do you think about Father Nho?”

Another brother said:

“For the moment, he has not brought any response to harassments of the representatives of the

government. During each meeting, he listen them without words and at the end he has his own

famous expression ‘I acknowledge receipt of your parole’ and he hasn’t signed any paper…”

Brother Doê added:

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“We dared to say what we would do in the future, will we have to leave? To have family as the

normal men etc. We have no future; our chance of becoming priesthood seems to go away

gradually. Hien and Lanh had just attempted to escape by boat, they were booked by the police.”

At lunch, Father Nho announced the bad news. Although the diocese had not given up, the

government had decided to take this beautiful and big domain. They would negotiate with Father

Nho the problem of seminarians for the next days.

*****
Two months later, the event which we had anxiously awaited happened. The meeting of our

group on Sunday, Father Joachim warned us:

“The Stella Maris seminary will have to move in a week. In exchange they had allowed Fathers Nho

to live in Ha Dua’s parish presbytery of with his seminarians. Father Can will move with them. The

sisters will perhaps return to their main house in Binh Cang. You have to help the Stella Maris for

this removal. You will be working hard again at least few weeks. There are many objects to be

moved. We will begin to do it tomorrow.”

Something was at cross-purpose in my mind. I wondered why our responsible priest had not

prepared before this event, because one week we could not move all of the objects. Why nobody

had thought to determinate the sites where we would entrust all furniture, beds, tools, materials

etc. We would have to act quickly by disorder way. I asked father Joachim:

“Why didn’t we prepare before this problem, as we know that the Stella Maris will be confiscated?”

He answered me:

“In reality, Mgr H. and his councilors had not given up to this harassment. At the end of hard

discussion, they had forced us to accept their proposal. We rejected their demand, we had accepted

only to lend our domain, thereby in the future, we will officially train our future priests, and we will

reclaim again it. We, for our church will be continuing to struggle, and our liberty of conscience. We

had obtained the permission to send our brothers in practice to many of parishes of our diocese. It is

one of ways already to place our future priest in parishes, they are like a seed being buried in soil in
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order to germinate and fructify one day. Only seven young brothers will be moved with Father Nho

to Ha Dua parish.”

Ha Dua was a nice commune about 12 km from Nha Trang. It was the oldest parish of the diocese

which had given the church many priests. Father Joachim and F. X. were natives of this country

commune. Its church was built in the 19th century in oriental style and it is beautiful.
*****
The Monday May 21st, 1979, a hundred people were already assembled in front of the main

building; they were ready to help the seminary for the moving. It was a great sad event

happening in the diocese, every religious congregation had sent their people to assist Stella

Maris. Nobody yet known what was to be done; they waited for the order of the brother who

organised. We had arrived at the seminary with four tricycles, a kind of vehicle destined to carry

all things. Brother Hua, a middle age man of the Stella Maris group, was in charge for this event.

He came before the mass of volunteer workers and said:

“Thank you for your presence. As we could not determine before the site to which we will carry all

our belonging, because we aren’t free to act as we like, we will try to do this hard work as well as

possible. First, each group has to select one person as a leader who will note all things that need to

be done. All sisters of Pure Heart of Mary and the Virgin Queen of Mary will help the sisters at the

seminary to pack all the kitchen zone and refectory. These will be taken to their congregation’s

house. The brothers at the Bishop House will be in charge the library, meeting rooms, classrooms.

All books will be transported to the Bishop House. Members of the Stella Maris will be packing and

carrying all necessary things to Ha Dua… Many Thanh Hai’s parishsioner also to accept and

receiving some things entrusted to their houses. At noon, everybody will be invited to lunch in the

refectory.”

It was only ten a.m. but we were quite wet and sweat under the heat of the sun. Since 8 a.m. Ngon

and I, we had made only two return trips from Thanh Hai to Nha Trang. When we had seen the

library, we had thought that we could finish and empty all books in a day; by the next day we

would take apart all the bookcases. I told Ngon:

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“At this rate, we have to spend several days to finish the library, and the classroom?”

Ngon assured me:

“Don’t worry! We do what we can. If we do five or six trips from Stella Maris to the Bishop’s house,

we make about one hundred kilometer for the days. We cannot do better.”

On the road we had only met our comrades who were striving to drive their loaded tricycle. The

Franciscans transported all the iron beds to the Bishop’s house; they had to move these heavy

things up to second floor of the building where our dormitory was. The De la Sale Brothers were

also presented actively in this catastrophic removal. At noon, with Ngoê n, I had finished our third

trip. When we went again to the Stella Maris, many voluntary workers were there to wait for

lunch. Dac served each one fresh coconut juice. Although we were here in the sad circumstance,

we felt also joyful to meet together all comrades, sisters and brothers of the different religious

orders. In spite of fatigue, a lot of laughs echoed in the yard. In the refectory, some tables still

remained while all chairs had been moved, on which, our sisters had prepared sticky rice, fried

meats, and salads to serve all “workers”…

Like my comrade, I returned home when the sun had set. I took quickly a shower and went at

once to bed. I fell quickly to sleep as I was very tired. It seemed someone to shake me at the

shoulder:

“Wake up!”

I started at the voice and jumped out of bed, Ngoê n faced me, I asked him:

“Is it already daylight?”

He told me:

“No, it is only eleven o’clock. We all have to assemble in the sitting room; the police had come

making a spot-checking.”

*****
When all effects of value had been moved, we began to entrust all wooden board, corrugates, and

the other things to the house of the Christian people who were living in the same area. All rooms

of the big house were gradually empty. We had only one day to achieve our work. Dac had
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plucked all coconut fruits; he put them into a very big load like a mountain in the garden. I asked

him:

“Why did you pluck also all young fruits?”

He said:

“Its juice was very fresh and sweet. You can bring home two or three basket. There are here at least

more than five hundred fruits.”

Father Nh. burnt all litter in the garden. I asked him:

“Why are you doing it? Let the future occupants to clean the garden themselves.”

He answered me:

“We have to burn all former relics of the past.”

I understood why the brothers of Stella Maris had given him a nickname “Neron” who loved to

toy with fire and burned the entire antique city for joke.
*****
On Sunday, we brothers of the Bishop House and those one of the Stella Maris, celebrated the last

mass in the chapel before lunch. Many Christian people living around the seminary had been

present at this Eucharis. They were too crowded so that the chapel could not hold all of them.

Father Nh. spoke:

“In two or three days, this sacred house will receive by new inhabitants. We wish its sprit of peace

and joy will be with them. God had given it to us and God took it again. He wills certainly do

something else more than precious for our life…”

The mass was over, people were praying in silence after the communion. The racket from the

talking and the arrival of a group of people in the corridor resounded to the prayers who had

been annoyed… Father Nh. rose to conclude the mass. Brother Hua rapidly took off his cassock

and went in a hurry stopping these people:

“Who are you? Why did you enter into our house without permission?”

We got out of the chapel, coming behind him, and all Christian people had made like us. They

were a little impressive by the mass of people, one of them said:

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“As we will work in this domain by next week, we come here to visit our future house. We are

members and cadres of the public security agent establishment.”

“Please tell your comrade to be patient for some days. The house was not yet delivered to your

care. If you come here to pray, please enter to the empty chapel and keep absolutely silence in

order to respect the sacred site. It is the minimum politesse of a civil human. Otherwise, please

leave at once, because we have still many things to do.” Brother Hua said.
Having seen the mass of people standing up behind brother Hua, they made signs to each other

to withdraw in order.
*****
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51) The New Year of Monkey (1980)

The coach had not long stopped at the Ba Ngoi, three ways crossing; the town had opened

coaches’ inter-province station located in the former four way crossroad. I got out of the small

van. I had to walk more than a kilometer along the national 1 in order to catch a kind of tricycle

to go home. In one week, people would welcome the New Year of Monkey (February 16 th), they

expected this year to bring many changes to their life. Last year, more than one million boat-

people had left Vietnam; the half of them would have died at sea. On both street sides, the dirty

traces of the war showed on the surface of the buidings and houses. Some small popular

restaurants began to take up their activities again. We were in February, but it was still yet

agreeable, but after a quarter of an hour of walking, I felt thirsty. I had to wait at the tricycle

station for a moment because the small van would start provided it filled the entire vehicle with

clients. I thought of my sister who taught in the high school near here, as she was now a physic-

chemistry teacher. I would come to meet her and ask for water, and wanted to check if she was

free in her holidays, we could go home together.

I came to the schoolyard where there were two lines of tropical almonds. The withered big leaves

of these trees were in accordance with the old and dumpy yellow of the classroom walls that had

not been repainted for the New Year. The pupils were still in classes. I sat down on the veranda

floor. A young woman came forward me and asked:

“Why are you here?”

I answered her:

“I came to see my sister, she is a teacher here. Her name is Ly.”

She told me:

“Ah, you are one of brothers of Ly. She speaks often of you. I’m her colleague and friend. We share

the same room in this high school. Please follow me to our room; she will soon finish her class. Will

you stay for lunch?”

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The high school had rented her and my sister a studio room located next to its library. It was very

narrow for two tenants; a small cooking stove was set above the table in a corner of the room,

and a small door leading to a rudimentary bath-room. They had only a small table placed against

the wall. When the school bell rang, the young boys rushed out of their classroom. I saw my sister

walking toward her room. She would soon be twenty years old, as she was born in the monkey’s

year 1956. I had pity for her; she was very bright and good at many subjects, mathematic,

literature and language, she had dreamed to continue her study, but she had not been born in the

free country which allow her to complete her university. She was very surprised but happy to

meet me here. She told me:

“Mum will be very happy to see you came home for the Têt. Last year, she remembered you

throughout the three days of Têt.”

Her friend who had gone to the shop in the market quarter came back with some food to prepare

for lunch. She said:

“Your old brother is here, I thought myself to buy something for lunch.”

She turned her face toward me and told:

“Ly had often told about you as a very bright man, specially a musician,… I’m very glad to meet

you.”

I was amazed because she had believed that I was an elder brother of my sister. However, my

sister is three years old older than me; perhaps a lot of struggles and all vicissitudes of life that

had made me look older than my age. My sister corrected her friend:

“He is my young brother.”

During the meal, my sister gave a confidence. She said:

“I would like to talk with you a very important matter; I want to leave Vietnam by boat. As you

know, I desire to continue my study but I could not get my opportunity in this country, communist

and dictatorial. I dream to do that in a foreign nation, democratic and freedom.”

I secretly observed her colleague and said:

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“How do you do that?”

She answered me:

“The fisherman, my colleague uncle who is here with us is part of an important organization for

crossing the sea by boat. Each person who would like to joint of this enterprise has to pay two taels

of gold. Will you convince mum for me?”

In the afternoon, we both had taken the tricycle to return home. I had been astonished and

admired her dream. She wished to go to France to make the language studies as she dreamed to

become an interpreter at NGO. I wondered how she could have known these things… Anyway, I

prayed for her to realize her dream.

*****
I did not staylong at home. My sister returned with satisfaction to her school. My parents, in spite

of their hesitations, had agreed to give permission to my sister. My mother had saved up all her

fortune so that my sister could pay for her future escape trip. She looked at me and said:

“S. how about your future? It is my last chance to know.”

I tried to assure my mother and the others:

“Don’t worry for me mum. I am very happy to be at the Bishop’s House. One day, I will have further

study and to be ordained and become a priest. If Ly succeeds her risked enterprise, she will realize

my dream, and she will replace me to study in other countries… Do you have any news of my

friends?”

My mother answered me:

“Dung and his young brother Duc have succeeded in escaping Vietnam. They are now perhaps in

America. Poor Son, He is dead because of malaria… Last year Têt, Thien had visited here in our

commune, she had asked about you. She is now married. Sometimes, I met your other friends they

wanted to know when you will be home… ”

This New Year was not like past years, all my friends were busy with their own life. Someone had

left here, others became parents. I felt uncomforable and unfamiliar to catch up with new things

around. I had decided to return the Bishop’s House on Tuesday 19 th, the fourth day of Teê t. My
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comrades had not come back here. Father Joachim had gone to see his parents on the first day of

the New Year and then he stayed here alone in this big domain. He asked me:

“Why did you return rapidly to Nha Trang? If you want, would you like to go fishing with me in

Dông Hô.”

He loved to go fishing. In the past, he could have spent a whole night to fish the catfishes. He liked

to invite me to come along with him to pick-up the fishing cane on the paddy-field. If I did not

accept his suggestion, I should be home alone in the large and big dormitory. I hesitated to

answer him that I wanted to be at home:

“I have just arrived from my parents home, I would like to rest…”

But father Joachim insisted:

“Come along with me. I need to discuss with you something very important.”

We drove our bicycles to his relative house in Dong Ho. His nephew was a talented fishherman.

He led us to pick-up many fishing canes in the field and lighted a fire-camp on the hill. When his

nephew went to check our fishing canes, Father Joachim told me:

“What do you think of your future?”

Having considered my silence, because in reality I had not thought about it, he continued:

“I think you and some of your friends will not be accepted by the Communist to be ordaining

priesthood because your father had been a higher officer in the South Army. It will be better for you

if you can go to another country.”

I told him:

“I don’t understand what you say.”

He said:

“I wish to send three of you to go abroad by boat; I hope that you would continue your study

because you are exceptional students. I do not want to see you waste all your time here. As we have

no chance to allow all of you to do that, only three of you will accompany me into this adventure. If

God allows us to reach a freedom country safely, I wish you to study moral theology, as you are very
 300

good in your analyses. Khanh, doing well in languages, he could do Biblical studies. And Dung, he

will do communication technology; I thought that very important for our future world. Moreover,

the Vietnamese episcopacy had presented their request for the ad limina visit, every five years, each

episcopacy conference have to pay a visit to Rome… I think the local government will terminate our

illegal courses that they had known longtime ago,”.

*****

In 1980, the Vietnamese episcopacy was authorized to go to Rome for their ad limina

(apostolorum). They could have not made it in 1975 because of the political change. In fact,

Vietnam had interrupted its diplomatic relationship with the Vatican. The last one had obliged to

leave Vietnam in 75. Monsignor Hoa appeared to be very happy to visit the Holy City where he

had done his theology studies years ago. Before his departure, the government had sent two

emissaries to meet him in the Bishop's House.

Father Joachim had forecast, the government had been reported about our illegal theology

courses in the bishop’s house. We had not obtained the authorization of the government.

However, with their clemency policy, they had temporality let passed this serious fault; from now

on, all activities of the same kind were absolutely stopped. Nonetheless, the government would

give a favorable response to Vietnamese episcopacy’s demand concerning the opening of five

seminaries in Vietnam after their visit ad limina.

*****
Ever since then, Father Joachim was often thinking what should be done. He had received some

unfamiliar persons who were attended to meeting with him. Summer has arrived; I again

followed Father Joachim to go fishing. He brought with him a casting net. He taught me to fish

with this tool. Sometimes, we fished frogs in the night. Then he had an opportunity to talk with

me about his project. I remembered that he told me his many ideas. In any case, I thought that he

had been frustrated not to be sent to Europe for his studies. He had been a very good seminarian

student; he was a talented man of the languages. The former bishop of our diocese had planned

to send him to Rome when he just finished his minor seminary. Unluckily, this bishop had died.
 301

And his next successor had not wanted to send any seminarians abroad; he had only sent some

priests to continue their theology studies. However, he had elected for the famous pontifical

theology institute in Da Lat where had formed many elite clergy of the Vietnamese Churches.

Thereby, he passed his dreams to us.

*****
Father Joachim’s words had opened my mind to another perspective. I could not stay here if

somewhere else would accept me for the better change. I was a boat which never tastes freedom

of the ocean; it couldn’t be anchored at the wharf… Last week, Hoanh had suggested to me to

collaborate with him, as he was preparing his adventure via the ocean as well….
The return of Father Thaddeus
In June 1980, Mgr Hoa had just left Nha Trang for Saigon; he would take the plane to Rome with

his colleagues. Some weeks before his departure, the government officer had come to meet him

in order to make some exchange. They had promised to respond favorably to some requirement

of the Vietnamese episcopacy after this ad limina visit. Our bishop seemed to be happy to see

again the City where he had studied. He would taste again a little freedom as he could. At the

dominical mass, he had hoped that all priests who were in the reeducation camps would be

released because they had not done anything against the revolution. Last week, Father Theê , a

former parish priest in Vinh Cam, who had been putted in reeducation camp was liberated. As he

was not allowed to return back to his old parish, he was received in the Bishop's House, he had

met Father Thaddeus in the A 30 camp, the famous reeducation center located in mountain zone

of the Phu Yen province.

Quang and Hoang, two secondary school students who were living with us to study their high

school because their homes had not been in Nha Trang, had just come back from their school. I

was hastily thrown my gardens’ tools to enter the kitchen because I had to bring lunch for my

comrades who were working in the morning glory field. Quang came looking for me in the

kitchen and said:

“Brother, someone here; he wants to speak with someone.”

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I went out of the kitchen and saw a man looking familiar, but his visage was dark and sunburst,

he looked very thin like someone had not eaten for longtime. He looked me joyful and said:

“Ah S. do you recognize me?”

I was amazed, keeping quiet a moment and finally crying:

“Father Thaddeus.”

Father Joachim listened to my cry he got out of his office and recognized his former colleague. He

rushed to give Father Thaddeus a hug with full emotion. Then we entered in the sitting room.

Hoang was sent out to buy some drinks and told me:

“Go and call all brothers to come home right now. You don’t need to bring lunch; we will prepare

something special to celebrate the freedom of our father…”

Then, he ordered Ngon, my team worker for the catering of this week. Please go to see Mrs. Nhon

and ask her to help us to buy some food because the market “Cho Dam” is closed at this time. Our

eyes were wet with tears. Father Thaddeus showed us his releasing order paper; Father Joachim

burst to laughing and said:

“You are now here in your home and do not needs to show your release order paper.”

All the sisters and priests who were living at the Bishop House came and greeted Father

Thaddeus whom they had not seen for more than five years, no one among us had gone to visit

him at A. 30, because when someone was in the prison, the permission for visiting allowed only

one time for every one or two years so his parents visited him instead of us. Father Joachim read

Father Thaddeus releasing order paper and said:

“The communist had booked the innocents person, they couldn’t have notice any political sins in this

paper.”

“Anyway, said Father Thaddeus, nobody were at A. 30 had beneficed a lawsuit. They were the Lord

who has power over the people, they booked who they wanted and forgiveness who they have

envy…”

*****
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Father Thaddeus occupied two rooms in the second floor; his office looked towards the yard of

the Bishop’s House. Since his return, he had to learn to adapt with the new life. When he had left

us, we had been only high-school students; he tried to realize that we had become major

seminarians who were able to work in the parishes eg. to conduct choirs, work-groups, and many

another pastoral works. He had observed our activities in silence and he began to take again his

responsibility as the head of our family. He had proposed us some canon law lectures and the rest

of his time, he always typed in his office, because I heard the noise from his old type-writers

every afternoon. Once at a dinner, he told us:

“You are brothers now; you have to pray with church breviary at least two or three times each day.

As you haven’t had these prayer books, I try to type twelve copies; each one will have a book.”

In reality, at each time he could type six sheets thanks to the copy-carbon. For a book, he had to

type twice of the same text for 600 pages. One month later, he had finished his first copy, because

he had decided to reproduce the main breviary that consisted in four books. According to him,

we have then all spiritual texts which each priest or friar had to read daily. One day, he called me

and asked if I could bind these sheets into books. I told him:

“I cannot make it I think Dac can do it very well. He is a very good handyman.”

He said:

“You are right; I will ask him to do it. Does the morning glory field needs many workers?”

I answered him:

“We have to go there for work, because here is nothing to do except the vineyard…”

He asked me:

“What do you think if we organize to have a small poultry farm? Then we will have them for eggs.. I

remark that our breakfast and dinner were very poor and lacking of nutrition… We have many

vacant classrooms.”

*****
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From now on, Dac and Chien stayed home as they were in charge of the poultry farm with father

Thaddeus. Two hundred chicks he had bought and about 180 that were rapidly grown. In two

months they would lay eggs. Because Chien and Dac had not gone to the morning glory field, it

was lacking of workers; I had to return to care for the water spinach. Group of ten had only nine

seminarians Luong who had replaced Khoa had just left Vietnam. Five workers at Dong De for

every day works, because there weren’t theology courses, two being in charge of poultry farm

and two others for catering…

Chien and Dac had put all chicks in two narrow hen coops. The poor chicks died one after others,

although they had been vaccinated. As I asked Father Thaddeus to allow me to stay home one day

a week to keep an eye on our vineyard that were flowering. I had then the opportunity to observe

the poor ‘birds’ crying throughout the day in their narrow prison. One day, during the dinner, I

said with humor:

“Our hens are dead because they are in a concentration center. If they live in better condition, they

will be well alive and can lay many eggs.”

Father Thaddeus asked me:

“Why do you notice it? Do you have any another solution?”

In reality, I had no idea for that. However, for a while, I wanted to move the library to the room

next to our dormitory, because it was in one of the classroom and nobody came reading there. I

said:

“If you agree to move our library, you will have a large room in which you will fill it up with rice

husks. You can set free all your hens that will be very happy and produce more eggs.”

Father Thaddeus asked me:

“Where will you get for these famous rice husks?”

I answered him:

“Next to Hoanhs’ house, I saw a factory to husk the rice. Mr. Hoanh knows the proprietor well who

will give us many husks we needs…”

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*****
Since the return of his colleague, Father Joachim was often being absent. He spent his time with

some strange friends. He went fishing more frequently. We, three elected persons who had been

invited to the secret preparation for future escape by boat had understood his frequent absence.

Sometime, Father Thaddeus complained a little about this behavior of his assistant priest. I tried

to defend Father Joachim:

“You know, during your absence, he had been the head of family. You are now our chief and I think

Father Joachim tries to let you taking your place…”

He kept silent but he did not been agreed with my explanation. Another thing hadn't escaped

from his control; Mgr Hoa had given Father Joachim a gold tael before his ad limina visit, as he

had pity of our poverty, Father Joachim had used this sum to buy a compass. With only it, the

organization’s man had allowed four persons in his boat; ordinarily each one would pay at least

two gold taels, the sum we had did not possess.

Father Thaddeus began to wonder why three of us had often gone fishing with Father Joachim.

One day, he asked me:

“I understand that you like to go fishing, but I doubted that Khanh, a town-dweller, a hymns writer

and Dung, talented for the electronic machine, loved this activity.”

Like him, Chien, Dac, Vuong, Ngon, began also to wonder but they had not dared to ask us.

Sometime, they discussed discreetly together. Eventually Mr. Hoanh, he had guessed something

was being prepared… One day, after work, he spok to me:

“My wife and me, we invite you this evening to have a dinner with us. It is our wedding anniversary.”

I asked him:

“Why have you invited me only?”

He said:

“Since you went working here with me, I had observed you and I think you are very gentle and

serious. Besides, my sister in law who had worked with us in field likes you very much. Come this

evening. If you want, I will get the permission of Father Thaddeus for you.”
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After having worked in the field, I followed Hoanh straight to his house. He asked my friends to

inform Father Thaddeus, and I would perhaps spend the nigh there. In reality, the weeding

anniversary had been his simple pretext; during the meal he gave me some important

confidences:

“We wish to go abroad by boat like other people, but we have no money. We had saved about a half

of gold tael that will not be enough for this preparation. I have just made a connection with a young

fisherman living in Ngoc Thuy, he agreed to collaborate with me.As we appreciated you very much;

I wish you can participate with us in this adventure. If you accept my suggestion, you have only paid

a half of gold…”

I was excited at his proposal. I wondered if my mother would find a half of gold tael for me, I

knew that she had already given my sister all her fortune. Moreover, I was selected to go with

Father Joachim… But two wives had been worthier than one. If I could fail one, it would rest the

second…
*****
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52) The New Year of the Rooster (Thursday 5th February 1981)

I still remembered the Teê t without having found my former comrades. I had not returned home

for the New Year of the Rooster. Chien, Vuong and Tien had left the Bishop's House the previous

day. Dac thought that he wanted to stay to take care of the hens. I followed Ngoê n to go to his

uncle’s house in the Holy Family parish where the priest had just passed away after having been

set free from A. 30 camp. He had been a former military chaplain for the Army. Ngoê n’s mother

and brother had moved to the Southern region, they were living in a fishing village in Ba Ria. Like

us, Ngoê n had dreamed to leave from there. He wished to go to any country which gave him

opportunity to learn music. He seemed to be bored with life in the country that would not give

him fulfillment. We did not stay long with the family, when we got out of the house, he asked me:

“Why didn’t you go home for the Têt?”

I answered him:

“I will go home after the Têt, because I needed to do something for my mother.”

He told me:

“Will you ask your mum a gold for to flea overseas? My mother has no money so that I could not do

it. Do you think will I be called for the priesthood in this country? ”

Having considered my silence, he continued:

“If you are free, I want you to follow me, you will discover something interesting.”

We drove toward the Independence Street, and Ngon said:

“You know, the mother of a female singer of my choir has invited me this afternoon. I don’t want to

come to her house alone.”

Ngon looked a little worried. He needs my presence because he was afraid to be alone facing Nam

Phuong’s mother. Nam Phuong was a singer member of the Bac Thanh parish’s choir, she fell in

love with her ideal brother Ngon, a hymn writer and talented conductor. According to Ngoê n, she

was about twenty years old had sworn to her mother that she wanted to marry him only.

Although he had a little doubt about his vocation, but he had never thought to have a family at
 308

this time; like me, he was always haunted by his desire to study in a foreign country. I deeply

sympathised with Ngoê n.

A middle age woman received us with a serious look. She gave me an unexpected look and

wondered why I was here with Ngoê n. But she was a courteous person; she invited us into her

sitting room. Nam Phuong’s father was the owner of one of the hotels in town, in spite of the

critical economic situation, he was still doing well. Nam Phuong entered the sitting room and

greeted us; her mother asked her to prepare a tea pot. While we were sitting shyly in the

armchairs, she came straight to the point, she said:

“Brother Ngôn, like all others Christian people, I respected your vocation and I tried to advise my

daughter not to enter a relation with you. However, I was also a woman; I couldn’t inhibit her not to

fall in love with someone. Her sentiment is true and very strong. I tried to use all means to dissuade

her, but my words could not convince her. She told me that if you will not be her husband, she will

always be single until the end of her life. She is suffered not to see you, hear you and daily talk with

you ….”

She had stopped a moment, perhaps she was moved, and she continued:

“I will sincerely ask you now: do you love Nam Phuong? If yes, I think you have to take an important

decision, you will make an engagement with her. You aren’t yet priest, and in regent situation,

nobody can say that the government will authorize officially the opening of a major seminary… If

you are not clear in your heart, I ask you not to continue to see my daughter. I hoped that Nam

Phuong will forget her first love by the time…

In my view, I think you have to make a clear choice and determine your future life. If you love my

daughter, you will be welcomed in my family. I will help you to stay in this city…”

Ngoê n remained silent; he threw a glance look toward me. I said:

“My aunt, I believed that you are very anxious and worries for your daughter. You have to leave

Ngon free to think more carefully for this decision…”

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We took her leave. On the road, I thought of the suggestion of Mr. Hoanh. I would negotiate with

him to give a place for my friend. Ngoê n asked me:

“What are you doing this evening?”

I answered him:

“I will go to Quân Trân, to help Tr.D. to conduct the minor choir. They will sing for the New Year

mass.”

*****
The week of Teê t had flown quite quickly. I had returned home to see my parents. My father was

very slim and pale. He seemed to have some kind of sickness but there were no doctor and no

medicines for him. I was very anxious to ask them for a half of gold tael. Next morning, my father

called me and my mother to sit near him then he told us:

“I dream once day you will be at the altar to celebrate Mass. But I think you cannot continue your

vocation here. I wish you to have an opportunity to go abroad… Your mother and I, we wanted to

help you with our best.”

I secretly thanked God who had opened me a way for my future. In fact, I had not needed to form

my exceptional; I would express my project to my parents. My mother had tears of joy and my

father told me:

“I don’t know if I can see you succeed, but I think that God has answered my prayer.”

My mother brought all her jewel, earrings, neckwear, and bracelet and finally, she also took off

her wedding ring. She told me:

“Tomorrow, I will change these. I think all of these will be enough for a half of gold tael. These are

only simple objects. You and your future are worthier of a thousand more than these things.”

*****
I returned Nha Trang the next day, the seventh day of New Year, on Wednesday February 11 th;

spite of their poverty, the people seemed to “eat” Teê t, the expression to show how the Vietnamese

people celebrate their New Year, and only some activities began to work again. I had to walk from
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the railway station to the Bishop House. When I entered the yard, Father Thaddeus who was

talking happily with someone in his office called me:

“Well, we have just mentioned your name, and you arrived. Someone comes to see you.”

I saw Tr.D. sitting cheerfully in the sitting room. Father Thaddeus kindly left me there with her.

She said:

“I believed that you just returned from your parent’s home. I am having a holiday. I had visited my

family and today I just returned Nha Trang to see my grandmother. Anyway, I stayed now two days

at her house.”

She continued:

“I think that you had not taken dinner yet, because your train has just arrived at five p.m.. Would

you like to come with me to my grandmother’s Pho restaurant? She will be happy to know you.”

I answered her:

“I am not hungry.”

But she insisted:

“Please, come with me. I will ask Father Thaddeus permission ….”

I left in order to move into my dormitory. I hid my precious fortune and went back, Tr. D. was still

there. Father Thaddeus told me:

“There is nothing to eat at home. It is a chance to be invited by this pretty person.”

Finally, we went together to Pho’s restaurant located at Le Thanh Toê n Street. She introduced me

to her grandmother who said:

“I seem to know you well, because my pretty grand-daughter when she was here each time, she told

me about ‘brother S…”

Tr. D. was right; I ate this delicious dish. Pho was a traditional Vietnamese noodle soup. I smelt

the good flavor of Pho, evaporating from the broth made by simmering beef bones, oxtails, flank

steak, charred onion, and spices. I observed the cook picking a handful of white noodle for

settling into a big bowl. The noodles, called bánh phở in Vietnamese, were traditionally cut from
 311

wide sheets of fresh rice noodles. He then put some thin cuts of beef, dusting following the basil

leaves, coriander leaves, some slices of onion and it green leaves. Tr D said:

“Well, you did not look at me and you seem to be wherelse.”

She looked at me inquiring:

“Do you have some worries?”

I answered her:

“No.”

After dinner, she asked me to go around the city by bike with her. We drove along many streets

then to the small public garden near the post office. We looked for a seat and sat side by side. I

told her:

“I will leave Vietnam. I am preparing with Father Joachim and at the same time with Mr. Hoanh.”

It seemed she was very touched, she held my hands and tightened. A moment later, she said:

“I am very happy for you to make this decision and I realized that your dream is important. You are

bright, talented and good person.. If you wanted to follow your dream I can not stop you to do that

then one day you will be successful and also good for many other people. I love you very much Si. It

is very sad, I will not see you every Wednesday evening at the singing practice and I will not see you

here in this country anymore… I’m in the order at the moment but I felt hard to keep up. I have to go

through the difficulty situation with the present life style because of the new government. I

sometime imagined if I could leave the order and have a family, with four children I would also be

very happy too.”

She had moved tightly to me. I felt a great emotion, I embraced her in my arms, and I trembled for

joy because it was my first time to share a moment like this with the person whom I loved. I

kissed her. But she said:

“We have to return home. It is late. I have to be faithful with my religious life…”

*****
 312

When I came home, I saw Father Joachim still in his office. It was late, but I wanted to speak with

him, I said:

“Uncle Ten (his nickname), I am also preparing with Hoanh the future trip.”

He asked me:

“It’s very good. When will you start?”

I answered him:

“I don’t know. Perhaps in May.”

He told me:

“If you go before us, I will have your place for another.”

I said to him:

“I wish Ngôn could go abroad…”

*****
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53) Enlistment

The last week of February, Chien was the last person returning Nha Trang. He stayed more than

two weeks with his family in Phuong Laê m. This new economical zone was a fertile region; his

parents seemed to become a little well off. He brought us many products of his home town such

as dried bananas, dried fresh water fishes, teas and coffees. Furthermore, he showed us his new

pants and shirts, except Khanh, we all wore poor clothes. He thought to buy a clarinet because he

wanted to learn to play the instruments. The Monday February 16 th, we all took again our usual

activities in the afternoon, because we had been in community meeting in order to plan our

future programs. Personnel of the administrative quarter came to give each of us a paper for a

convocation decree. We all were in the compulsory ages for the military services. We had to go to

the health center for a physical examination. The healthier man should go to the Army for three

years services. We were amazed and very anxious with this mobilization, because nobody

wanted to join this Army. The previous years, we had avoided it perhaps the Communist Army

had not wanted to receive the catholic seminarian people in their ranks. We looked worries and

discussed it while we were in the water spinach field this morning. We thought about the

Cambodian war. The army began to do the campaign of enlistment for sending the new soldiers

to Cambodia. On January 10, 1979, Communist Vietnam had installed Heng Samrin as head of

state in the People's Republic of Kampuchea (PRK). The Vietnamese army continued its pursuit

of Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge forces. On February 1981; the war seemed not to be over in the

‘pagoda-tower’ land (Cambodia). Ngoê n said:

“They will choose the young men, strong, solid, in shape… If we have a health imperfection, we will

be exempt. First, Khanh and Chien cannot be elected because they are very short-sighted. Vuong is

too thin… ”

Two days later, on Wednesday, all of us must be present at the Army examination center. In the

evening, we had an appointment fat our dormitory in order to deliberate together what action to

be taken. Ngoê n had thought that Khanh and Chien would not be chosen because of their vision.
 314

Vuong was thin and weak; his appearent wasn’t good health, so they would be ruled out. I had

not been worried, I perhaps had been noticed as a person no grata because my former activities

after April 75 in my commune. The other friend could risk to be selected. Ngon tried to drink cup

and cups of strong coffee delivered by Chien and hoping that, after many sleepless nights, he

would look quite haggard and wasted. Duyet who was not myopic had tried to wear glasses and

feinted to limp... I mocked them:

“If all communist soldiers had been like us; they could not triumph over the American Army. And we

should be perhaps in Da Lat or Da Nang major seminary …”

*****
The D Day came. At seven a. m., we were already present in one of rooms of the arrondissement

office which the Army had used for the health examination. We had not taken our breakfast this

morning. We were not alone, a hundred other young men had already gathered in the yard. We

were called by alphabetical order; Duyet was called first in our group. We were waiting in the

yard and expecting Duyet to come back; He had come back and reported details of what he had

asked to do. Then it was my turn. Personnel told me to go into the first room where I had to

undress. I entered the big room where there was a line of tables and behind each one was a

medical exam person. A woman measured my height and weighed me. Another came examined

my breath, looked carefully at my teeth and ears. I then went to the next room for my eyes. At

least, everything was very good with me, except my weight, I only weighed 40 kilos.
One week later, as we had warned, only five of us would have to join the Army. Their health had

been perfect and they would be ready to leave for the Army. Dac and Tien had knowledge of this

event. We wondered when our comrades would have to leave here. Three other seemed not to be

ready to go to the Army. Ngon, Dung and Duyet decided to go to visit their comrade friends in Ban

Me Thuoê c, a plateau province about 250 km away from Nha Trang. They wanted to forget a little

of annoying experience.
*****
Three days ago, Nam Phuong, looked very anxious, she daily came to the bishop’s house to ask if

we hear any news from Ngon. Although her mother had advised her to terminate the relationship
 315

with Ngoê n, she were continued to meet her ideal maestro at the choir practice and at the Bishop

House. We called her the queen. Her first name was also the same name of the Vietnam’s last

emperor wife. Our queen Nam Phuong was pretty, cute but insolent. I did not like her because

she looked often show off and she spoke curtly. But after the meeting with her mother I knew she

was a very strong belover to my friend; I began to admire and respect her. In fact, her parents had

prohibited her from falling in love without a happy ending. She heard only the voice of her heart.

I was watered my vineyard that its vine grapes became to grown and nearing ripens. Nam

Phuong came asked me:

“Do you have any news about brother Ngôn? Which prison does him in now? Will anyone go to see

him in Ban Mê Thuôc?”

Ngon and Dung have been booked by the police. Duyet who had been in the same house with

them, but he had escaped. He had returned Nha Trang in a mad rush to announce this bad news.

They had been together in a friend's family home. Two days after they arrived, Ngon had been

asked to conduct the youth choir for the church which they went to mass. Dung played the guitar

to accompany the hymns. These two friends became rapidly known by the local people. Every

evening, many young men and women had come to meet them. They had sung; and exchanged

many interesting stories.

On the Sunday, they had been invited to have a meal in a farm-house on the mountain. They had

fun and sang many songs, they laughed, enjoyed themself; the local policeman had come and

made some inquiries, they decided to lead Dung and Ngon to their commissariat. A male singer

immediately warned Duyet of this danger; while he was a chief cook in the kitchen; he had left all

things on the furnace and quickly ran away. He had been walking along the national road 1 for

hours without sandals. He was exhausted, tumbling down along the side of the road he felt that

he could not go on… About midnight, a diligent car stopped nearby the place where Duyet had

given up his walk; having got out the car on the side road to have a pee, the driver suddenly

discovered our friend unconscious on the ground. Quickly he drove Duyet to Nha Trang.
*****
 316

Father Thaddeus was upset to know this bad news. He wondered why Duyet had been

unconsciously. He told us:

“You have to bear in mind that we are in the communist country. Discretion, discretion, discretion!!!

Here is our main guideline. How can we take them out of the prison? It is impossible…”

Father Joachim told his colleague:

“It is their misadventure. They were already in prison at Sông Pha. They had been inside for more

than one month… As they had not committed grievous faults, I think they will be released. However,

one of us has to go to see them and it would be good if we have a contact person who can help us for

that.”

He looked at me and asked:

“Will you accept one more time to be in charge of this task?”

As I had not wanted to leave Nha Trang in this period, I had to be present at anytime with Hoanh

and Rang for my secret organization, I answered him:

“I don’t know the City of Ban Mê Thuôc; it will be difficult for me to do that. I think Duyet can make

it because he had been there and he knew the people.”

Duyet said:

“Of course, I will go there, but what should I do?”

Khanh answered him:

“First, you have to contact them, and then you will ask for advices. You will see what you will have

to do…”

Duyet asked us:

“Will Nam Phuong come along with me? She wishes to meet brother Ngôn.”

Father Thaddeus rebuked him:

“Be serious. Nam Phuong is a good girl. You have to respect her future reputation…”

*****
 317

Perhaps God had granted our prayer one more time. Sunday March 1 st, our three “heroes” had

come home from Ban Meê Thuoê c. The two priest incharge were away and other friends had been

absent as well, only me, I had welcomed them home. While they were arranged their luggage, I

drove to inform Nam Phuong whose eyes burst some tears of joy. She followed me to the Bishop

House and stayed there until the evening.

From that time, Ngon had often confided in me his deep dream and worries. I wished to reveal

him my project to flee overseas; but I would have to ask Mr Hoanh. Once day, Ngon told me:

“In any way, if I have to go to the Army, I will leave here. If I accept Phuong’s mother's suggestion,

she can get me an exemption because she had known some important persons in this city… What do

you think about that?”

I answered him:

“I don’t know what your passion is? In my case the love of a woman could not fill up my desire;

consequently, she will be quickly disappointed. I have a unique dream: escape from Vietnam.”

Ngon looked sadly at me:

“But I have no opportunity?”

I told him brightly:

“If I give you an opportunity; which choice will you make, me or Nam Phuong?”

He asked me:

“Of course, I will choose you. What opportunity?”

I told him:

“You know, in the past, I often discussed with Hoanh. We were preparing an escape by boat. I asked

him to give you a place…”

*****
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54) Petrol’s preparation

In April, the climate of the third lunar month was less preditable; the sea storms were less

frequent and the surface of the ocean showed less angry with its sweet waves. In the evening, the

small boat could go out fishing in the open sea, the happy returning in the early morning filled up

with many fishes. At the breakfast, I asked father Thaddeus to have a permission not to be home

tonight because I was invited to stay over night at Hoanh’s house. He told me:

“Ah well, you now seem to be very friendly with Mr. Hoanh. He has recently invited you for their

wedding anniversary. Will you go working tomorrow in the field?”

In reality, I would not spend the night at Hoanh’s house. I would come along with him to Ngoc

Thuy, a small island located in the middle of the Cai’s river estuary, to meet Rang, a fisherman

with whom we were organizing our future adventure in the ocean. Hoanh had selected him

because he was trustworthy, he was also a catholic man and his uncle was a De la Salle brother,

living in France. He would introduce me to this man and I would replace him to go to the sea at

the night in order to hide our diesel in the islands. Hoanh had not wanted to put his family, his

wife and a baby, in jeopardy. He thought that I was a single person, so better that I would be in

charge of this important task… So, I hesitated to answer father Thaddeus. Duyet said teasingly:

“I understand why he wanted to stay the night at Hoanh’s house. Trang seemed to like S. very much.

She always asked his news when she had working at the field… Be careful, she is nice looking young

woman…”

“I will work with Hoanh”, I said, “to make our electric pump system safer. It is very dangerous to put

the electricity near the water.” In fact, every day, I had dragged this pump from Mr Bao house

toward our small pond. Then, I had settled it at the foot of one of electrical pole along the road. To

make this water pump work, Hoanh had used two electric wires at the end of which were connected

to iron hooks that would have served to connect with two different lines, one with negative pole and
 319

the other with positive, on the public electric wires. I had to do that between noon and two p.m.

meanwhile my comrades had been taking a nap.

*****
We had left the field at four o’clock while all comrades were still working and we rode by bicycle

toward Nha Trang, when we arrived at the “Bong” bridge; Hoanh showed me the watch tower of

the bordered police installed on the rocks jutting out from the land at the estuary of Cai’s River.

He said:

“You know, all boats coming from the interior have to stop there and the policemen will carefully

check up them. Each one is allowed to carry about forty litres of diesel per fishing night.”

We left our bicycles at the wholesalebuyer of our water spinaches’ house; we got into a ferry at

the station located underneath the foot of the Po Nagar Champa tower. We arrived at the cottage

which looked untidy and poor in between the coconut orchard by the riverside. Rang, a young

fisherman, with sunburst skin, by a few words, he received us in the sitting room. At his home in

the middle of the house there was a big table with pictures framed of God and Jesus above and

his parent’s picture who were passed away below that. He was living with his grandfather at the

time, and went fishing alone on a small fishing boat. He guided us to the river where the boat was

kept to show it to us. It was a bout 3 m long and 1.5 m wide, on the deck, there was a small round

cabin and contained a big bunches of fishing net. He said:

“It had an engine of five horse-powers which will consume about twenty litters of diesel for a day.”

Then we helped him to hide five gasoiline cans, there were twenty litres of each in the hole and

we camouflaged these with many fishing tools, nets, and dirty clothes, putted in disorder. Behind

of the cabin, he remained his authorized diesel jerry can. He told Hoanh:

“I have already buried five jerry cans in our island, if we succeed by hiding these, we will have at

least 200 litters, and it will be enough for ten days to cross the ocean.”

He looked at me and said:

 320

“Are you ready to do it tonight? It will be very anxious, but we have to make it. As you do not have

your fisherman card, you will lie on the deck and I will cover you with these thick and coarse nets…

you have to be underneath it about five to ten minutes. Is that OK with you?”

He invited us to share dinner at his place. After that Hoanh took us leave and told me:

“Good luck. God bless you.”

*****
I was curled up inside the round bamboo boat which Rang had covered by his nets. He had given

me a plastic pipe so that I could breathe in this very tight. According to him, if there had not been

in this tiny basked shaped boat, I should not be protected when the police come into the boat. He

told me to stand sacrifices and hardships for at least fifteen minutes; when the boat quit the

estuary, I would get out from it and freely breathe again the pure sea air. I was actioned inside

about ten minutes; the boat began to reduce its speed to land at the checking-point near the

bridge. I felt like vomiting because the stinking of the fish, I heard Rang’s salutation to the police

man, he said:

“My chef, would you like a cigarette? It will give you a little warmest against the sea wind.”

His colleague got into the boat, and asked Rang:

“Your fishing card, please.”

There are not yet many boat coming, he struck a simple conversation with Rang. He said:

“Why are you going early, your colleagues will start in an hour later?”

Rang answered him:

“I have no watch strap; furthermore, my father needed an earlier dinner today. I had taken dinner

for him and then go fishing. One has to work for living, you know?”

The police man asked him:

“I will need to check the hole of your boat.”

Rang told him:

“If you want, but it is in disorder; I have no time to tidy it up.”

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The policeman was not keen to get down checking the hole; however, he took a pointed stick and

he stabbed into the nets. He made it too hard so I felt that the bamboo’s bark of the round boat

about to be torn off. It was last for more than five minutes but he had not yet left the boat. He

asked Rang:

“Will you need the bamboo round boat in the sea?”

He had asked Rang like that, because he knew that the fishing people could have not used it in

the open sea. Rang searched the way to explain to him:

“Yesterday, I was very tired and busy; I had forgotten to take it off.”

Happily, three other boats had just arrived at to the checking-point; he let Rang go. When the

boat had left from the estuary, I asked Rang:

“May I get out please, I will be sick?”

He said:

“Brother, be patient, we are still near the land, and they can observe us in spite of the dark night.”

*****
One hour later, I was seasick, I had vomited, and I was very tire. Rang had given me some water.

He massaged me at the neck and I began to feel better. He took out of his small bag an alcohol

bottle and told me:

“Drink a little bit of rice alcohol, you may feel better. Look ahead, it is the island on which we will

bury our diesel. Before going there, I have to drop all my fishing net here first. The other people also

arrived at this point.”

In the dark night, the sky was little bright with only starslight, crescent moon lights and

hundreds of mantle lamps of the fishing boats. Rang set slowly his long net in the sea…
After that, he watched attentively the sky and surrounds his boat. He told me:

“I try to locate the point where we are now, because we have to approach near the island. About

three o’clock, I think we will finish our task.”

When our boat was near the island; Rang stopped the motors of the machine and cast its anchor.

He asked me to help him to throw the round bamboo boat in the water. He then helped me to
 322

jump inside, and gave me a rope in order to connect with the big boat. He made the round boat

tighten to his big boat and began to transfer two diesel jerry cans. He got in this round boat and

took it to the land. He told me:

“I will discharge these cans here. You will stay on the beach, I will return to find the rest.”

When he had arrived at the beach, he gave me one of two military foldable mattocks. We carried

five jerry cans to the seat where he already had six other there. He asked me to dig a hollow-out

of one square meter and one meter deeper. We put in order our petrol jerry-cans and filled it up

with soil. We searched also some stones settled on this spot in form of a cross. I told him:

“How could you recognize this place, the beach is very large?”

“You know, the spot where we had hidden our petrol is in the direction of the morning star,”

answered Rang.

*****
We took a rest by stretching out on the sandy beach. Rang gave me a cigarette. I looked at the sky

and felt as I was already another country. Rang told me:

“We return now to the place where I had set all my fishing nets. I hope we will pass through the

check-point at four o’clock, before the sunshine and the police men should be in deep sleep.”

Rang guided our boat to the spot where he had put his long fishing nets. He cast the anchor; he

shone his lamp to search for the red floats which he had pitched a special flag indicating his

owner nets. No traces were found of his nets. He told me:

“I think my net has floated following the sea current. I will take a round bamboo boat to look for it.”

An hour later, he came back and told me:

“Well, I found it. We will recover it quickly, because the sun will soon rise.”

As he had said, when we began to return to land, the sun looked like a half of big round red wheel

on the horizon. Rang was a bit anxious. I suggested him:

“If it is too dangerous to pass the check point; will you dropt me at the Ba Lang’s beach…”

He asked me:
 323

“Do you swimming well?”

I said:

“No, you will drive me near the beach with your round bamboo boat, and I can swim about 100

meters… Any ways, it is now seven o’clock.”

When I reached to Hoanh’s house, he had gone to the water spinach field. His wife went to call

him and I tried to get some sleep after my bath. At my awakening, it was already at noon. Hoanh

returned home and said:

“I’v got your bicycle. Stay here for lunch with us. I have told your comrades that you are sick…

*****
Buffalo accident
I had taken out our electric water pump, but Tien came to tell me:

“There is no electricity this morning.”

In spite of his warning, I had settled this pump at the side of second pond near the road. I told

Tien:

“I think between noon and two o’clock we need someone to reset again the electricity. I will work

here in the morning, when Chien brings lunch to us, he will stay here to work, and then I will return

home because I have to look after the vine grapes plants. These are flowering and begin to show its

small green fruit. I will run the pump before I go. Will you take it away after? Mr Hoanh is absent

today, he is ill. ”

Tien answered me:

“Will you ask Chien to do it; because after lunch I have to go to buy the fertilizer.”

I was a little anxious, for Chien had never done this task. I wondered if he would know how the

two hooks would be disconnected from the electric wires. But I had no other solution; in fact,

there were nobody staying at Mr Bao’s house today; Ngon and Dung went to see Quy in Thanh

Hai; Vuong who was in charge the catering with Chien for this week had been here; Dac was

always at home to work in poultry farm with Father Thaddeus; Khanh went to see his aunt in

Saigon and he would not return Nha Trang in another few more days; Duyet had to accompany
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Tien to buy the fertilizer… So much the worse for it, I would have to ask Chien to do it. After the

examination for the Army, all comrades seemed to relax and enjoyed the community works…
*****
At three o’clock, I was about to treat vine grape plants with the copper sulfate which Tu Quyen

had brought it to me. She told me:

“Brother, copper sulfate is poisonous. You have to wash your hand carefully after using it.”

As we lacked information about the risk of all our acts, we had dared create many things that

could be harmful to our life. I still remembered the distillation’s peppermints accident. However,

these catastrophes had taught us the knowledge of the domain of which we had no idea. Chien

drove in hurry into the Bishop House; I was surprised why he had not stayed working in the field.

He came with his worries and talk:

“A buffalo is dead. It is catastrophic!!!”

When Tu Quyen had left us, I went to see the priests’ incharge. Father Joachim was absent, and

Son colleague was working in his office. Chien told us:

“A buffalo of the cooperative agriculture had grazed along the side between the road and the field.

It had dragged the electrical wire of our water pump to the water of the pond. It had been

electrocuted. A mass of people was gathering now around the animal.”

On the visage of Father Thaddeus, under his right eye, a chain of muscle twitches were

happening, he could not say anything. I saw he was very angry and very anxious. I asked Chien:

“Where are Ngon and Dung?”

We got down into our sitting room, Dac and Vuong came to join us. Dung and Ngon also returned

from there… Father Thaddeus told:

“You are inresponsible. Nobody is there.”

But a half an hour later, we had found a solution. We had to pay the price of buffalo that would be

fixed by the agricultural cooperative. Father Thadeo went to ask Mrs Na whose family was a

butcher in the marshy market (Cho Dam) to treat the buffalo’s meat. Thereby, we could
 325

recuperate some of the money. We all would go there and he had assigned me to discuss with the

agricultural cooperative because I was in charge of our water pump.

We drove in eager haste toward Doê ng De. When we arrived at our vegetable field, many people

had crowded around the pond. We threw our bicycles on the side of road. In the middle of the

pond, a big buffalo had been drowned showing his abdomen. A young policeman came toward us

and asked:

“Who is responsible of this death?”

I recognized the president of the agricultural cooperative close by the police man. He was very

friendly with Hoanh and I had met this gentle person sometime. I went forward and said:

“It’s me who is in charge the irrigating of our field. It was an accident. Happily, only an animal has

been killed. We will compensate the co-operative fully. Will I discuss with him.”

The police man looked at the president of the cooperative. He seemed to agree with my

suggestion. However, he said:

“Tomorrow, at seven o’clock, please, you have to be present at the commissariat.”

We all went to the Mrs Bao’s house. We had quickly agreed with the price of buffalo, a little

immoderate, but we had no choice. The buffalo was very heavy; it had been pulled out of the

water by ten strong men. We would have again a night less, the sun was already down, and we

had to wait the butchers who worked for Mrs. Na. My comrades told me:

“You will be better to return home, because you have to be healthy to be facing with the police…”

*****
There was no waiting room in any commissariat. I was coldly received by a young policeman who

told me dryly when I presented him the paper which the police had written down his order

summoning me. He told me:

“You wait here.”

I sat down on the chair out side the office. I had to wait more than one hour and I had not seen

the police who had called me here. I wondered why I had to confront often with the police.

Thereby, I began to accustom myself with these unavoidable meetings so that I was less than
 326

afraid to answer at the interrogation of the communist police. At eight o’clock, the police man

who I had seen the previous day at the field arrived. He appeared very young but he was an

officer and head of this commissariat. He passed me without greeting and asked his colleague to

guide me into his office. As usual, a woman came to write down in her book my name, religion,

profession,… Then the policeman began to accuse me of destroying the common property. Then

best “sin” was to make the people in mortal dangerous risk. Following, he told me that I risked

being under penalty of two years in reeducation center. Finally, he concluded that with the

tolerance’s policy of the Revolution, he demanded only a confession and repentance from me and

the Bishop House. That meant I had to write down a text that I would recognize my “sin” and

express my gratitude toward the Revolution having pardoned me. I had suddenly understood the

communist method. If I had really committed a political mistake, they could not let me free.

Having considered us like the potential opponents, they searched always to control us. They had

to apply the same approach for this case: confess, repentance, reparation. In imitating the

spiritual way of the catholic, they had not forgotten to demand the accused to recognize the

reconnaissance toward the Revolution. I tried to use my all courage to answer him:

“Thanks for your kindness. You are intelligent to recognize that it was a pure accident. We are

regretful for this mess. On behalf of my ‘family’, I have compensated fully the agricultural

cooperative. Its president has been happy with this sum. I remember that two year ago, when we

have done a request to the Electrical Administrative Organ to take out a subscription for the usage

concerning the irrigation of our water spinach field; they advised us to be in contact with the

agricultural cooperative because we were not living in this commune. The president has agreed

that we could use this electricity with their meter. But they have not been able to settle an electrical

wall socket on their column next to the road. They allowed us to connect to the electrical wires in

this rudimentary way, the same way they had used sometime for their field… If I would write a

confession, I have to narrate all truth. I think the president of the agricultural cooperative would
 327

sign this future paper. You are right to say that it is dangerous for the people; you have to forbid the

people, members of this agricultural cooperative to do it…”

I was amazed with my talk; I waited for his angry reply. But miraculously, he changed his attitude

and asked me:

“You are brother S., my girl friend told me often about the brothers of the Bishop House with

admiration. You know, I have to make an administrative statement. You will sign it and we close it. ”

*****
I was tired to death after two hours in the police station. Tien kept waiting me in front of the

office. He told me the bad news that my bicycle was “vanished” at the place where I had placed it.

We began to be anxious to go home to be in another meeting. We ought to do a good report to

Father Thaddeus who was always stigmatized by his painful experience in the reeducation camp.
Father Thaddeus, looking worried and serious waited for us in the courtyard. In the sitting room,

Father Joachim was also there. He would defend us. When all of us arrived and sat down together

in the sitting room; Father Thaddeus told us:

“It is a mercy they did not keep you in cell. We have no money to corrupt them in order to take you

out.”

I felt an enormous injustice in hearing his word. I answered him:

“I think we have not committed any faults being worthy of the prison. I have a pity for the poor

electrocuted buffalo; however, we could taste the buffalo’s meats for the first time.”

In the evening, Mrs. Na brought Father Thaddeus the round sum that she had got after selling the

buffalo's meat. Finally, we had received more than the price we had compensated to the

agricultural cooperative. Moreover, her friends carried for us a big bucket which contained some

kilos of meat, also a lot of tripe. Chien and Dac sliced them into little pieces to cook a kind of rice

supper in a big pot. A pleasant smell spread in the space as it made us hungry. Duyet went to look

for some dry pancake to bake on the furnace. He said:

“It is delicious to eat these with the supper and buffalo’s tripe boiled.”
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We heard the joyful cracking of dry pancake baked on the burning coal. Having seen the light of

the wood fire, some students of the pedagogy school who had befriended us come to share our

supper. Duyet pronounced a philosophical sentence:

“’trong cái rủi có cái may’, (in the unlucky event, there is always a chance; that is to say equivalently

in English: every cloud has a silver lining.”

*****
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55) Thuy, the water in the summer

After dinner, some comrades had gone to the parish to practice hymns for their choir. Duyet, Tien

and Dac were reading in beds. I wanted to play the piano in our sitting room, but there were

many people talking happily inside. I recognized Mrs. Na’s voice, who had helped us to sell the

buffalo’s meat and her other friends, Hoê i, Minh, members of the “Hope’s spiritual association”,

found by the previous bishop and regrouped the young single women from 30 to 40 years old.

Since the buffalos’ event, this group of people became to know Father Thaddeus and came

sometime to talk with him at the Bishop's House. I was ready to move into my dormitory, but

someone called me:

“Brother S.,”

I turned my face to watch toward the big tree under the dark of the night. The person having

called me was a chorus singer of the Bac Thanh parish, conducted by Ngoê n. Her family was still

well off because her father continued to practice his former profession as a butcher. He had killed

one or two cows per week; then his wife and daughters would sell those meats at the market.

Thereby, she had left school when she was in the first year of the high school. I remembered that

she was the person who gave me a hand copied poem of the Pham Thien Thu was composed

music by Pham Duy last Sunday. It was her well-meaning misunderstand that when I asked Ngoê n

the music score of this song “In the beginning of the spring, with you we go to the celebration in

the pagoda,” she had been talking with her “hymn teacher” when she heard my request to Ngon,

and on the next Sunday she gave it to me. In reality, I needed only the musical score in order to

play the piano. However, I was touched by this act of kindness; she had written painstakingly

each line on the very pretty paper… I went to see her at the tree. She told me:

“I came here with my sister, but I am not feeling at ease with her. I waited for her here, perhaps, she

will stay longer. Will you go around with me along the beach?”

Normally, I should not have accepted to go for a stroll with a girl on the beach in the dark night; I

did not well know her and I was afraid to provoke a bad reputation for the Bishop's House as we
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were widely known in the Nha Trang city. But tonight, I wanted so much to go around on the

beach in order to look for a better place where we could go on board in two weeks…

Furthermore, I was very sad as I had just found out that my sister had been kept by the police on

one of the island is out there in the ocean. I remembered that the last week in an evening, she had

come to say good bye to me at the Bishop House; her comrade had accompanied her. She had told

me that the same night; they would be brought to the island in the ocean by the small boats. Out

there, they had to wait for the big boat which would come to pick up all of them for the

departure. But, no boat had come looking for them; instead one of the border police had found

them and carried all to Nha Trang prison…

In fact, we had already fixed our departure date which would be the Tuesday June 16 th; it was the

full moon of the fifth month according to the lunar calendar (15/05). I wanted also to taste the

atmosphere of the beach in the night.

*****
The beach was dark because the moon was like a very thin croissant on the horizon, as it was

May 31st, which was 28th in the fourth lunar month. Nobody had had any ideas to go for a stroll

on the white sand; the Vietnamese people had not had the habit to go outside in a dark night. The

surface of the ocean was smooth; from time to time a small wave ran and beat against the sandy

land. We were walking the silence until the place in front of the former Redemtorist domain that

had become now the luxury restaurant hotel, a kilometer away from the Bishop House. Thuy

seemed to feel weary, she told me:

“Brother, may we sit down here; behind us, there is a very nice line of poplars.”

I always thought of the loss of my sister. I started at the words of Thuy. I followed her and sat

down on the sand. She approached close me and asked:

“What are you thinking? You look cold and lost. Don't you like to be here with me?”I said:

“Nothing, I am very anxious for my sister. Last week, she had attempted to escape. The operator had

driven them to a wild island far from the mainland. They were waiting for a big boat promised for
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going out; but no boat arrived. They were hungry and thirsty; someone had died. Finally, yesterday

the border police had just come to search all of them.”

Thuy seized my hand and pressed firmly it as she wanted to console me. She approached more

tightly to me and let her head rest against my shoulder. I tried to keep quiet in the silence but my

heart was beating more and more. She turned suddenly her face and kissed passionately me on

my lips. I pushed her away. She said:

“Why didn’t you like it? Excuse me; it is you who the only person with whom I dare to do it. You

smell of cigarettes.”

I stood up and said:

“It is perhaps late, we have to return home.”

Thuy was no doubt anxious because I had not said anything. My lips were still paralyzed by her

kisses. I had not known how to speak with this person whomI had not intended to talk with.

When we arrived at to the bishop house everyone seemed to be looking for us. Father Thaddeus

asked me:

“Where did you go? Thuy’s sister looked for her. It is late.”

*****
I walked up to the third floor; all comrades seemed to be in deep sleep, it was already ten o’clock;

but Ngoê n was still smoking in the dark balcony. He was perhaps very excited to think about the

future adventure in two weeks; as I had participated actively in burying the diesel on an island in

the ocean; Mr. Hoanh had agreed to take Ngoê n in our boat at my request. Ngon offered me a

cigarette and told me to descend to second floor in order to go to the terrace on the flat roof of

the house of Mgr. Hoa. We stood against the cement wall that was a kind of guard fence. We

looked toward the sea and listened the claps of the waves. He told me:

“Did you go for a stroll with Thuy on the beach? Everybody was a little surprised because you had

not known Thuy before. When I went to Bac Thanh choir, she often asked about you.”

I said:
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“I wanted to distract myself. You know my sister has just been kept by the bordered police yesterday.

I am worried about her…”

“We hope that our escape from here in two weeks will be succeeded! I am very anxious thinking

about that. If we fail, what shall we do after?”

I understood his worry, because if we fail in our first attempt, I had the second opportunity with

Father Joachim. I would have to warn him the next day. I had not wanted to enter deeply in this

reflection which could make worried; we would have to live as if as nothing would happen in two

weeks. I changed our conversation, I asked him:

“What do you think about of Thuy?”

I put him this question, because he saw her every week in the choir. She came sometime to the

Bishop House to meet him. Ngon knew her family well, as he often went to her home. He

answered me:

“It is strange that you ask me about it. We have spoken of you both with our friends when you were

going outside with Thuy, because we have never seen you talk to her. Nonetheless, we can tease you

with Tu Quyen, a nice and cute student of the Teacher Training School. As with Thuy, she has left her

high school very early; however she is intelligent and cheerful. She was always smiling. Are you

falling in love with her?”

It was funny; Ngon asked me the same question that I had put to him about Nam Phuong. We

knew mutually that it had not occurred to him or to me. We were living together for more than

five years, we still did not know each other.. He could have not thought that I and Tr D had a close

relationship. I answered him:

“You know, I am a little disturbed by her, but, like you I am absorbed in the escape by boat. I will

talk about it with Father Joachim tomorrow.”

We then went to bed. During the night, I could not get to sleep; I tossed and turned about inside

my mosquito-net. I thought of all things that had just passed in my short life. I still smelt the

perfume of Thuy’s lips on mine. I still had the strong and exciting sensation of her face in mine. In
 333

spite of my determination for my future, I nevertheless wondered what I would do when I meet

her again and what should I say.

*****
Monday June 1st, I was ready to go to the “Marsh Market”, as it was my turn to be in charge of the

catering. As usual, we only had water spinach for our meals; what I would buy for lunch and

dinner with our daily budget of less than 20 000 Vietnamese piasters. Ngon and I were a team

caterred for this week; he promised to clean up the kitchen while I was at the market. Thuy

arrived at the sitting room. She looked joyful to see me but I was ashamed and confused. She

brought us some kilos of pork that we could not buy daily for our community. We entered the

kitchen where Ngon was tidying it up. She suggested:

“May I help you to prepare your lunch today?” She turns her face to me and said, “However, I wish

you would accompany me to the market.”

Ngon looked at me inquiring and finally he said:

“In this case, I will be free, because we don’t need many workers in the kitchen. Two are enough.”

We left our bicycles at Mrs. Nhon’s house, a person go to mass at the Bishop House. Her family

lived near the Marsh Market. She was also a fiend of our community. In reality, we did not need to

buy foods for lunch or dinner today, as Thuy had brought us much food. Thuy asked me to go to

the cafeteria because she wanted to talk to me. I could not avoid it, and waited for what she

would say:

“Excuse-me, I regretted my bursting out of my feeling toward you yesterday. But my sentiment is

true, I didn’t know why I think of you day and night… I have discussed about you with my sister. She

believed that you wanted to leave the country. I dream to be with you, and I can if you agree, my

father will give me gold for this adventure…”

I thought I had to be sincere with her, I said:

“You are beautiful, generous and intelligent. I am a lucky person and to be loved by a girl like you.

You have made me have a sleepless night after our stroll on the beach. You are attractive women to
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me, but I have to be sincere toward you, because I respect you. I cannot bring you into my uncertain

future; I think I cannot forget what I have from you, from your love…”

I felt very sad to say it. I had not dared to look at her. It seemed she could not hold back her tears.

She took her leave and I returned alone home.

*****

56) The first nightmare in the Bishop House

In the evening, the first Sunday of June 7 th, I had followed Father Joachim to go fishing at Doê ng

Hoê , commune located about 18 km in the south of Nha Trang. His habit was to go to his cousin’s

house. One of the sons of this family was a good fisherman in the fresh water. He guided us

groping our way on the slippery paddy-field’s dykes in the dark. We had chosen a corner at the

feet of the bamboo trees growing on the riverside; meanwhile his cousin went to pitch twenty

more short fishing rods in all the dykes of the paddy-field. Father Joachim dropped his fishing rod

and helped me to do the same. He told me:

“When we go fishing in the night, we hope to catch many catfishes; but onetime, we could find a

water snake. His cousin also took some eels.”

I made myself available for this opportunity to tell him my secret preparation with Hoanh, I told

Fr Joachim:

“Uncle Ten (as we often called him), I have collaborated with Mr. Hoanh to organize a future escape

by boat. I have actively engaged in this preparation, Hoanh gave me another place in this trip. I

asked Ngôn to come with me.”

As we were in the dark, I could not imagine his look, but listening to his voice, I knew he was very

happy to hear that. He asked me:

“When will you be doing to ‘attack’?”

The people who were involved with this matter used to have slang words to speak of the starting

day of the action for this adventure. I answered him:

“We will ‘attack’ on Wednesday June 17th, at Nha Trang’s beach, in front of the Bishop House.”
 335

He told me:

“It is foolish. June 17 th will be the full moon that will be 16 th of the fifth month according to the

lunar calendar.”

I explained why we have to make this decision:

“As we have no longer means to do otherwise; Rang’s boat, a catholic man who lives in Ngoc Thuy is

too small, it will carry ten persons at the most; we can’t take people go out there, because it won’t

be able to pass the checking-point at the estuary and it will be more risky to choose another spot

because we have no one who will guide other people to be at the appointed place on time. The

beach of Nha Trang is for us an ideal attack ground, because the police have never imagined that a

boat dares to pick up people there. Furthermore, nobody has dared to mark the D day in the full

moon because all activities will be seen under the clear light. No one could imagine that we will

attack at the beach in the full moon night. We will ‘attack’ by surprise…”

I continued to express my plan:

“I supposed that Hoanh has exchanged his view on it with you. He will confide his son and his wife at

the Bishop House in the evening and we will meet another woman with two children in the night.”

Father Joachim said:

“I think you read too much China Cape and Sword novel. Are you General Tao Thao, renamed for his

temerity or Gia Cat Luong, famous strategist of China? Anyway, if you succeeded this enterprise, I

will give your place to Duyet in my boat.”

*****
The D day came. We worked as usual in the field. I had told Khanh and Dung our plan; they would

help us to prepare at night; if we succeeded, they would go also with Father Joachim in some

weeks later. I would inform Duyet at the last moment. After dinner, Vinh, a young fisherman with

his family, who have a boat that Father Joachim had collaborated for his adventure stayed with us

at the bishop house for two days. Some other friends who came from Da Lat had arrived and they

were with Father Joachim in his office. Except us, other member of our community had gone into
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their dormitory. Father Joachim guided Hoanh’s wife and son into his room. During our supper,

an unusual silence had gradually come on us. Some of us had known of this event; the others

were no doubt suspicious. They could feel something which would happen in the night. I had

prayed intensely for our success in the dark of the chapel. Then I followed Hoanh and Ngoê n to the

front of the bishop domain. I had borrowed the key of the gate, for normally, the driver of the

former bishop had been in charge to open and close of its leaves.
When Father Joachim’s friends had left the Bishop's House; Hoanh followed them and ten

minutes later, he led a young woman and her two children into the bishop’s domain. I went to

padlock the gate. Ngon had met them and guided them to be hidden in the corner of the wall

under the coconut’s palms tree. I accompanied Hoanh outside the street; he drove a cycle as a

poor worker tried to search for the night clients on the boulevard of Tran Phu. Thereby, he could

watch the signal light of the boat coming from the sea.
Khanh helped Ngon to fill up ten jerry cans of twenty litters with water. Each of members

subscribed to departure would have to carry two of them, then to climb over the wall which

bordered the Bishop’s domain and to run across the road about 10 meters in order to reach to

the other side of the road then finally to the beach. We would have one or two minutes to get into

the boat which was waiting along the seashore. I would be the last person to do it, because I

would have to watch and control all actions of the others.

Ngon tried to transfer all water cans out of the wall. We hid them in ditches along the beach road.

Vinh whom I had mentioned previously as the owner of the boat which would guide the second

group with Father Joachim, stood near me to help to recognize the signals from the boat so that I

should send the signal out to the boat and Mr Hoanh. The woman and her two children sitting

down at foot of coconut were asleep.

*****
The bells of the Cathedral had just struck twelve. I went inside to call Hoanh’s wife; who carried

her baby. She followed me along the dark corridor between the wall of the classrooms and the

rampart of the bishop's domain. This narrow path was covered by barbed wires. About one

o’clock, I saw in the sky three short lighten signals followed by two longer signals. Vinh told me:
 337

“The boat is reaching to the beach, it calls you.”

Three short signals meant the letter S and two longer the letter I. It was my name. Mr Hoanh had

also recognized this signal; he threw his cycle on the side street, approaching against our wall

and said:

“Be ready, attack in five minutes.”

Starting from this order, I counted in my mind from one to five hundred. Then I asked Ngon and

Vinh to help the woman to climb over the wall. I ordered her to take two water cans, but she

could carry only one and rushed toward the beach. Vinh then took the children one by one and

threw them over the rampart. They had hesitated and Vinh urged them:

“Quickly, run to the beach!”

Suddenly, all of us were startled at the violent sounds spreading from an AK gun (Kalashnikov).

Two minutes later, another chain of AK sounds broke the silence of the night. I led Hoanh ‘s wife

and Vinh carried her baby rushing to the building where there was our dormitory. Father

Joachim pushed the woman and her son into his room and closed his door. Then he led Vinh into

the toilets behind the refectory and put him inside. Hoanh disappeared in one of the ways of City.

I got into my bed in the dormitory. It was unbelievable; I had gone through thirty meters of the

corridor covered by barbed wires just for two minutes without wounded…Many people, having

waking up by the gun sound, wondered:

“What is happened?”

*****
Twenty minute later, about two o’clock, a stormy troop of soldiers and policemen were

assembled before the portal. As we did not have any doorbell, two of them had already entered

the Bishop’s domain, when I went to open the gate because I had its key. One of them seized me

at the arm and asked me to guide them to go inside. Father Joachim and Thaddeus had already

waited for them in our sitting room. After a few minutes talking, they asked me to wake up all the

people who are living in this house. Father Joachim wanted to know these unexpected controls of
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local police. Father Thaddeus stayed in the sitting room and his colleague guided two policemen

to check all of us with the family record book in the dormitory. A group of police men, wearing

yellows clothes and armed with revolvers arrived at both entrances of the interior yard. Among

them, I saw Thien, a militiaman who was one of our singer choruses of parish “Holy family”,

nicknamed “military camps”. Like a horde of hunting dogs, these police men were broken into

four groups; one began to examine all corners of bishop’s domain. One other went toward the

sister’s house located behind the big refectory of the Bishop House; the thought came straight to

me to check all corners of our kitchen, refectory, and toilets. When I passed the room which the

one Vinh was hiding, I told them we had a pig in this, while they had checked all others.
After that, they pushed me into the sitting room with Father Thaddeus. Two policemen came in

front of Father Joachim’s room, they asked me:

“What is this room?”

I answered them:

“It is Father Joachim’s room. He is now in the dormitory with your colleague. If you want, I will go

up-stair to get his key.”

I saw Thien standing up close them, I added:

“Or you can also ask this young man to go up with me, as he knows our house.”

They watched Thien, a militiaman, singer of our choir in “Quan Traê n”, and told me:

“No need it. Return your sitting room.”

*****
When all members of my community were in the sitting room; the police men watched

attentively each one and interrogated us according to their usual approach:

“It is you who have organized this illegal event? How many people did you hide here?”

We all looked innocent and I began to say:

“It you had awaked us; I am obliged to open our gate in the late night. And now, you accuse us to do

something which I didn’t understand. Do you discover someone whose name is not written down on

our family record book?”

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Another police man told me:

“You, come with me!”

He pulled me out of the sitting room, but Thien, a militiaman, say to him:

“He is my friend; allow me to speak with him.”

As militia, unities found by communist government in each City, Thien had to offer his service

one night in every month. At one o’clock, his militiamen’s group had been in the cafeteria

cooperative in front of the Teacher Training School, near the Beach. Having no cigarettes, he had

gone to the beach to buy some at the ambulant retail. He saw two children rushing toward the

Beach. He discharged his AK in the sky….

57) Ha Liên bay, second nightmare

The Sunday June 21st, 1981, our community the brothers at the Bishop’s House went to Ha Dua,

the new habitation of the seven Stella Maris’ brothers; they lived in this great rural parish of the

diocese with their superior Father Nho and a young priest Father Can, native of the same

commune. This fraternal visit allowed us to forget a little bit of the event that had happened at

the Bishop’s domain five days ago. Although the police and the members of the Bishop House had

not known the fully truth of this event; some suspicions appeared in minds of the other

comrades of our group. Chien, Vuong and Duyet assembled to discuss privately. Ngon fell into a

breakdown and smoked non stop. This evening, Father Joachim’s friends came from Da Lat

invited Khanh and me to go out with them. Father Thaddeus seemed more thoughtful than

customary; He was not content about our behaviour.

We had lunch at Ha Dua’s community, after lunch Father Joachim wanted to pay a visit to his

father, living near the Church. As we had formerly arranged, Dung, Khanh and me, we went to the

riverside to meet discreetly Father Joachim while the other comrades took a nap. He was already

there to wait for us; we began to walk along the river bank. He told us:

“We ‘attack’ on Monday June 29 th, the Saint Peter and Paul’s Day; It will be the 28 th of the fifth

month according to the lunar calendar, there will be no moon. Dung and Si have to leave the Bishop
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House in three days, the Wednesday 24th for Ha Lien. Khanh will join you on Saturday 27 th and I will

quit the house on Sunday 28th in the afternoon.”

Khanh asked him:

“How about the celebration St. Paul and St.Peter on that day?”

We have to think about it as every year on the same day, all priests of Nha Trang City had come to

concelebrate with the bishop in our chapel, after mass; there had been a fraternal lunch. It was us

who had organized this solemn day. Father Joachim told me:

“Will you talk about that with Ngon. Poor man! He knew our project but we cannot take him with

us; we have only four places…”

In the evening, when we had returned home, I came to see Ngon and asked:

“Will you go to the cafeteria with me this evening?”

He looked at me sadly and said:

“Thuy has asked for you, Can I invite her to comewith us?”

I answered him:

“No, I have an important matter and needed to discuss only with you.”

*****
On Wednesday June 24th, a person had come looking for me and Dung at Ha Lien, a commune

next to Ninh Hoa district. The previous day, I had trembled to fear when I asked Father Thaddeus

for the permission to return home because my father was sick. He agreed and worried for my

father’s health. When I requested him to allow Dung to accompany me, he was surprised: “I

believe Khanh is your friend!” I had tried to explain to him that Khanh and Ngon had to stay home

for preparation of the celebration mass Saint Peter and Paul. Ngoê n had asked this guide to

accompany us to the coach’s station. When we got into the car, Ngoê n bent his head on the coffee

table wept for his sad face. We arrived Ninh Hoa at noon; the guide invited us to lunch at a

popular restaurant; but none of us was hungry, we were still absorbed in our sadness. He told us:
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“Try to eat something, because we will go to the house of our shelter in the evening in order to avoid

curious looks. You will have to walk about ten km.”

At seven o’clock, after two hours walking, we arrived at a wooden house in a village. It was

surrounded with the paddy-fields. A middle aged couple received us cheerfully. They brought us

a water bucket to wash our face. They then showed us the corner behind their kitchen inside

which a sedge mat had been spreading on the wooden floor. They prepared us a delicious dinner

with rice and a kind of special soup of the region. In a big bowl, there were some sort of brighten

grey color fishes in shape of a hand sunk into the broth made with some tomatoes tranches, on

the surface small onions and coriander leaves floated…

After a night without sleep, I had a conversation with Dung the whole night and we tried to have

a wink of sleep when the cock crowed. The morning seemed to last very long, at noon, the

woman brought us something for lunch; she tried to look after us with the good meals. She told

us:

“I hope you will like mam suôt, our specialty.”

She displayed on the floor a rice pot, some greens and a bowl of “mam suoê t”. I asked her:

“How do you make the “mam suôt”?”

She sat down with us and began to explain to us the special dish of her region:

“On about tenth or eleventh month in lunar calendar, we went to pick shellfishes for the preparation

of ‘mam ôc’. The kind of shellfish named “dog shellfish” is gathered in group under the black mud.

The people will wash them and take the part inside its shell. Three bowls of these will be blended

with a big spoon of salt; then put these into a pot well covered. One week after, it will be ready to

eat as a delicious sauce for rice…”

In spite of delicious specialty of the area, three days long felt like as a century. We waited for

Khanh who would arrive here in the evening…

*****
On Saturday night June 27th, the guide came to see us at eight o’clock and we got out of the house

to walk toward Hon Heè o. He told us our friend Khanh was staying at Nha Trang, he would arrive
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at the embarkation point at the D day. Ha Lieê n was a small fisherman village located at the foot of

Hon Heo Island. From all pathways of the commune, many young persons were converging to the

public main square where there would be the music spectacle in the night. We mingled with the

crowd but had to keep an eye our guide who held a flash-flame in his hand. On the hand of each

other that progressed toward the center of the village, was a kerosene lamp moving according to

his walking; meanwhile we stepped carefully in the darkness, following close to our guide.

Having arrived at the public park; the guide told us to stop among spectators and watch the

reformed theater. The young men and women were acted like a couple of lovebirds. I was afraid

that person may recognize me as being not native of this region. So, I did not dare to speak with

Dung so that the people could not notice my accent. I smoked unceasingly; Dung who wasn’t a

smoker had asked me for one. I was sunk in thought but I returned to reality at the handclapping

of the people when the spectacle was over. It was about eleven o’clock; the people lit their

kerosene lamp again and began to be dismissed in the dark. The guide had made sign that we had

to move at the same time with all other people. We continued to progress toward the sea. At the

end of village, we had recognized many people walking in the same direction with us. We split up

and penetrated into the very boggy mangrove space. Because of the muddy water, I took off my

shoes so that it would be less heavy by walking in boggy water. Each heavy step sounded as the

flashing noises. Our walking had lasted one hour; we arrived at a mainland where the guider told

us to wait on the dried field.

About two o’clock, small boats come and approached the shore; following the order of our guide,

we entered the water and got on five people in each boat which drove us to a small island. The

driver told us:

“Please get down here. You will follow the pathway leading up to the top of this hill that is 136

meter above the sea level.”

When we reached half way, someone came to conduct us to our shelter. He explained to us:
 343

“You are on Hon Do (red hill). You will meet the other people who had arrived here yesterday. I call

also this hill Hon hèo (cudgel hill). You have to wait here throughout the Sunday and on Monday we

will be conducted by small boats to the deep ocean to wait the big boat. The name of this place “Lo

Luon” which is an altar of goddest built inside by fishermen. I regret not to remember the name of

this god. Try to get a little sleep.”

With Dung, we sat down against the stone wall and fell into sleep because we were very tired…
*****
I was woken up when the sunshine struched my eyes. Dung was still sleeping with head bent. I

rose and went out. I saw beautiful landscape of the sea covered with the morning dim dew. In

front of me, it was Ha Lien bay where many boats flickered on the waves. I was very dirty because

the mud stucked my trousers had dried and began scale off. I looked around “Lu Luon” and saw

about fifteen people, lying on the ground, some persons sat tightly against the trees to sleep. I

cried with joy to recognize Thuong, the young woman who came from Da Lat. By her side,

another woman called the aunt Six who was Father Joachim cousin. She rose and approached me.

She said:

“There are some muds on your face. Never mind, you are always handsome in spite of it.”

I suggested her:

“Thuong, if you are still OK, comes with me to the water. I want to take a morning wash.”

She held my hand to follow me to go down. When we reached the surface of the sea, I plunged

into the cool water which made me feel strong. From the distance out of the sea, many fishing

boats were coming back to mainland after a night working out there at the ocean. Orther people

imitating us slopped down the hill and some young man took a swim like me… One of the guides

came call us:

“Get out of water now. If you aren’t careful, the people from the boats could notice you presence

here…”

We spent a boring morning under the heat of the sun. It was a very hot day and we were under

the shade of trees. There was no fresh water around us. Some babies began to cry. When the sun
 344

rose above our head, two young men brought us a big pot of rice, some liters of drinking water.

They told us to assemble into small groups. Then they asked some stronger men to go down with

them in order to carry another water jerry can and rice bags. I wanted to do it with them, on my

back, I carried twenty kilo of rice to move slowly to half way up the hill. It was very hard; my feet

were swollen and became quite red. Thuong had pity of me; she took her peppermint oil and

applied it on my feet, she massaged it. Throughout the day, Thuong had given me her

confidences. She was a beautiful woman, she is older than me, she dreamed to be a singer. She

had a magnificent voice…

After dinner, we had some rice with dried fish. Dung came and suggested us:

“It is Sunday today. We will pray together. Furthermore, tomorrow it will be the feast day of Saint

Paul, it’s your patron.”

A young woman with two children of eight and ten years old asked to be admitted in our prayer

group. She has come from Saigon. She had paid 9 gold taels for this adventure. Her husband had

been a commissioned officer in the former army of Southern Vietnam; he was now in a

reeducation center in Northern area. These women and her children had been present in Nha

Trang for about a month now; they had been hidden in an unknown house. They had not walked

like us on the pathway because of her two young children. People had taken them out here in a

small boat which conducted them straight up Hon Do (red hill). I was worry not to see Khanh

arrive here. I wondered what would happen tomorrow when the people at home have realized

that we were absent at Mgr Hoa our bishop feast day celebration. We prayed intensely.
*****
Perhaps, it was very late; we were in the deep night, some light coming from the stars in the sky

allowed me to recognize the silhouettes in the dark night. We all were very excited to wait for the

departure. A small boat had just reached the foot of the hill, a young man came and when he

arrived, he said:

“We begin to go down; four persons will get in a small rowboat. Don’t hurry; we have time to do it.”
 345

We were in the last group of people who descended following the tortuous mountain foot way.

Dung walked before Thuong and I was in the last position. Finally, I had got into the small boat of

four people; Thuong sat on the place facing me who was at the top of the boat, another person

and our driver began to clap his oar lightly into the ocean water; four small boats moved in line

toward the sea, fifty minutes later, they assembled in parallel, one next to the other, in the middle

of the Ha Lieê n bay, a kilometer away from the hill “Hon Do”.
I was hearing many flashing noises caused by oars beating in the water. Two other boats came to

join us. Although it was very dark, I was very happy to recognize Khanh’s silhouette, sitting in

the middle of the small boat not far from us, I saw many fishing boats scintillating like glow-

worms. We were waiting, waiting and waiting… No big boat had come to pick us up. Thuong was

very anxious, she trembled from cold. I asked her to turn her back against me; I smelled the

perfume of her long hair. She said:

“Si, May I sing something to dispel my fear.”

I answered her:

“I think there aren’t other people besides us. Everybody will be content to hear you singing.”

Thuong lifted her strong voice that resounded in harmony with the noise from the sea, she sang

“Thuyen Vien Xu” (the boat leaving for the other country) composed by Pham Duy:

Chiều nay sương khói lên khơi The evening mist smokes far out in sea

Thùy dương rũ bến tơi bời On side beach, willows weeps in down

Làn mây hồng pha ráng trời A pink cloud draws with sky shine line

Sóng Đà Giang thuyền qua xứ người On Da rive’s wave, my boat goes to foreign

country

Oh Boat! The old one far out in the sea

Thuyền ơi! viễn xứ xa xưa You dropped here in this reed beach
Heaven Ho, eternal singing voice
Một lần qua dạt bến lau thưa At the deserted source, the evening rain

Hò ơi! giọng hát thiên thu fell

 346

Suối nguồn xa vắng, chiều mưa ngàn về

I look at old bamboo way, distant pathway
My life is missing step with sadness’

Nhìn về đường cô luy, cô luy xa xôi rhythm, alarmed step …!

I turn toface toward the village, Da River,
Đời nhịp sầu lỡ bước, bước hoang mang
wet with tears.
rồi ...! The old mother sat immobile down,

Quay lại hướng làng, Đà Giang lệ ướt showed her grey hair as snow-dew, waits

nồng for her thankless son.

Mẹ già ngồi im bóng , mái tóc tuyết I sent to my old country this evening
As much as love I can
sương The heaven falls down into life
Many sadness on foreign land
Mong con bạc lòng ...
The mist smokes dim and immense
Willows weep down at side river
This evening I am in unfamiliar place
A travel boat weighed anchor to go

Chiều nay gửi tới quê xưa

Biết là bao thương nhớ cho vừa

Trời cao chìm rơi xuống đời

Biết là bao sầu trên xứ người

Mịt mờ sương khói lên hương

Lũ thùy dương rủ bóng ven sông

Chiều nay trên bến muôn phương

Có thuyền viễn xứ, nhổ neo lên đường ...

A small boat moved to the front of us, its driver said:

“Normally, our big boat should have to be here at midnight. We are now at two o’clock; we can not

stay here longer because the sun will rise. We have to return the Red hill…”

*****
 347

We had to spend another long day on the hill, a young man who was one of the organization staff

had left for Nha Trang to find out about the problem. We still had a little hope, perhaps the boat

would come tonight. Khanh told us the drama before his leaving from the Bishop House:

“Father Joachim had left the Bishop House on Saturday evening. He told his colleague to go to Ha

Dua. I have been at the Sunday mass. The atmosphere was very heavy, our comrades were taciturn,

Ngôn seemed not good. I left the house when Mrs. Nhon came to meet Father Joachim. Because they

had not accepted her two sons with them in the boat, she should reveal all to Father Thaddeus… We

now wait to hear the worst… ”

Everyone expected the return of our messenger. He came back at six o’clock; he asked us to sit

down on the ground and said:

“I would like to announce that there is a bad news, very bad news. We have no more boat. It had

been beached before the estuary, because Vinh and Father Joachim didn't know this part of the

River well. They had to leave their boat at five o’clock when the sun was ready to rise. Now, we have

to organize how to withdraw safety… We cannot leave here during the day time; we will do it this

evening. When you reach the road, try to catch all the night coaches toward Nha Trang…”

Like me, I thought all people had an immense chagrin and fear. One by one, small boats

conducted us to the mangroves. I could not be with my friends. They were all in other boat, while

I was with three members of the organization. The calm of the night was disturbed by the oars

clapping into water. Suddenly, a chain of the gunshots sounded far out on mainland. Everybody

was shocked and agitated. My small boat staggered violently and capsized. I fell into the water.

These people who shared the boat with me swam very well because they were fisherman. As for

me, I could swim; in fact I swam, swam and swam desperately toward the lights scintillating in

the sea. Fifteen minutes later, I swam myself to exhaustion. I felt myself sinking under water and

prayed intensively:

“My God, I offer my soul in your hand…”

*****
 348

“Well, he opens his eyes!”

I heard a loud voice close me. Having opened my eyes, I saw myself lying on the ground in an

unknown house. A fisherman explained to me what had happened to me. He had been fishing in

the sea zone where I had swum. He listened to the strong noise on the surface of the water. He

wondered if it was an enormous fish, it was possible there should be a big fish in the bay. He

drove the boat approaching me and he took me in his boat. I had been in a coma about two hours.
I had the chance to meet this man. He knew that I was a missing boat people. The day following,

this poor man had given me a pair of his sandal and some money. He led me to the road; I caught

the coach inter-town to Nha Trang. I dropped in Mrs. Nhon house; she told me:

“Brother, stay and rest here for few more days; should not return back now to the Bishop House. The

‘storm’ is not over; you risk to be taken off by the strong wind… Father Joachim has disappeared;

the bishop seeks for him…”

*****
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58) The new life outside of the former community

Everybody knew that I was at Mr. And Mrs. Nhon’s house; people came to the daily mass at the

Bishop House and they gave me the news from there. Khanh returned to his parent’s home

during the day but he had to sleep in the Bishop House. He saw me here with Ngoê n and told me

to go back home. I told him:

“Father Joachim also knew I was here and sends someone to contact me. He can’t go back to the

Bishop House. He is provisory living in the rural area of this district before fleeing south. He needs

some clothes to change… Hush! Don’t let Mr. and Mrs. Nhon knows they will report to Father

Thaddeus…”

The following day, on Monday July 6 th, 1981, while the other comrades had gone to the water

morning glory field, Father Thaddeus sent Dung to call me at Nhon’s house. He told me:

“Father Thaddeus wanted to meet us, Ngon, Khanh, Si and I, to deliberate on our future life. Mgr.

Hoa also wished to see you soon.”

I hesitated to come along with Dung to the Bishop House because I had to wait Father Joachim’s

messenger in order to deliver him a bag of his clothes. I did not known when I would come.

Yesterday, Father Thaddeus had paid a visit to his family in Dai Dien, Khanh came lending Father

Joachim’s key to get into his room, Khanh took Father Joachim’s trousers and shirts and other

accessories. Then brought it to me on Sunday evening when I had gone out with Thuy. I asked

Dung:

“Do you know what time our meeting will happen?”

He answered me:

“Perhaps in the afternoon, I will also call Ngôn he is a little better now and stayed at his uncle's

house. Khanh was already informed about it.”

Happily, Father Joachim’s messenger had come and took the bag in the morning. Before noon, I

thanked Nhon’s family because they have welcomed me for those days. Mrs. Nhon invited me to

lunch before returning home, but I refused as I had promised to have lunch at Khanh’s family in
 350

order to discuss with him about what we would have to answer Father Thaddeus re uncle 10’s

absence.
*****
We waited for Father Thaddeus in the sitting room. Ngon was still looking very pale through the

two weekends that had just passed after our defeat at Ha Lieê n. He had had a heart attack when

Khanh just left from the Bishop's House. Dung went daily out for lunch and dinner at Duyet’s

cousin's house since the returned from Ha Lieê n. Our group was broken up into small groups; only

one remained in ordinary activities with Father Thaddeus. Father Thaddeus arrived at the sitting

room. He sat down without speaking. Five minutes later, he asked us:

“Who has taken Father Joachim’s clothes? Where he is now? Will anyone to see him again?”

We all kept total silence. Nobody dared to open our mouths. He looked by a circle at one by one in

the eyes and he stopped at me:

“Has Father Joachim been in contact with you?”

I answered him:

“No, father, I was at Mr. Nhon’s house as you know.”

He turned his face to Khanh:

“Have you opened his room and taken his clothes?”

Khanh answered:

“I didn’t see Father Joachim since my departure from here.”

Ngon and Dung had given him the same answer. Some muscle spasms came and went on his face.

When the twitches appeared, that meant our father was very angry. He said aloud:

“You are liars, good liars, and professional liars!!!”

He went out of the sitting room. A quarter of an hour later, he came back with an exercise book.

He told us:

“From now on, you are out of this community.”

Khanh asked him:

“Father, we beg your pardon. But seriously, what will we do?”

 351

He answered:

“You are free now from all activities of our house, except the mass and prayers.”

As my family was not living in Nha Trang; Father Thaddeus allowed me to participate to their

lunches and dinners provided that I would paid an equivalent sum. I would look for a job from

now on. Another test waited for us the next day, each of us would need to meet Mgr. Hoa.
*****
On Saturday July 18th, I had just left from my factory at eight a.m. as I had just finished my eight

hours of working; Khanh waited for me at the small gate, he told me:

“Tomorrow, in the afternoon, Father Joachim wants to see you and me. After the mass, you go to my

house for breakfast and then we will go to Cau Ke, a small village near Binh Cang, about six

kilometers away from Nha Trang.”

Father Joachim welcomed us emotionally; he embraced each of us, it wasn’t his habit. We spent

the morning with him and shared lunch together. According to him, Mgr. Hoa had sent Father

Sinh, a respected and wise priest of the diocese to speak to him. This priest had advised him to be

humble and to return the Bishop's House, but he could not do it. He would leave soon for Ba Ria,

and he hoped that to escape Vietnam one day. He then asked me what I had to do now for my life,

I answered him:

“Uncle ten, I am now a learner to work at the cigarette paper’s manufacture. I work daily from 1 to

8 a.m... When I returned home, I tried to sleep in the morning and free throughout the afternoon.”

After 75, the foreign cigarettes with filter-tip were rare and dear, the smokers rolled their own

cigarettes with special paper. However, in this period, this kind of this paper did not existed in the

market. Some manufacturers tried to replace these one with new products which would be

fabricated by crafts men. They bought all used papers such as journals, exercise-books, old

books… Then these first substances were soaked in the chemical water to be transformed into

paper pulp which would be mixed with water for the white opaque liquid that was ready to make

the large sheet. The person for whom I went working every night, there were two aluminum

rectangles of a square meter; these were settled on the furnace. To fabricate a sheet, the worker
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used a rectangle bordering a mosquito-net, same size as the aluminum rectangle on the furnace.

Then he plunged it into the paper pulp so that it would spread evenly on the mosquito-net. Then

turned it up and let down on the aluminum rectangle; when the pulp began to stick to the surface

of the aluminum rectangle, he took off the mosquito-net to make another one on the second

aluminum frame. Two minutes later, the sheet was dried; the worker detached it with small

knife…
Khanh told Father Joachim:

“I spend my time to composing the hymns.”

After lunch, Father Joachim wanted to speak in private with me. We strolled on the pathway of

the village. He asked me:

“I have to go to the South. I will buy another place in a boat of this region, but I have not had

enough money. Can you lend me a half of gold tael, I will pay back when I reach the foreign

country.”

We returned Nha Trang that evening; I would come again to bring the gold which Father Joachim

needed. At midnight, I went back to work. Some days, I tried to manipulate in the proper way a

tool of one square made in mosquito-net framed of 4 slats. Having kept it with two hands, I ought

to plunge the framework into a big copper basin containing pulpwater so that the paste should

be covered thinly and regularly on all surface of mosquito-net frame. On the first day, from 4 to 8

o’clock, I had repeated the same process at least a hundred times. But at each time, I heard the

same remark from the wife of manufacturer, my teacher:

“It is too thin or too thick or not regular.”

Every day, I had to produce about 300 sheets of paper. At the end of July, the manufacturer called

me into his sitting-room. He paid me 5000 piasters and said:

“As we were difficulty economically; although we respect you very much and you work very well, I

cannot retain you in our workshop.”

*****
 353

In the last week, Ngon and Dung had met Mgr. Hoa. They were severely reprimanded to be

engaged in a dangerous adventure without making attention to its consequence. Khanh had been

called the previous day; after his interview with the bishop; he got out smiling and told me:

“Mgr. Hoa was very nice toward me. We have spoken about the music.”

The bishop received me at his door’s step; he led me to his wide sitting room. I told him sincerely

my dream and I had not hidden my will to escape Vietnam one day. I complained about my job; I

had just been laid off. Mgr. Hoa rose and told me to follow him to one classroom located on the

right line in the first part of the domain. He showed me some pianos and harmoniums lying in

disorder in the room. He said:

“I am repairing these objects, but I have no time. If you come with me every afternoon, I will teach

you to do it and I will pay you something for living. Every morning, as you are free, you can again

play the piano…”

Mgr Hoa was a very good pianist. I was proud to be a disciple of this person. When he had

studied in Rome, it seemed he spent his time doing the music; he had learned the piano

conservatory and he had won an important pianist award. Since 75, his pastoral activities had

been reduced as he could not move often in this diocese because his displacements were

watched by the police. So, he had spent his spare time teaching music, playing the piano and

repairing the damaged instruments. I was very affected and happy with his proposal.
My first lesson consisted in recognizing different elements of the piano. Three cottage pianos had

been opened in each corner of the room. I had inspected one by one each element of the piano.

Its mechanical organ appeared complex at first view but when I had detached each element; I

began to understand its works. Mgr Hoa showed me one of three old pianos and said:

“Look at this one. It is an upright piano having been made in the beginning of 20 th century. It is

higher and larger than two more modern pianos.”

He told me to press any key on the keyboard, he taught me to listen to different false notes on 88

keys ranged in line in order. I watched attentively the frame made of iron or copper onto which
 354

were fastened the strings made of steel wire that increased in length and thickness from the

treble to the bass. The lower pitches were single strings made heavier by being over-spun—that

was, wood around with a coil of thin copper wire; whereas the higher ones were each given two

or three string tune alike. I admired then the wooden hammers in the form of a slice pear. Mgr

Hoa said:

“It is enough for today. Will you clean and mark all keys in their order. Then you take the ones apart

which are broken or damaged; I shall show you how to repair it again with pine wood.”

Every afternoon, I was busy to work with Mgr. Hoa. The most difficult was no doubt to tune the

piano. I had to listen every day one or two hundred times to the same twang to be in comparison

with the one of the electric organ. It was more than one month that I had worked in this piano

factory. A hymn writer ‘Mi Traê m’, pseudonym of Father Mai Tinh, who Mgr Hoa had promised to

give the piano which I would finish soon after its repair, called me in private and gave me an

envelope; he said:

“I know that you have to pay Father Thaddeus for your meals. Take this sum that will be helpful for

you. Besides, it will be Christmas soon; no doubt about that you will need this money. Thank you for

your hard work.”

Father ‘Mi Traê m’ was generous; he had put a big sum in an envelope as well. I suddenly

remembered that I will be celebrating the birth of Christ without my family; I had agreed to stay

in Nha Trang because my choir, the major choir of Quaê n Traê n parish would sing at the solemn

mass. And I had also promised Tr D to accompany her minor choir with harmonium in the day

mass.
*****
I had left for the usual choir practice in the Quaê n Traê n parish at the end of this afternoon; as I had

to drop via Khanh’s house to ask him for some musical scores of Christmas hymns. I rode my bike

along Le Dai Hanh Street, leading and touching Meê Linh street where Khanh’s family was living; a

curious activity attracted my attention; I stopped and observed for a longtime three young men

sitting down on the sandy ground and working in front of their house. The elder one was
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scraping layers of tar covering the roller of the burnt out transformers. The second one was

unwinding copper threads. The third one picked out the copper thread fiber still in good order to

establish again former and unusable electric engines or another transformer needful for neon

lights. The elder man seemed to recognize me, he said:

“Hello brother S, are you living in Bishop’s House?”

He invited me into his home’s sitting room and we spoke together; his wife asked me to share

their family dinner. Thanks to this modest familial job they had invented, he could have earned

his living; he could assure the life for five people, two young boys who had worked with him, his

wife and a daughter still in school. I told him that I was free in the early morning and I worked

only in the afternoon with Mgr. Hoa; he was also amazed that I had to look for working outside

the brothers’ community. When I was ready to say good-bye at the door, he told me:

“If you would like to work in my factory; come here tomorrow early morning, you will work with us

and at the end of each week; thereby you will earn something.”

As I had stayed longer at the dinner of my new friend; I came late to the Quaê n Traê n parish. All

singers chorus had a conversation in the next room, listening to the singing voice of the minor

singers. At the end of our practice, I was ready to return home, Tr D stopped me at the church’s

gate and told me:

“A young girl living with the sisters has gone warning me that the police had come to ask for me at

the community house. They suspected that I am illegally living here, because the people told about

me in the parish.”

As she could not come back home at the moment, she asked me to accompany her for a stroll to

the beach. I told her:

“It is late, we risk meeting some police men; I will take you to the city, we look for a cafeteria and

take some drink. You will return home after mid-night, the police will come back to their barrack…”

She appeared happy with my suggestion. She took off her veil on her head, and got a shirt in her

handbag and went to the room in order to change her blue dress, at her return, she said:
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“Since the police came searching for me in the community regularly; thereby, I always have some

clothes in my handbag for incase I have to go elsewhere for the night. I have to go to sleep at my

grandmother house. Perhaps, I will not return to 88 Hung Vuong tonight. I don’t like to be in

cafeteria filled with cigarette-smoke. May we go to the beach near the postoffice where we had been

together in the Têt”

Once more, the pretty sister had listened to her heart and forgot that she was still a religious

woman. At the beach, we sat down on the warm sand and left her tightly in my arms, she said:

“The sea is very calm and gentle at night; I dream the time will be coming to a halt, so that this

moment is forever. I miss you every day and I dream about it. But both had chosen our own ways

which will separate gradually. I pray always so that you will soon find another boat to escape from

here…”

I took her to the grandmother house. She told me:

“Perhaps I have to leave Nha Trang tomorrow. I am returning to the mother House of the

congregation located at Binh Cang. I trust my minor choir to your care. Be careful!”

*****

59) The New Year of the dog

The Teê t had come early this year; the Dog’s lunar New Year happened on Monday January 25. As

my sister was always in the reeducation camp A. 30, I had gone home some days to visit my

parents. However, I had not stayed there for long, because all former friends were workinng and

busy with their hard life. I returned Nha Trang on Saturday January 30 th. Khanh, Ngon and Dung

had taken long holidays; they seemed to be in Saigon. At the request of Chien, I played the organ
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for the first Sunday mass after the New Year. Many students of Teacher Training College who had

also come back to their studies were at this Mass. Although we had not anticipated this meeting;

Tu Quyeê n suggested to me to organize a picnic at Tri Nguyen’s aquarium. She told me:

“It is only 6:30am, we can go to Tri Nguyen at 8:00 a.m. Each of us has a bike. Don’t worry for your

picnic lunch, I will prepare for you. I will inform now to all my comrades…”

Tri Nguyen was a small fishing village located on Mieu Island, five km away from Nha Trang to

the South. Our comrades had led their singer chorus to this natural aquarium which was

enclosed by the stone barrage. Many fishes were bred in this sea space above the water, a stilt

house which had a restaurant was built to receive the visitors. Thirty female and male young

students occupied the transport, a boat which allowed the connection between the former

harbors with this island. I proposed all students to go the other side of the island where there

was a long, quiet and splendid beach with clean water, named “Bai San”, pebble beach, because it

had been naturally filled up with only nice round pebbles. The young male students joked

together in the water, swimming, sinking and playing in the waves; while some female students

who had not wanted to stretch out under the sunshine preferred to be under the shade of the

trees. I said to them:

“Well, even the people who did not belong to our student group also come with us.”

Tu Quyeê n threw a glance toward me and she found a way to talk to me in private:

“Brother S watches them. They aren’t Christians and one of them, I think, is the responsible person

of the communist youth in College.”

I answered her:

“It’s very good, we are open hearted and we welcome anyone without distinction.”

But Tu Quyeê n seemed not to agree my responded, she whispered in my ear:

“After lunch, I want to go for a stroll on the beach; I have something important to warn you…”
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According to her, the staff of the Teacher Training College knew my name. It wasn’t a good sign,

because that meant they began to keep an eye on our meeting at the Bishop's House. She

concluded:

“It is worse! I was called to the staff office and a political member asked me if I have a relationship

with you. Be very careful.”

I teased her:

“What did you answer him?”

She did not respond at my question and looked very worried…

*****
One week later, on Monday February 8th, as I had just entered the yard, Father Thaddeus who

had came out from his office and called me, he gave me a paper that he hold in his hand and said:

“You are summoned by the commissariat at Nga Sau (six crossroad ways) tomorrow at 7 a.m.”

We then entered the sitting room. Father Thaddeus, being very worried, tried to seek all reasons

of this summoning. He told me:

“Why did they call you only? Either they will interrogate you about Father Joachim ‘s absence or

about the last missing escape at the Nha Trang beach.”

Since Tu Quyeê n warned me, I guessed they would ask me questions about the group of the

students of the Teacher Training College after our dominical mass. I wondered if I would reveal it

to Father Thaddeus, because I heard some bitter sarcasms in his speak. I felt angry but I tried to

hold myself in. I answered politely him but straightforwardly:

“You know I have been not alone in this adventure; why haven't the others been summoned.

Furthermore, the police had not yet discovered Father Joachim’s absence. I am anxious to keep this

information quiet because he has not yet left Vietnam. If the police got the knowledge of it, Father

Joachim risks being seized.”

Father Thaddeus looked displeased with my reasoning. He said:

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“You always defend him. I will send a telegraph to Khanh, Dung and Ngon in order to warn them of

this event; so that they will not return Nha Trang; otherwise they could be summoned like you at

Nga Sau (six crossroad ways where the Nha Trang commissariat was located).”

I wanted to say something else; but our bishop arrived at the sitting room. He asked me:

“What is the matter with you?”

I showed him the convocation paper; he read it and told me:

“Be clever, be courageous and be naïve! You would not have to answer all their questions. Either you

will keep silence or you will say ‘I have no idea’. Also, don’t mention any name.”

*****
The following day, during four hours I was interrogated constantly by two police men. Besides a

person at a desk noted and writing down what I had said. I was thirsty and hungry because I had

not eaten anything from this early morning. Also, I wanted to have a pee. I asked them:

“Where is your toilet? I have needed to make water!”

The younger man answered me:

“No way, it is not time to piss.”

I looked at the elder man imploring:

“Have pity on me! If not I risk to pee here.”

He made a sign to his female colleague, at the desk. She seemed to understand him and got out of

the room. A moment later, she came again and gave me a dirty bottle and said:

“Here is your toilet.”

I was very ashamed because I had never had a pee in the presence of the people. I asked them:

“It will be not well-mannered that I do it before you.”

The elder man told his colleagues:

“It is enough for this morning; let’s go for lunch.”

I begged them a little water, but nobody answered. They went out and locked the door. I was

clumsy to urinate into this small bottle too little for all my water. I had to pour out the first part
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out of the window which was above my head... I was very thirsty, but they had not thought of my

request. I stretched out on the cement ground and tried to reminisce my morning. In the

beginning, the secretary woman asked me all identity information. Then the elder man, Major

Phong, who had been in charge of the interrogation, began to give the reason why I was here, he

said:

“You know, according to the Revolutionary law, all youth assembly must be legally authorized. We

knew more than a year; you regrouped many students at the Bishop House. These groupings are

illegal and even dangerous for the revolution. I wish you to confess in details what you had done

with these students.”

He continued to speak longer, he told me that I would risk several years in the reeducation center.

Then he obliged me to answer simply ‘yes’ or ‘no’ by his questions. One hour later, I requested to

explain to them the truth so that they risked putting me face an unjustice accusational. The

younger man spoke aloud to me:

“You have no right to speak here!”

I suddenly raised my voice:

“What? It will not be justice; there isn’t justice.”

Major Phong asked his colleague to allow me to speak. In spite of my fatigue, I tried to give them

clearly my explanation:

“I believe the government doesn’t ever stop the Christian people to go to mass, does-it? Many

students who are Catholic practise their dominical mass normally. They were who wanted to spend

their time after mass meeting orther friends together. As I am about the same age as them so they

asked me to be with them… We did never talk about the politic subject because Jesus said: ‘ render

therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's, and unto God the things which are God's’ (Lk

20:25). Please show me the law or degree who forbids what I had said.”

While the young man was ferocious, he cried to me “shut up”; Major Phong was wiser, he advised

me with a moderate tone:

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“You still are very young. I think it wasn’t you who have decided to gather a hundred students. I

want you to tell the truth. Who had sent you to this mission? It is your bishop or someone else?”

A light had just flashed in my mind, I suddenly understood their intention. I was no longer scared.

I answered him diplomatically:

“Even though I had not met you before I heard you are a man who understands religious problems,

also the Catholic Church. Christian people say that you are very clever, intelligent and

understanding. Nobody was insane enough to do reactionary facts openly. I repeat once more, the

students who have come to the bishop's chapel for dominical mass have assembled themselves as

they are all mature. As for me, I am now twenty years old; that is to say I am at the same age of the

students. At their request, I agreed to go with them to talk like friends. As for contents of our

conversation, it never concerned political subjects. The word of Jesus according to the gospel of Luke

recommended, unlike what you said, that people respect republic law as they obey God's law.”

I wanted to continue but the younger policeman interrupted me. Meanwhile the major had gone

out, he menaced me:

“If you continue to be headstrong; you will rot in jail.”

*****
Because of my fatigue, I fell into a deep sleep on the ground. At 2 p.m., they again entered the

room and one of them made me wake up and put me in a chair. The secretary woman gave me a

glass of water. Major Phong had not come; I was afraid to be interrogated by this crude… The new

interrogation turned around the person of Mgr Hoa, Fathers Thaddeus and Joachim. He had tried

to make me signing all charges against my superiors. Finally, he told me:

“You work every day with Mgr Hoa in his piano workshop; whom did he meet often? What did he

say in the mass? He has to trust you with many things…”

As usual, I answered him:

“If you want to know the truth of what he had said; you have to ask him. I have no memory and I

may report wrong elements to you.”

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He asked me then about my comrades. I kept silence. I said:

“I am very tired. Kill me or put me in jail. I have no ideas of what you had wanted to know.”

He gave me a slap in the face. I decided to close my mouth. I leaned myself forward the table.

Outside, it was getting dark. They left me alone in the room and went out. About one hour later, a

woman brought me a bowl of manioc, bitter and dry. I tried to eat this miserable meal in order to

recover my strengh. I need to be strong until the end of the fight. The secretary women came

again giving me an exercise-book. She made careful recommendations:

“Please write down in details of your life, from the birth to this moment. Don’t forget to mention

names, activities and who you had been in contacts and relationships. I will get it at seven o’clock

tomorrow.”

I was not unfamiliar with their method; my father had written down three times the same story

of his life. I called back three fundamental rules to be irreproachable: first, be concise, clear and

coherent; secondly, any names, except the one that had died; thirdly, no judgments on any events.

I wondered how I would fill up fifty pages of this exercise book; thereby, there would be no places

belong for other things.

Finally, I succeeded in easily filling 50 pages; I divided it in three parts, I had narrated long and

poetically my childhood in the South with immense paddy rice; then I mentioned the ‘positive’

effects of the war, also the one of 1968 where my brother had been sacrificed, dead in his teen

age; I finished it with third part which the Christian practice authorized by the Revolutionary

Law. I had written it with very big letters, great writing so that each paragraph occupied at least

five lines on the page. At the end of book, I drew a picture: it was a hen that had just laid the eggs

bigger than letters. When the ancient clock of the Cathedral struck two, I searched the switch on

the wall to turn off the light but there were none inside. It couldn’t help; I stretched out on the

ground and slept.

Three days felt like a century. I had gone to this spot on the Tuesday; it was now Friday. At the

end of the interrogation day, they made me sign line by line what I had answered. I had produced
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exactly three times the same story, my poetical history with the same hen’s picture at the last

page, but for the last exercise book, my hen was dead because of my exhaustion.
The cathedral clock had struck eleven. Major Phong had opened the door and entered with his

clerk. She placed on the floor a small chunk of manioc and a glass of water. She urged me to eat

but I did not touch it. Major Phong said:

“Your political fault is evident; but the Revolutionary government is tolerant. We had decided not to

send you to the re-education center. However, from this time forward, you have to come here every

Saturday reporting what the revolution committee would require me to do.”

In fact, he wanted to use me as a spy in the Bishop’s House. I would have to watch all activities of

this domain, write down what Mgr Hoa said, recount his meeting, and notice the name of all the

people who would come to see him… I would have to answer their questions every Saturday

morning. At noon, they let me got out of the commissariat. I went across the boulevard to reach

the Ly Tu Trong Street; I felt down on the ground in the sun. A churchgoer had identified me. He

called a cyclo-push (Pedicab) and drove me to the Bishop’s House.

*****
Having received the telegraph sent by Father Thaddeus, Khanh had found the other friends in

Saigon. They had not understood this message. He tried to give a funny interpretation:

“Si had left from the Bishop House for the six crossroad ways; that means he went to live in the Mr.

Dông Ha’s house, perhaps, he would have a relationship with his daughter…”

But Ngoê n wondered:

“If it had been like that, why did Father Thaddeus tell us not to return Nha Trang?”

Finally, in spite of the message, they all had come back Nha Trang. They were very happy to see

me being released.
*****
Two weeks later, I received another summoning paper; because I had not obeyed their demand. I

went to see Father Thaddeus who invited also Mgr Hoa, they told me:

“What will you decide to do?”

I answered him:
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“I am very afraid to go there again. I have no more courage to confront them. I think they will put

me in jail; as I had not obeyed their recommendation. Furthermore, I could not become a spy among

you.”

Father Thaddeus said:

“You must go to the commissariat; anyway, if they will come here to search for you, it will be the

same.”

I was feeling sad when I heard that. Mgr. Hoa told me:

“I have sympathy for you; but what do you do now? Will you return to your family?”

Father Thaddeus said:

“He can’t, because his name is subscribed in our family book.”

I answered them:

“I have no ideas; but I do not want to be in prison or in reeducation camp.”

After a silence, Mgr Hoa suggested:

“If you will accept proposal, flee to refuge at my brother’s family in Saigon. I am going to write a

letter so that my brother will welcome you in his house.”

I was very moved by this proposition. I said:

“Thanks very much for your proposition; but I could not live at your brother's house. I always wish

to go abroad by boat.”

Khanh, Ngon and Dung joined us at the sitting room, Khanh said:

“The best solution, that is S will hide himself at my familyhome, so he will be always in this City, my

parents will be happy to receive him. In any case, like Ngon and Dung, I am spending the day time

with my family and I return back here every night to sleep.”

*****
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60) Khanh’s family

Having lived with Khanh’s family, I sometimes helped his mother to keep her grocery when she

was busy to pepare lunch or dinner. The usual customers would no doubt wonder seat seeing an

unfamiliar young man sitting behind the desk. After 75, Khanh’s parents had builted a small

house at the front right corner of their garden; they transformed it into a small grocery store

which sold a lot of daily things. They could well earn a living; Khanh sometimes came to get the

money from the cash desk to pay his breakfast or something else.
Three months after I lived here, I often had conversation with Khanh’s mother; she began to

consider me as her son. She taught me how to prepare and sell all goods. She bought and stocked

different kinds of foods, household items to sell them. For example, she showed me how I could

divide the oil into small plastic bags. The poor people would not buy a twentieth liter of cooking

oil because they did not have enough money to buy even a liter. For sugar, I measured each part

with a spoon and I enveloped it with a sheet torn from an old exercise book. The customers of

this area came daily to buy sugar, oil, bean, and even drugs.
One day, I kept the grocery in the morning as Khanh’s mother had gone to the market; a young

girl arrived at the grocery shop and asked me:

“Where is aunt Duc? I would like to see her.”

Duc was Khanh’s father first name; to be respected to the elder people the Vietnamese people

used the first name in the society; and they considered everyone like their parents so that they

called the person, by added words such as uncle or aunt. I answered her:

“My sister, Aunt Duc has gone to the market; she will be back in an hour.”
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The young girl told me:

“Brother, I can’t wait for her. Will you receive drugs ordered by aunt Duc? Are-you her son?”

She was a trader of drugs from Saigon to Nha Trang. This business was severely forbidden in the

communist political regime. Although the police stricthy controlled these traders; many people

had engaged into these deals, because having lacked of drugs and there was neither a private

pharmacy nor a hospital; all sick people sought to buy themselves some drugs at the grocery

shop. So, I understood her precaution, I tried to assure her:

“I am aunt Duc’s son. You can leave your drugs here and when she return home; I will tell her.”

She explained to me that there were two kinds of drugs: the real drugs and the false drugs. The

second one, far cheaper than the first one, would be sold to the poor people, full of knowledge of

matter but they had to take it to hide their disease psychologically. These could heal the sufferer

but not harm their health. Khanh arrived at the grocery shop and heard her explanation, he said:

“I cannot do this business.”

Anyway, he came taking some cash in the money’s box as the next day would be Sunday, he would

take his breakfast at the Pho restaurant, because his mother was exempted to prepare it in the

day of Lord.
*****
While Khanh and his parents had been at the mass in their parish Phuoc Hai church at five a.m. in

the morning, I was at home alone; I would go to the dominical mass in the evening at Quaê n Traê n,

because I continued always to conduct its major choir, although I was in it secretly. Khanh was

the founder and actual responsible of the parish’s minor choir at Phuoc Hai. His father was also a

notable in this catholic community. He had been a former lieutenant in the French army. Being a

casualty in the war before 60, he had benefited from an early retirement. His family was living in

the quarter where the Northern people lived who went into exile after 54, the year that Vietnam

had been divided into regions according to the Geneva’s accord. His two elder daughters were

teachers in the high schools in other province. Another daughter, Khanh’s younger sister, was

studying at Trading and Business Superior College in Saigon. He had a brother who had been
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admitted in Engineer’s University of Da Nang. At the family’s house, besides Khanh, two other

young children were living with their parents. Hai, a young boy fifteen years old was

handicapped with the polio from his childhood. The youngest child was Yen, only 12 years old. I

could not go to the mass of this parish because I feared of being recognized by police.
Khanh’s mother had just come home from mass. Khanh return home to call me to go to the Pho

restaurant for breakfast. He told me that Dac and Tien would be ready to join the Army, but they

did not yet know their departure date. When we had finished our breakfast, I told Khanh let me

pay the restaurant; he was surprised that I could have some money. I explained to him:
“You know, I had lent uncle Ten a half of tael gold when we had gone to Cau Ke before leaving

from Nha Trang. He has succeeded in escaping Vietnam; I think he is now in a refugee’s camp in

Malaysia. I knew that because his cousin has paid me this sum last week. However, I now have

some money; Mgr Hoa has just paid me for my work at his piano workshop.”
Khanh asked me:

“What do you do today?”

“I will go to see Dung, I said, at Cho Dam (Marsh market)”

Dung, after our failure from Ha Lieê n’s escape, followed an electronic courses; he learned to repair

damaged TV and other electrical equipment. Day by day, Dung took his lunch and dinner at Mrs.

Lien whose husband was in the reeducation camp, because he had been a former high officer in

the marine of the southern Army. From this time, he had fallen in love with Thuy Tien, Mrs Lien’s

daughter and he had no longer returned the Bishop’s House. Although he was very poor, without

professional work, he had decided to marry Thuy Tieê n soon. After the weeding, they had lived

with their mother and her children in a very small flat in the common building near Cho Daê m

(Marsh market). Six people lived in an apartment under 20 square meters. Mrs. Lien, a former

teacher of literature in the high school, had been laid off after 75. Her eldest daughter money

traded (US dollars) from Saigon to Nha Trang, this business was strictly forbidden; but Mrs.

Lien’s family have earned a lot and had a better living from the business.
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Mrs. Lien did not allow Dung and her daughter to appear together in the City; as Dung was a

former brother in the Bishop’s House, her daughter risked having a bad reputation for robbing a

young man promised to God; I had to go to see him sometime at their house in Cho Dam quarter.
The flat had only two rooms, I talked in private with Dung in the sitting room, but Thuy Tien and

her mother, brothers and sister were also there. They were sharing one anothers worries. I

expressed my fear that I could not soon find a solution because I would not live forever at

Khanh’s family; although I wished to contribute financially to his parents. Mrs. Lien having heard

my worry joined us in conversation. She said:

“Dung speaks often of your situation. He admired your will and intelligence. I think you can propose

some mathematical lessons to pupils who need a support. Another way, if you have one tael of gold

and trusted in me; you will use it for my foreign currency trading, then I will pay you 20000

Vietnamese piasters every month, it is a good earnings.”

Her words made me think. Again what she promised seemed to be attractive as I had made only

5000 Vietnamese piaster a month, when I had worked hard in cigarettes papers factory.
*****
I had been busy with the preparation for Easter at the Quaê n Traê n parish, I returned home late in

the night; I was surprise to see uncle Duc, Khanh’s father not yet asleep. He told me to enter

behind the kitchen because he was anxious for this night. As he had been elected as a head of

families in the quarter, he was informed that perhaps all houses could be controlled by the police.

He said:

“After supper, I asked Khanh to go back the Bishop’s House, but what will we do for you?”

I watched the carambola three next to the well which hid the shower bath room, on the flat top of

which, there was a water basin covered by a sheet of corrugated iron:

“If the police come, I will climb up on the carambola tree and get inside the basin.”

The police had not made their unheralded check through the week; but every night I was always

on the alert. One day, Khanh stayed at home because he had finished his choir practice late. In the

middle of the night, the neighbors’ dogs were baking tumultuously. We all were woken. Khanh
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was unruffled as he was a member of family. I was ready to climb up to the carambola. As we had

no time to move; two policemen had already entered into the kitchen and one of them moved up

above the water basin. We were trembling of fear. The other rested quietly near by the well to

watch around him. Happily, 15 minutes later, he left the house. The following day, uncle Duc told

us that they had used his way to watch someone living in the next house…
*****
Once more, I lost more lace at the factory which repaired damaged electrical transformers. My

employer had not earned enough money for his family and me. I quickly found another job

which was suitable for me. Two evenings a week I taught mathematics to a boy, in fourth-year of

the high school. His parents had the pig’s tripes’ soup restaurant at a corner of the three

crossroad ways. They invited me to eat a delicious bowl of soup before my teaching. Every

Saturday morning, I went to the “Independence Street” to help another pupil, a violin student

who had failed her graduation examination in the last school year. This young school girl played

her instrument well but was not good at her studies. She preferred speaking about her music to

learning my chemistry, physics and mathematics lessons. Besides the private courses, I continued

to teach hymns to Quaê n Traê n’s parish major choir.

One day, On Sunday afternoon, when I came home from Dung’s mother in law flat who had not

paid me the entire sum that she had agreed of the beginning contract, Khanh’s mother told me:

“S, a beautiful girl waits for you in the sitting room.”

She was very amazed to know that many female persons had often come looking for me during

the week, however I was often absent because I was busy with my jobs as a private teacher, choir

practice... I was surprised to see Hieê n; normally she had never seen me outside instead at times

of her lessons. She asked me:

“Brother, would you go out with me this afternoon?”

We drove together to Thanh Hai beach. We left our bikes in Quy’s house, one of my seminarian

friends. We walked to Hon Choê ng, a stone laid on the others, looking toward the ocean. Far out in

the sea, some fishing boats moved on the waves, she asked me:
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“Have you ever been in the boat? I am a little afraid of the ocean. When the people are out at sea, I

wonder how they feel.”

I wondered why she had told me like that. I always dreamed to be in a boat in order to feel the

sensation which I had missed at least twice. I answered her:

“I very much like to become a sailor in order to travel throughout the immense ocean.”

She said:

“Wow, I wish to be with you for that travel. Although I had hated all scientific subjects, but since I

have met you, I begin to like them. My parents are a little surprised at that. You have shown me how

to make me love them… Have you ever loved someone as you love your mathematic?”

I pretended not to understand her funny comparison, I said:

“I didn’t fall in love with the mathematic, because I don’t miss it. Well, it will be soon you’re A-levels

exam. I think you will pass easily this year. ”

She stayed still and seemed to be thinking of something else. Then she took an envelope out of

her school bag and told me:

“I trust you my important big letter. I ask you to open it in two weeks. Swear me not to read it right

now.”

The girl liked open secrets. Kieê u Sa had the same behavior some years ago. We walked along of

the pathway near the former Stella Maris. I was suddenly afraid to lose one by one those I loved. I

wondered what would about be the destiny of our ten’s group of the Bishop House.
*****

61) The death of the ten’s group

Khanh stayed quiet all days at home; he spent almost his time composing the songs. He returned

the Bishop’s House once or twice a week. He reported to me all news of our comrades. Ngoê n
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frequented in this time with a friend living opposite Khanh’s House; he came to see me often. The

summer would soon be over, Yeê n, Khanh’s young sister prepared to go to school again. Ngon and

his friend came to take coffee with us. Toan sang well because his voice was loud and strong. Also

he had a talent to play the volley-ball; he had taken a job on the Communication and Transport of

Phu Khanh Province. He knew also how to compose songs. Ngon had been called again to have

health examination for the Army which he had been not recruited of last year, he thought that he

risked on listing this year. He looked sad and worried. He smoked non stop and made himself into

calmness. When Toan took his leave, Ngon played the guitar singing the anti-war song, composed

before 75 and its words were considered as reactionary by the Revolution. It was of course

absolutely forbidden to sing it. But he had often sung it when he was with us so that I knew by

heart his song:

“ Kinh thua thay day bai chinh ta cua con, (my teacher, here is my dictation).

Bai chinh ta viet ve nuoc My, (It is the dictation on the USA)

Con viet hai lan sai chu America, (I had twice made a mistake with the America word)

Con viet hai lan sai chu communist, (I had twice made a mistake with the communist word)

Con viet hai lan sai chu liberty (I had twice made a mistake with the liberty word).

Lam sao duoc, lam sao duoc, boi anh con vua chet, (I can’t, I can’t because my brother has just died)

Kinh thua thay day bai luan triet cua con (My teacher, here is my philosophic essay)

Mot can nha va mot trai pha, (a house is next to a mortar fire)

Mot dam cuoi hong ben canh mot dam ma, (a wedding is next to a funeral)

Mot kiep song tan duoi bien nguoi no am, (A miserable life among the crowd of happy people,)

Oi tieng hat nao ben le em tuon mau, (Oh! whatever song accompanies your streaming tears out,)

Lam sao thuoc, bai con hoc de vinh than doi sau (I can’t learn lessons so that my future life will be

glorious.)
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Kinh thua thay day la bai toan cua con, (My teacher, here is my mathematical problem,)

Nhung duong cong duong thang deu co gai min, (Straight lines or curl lines are all mined.)

Duong trong thanh pho co bar co my co con gai hoc tro, (City lines, there are snack-bar, America

people and school girls,)

Duong vao rung co ham ho ca nhan, (lines leading intothe forest with individual shelter-pit,)

Duong vao doi co xuong mau cam hon, (lines conducting to the life with hated bone and blood.)

Con da chung minh nhieu lan, (I tried to prove many times,)

Duong ngoan ngheo qua My qua Paris, that ngan, (the curling lines leading to America or Paris are

short,)

Nhung khong the noi lien Sai Gon Ha Noi, (but they couldn’t unite Saigon and Hanoi,)

Nhung khong the noi lien thanh pho voi lang que, (connect the country with the town,)

Con khong dau tu tai de di si quan Da Lat, (I have not succeeded in my A-level exam to be admitted

in Military Officer School in Da Lat,)

Con khong dau tu tai de thanh bac si ky su, (I have not succeeded in my A-level exam to become

doctor or engineer.)

Kinh thua thay day bai thuoc long cua con, (My teacher, here is my lesson by heart)

To quoc Viet Nam bon ngan nam van hien, (It is the Vietnam fatherland with 4000 years of culture

and civilization,)

Mot tram nam phap thuoc, hai muoi nam doa day, (100 years under French colonization, 20 ones in

the war,)

Lam sao con thuoc duoc truyen kieu Nguyen Du, (Why can I know by heart Nguyen Du Kieu Novel,)

Nhung bai tho mua thu Nguyen Khuyen, (Autumn’s poems by Nguyen Khuyen?)

Nhung bai cong dan su dia, (historical and geographical lessons,)

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Nhung bai hoc con ngai ngung khong dam doc to tren he pho, (another one that I have dared to

read loud in the streets of the city,)

hay nhung vung ngoai o (or in its suburbs.)

Kinh thua thay day la quyen vo cua con, (My teacher, here is my exercise-book.)

Suot mot nam chua mot to co chu, (Throughout a year, any word was written on a sheet.)

Con de danh ep kho nhung giot nuoc mat, (I used it only to press dry my tear drops,)

Cua cha con, cua me con, cua chi con, (of my father, mother, sisters,)

Va cua chinh con (and mine).

Kinh thua thay day la quyen vo cua con, (My teacher, here is my exercise-book.)

Suot mot nam chua mot to co chu, (Throughout a year, any word was written on a sheet.)

Con de danh ep kho nhung giot nuoc mat, (I used only it to press dry my tear drops,)

Cua cha con, cua me con, cua chi con, (of my father, mother, sisters,)

Va cua chinh con (and the mine.)

I told him:

“Wow, you are reactionary! I think you can’t become a good future communist soldier.”

He answered me:

“Be careful, everybody has received the same call, but many of us have been absent. The chef of the

Administrative Quarter has come reporting it to father Thaddeus. He was not content.”

Khanh said:

“They have forgotten my name, because I have not received this order.”

I asked Ngoê n:

“What will our comrades do?”

Ngon said:
 374

“Dac and Tien are always ready to join the Army. Duyêt thinks to go to Dông Thap Muoi in the

South West where his family has moved two years ago; he didn’t want to become a communist

soldier. Vuong who will be perhaps exempted thinks also to return Hô Diêm. Chiên hasn’t elected

this year, he will be alone at the Bishop’s House.”

Khanh said:

“Dung will be engaging soon with Thuy Tien, but he is very poor and lacks of money for this

ceremony. Well, we will be dispersed each in a different way; the ten’s group will be broken down.

When will we have another opportunity to assemble?”

I suggested to them:

“Why can’t we organize a meeting dinner for us? Will we go to the luxury restaurant Hai Yên, the

former Redemtorist convent?”

Khanh said:

“It is very good idea, but we have no money. But this luxury hotel restaurant is very expensive; each

meal costs more two than a thousand (the salary of one worker is four or five thousand); How can

we find 20000 piaster for 10 places, because Dung will have to introduce his future wife to his

brothers? Besides, we have to help him financially for his engagement.”

*****
In the evening, Khanh returned to the Bishop’s House to discuss my suggestion with the others. I

went for a stroll in the city by my bike. When I drove on the ‘Independence Street’, I remembered

Hien who had not given me some news after her A-level exam, we had not been contacted

together again after our afternoon on the Thanh Hai beach; I also did not want to disturb her

before the A-level exam… I left my bike downstairs and went up to her flat on the second floor, I

knocked at the door. Her father came to open it; he looked very pleased to see me, he said:

“Brother S., Please come in.”

Having considered his look, I had guessed his daughter had passed her exam, I asked him:

“I think Hien has succeeded to pass her exam. What will she do now for her study?”
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He answered me:

“Ah, has she not warned you when she had gone to Thanh Hai with you? She hasn’t passed her

exam, because she has left the country by boat before the date, and she is now in Singapore

refugee’s camp.”

Then he showed me her letter. I had suddenly understood everything… I remembered her big

envelope which she had given me at Hon Chong. I took my leave in order to go back home. I

looked in a hurry for the big envelope which was left in a drawer of the desk in the sitting room. I

was surprised to find a letter well written with a bundle of bills 30000 piasters. I then opened the

letter inside a gold ring; she wrote:

“Dearest Brother S., I didn’t want to leave Nha Trang, but my parents wish me to go abroad so that

my future will be better. I hope I will not die in the ocean. I have asked my father to pay you the

lessons for a future year; I think you will need it. I hope you will find another pupil perhaps more

diligent than me, but I wish you to know that I have loved to learn from you every week; it wasn’t

due to my passion for scientifically subjects but because of my heart beating at your works. I have

never dared to tell you when you were in front of me, it is curious when I think I will not see you

again I can write down easily what I think in my heart. As I have nothing else this ring that I have

worn always on my finger to offer you so that each time you see it you will have a little thought of

me. I have never known to write poems, but since some days I desire to make one…”

I realized that in my poor and hard life, I had always had a chance to know the beautiful poets. I

read the simple words but it’s made me full of emotion:

“If you know I have leave from the sea city. Will you regret the days we were together here? Your

voice will sound always in my mind. And in yours, will you hear mine? My love has not yet begun,

but it seems to be already over. I suffer alone in my heart, do you want to share a half of it. I wish to

fill up me with sad story, be joyful, oh my love in dream. My first love flashes out in a minute. I have

not thought it would last forever. Why have you never given me a word, a simple word? It seems to

be easy but why it was hard from you? A loving word could unite two distant sides. What or who
 376

will you waits for? Why were you always silent, you will regret. Only one word, why did you

hesitate? A red thread has connected both. Do you know my heart is lost? It waits, it hopes and it is

suffering…”

Khanh had just returned home and sat down with me on the veranda floor, he asked me:

“What are you reading? It seems to be very interesting.”

I told him:

“We now have enough to pay the meeting dinner for our family”

Khanh laughed of me:

“I don’t believe that you are now rich with the pay of two pupils.”

I showed him Hien’s letter. Having understood my story, Khanh said:

“What a romantic! Anyhow, it is a joyful gift for us.”

*****
On Sunday September 5th, we arrived a little later at the Hai Yen hotel in 40 Tran Phu boulevard,

situated just in front of Nha Trang beach, covering a large area; because Khanh came along with

me to Dung future mother in law’s flat, Mrs. Lien Dung, in order to ask her to allow Thuy Tien to

be present with Dung at our meeting, the last important meeting of our group of ten, in reality,

we were only nine because, Khoa and his replaced person had left for America. If she had an

uneasy attitude toward the future couple that she had not wanted to hear the bad reports from

the people who would think that her daughter debauched a brother at the bishop’s house, a man

of God. Khanh had tried to convince her:

“I think that Dung and Thuy Tien are going to marry? What is the matter for you?”

She answered him:

“Dung has no work now. He could not make life for his own family outside of mine. I try to keep

good reputation for both of them before their engagement. After that, they can go out together in

the city.”
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She had allowed them to be present with us; but her daughter should have to return home before

ten o’clock…
As I had already mentioned, this luxury hotel restaurant had been the Redemtorist’s convent,

confiscated in the same period as the other establishments in our diocese such as Stella Maris…

The former chapel had actually become a restaurant of the hotel. The daily costumers were often

the high office holders of the new politic of regime. We all ware our daily working clothes; some

were looking dirtier with their dungarees. The luxurious and elegant client watched us like wild

animals. A server was hastily come to stop us at the entrance.

“What are you doing here?”

Khanh told him:

“We are coming here for our meeting dinner, we are ten persons.”

He answered him with a contemptuous attitude:

“There are no more places.”

His word made me extreme by angry. I said aloud:

“Excuse me, can you repeat it again, but stronger so that all comrade guests of socialist republic

could hear it? I believe they have struggled throughout their life so that everybody will be equal,

without classes and could be living in heaven on earth. There are not many customers here in your

restaurant. Anyway, we have enough money for our dinner.”

Having considered the serious quarrel, some staff of the restaurant came; one of them had

suddenly recognized us. She told his colleagues:

“Here are brothers of bishop’s house. They are respectable people of our Nha Trang city.”

Then, she led us to a table on the left corner of the ground level of the former Redemtorist chapel.

Once having sat down, Ngon reproached me for not controlling myself. He said:

“Remember that you are living in secret, and the police continued to search for your traces. Your

reaction could make you and us in danger.”

I begged for pardon of our comrades:

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“Excuse-me! I am always angry before an injustice. This evening would be very meaningful to me.

Perhaps, that is a last meeting for all of us.”

Dac asked me:

“How is about you now? What will you do for your future life?”

I thought that I should be important to trust our friends, or exactly brothers, as we were in the

same family although all what had happened. I said:

“Uncle Ten (Father Joachim) is now in a Malaysia refugee’s camps; he has known my difficult

situation; he had asked the brother’s Khang family to give me a chance in their boat, if they will

escape from here…”

I had entrusted them with my project with the Khang’s family; however I kept in secret the other

one that I had made with Vinh, our former organizer of Ha Lien event. I wanted to change our

subjects:

“As you and Tien will go to the Army; Dung has very good and joyful news to announce. It seems

that Vuong will also leave the Bishop’s House?”

Dung had kept silent and finally told us:

“My parents will come again to Nha Trang in the next week. They will see Thuy Tien’s mother in

order to speak officially her daughter for his son.”

Khanh attempted to lead us toward another matter:

“We are here for eating. Si, our poor mathematics teacher invites us because he had just inherited a

small fortune. Do you notice the transformation of ancient chancel? This is now a nice saloon bar.”

I made a suggestion to our friends:

“We have to congratulate our friends Dung and Thuy Tien; I will offer you an aperitif.”

Everyone was surprised by my proposition, because the occidental alcohol was very expensive,

but they were delighted. They waited for Dung’s speech:

“I decided not to pursue my vocation. I will soon engage and marriage to Thuy Tien. I hope you

understand my decision. I have fallen in love with this beautiful person and I haven’t hoped
 379

anything more for my sacerdotal vocation. Pray for me, so that I will get a job to earn living for my

future family. I have nothing else to offer my future wife, except myself.”

Like my comrades, I was in a great emotion. I thought I would give him the gold ring that Hien

had offered me by a souvenir. I hoped she would understand my act. Perhaps, I wished to meet

her again one day at a corner somewhere in the world…

*****

62) Hung, an unbeloved bear

I went to see Hung on Sunday September 12, 1982 at Ba Lang, the nice fishing village settled

along a beautiful beach. His family who had been native in a catholic village the same name in

Thanh Hoa town had emigrated to this beautiful seaboard after 54, date of the signature of

Geneva’s Convention that had divided Vietnam into two regions, North and South, at 17 th parallel.

His eldest brother was an intelligent major seminarian who had been sent to study at the

Pontifical Institute of Theology in Da Lat, which was Father Joachim former major seminary. His

family was preparing secretly an escape by boat. Thanks to the letter of the latter, his father had

accepted me free in this future adventure. Brother Khang, eldest son, who did not want to go with

his family, would expect to be ordained priest one day in Nha Trang diocese. From that time, I

frequented this family to make a relationship with all its members. Hung was a young man about

twenty two years old; he had left high school early to go fishing with his father in the ocean. He
 380

became then my friend and when he was free, he often went to spend his spare time with me at

the cafeteria. Sometimes he came to look for me at Khanh’s house. The mother of the latter

believed that I had used my gold tael for this preparation with him when I asked her to recover it

to make the business with Mrs. Lien Dung. Thereby she received me as a good friend of her son. I

accompanied Hung in many activities concerning the preparation for the future escape.
Hung lay down into a hammock slung between two coconut-trees in the orchard looking toward

the sea. Further out in the water, some wooden fishing boats had cast their anchors. He looked

surprised to see me arriving because he was spending spare-times at his girlfriend’s house,

which lived in the same village about three houses away from his. I told him:

“I have just gone to your home; your mother said you are here.”

He introduced me to his girlfriend and asked her to prepare two glasses of coconut juices. When

she had gone to the house, Hung said:

“We will go to meet a policeman in Nha Trang this evening. He wills perhaps have dinner with us.”

I asked him:

“What are you doing with this polic man?”

He answered me:

“He works at the bordered commissariat in Xom Bong. He is often in contact with the marine. He

can sell us two or three hundred litters of gasoil.”

The fuel was always the hardest problem in the preparation for fleeing over the sea. Hung and his

father had not brought enough gasolenes for their fishing in high sea. As I had already a little

experience in this problem, I wondered why Hung had not buried the fuel in an island and would

find it after. Could he trust the police to buy it? Anyway, each member of the police sought always

to fill their pocket up with the illegal bills. Someone could win up to one hundred gold’s tael a

month, a thousand fold of the good salary of the professor in the university. Hung seemed not to

trust his girlfriend because when she brought us the coconut juices, he made a sign to me to stop

our conversation.
*****
 381

We arrived at Xom Bong’s bridge. The wind of the evening brought us fresh air. I watched the

island Ngoc Thuy and remembered my last adventure in the high sea to bury our gasoil. Rang

perhaps was actually in a foreign country; as he had not taken us in his boat, he had left from Nha

Trang beach with five persons. Hung kept an eye on the pathway winding along Cai’s River to

look for the lieutenant police man. It was only five p.m., but the dark was approaching. He was a

little disquieting as he had not known this man with whom he had obtained this appointment

thanks to his colleague having lived in Xom Bong’s fishing village. Having taken precaution, I did

not stay by Hung side. I sat down on the first step of the stairs cleading to Po Nagar Cham towers

which stood at the entrance of River Cai, looking over the ocean. This tower had been built on a

rock foundation.
A young man approached talking to Hung who signed for me to come with him. Hung introduced

me to the police man, speaking with northern accent:

“My name is Tuan.”

This person did not wish to stay here. I suggested to them:

“Will you go to Chieu Tim (Violet Evening) coffee-bar in the city?”

He appeared to be an open hearted man, he told me naturally:

“We will go to the cafeteria after. It is now time for lunch. Have you had any dog’s meat restaurant?”

This man was native of North Vietnam. The people of this region loved to eat dog meat. In Nha

Trang city, there was perhaps some popular restaurant which specially cooked this kind of meat.

I had never tasted the dishes prepared with this animal. Besides, I wondered if I had enough

money for this special dinner; Mrs. Lien had paid me 20000 piasters. Hung glanced at me to seek

my opinion; for his family had promised to give me a place in their boat; as it should be that I had

to assure financially these meal meetings. I remembered knowing a dog’s restaurant in the Le

Thanh Toê n Street whose owner was the father of a female singer member of the Cathedral choir. I

thought that I would lack of some of money, I could buy our meals on credit. I told them:
 382

“I know one at the Le Thanh Tôn Street. I have not known if it is good. But there aren’t a lot of dog’s

meat restaurants in this city.”

Thu, a female singer chorus of the Cathedral received us at the restaurant; she was very surprise

to see me coming here because she had known that I didn’t like these dishes. She prepared for us

a small table in a corner; some customers were already there, but all spoke with northern accent.

I thought the Dog Meat or “thit cho » was a specialty in the North of Vietnam arisen from famines

during the many years of war in the country. I asked Thu:

“How many dogs’ meat dishes do you have?”

She explained to us:

“A typical menu offers customers 15 different dishes. But we have only here seven ones: boiled,

baked, grilled and fried are some of the choices. We served also livers and intestines. One of the most

popular delicacies is dog sausage - deep-fried intestines stuffed with spices and chopped meat.

Dog's leg and tail soup is also on the menu.”

Tuan, the bordered police man looked radiant at her explanations; he said:

“I love eating dog meat while drinking rice alcohol. It's tender and forms a low-fat diet. I have come

every month with my friends in this kind of restaurant when I studied in Ha Nôi.”

I asked Thu:

“Do you have something else for me? Chicken soup or Pho? ”

She said:

“If you want it, I will prepare for you. But here is specially a dog’s meat restaurant.”

When the dinner was ready, Hung went straightly to our problem:

“If we need three hundred litters of gasoil, will you deliver it?”

He answered Hung:

“We can sell you up to thousand litters. We have stocked our fuel in an Island. Three hundred litters

cost three gold taels. If you accept my proposition, you have to pay me now one, and two others a

week before your departure. You have to trust me absolutely. ”

 383

According to him, at each spot in one of Island, his friends had succeeded in burying twenty jerry

cans of twenty litters. Hung and his father would have to check the spot themselves that would

be indicated after having paid him three gold’s taels. I thought that it was too expensive for three

hundred litters; because when I had prepared myself with Rang the same volume as his, it cost

me only under a half of gold’s tael…

*****
After dinner, as Thu knew me, I paid his father a friendly price for our meals. I invited Hung to the

cafeteria near to the quarter of the dog’s meat restaurant. Hung asked me:

“What do you think about that? He should be worthy of our confidence?”

I answered him:

“You know, I have had a little experience of the diesel buried under soil on bamboo Mont Island. It

had not been difficult to go to check it. However, I could not give my confidence in him.”

Hung was silent as he seemed to think of something. As for me, I thought of Vinh, an organizer

with Father Joachim of our last failure escape at Ha Lien, who had just got in touch with me for

another plan. I believed that he had known very well many of border police men; as his family

wasn’t living at Xom Bong fishing village. But I did not talk about that with Hung tonight.
As we were sitting down on the low table ranged in the veranda floor faced to Tr. D grandmother

Pho restaurant; I seemed to recognize a familiar silhouette standing up in its balcony. I called her:

“Tr. D.”

She descended in hurry with us and said with joy:

“Ah, I have just spoken about you with my grandmother.”

I introduced Hung to her:

“Here is Hung, Khang’s young brother. Will you take coffee with us?”

She knew brother Khang who was a famous seminarian of our diocese. Like her, they had come

often to the Bishop’s House for musical lessons. She looked content to see Hung coming along

with me, as she had inferred that I had collaborated with Khang’s family to prepare my escape

Vietnam. She told me:

 384

“I stay here to talk with you. I can’t drink coffee in the night. If I do it, I will be awake until the

morning. In that case, you will have to speak with me throughout the night.”

I asked her:

“Why are you here at your grandmother’s house?”

She told me:

“My superior asked me to return 88 Hung Vuong, because it will be soon Christmas. I will prepare

the hymns for them. And my grandmother is ill at the moment; Sister Eulaly has allowed me to be

here in order to takeg care of her. I will go back 88 Hung Vuong tomorrow.”

*****
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63) Tr. D. a pretty fairy

I rode along the Hung Vuong Avenue. This road bore the name of the first kings who had founded

Vietnam. A group of sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary lived in the large nice house which

had been bought by the former bishop from the America intelligence agency. While her sister Th.

D was legally in the main house of her congregation in Binh Cang commune, seven kilometers

away from Nha Trang, Tr. D was illegally living in this pretty white house at 88 Hung Vuong

Avenue. To earn a living, the sisters practised handicraft. Every afternoon, Tr. D worked in a team

with her comrade of the same former class, Sister Tr. K, to fabricate window and door bamboo

screens in their small atelier, the old former garage of the villa. It was the first time I came to

meet her in this house. She received me at the gate of the garden in front of the villa; she led me

into her atelier, asking me to sit down on a stool. I asked her:

“Are you working alone today? Isn’t Sister Tr K be here (Advising Bamboo)?”

Tr. D answered me:

“She has gone to pay a visit to her mother in her hometown. Her mother is very sick. So she isn’t

here with us, I will confide a secret to you. Please help me to make the bamboo screens or bamboo

blinds; in the meantime, we could talk.”

Then she gave me a roller of fishing line and said:

“Cut it into wires of two meters, tie then a knot at end. With another one, you will thread the small

tubes of different colors to make a long string of two meters. A hundred will be assembled into a

bamboo blind for the door.”

Each small tube was a piece of bamboo cut 10 mm in diameter and 50 mm long. I had to pay an

attention to thread in right order of color. Tr. D looked sweetly at me and said:

“In this Hung Vuong Avenue, I have a friend, a young woman who has a child. She is my uncle

girlfriend. He has just been released from the reeducation camp. He is preparing an escape by boat.
 386

Of course, he will take my friend and her daughter with him. I have begged my uncle to give a free

place in his boat for you. And he said ‘yes’ to my request.” ”

I asked her emotionally:

“Why did you do it for me?”

She kept silent a moment and said:

“S., my dear, I believe you know my heart; you are always in my mind. We are now good friends. I

always think of you; however I haven’t dared to imagine that you will give up your dream because

of me, I have never thought that I will quit my religious life for you either. I wish one day you will be

in another country, more freedom, so that you will not waste your talents; you will be continuing

your studies and become a priest to serve for many other people. I pray every day God for that

success of your dream, and wish your dream will come true. If you are happy, I am happy too. Your

happiness is also mine.”

Another sister came to help her to work. She quicklychanged her tone:

“You know your pupil X. Yen plays the harmonium better now; she can accompany the hymns in the

mass. Will you stay in Nha Trang for Christmas?”

*****
A week before the Christmas, all religious community in the Nha Trang city were on the alert,

because they could be checked at any time by the police. The religious community had to send Tr.

D to Binh Cang, the mother house for fear that she would not be seized by the police. Sister Tr K

had carried me Tr. D’s letter who asked not to let down the minor choir for the Christmas

ceremony. The 24th of December, Mass was not as joyful as usual, because perhaps someone was

missing; I wondered what Tr. D had done this night. Xuaê n Yeê n (spring’s swallow) was satisfied

with this performance, although she accompanied the hymns playing the harmonium for the first

time. She stayed with me in the second mass sung by my major choir; she invited me to come to

her family home after this solemn mass which finished at eleven o’clock. But the members of my

choir insisted that I go to their Christmas party in the house of one of them. They lead me to a
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poor quarter; the people practised the simple professions such as embroiderers, mechanical

workers and traders in the market. Danh, a pretty embroiderer, told me:

“We are happy because you are here with us. It is me who has prepared this modest party.”

Fifteen people male and female were singing and sat down by a circle on the ground inside the

house. Although they were not rich, they had displayed many things for the party. At the

beginning, we were served a chicken soup, delicious with some toasted rice round cakes. The

smoke spread over the room as the entire boy had smoked very much. We were sunk in the

middle of a kind of cloud because of the cigarettes. When the main meal was over, they brought a

big pail about twenty liters of full brim with rice alcohol and placed it in the middle of our circle.

One of them lifted his voice; he opened the time for the songs. In spite of the prohibition by

revolutionary committee, they sang the melancholic songs. I told them:

“You have to be enjoying tonight because this is the day God is born on earth. Why do you sing the

sad songs?”

A chorus singer showed us a glass and said:

“You are right, brother. Tonight, we have fun and we have joy. We will be drunk.”

He scooped alcohol out of the bucket into his glass and drank at a gulp. Then he took another one

to pass to his friend and he said:

“Your turn now, if you can’t finish it, you will be punished.”

This rice wine game obliged everybody to drink the same alcohol volume in the same glass which

passed around our circle. At the third turn, I could not swallow a whole glass of rice wine; I went

to the toilet to spit it out. When the people were drunk, they had behaved strangely; some cried

their eyes out, some laughed from their belly; some fell asleep. Although they weren’t sober, a shy

female singer dared to raise her voice to sing verses. There was a budding poet among our mass.

We listened attentively to her strophe; being inspired by the situation, she composed a drunken

poem:
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“Only some wine glasses make my eyes hot. Was I drunk or the heaven had been drunk? If sky wasn’t

why does it rain? If earth is sober why does it turn round and round? Perhaps I will be drunk

throughout my future life. It will be tipsy with a heady bouquet of alcohol. A lot of fermented water

will help me in life. Ferment wine, ferment love, ferment sadness; almost ferment blood feud in

silent struggle; oh, there still are more than ferments, hatred ferment when I am suffering, a lonely

ferment because of being abandoned; jealous ferment from my selfish heart. Does Christ get drunk

like that? Why did God agree to be drunk with human.They are sunk always in dead ferment wine.

Will baby Christ be drunk with us?”

It was very late in the night, perhaps three or four o’clock. I had fallen into a deep sleep, someone

woke me:

“Brother, you have another morning Christmas mass. It is now five a.m.; I think if you want to be

sober, you have to plunge your head in cool water.”

*****
We were already in 1983. On Sunday January 16, after the dominical mass, with Khanh, I rode

toward Suoê i Dau (Oil Spring). I also wanted to pay a visit to Tr. D. She was ill and she had

returned home with her family living in the commune about 20 kilometers away from Nha Trang.

The previous day, it was Tr. K, Tr. D colleague, who gave me this news. She came to visit me at

Khanh’s home; this Sister had teased me parodying some verses of a famous poem:

“Far away from him, a half of my soul has died; another half always hopes to see him again.”

But she had become more serious and said:

“Tr. D. is very sick; if you are free, please go to see her in Suoi Dau, at her parent’s house.”

When we arrived at the bridge where I had met the person leading the oxen cart six years ago; I

asked Khanh to stop for few minutes. I told him this old story. He told me:

“After 75, many town-dwellers had moved to the new economical zone, my father had also become a

farmer and worked in this commune. He had gone sometime to see Tr. D’s parents.”
 389

Khanh himself had already come several times to her house; but he could not remember the

pathway leading to it. We had lost more than one hour searching the country quarter but we had

not succeeded in finding it. It was already nine a.m.; Khanh was discouraged and asked me to

return Nha Trang. I suggested to him:

“You know, at Cau Lung, not far from here about seven kilometers, there is a sister’s community of

her congregation. They could show us where Tr. D’s parent’s house is.”

Happily, when we arrived at to Cau Lung, we met her sister Th D who was working at the harvest

in the paddy field. She told us happily:

“You are clumsy; if all boys are like you. When you reached the bridge, please ask for Mr. Sanh,

former school teacher. Everybody knows him there.”

*****
Tr. D had proposed that we go on a picnic. Everybody was a little surprised of her suggestion,

because she had been ill during a week and this morning she was still in bed. But when we

arrived at her house, she had wept her tears of joy and she could get up to talk to me. Her father

was also happy to meet Khanh and me. He wished to have a conversation with him about the

music, because he also was a children’s song writer. It was he who had taught his children the

music and mandolin. Tr. D told us:

“If you are here, we will go to Suôi Tien (stream of fairies).”

Her father explained to us the history of his commune:

“Suôi Tien is a beautiful spring. The named expresses its natural character well. Besides, it was

French Doctor Yersin who had chosen this area to cultivate experimentally his medicinal plants

such as the quinquina, plant treating the malaria. This plant can grow only at a height of 1500

meters. These had been planted in the Hon Ba Hill at the west of Suoi Dau. This savant was allowed

to install his biology research laboratory in 1914. In this tropical forest, we can find another

medicinal Gio tree, Trâm Huong aquilaria, known as a special rare and precious fragrant wood,

Tram Huong and Ky Nam. But not all Gio trees contain tram huong. According a researcher, only
 390

one with small and yellow leaves and lumpy bark provided good Ky Nam. To distinguish the

difference between the two, Tram Huong and Ky Nam, the fragrant wood is set on fire. It is ‘tram’ if

the smoke whirls up before dispersing; while it's a dead certainty it's ‘ky nam’ if the fire creates a

long line of smoke drifting straight. Tram huong wood is harder, heavier, and less aromatic than ‘ky

nam’. ”

Having prepared all things for the picnic, Tr. D told her father:

“It is very interesting what you have said, but we have to go now.”

Except her parents, her brothers and sisters went to the picnic with us. We had ridden along the

bridge; Tr. D shared the same bike with me. We left our bicycles in Dong Hoê ’s parish house and

continued to walk to the forest. We reached the waterfall. We continued to moveup along the

stream; I saw the giant waterfalls formed by a stone shield cut by the river weaving its way down

Mount Hon Ba to the village of Dien Khanh. Their charm was amplified by the tranquil and lush

environment. As Tr. D was still weak, I waited for and took her hand to help her go up, while

everybody had gone ahead of us. Enchanted by its charm, the rocks accidentally slid into the

stream, she whistled in my ears:

“My dear, I am very happy to be here. I wish if you could give me a kiss.”

*****
In 1983, the lunar New Year fell on 13 th Sunday February. Once again, I could not return home to

celebrate the Teê t with my family, while Khanh’s brothers and sisters were present at home. As I

was afraid to disturb Khanh’s family peace, I had gone out throughout the afternoon on the

beach. The following day, I had accompanied X. Yen to The Teê t’s fair. As this entertainment fair

was in front Mrs. Lien Dung’s flat, I asked X. Yen to wait for me downstairs, I went up to reclaim

the sum that she had to pay me according our contract. To pay me 60000 piasters, because it was

three months she had not honored her debt; She give me a Nipponese watch, a false one,

counterfeit object so that I would offer it to Khanh as a New Year gift. I was not pleased with her

attitude. She told me that her daughter had been picked up by the customs police on the road
 391

from Saigon to Nha Trang. For this reason, she had paid me only half of the sum agreed. I began

to understand that she was not honest; however, I was obliged to keep silent for Dung, her future

son in law, was my close friend. I took them leave without saying anything. Traê m, her daughter

wanted to come along with me to the fair market downstairs. As she was the same age as X. Yeê n I

allowed her to be with us. But I had been wrong to propose the both to go together. They were

not friendly to each other and I finished by returning home early. When I arrived at the gate,

Khanh’s young sister Yeê n, told me:

“My brother, you have to go to Sister Tr. D grandmother’s house now. She has waited for you here

throughout. According to her, it is very important to go there now.”

I asked Khanh to accompany X. Yen to her house and I rode in a hurry to Ly Thanh Toê n Street. Tr.

D grandmother received me with joy and told me go up to the second floor where her

granddaughter waited for me. She rushed to give me a hug and made me sit, she said:

“I have left rapidly my parents for Nha Trang because tonight, you will go with Cam Van’s family at

Nha Trang beach. My uncle has left to search for the boat. He and his collaborators will look for you

at one or two a.m.. According to him, the police who are absorbed with their New Year will let us

free on the beach. We will go to Cam Van house after dinner.”

She was very sad and anxious. She told me that after my departure, she would stay here with her

grandmother for some days, and then go back 88 Hung Vuong latter. She told about her famour

grandmother, a notable and charming person of the Nha Trang city in 1950, in the French period.

For more then fifteen years, she had been separated but not divorced her husband; Tr. D’s

grandfather whose agricultural site where her parents home builted in Suoê i Dau. Tr. D’s

grandmother had been a beautiful woman, former state-registered-nurse, having been educated

by western cultural manners. She had loved dancing and going out, often to dancing-parties.
As we were in the first day of the New Year, Pho’s restaurant was not open, Tr D’s grandmother

called us to share her Teê t’s dinner. Then, Tr. D told her grandmother that she could not return

home tonight. I wondered that she was very amazed to hear it, because her grandaughter, a
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religious Sister would dare to pass a night with this young man… Tr. D understood my thought

and told me in private:

“I can’t reveal the truth to her, because she wishes to send her son abroad too. Never mind,

whatever her thought, it is important that you will feel safe.”

We rode to the Cam Van’s house; at eleven o’clock, we walked along the Nguyeê n Trung Truc

Street, went across the big Avenue Tran Phu. Cam Van and her daughter went to look for a seat

behind the willows. Tr. D guided me to another place about 50 meters away from them. The night

weather was very agreeable; the heat of the sun was vanishing and replaced by the fresh air

arriving from the sea. We sat side by side on the sandy ground. Tr. D embraced my waist and

leaned on me. She said:

“I wish the night would last forever; I am afraid that when the boat arrives; what will I do? I would

have to return to reality; my love will be disappearing.”

It was late; the people assembled perhaps in the city center to celebrate the first day of the New

Year. Nobody was present on the beach. The yellow light radiated weakly from public lamps

looking very sad. We listened to the poplars singing in the wind and the sound of ocean waves

clapping to the sandy shore. I felt immensely happy. We enlaced each other kisses. Tr. D pushed

me lightly away and said:

“Don’t forget that I am always a religious woman. I have been faithful to my religious vows: purity,

poverty and obedience. Furthermore, you will leave from here; I will be alone looking out the

immense ocean.”

After a silent moment, she asked me:

“Do you love me? I think of you always. I often see you in my dreams. I dreamed to marry you and

we were living in a country house filled with joy and happiness of our children; but, I wish you to be

succeeded by escaping Vietnam and you will do whatever you have dreamed. I love you very much.

But I can’t do it. I asked you about it but I do not want your answer.”

She then changed her subject:

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“If the boat not arriving, will you feel sad?”

I answered her:

“It is very sad but I love to stay longer here with you. I still have another opportunity. I hope to go

with Hung’s family. I need to contact Vinh again who failed the last adventure with us in Ha Lien

peninsula.”

We had forgotten the time, while Cam Van and her daughter were very anxious because no boat

appeared far out at sea. We started at the silhouette coming behind us. It was Cam Van; she sat

down beside us and said:

“Tr. D, something is wrong. He told me that the boat will reach the beach between mid- night and

one a.m... It is now half past. My daughter has go back home to sleep.”

Tr. D stayed that night with Cam Van who was very sad. She had lost her man and money. I took

their leave. At the gate of the garden, I told her:

“Tr. D, I am intending not to go tonight. I have an immense chance to be loved by you. I want to say

the same words that you said to me, but… I will see you again tomorrow at your grandmother’s

house…”

*****

64) Vinh, a fishing gentlemen

I sat down in a corner, under the big tree in the coffee garden at the Hai Chua Street, smoking

non-stop for more than one hour, and had drunk already two cups of coffee; but Vinh had not yet

arrived. On Sunday afternoon, many young people loved to be here, having coffee, smoking and
 394

listening to the music. The previous day, I had gone to Xom Bong where his family lived; his

young sister told me that she would go to warn her brother to be out of an appointment on

Sunday afternoon. Like me, Vinh was living secretly as he had escaped prison two years ago. He

had organized many escapes by boat but these had always failed. The last trip was with father

Joachim in Ha Lieê n. Paradoxically, as he was sought by the police, he could not live in the house of

his parents, fishing in the village Xom Bong. He had sometimes slept at the Bishop’s House when

father Joachim had been there, and he had to use a counterfeit passport for moving around; in

the meanwhile, he was always in contact with the other police for multiple traffic offenses, such

as fuel or places for people to meet before the departure.

I watched patiently each black coffee-drop falling regularly into a transparent cup. My mouth was

bitter because of cigarettes. I wondered if I could not escape out of Vietnam what I should

become. The revolution song was annoyingly broadcast; I smiled when I heard that the Party

made us opens our eyes and heart. For eight years, I had understood the true beliefs of the

communists. It was at five o’clock; I was ready to pay for coffees and return home. But I saw a

familiar silhouette appearing at the gate, I called him:

“Vinh. I’m here.”

Vinh arrived later at Nha Trang because he had not taken the inter-province coach in the

morning. I told him to sit down and called the waiter for another coffee. He looked very sad and

said:

“Sorry for coming late. I was from A 30. I had gone there yesterday to pay Hong a visit. Today, I had

spent longer times to talk with her. I hope she could be released before our departure; but…”

Hong was a professional female singer of Phu Khanh province’s entertainment team. She had also

a member of a regional cultural team of Nhatrang city. She was pretty and has a beautiful voice.

Vinh had known her at one of the escape attempts which he had organized. She had become his

girlfriend and continued to prepare together for another escape by boat. In the summer 1981

their fleeing had been prevented at the escape beach; Hoê ng had been caught by the police and
 395

from that time she was in A 30, the famous reeducation camp where were found also many of

political prisoners such as the former Southern Army officers. At the moment Vinh was a victim

under the pursuance by police, Vinh had jumped over the hedge topped with barbed wire two

meters high and disappeared in the forest. Vinh, a son of a fishing family, having not finished his

high school and was a handsome young man, elegant, very good operator and well-experienced

in life. As for Hoê ng, having a talent for singing, she was engaged in the entertainment of the

reeducation camp.
Vinh take his coffee slowly and smoked, he watched silently the cigarette smoke circles moving in

the air. I asked him:

“Something is wrong?”

Vinh answered me:

“Hong has left me. She has fallen in love with a talented guitarist who has been in the reeducation

camp after his defeat in an escape by boat.”

“A guitarist is still in prison?” I asked him.

Vinh said:

“No, he was freed last week. He promised to wait for her at his next departure. She trusts him. So I

will not have to wait for her getting out of the reeducation camp…”

*****
I was waiting for Tr. D throughout the afternoon in the coffee bar in front of her grandmother

Pho’s restaurant; because she had sent me a message according to which she would take a rest at

her grandmother’s house on Sunday March 6 th; besides I had not seen her since the failed escape

organized with her uncle in the New Year’s day. At five o’clock, I had to go back home because I

had made an appointment with Vinh and Hung at Khanh’s house. I would introduce Hung to Vinh

so that with his help, Hung would buy his fuel safety; becauseVinh had known some marines.
When I reached the grocery, Khanh’s mother told us:
 396

“You have many visitors today. Sister Tr. D has been waiting for you here for two hours; she has just

left here; she wishes to see you tonight at Quân Trân after the hymns practice. Hung is now in

sitting room. He arrived here about ten minutes ago.”

Khanh’s parents received Hung kindly; they had known that his family would take me in their

future adventure. Khanh’s mother brought us a package of foreign cigarettes which were

considered as a luxury good. She invited him also to stay for dinner. Hung asked me about Vinh:

“Will we trust him?”

I answered him:

“You know, I had not trusted Tuân, your border police living in Xom Bong, I trust Vinh to help you

for the fuel. He is a serious man, a faithful friend.”

Hung told me:

“I’ m agree with you, but why has he not succeeded in his planning although he has obtained all

necessary conditions for that?”

I tried to explain to him:

“To succeed in these enterprises, we have to work in harmony to ensure three things: first, the good

and power boat with fuel, and water; second, good organization of the guests; a secret departure

beach… His parents had now no more boats. When he had bought a boat from a fisherman, he has

not been master of his situation…”

A quarter of an hour later, Vinh arrived. I introduced him to Hung and we discussed directly to

our problem. He told Hung:

“If you trust me, I can buy at one scoop four hundred litters of diesel for you. Our two fishing boat

will delivery it to you at the appointed spot farout in the ocean. However, you have to give me two

gold taels before you receive the fuel.”

Having kept silent for a moment, Hung seemed to think deeply of this proposal. He answered

Vinh:

“I will talk about that with my family. If they agree, I will instruct S. to inform you.”
 397

Vinh continued:

“I have another condition. I will help you to procure fuel; In return for that, I ask you to take one of

our friends, either Si or Khanh with you, and the rest of them will go with me. In reality, it is not my

own boat, it’s my uncle boat.”

I accompanied Vinh at the gate. He told me:

“I have another thing to ask you; but I can’t speak of it before Hung. When will I see you again?

However, it seems that the police have begun to watch my movements secretly and my meeting; can

you find a safe solution for our appointments?”

*****
Hung followed me to the hymn practice in Quaê n Traê n’s parish as he had made friend with some

of my choir singers. At the end of our singing meeting, Tr. D came looking for me; she was a little

surprised to see Hung here with me. She told me in private:

“I will stay at my grandmother’s house tonight. Will you accompany me there?”

I hesitated a little bit because Hung seemed not wanted to go back home. Finally, I invited Hung

and Tr. D, to go to the cafeteria. Hung had heard and talk about this winsome and talented sister,

but it was the first time he met her. When we were sitting in the cafeteria Tr. D asked him:

“When will you be leaving Nha Trang? Will Si go abroad with your family?”

Hung answered:

“I don’t know. Si will perhaps go with Vinh. Do you know Vinh?”

I told them:

“Vinh has promised to take me in his uncle’s boat. But Father Joachim had entrusted me also to

Hung’s family. If Hung takes his departure before Vinh of course, it isn’t a question of choice. I have

to leave with Hung…”

Hung said:

“I find it hard to understand that there is such a generous man like Vinh at this time. Is it true that

Vinh will take you with him without a return for money? However he isn’t catholic.”
 398

I was a little surprised to listen to his remarks. I tried to control myself not to tell Hung the

unwelcome talk. After a moment, I said:

“Hung, I know that everybody works now for money.Father Joachim former friend has used their

gold to furnish a big boat to a poor catholic fisherman. They had invested their money to this man

so that he will carry all members of us going abroad by that boat. Unhappily, he had left Vietnam

without the family. He has taken many of other guests who had paid him with gold… Vinh isn’t a

catholic man, but he is a man who respects his promise. Two years ago, he becomes my friend. I

think there is another thing more important than money; it is friendship and love. Vinh is perhaps

nearer to Christ than some Christians; as he is very faithful to his love and friendship…”

Hung took his leave. Tr. D seemed to be touched by my talk. She whispered to my ear:

“Wow, is love so very important for you?”

I answered her:

“Yes, I do not only believe it but I have the chance to know it, because the person who loves me has

proved it to me…”

Tr. D told me:

“It is late now; I have to go to my grandmother’s house. What will you do tomorrow?”

I answered her:

“I have an appointment with Vinh. He will come to see Khanh’s parents in order to discuss

something concerning his organization. I have to be with him.”

*****
Vinh, Khanh’s parents and me, we had an important meeting in the sitting room in the evening.

Khanh had just returned home, he announced the good news to us:

“Brother Trong has been released. I saw him at the Bishop’s house. He has spent more than one year

in prison, because he has failed in his escape.”

Khanh’s father told him to sit down to discuss these matters with us. Vinh spoke:
 399

“My uncle and aunt, I has promised Father Joachim to take Khanh and Si to escape by boat. There

are some clients who will come from Saigon. Before the departure, they will be hidden somewhere

in Nha Trang. Will you receive them for some days?”

Mr. Duc answered Vinh:

“I am very touched because you have kept your promise with Father Joachim, allowing Si and

Khanh to go with your family. Of course, I will receive your guests for some days. It will be my little

participation for our sons… If two or three persons who will be here; Si will perhaps go to sleep at

Brother Trong’s house.”

*****
 400

65) Brother Trong, pragmatic musician

Khanh returned only sometimes to the Bishop’s House. As he often went out with his singer

chorus every evening in the city, he preferred to stay and sleep at his parents’ house so that he

could come home later in the night. I had to go sleep at brother Trong’s house which was in the

same street, only separated by several flats from Khanh parent’s house. Brother Trong had just

been released from the reeducation camp for only a week. As I mentioned, he spent more than a

year in prison; he had been caught on the departure beach before the arrival of his boat. We

called him brother, because he was a member of the De La Sale Brothers congregation, founded

by Saint John Baptist de la Salle about 1680. After 75, the schools and houses founded by the

congregation had been obliged to offer them to the Revolution. Brothers whose vocation was

teaching and educating had been laid off. Brother Trong returned home to take care of his old

father, he was an only son when his elder brother had died because of overdose, this person had

been addicted to drug.

Instead of coming in the evening after diner, I preferred to meet Brother Trong in the afternoon.

He greeted me at the gate of the forecourt with a hearty welcome. Some bicycles were putted in

disorder on the veranda. He said:

“My musical pupils could not arrange their bicycles correctly.”

He led me into the room of the first floor, emptied of all furniture, except for some footstools

placed along the wall. Four young boys and girls were practicing guitar and one of them playing

the modern drums. Brother Trong had many talents. He could play the drum, guitars, and other

instruments. He was reputed to be the best Hawaiian guitarist of the city. To earn his living, he

had received two days a week three groups of young boys or girls learning different instruments.

Behind this room, I saw another room, perhaps the former kitchen, opened to the sky. He

explained to me:
 401

“My brother who died a year ago removed the roof of this kitchen to make of corrugated iron to

sale; because he had need of money to buy the cocaine.”

Then we took the stair to go to the second floor. He conducted me into the room adjoining to the

balcony and said:

“Tonight, you will sleep here.”

At the bottom of the second floor, there were two another rooms, one for his father and one other

for him. He told me:

“We have no beds in the house, because my brother had sold all things. We are used to the sedge

mat instead of bed for sleeping.”

Then he showed me the toilet located between his room and his father. In the very narrow

corridor, I saw a small ladder standing against the wall. Brother Trong gave me an important

notice:

“It is very important that you know this spot; the ladder leads us to a hidden place when the police

come unexpectedly to check us.”

He then changed his manner:

“Will you have supper with us? My father prepares our dinner. After that, we will go to the movie.”

I hesitated to answer him. He was already very kind to receive me illegaly in his house. I had not

wanted to disturb his family any more. I said:

“I am not free for the movie tonight; let me invite you to the Pho’s restaurant. It will soon be my

birthday. And we will call on Khanh to go with us.”

*****
All the movie theatres were overcrowded on Tuesday April 5 th that was my birthday. A thousand

people wanted to enter the hall as a very good film was showing for some days. The crowd

crushed toward the ticket booth so Khanh and I could not have elbowed ourselves into the mass

in order to buy our tickets. We decided to leave there and we would come again in the following
 402

days when everybody had already watched the film. As we arrived home; brother Trong were

here with Khanh mother and told us:

“I come to invite you to the picture show tonight. A very good film is showing now.”

Khanh answered him:

“I know that, we returned from the movie because we could not buy our ticket. The cinema theatre

is crammed.”

He laughed and showed us three tickets and said:

“Let’s go now otherwise we will be late.”

I wondered how he could have bought these easily; perhaps, one of his music students had done

it for him. We gained entrance into the hall. The person who checked our tickets watched quickly

ours, let us go inside. There were no more the places on the seats lines. Like the others, we stood

at the exit. The people had not been able to keep silent. They were chatting, increasing the

cacophony in the room. In the darkness are many blobs of light twinkling from the people who

had smoked. At half way showing film, the electricity had failed; everybody was in a

pandemonium. A strong voice tried to assure the viewers:

“Please keep silence. We have a little technical problem.”

A quarter of an hour later, as the lights were coming on, the film was showed again. When we got

out of the cinema; our shirts were quite wet with sweat as we had just been walking in the rain.

Then we went to cafeteria next to the cinema. I asked brother Trong:

“How could you have bought your tickets?”

He answered me:

“It is my professional secret. A year passed in the reeducation camp make me quick-minded. They

were not the right tickets. I bought them when I went to see other the film. As there are many

people in the very good pictures show, the inspector would have no time to check them. They would

have used different colors for each film, but in the dark, everything could be the same.”

I thought of my sister who was now at reeducation center A 30, I asked him:
 403

“How was about the life at the camp?”

He answered me with humoredly:

“It is unhelpful to describe the life in the prison because everyone knows that. For my spirituality,

one year in A30 is spiritually better than my twenty years in the congregation. I worked very hard; I

thought of God every time; I read the Bible every nights. If I would stay longer in there, I will

already become a saint of the Church. Anyway, as I am a musician, I have been sent to the

entertainment service of the center where the life was clearly less hard.”

I told him:

“Do you still want to go abroad by boat?”

He laughed at my question and said:

“What will I do here? I need to live my vocation as brother of the Christian schools. I would like to

teach again in high school. Like seamen, as they had made acquaintance with the waves; they could

not sit down on the seashore looking toward the ocean. Whatever it cost, I must to escape from

here.”

He then changed the conversation:

“Do you still have the opportunity to practice the instruments?”

Khanh answered him:

“I continue to conduct the parish choir and sometime play the organ for the dominical mass at the

bishop’s house.”

I said:

“As for me, I could no longer help the choir at Quan Tran’s parish; I am scared to be discovered by

the police.”

Brother Trong suggested to us:

“Will you help me to play the organ and drums for the future concern of the Teachers Training

College’s students? The staff of the school has proposed it to me because some my instrumental

pupils are members of this concert’s preparation. If you will be a bass guitarist, it will be good.”
 404

Khanh said:

“I will not be free on that day, but I can find a good guitarist for you. Si will talk about that to our

friend Dung.”

*****
I rode toward Quy’s house in Thanh Hai. The latter had also known many defeats with his fleeing

oversea by boat. When I had looking Dung in order to ask him to play the guitar bass for Brother

Trong; Mrs. Lien Dung told me that he had gone to Thanh Hai and would not return home in the

afternoon. Quy’s family had a nice house with a large garden near Hon Chong at the Thanh Hai

beach. His father had been a high ranking official in the former government, the first Republic of

the South. He was living in retreat and he was taciturn. He led me to a kind of hangar located at

the bottom of the kitchen garden. Dung, Quy and Tro were very glad to see me. Tro and Quy were

also the former Stella Maris seminarians; they had been a year ahead of Dung. Tro was a training

brother at Phuoc Thien’s parish in Phan Rang district. They seemed to be very busy with their

strange objects. Tro came to greet me and said:

“I am happy to see you here. We have just spoken about you. I will go out in a boat tonight; do you

want to accompany me?”

I was very surprised with this news, I asked him:

“Is there a boat departing tonight on the beach?”

He laughed at my question. Quy proposed we will have lunch and discuss that together. I saw him

put in disorder two cylinders made with corrugated iron’s sheets which both ends tightly

welded. Tro tried to explain to me his future adventure:

“There will not be any boat. I will go in the sea with this raft. We will join two iron cylinders and

pitch in the middle a rudimentary mast. I hope the sea wind of the March lunar will push me toward

the high ocean. I think the ships that will discover me floating on the waves will save me.”

I asked him:

“Why have you risked your life for that?”

 405

He answered me:

“Like you, I don’t have another way; I am chased now by the police. And you, what will you decide

now?”

I said:

“I can’t do it; I don’t swim well and I don’t want to lose my life in this adventure. Good luck for you. I

look for Dung to propose him to play the guitar bass for the next concert at the Teacher Training

College in May… I will not assist your plan; I have to return Nha Trang now. ”

*****
Brother Trong led us into the great yard of the former high school where he had taught for some

years. A stage had already been set up for the concert. He had advised me to disguise myself so

that I could not be recognized by the people. He told me to verify all score notes of the songs

which would be performed tonight as he could check all electric links of the guitars and organ. He

began to play some musical piece with his Hawaiian guitar. The chief of the spectacle come to

greet us. Brother Trong presented me:

“My cousin had just come here from Saigon. He is a drummer.”

The man shook my hand and said:

“It is normal; all members of your family are musician, it is the question of genes.”

He looked at me attentively:

“You look like a person whom I had seen somewhere.”

I told him:

“You know, people resembled one another. It is the first time I have been here in the beautiful city.”

To avoid his curious eyes, I took his leave saying that I had to buy something to eat before the

concert. At six o’clock, Dung, his future wife and her young sister Thuy Tram arrived. I asked him

for some news concerning Tro:

“Well, Tro was floating now on the waves?”

Dung burst in laugh and said:

 406

“I regretted you did not stay to witness his departure. Last night, at midnight, we had left the raft

floating at the spot next to Hon Chong. Tro went into the water with his life jacket. The moment was

spiritual, we prayed God for him. He swam and tied himself to his raft; that one had been sunk in

the water. He had been too heavy for the small raft…”

Brother Trong joined in our conversation:

“Be careful. Si is presented as my cousin.”

Then we sat down by a circle on the corridor to have our diner. I had bought two Vietnamese

sandwiches for brother Trong and me. Thuy Tien had cooked the very delicious glutinous rice

blended with chicken. Thuy Tram gave me a half of her part. In the meantime, I shared my

sandwich with her.

At seven p.m. the yard was already filled up with young people. Several policemen were standing

at the gate to watch everybody. Other was blending in the crowd. I tried to observe them in order

to watch one by one to avoid their way. It was the 28 th May (16/04 according to the lunar

calendar), we were lighted by the full moon. After some official discourses, our orchestra began

to play. My drums were hidden behind the guitarists and put in the bottom of the stage. I was

protected from the hawk eyes of the police men. The students had sung the revolution songs.

Among them, some spoke of the difficult love between two soldier comrades, the one was settled

in the orient long mountain, the other, in the occident long mountain. I was bored as the songs

were very boring. At the interval, I persuaded brother Trong to change the kind of music. I said:

“Maybe we can play the foreign music without words.”

He hesitated but I assured him:

“The revolution culture very much loves the folk-song of all countries. These are the popular songs

transmitted from generation to generation.”

He answered me:

“We could do it if you play organ and I will play drums.”

 407

I had left the drums for the organ put separated from the other instruments in the left of the

stage. I began with the famous old songs “also known as Back to Sorriento,” and then “Adieu Jolie

Candy.” The spectators were very interested in this music and they applauded. Brother Trong

presented these as Italian and French folk-songs. I realized suddenly that I had made a big

mistake, because I drew the attention to me. But it was too late; a police man began to ask

someone who I was. A student who had been in the group of people having come to the Bishop’s

house rushed toward me and said:

“Brother, someone recognize you; please flee quickly.”

I had jumped down the ground and hid myself in the crowd. Happily, all lamps were suddenly

turned off. Thuy Tram tried to approach me. I took her hand and said:

“Please, Thuy Trâm, do as you are my girlfriend and we tried to get out.”

I took her hands and then she let herseft be drawn to me. I heard the beat of her heart beating.

We had succeeded in moving toward the main gate. As a lovely couple, we passed in front the

police men; when we were in the Tran Phu Avenue; the light was again bright. As she was still

surprised, she asked me:

“What will we do now?”

“Did you come here by your bicycle?” I said.

“No, she answered me; my sister has brought me here.”

I went looking for mine; she got in the seat behind my bike. We rode along the Tran Phu Avenue

and turned toward the “Marsh Market”. When we were together at the foot of her building, I told

her:

“Thank very much for your help. Move now up to your home.”

She seemed and wanted to be still with me. She suddenly kissed me and said:

“Be careful. You had made me felling as I am in love. It is a nice dream for me. I wish it will be true.”

At eleven o’clock, I decided to return Khanh’s parents house. At the beginning of the Me Linh

Street, I saw some police men. I felt very frightened. The police would follow brother Trong after
 408

the spectacle in order to look for me. I thought that they could do the unexpected control for the

family of the quarter. I turned my bicycle around and went into the street without light to avoid

the police. I wondered where I would go now because it was very late. Then I went toward the

rail station, in the yard of which I saw many people sleeping in the open air. Some were the

homeless, some other were the merchants waiting for the next train which could arrive at

anytime in the night. Then I wandered throughout the night in the dark roads of the City…
*****
 409

66) What deceptions!!!

It had been raining sometime in June but the weather was still very nice. The 5 th Sunday of June, I

had sat down under the shadow of the orchard palm-trees in Hung’s house, looking at the surface

of the sea. In the meanwhile, he was mending some fishing net. I asked him:

“How is it about your diesel negotiating with Vinh?”

He had not wanted to answer me and sought to evade my question. He said:

“It is very nice now but in June there could be some strong storms.”

I told him:

“Is that to say we will not go out the sea in this period?”

I was feeling that something was going wrong. I attentively watched his boat that had cast anchor

in the water in front of his house. It was a wooden boat of 10 meters and two metres wide.

Behind its deck, a small cabin could contain up to three or four people. I dreamed one day that I

could get up into the boat. Thirteen people could easily be carried by its engine of twenty horse

power. Hung seemed to guess my worry about the escape, he assured me:

“Everything is working well. Don’t worry!!! You will be warned of the departure date. The weather is

not yet favorable for sea travel.”

I wanted to strike a conversation with Khang, his eldest brother, who would not go with the

family for he hoped to be ordained a priest one day for Nha Trang diocese. The latter had begged

me pardon because he would be busy teaching someone French. I took my leave with a little

sadness.
*****
On Tuesday 9th June, in the evening, I sat down smoking in silence on the veranda floor. I worried

to recount all the events which had happened throughout recent years. If Hung’s family should let

me down, I would depend on Vinh. Khanh returned home from the Bishop House, he told me:

“Why are you looking sad? Come with me tonight to a party that organizing by the Phuoc Hoa’s

parish choir.”
 410

I followed Khanh go to Thanh Truc’s house. He had been in Stella Maria seminary for two years

and he was dismissed for missing the good result in his study. After 75, he again became a

seminarian of the diocese. He lived at home and conducted one of the choirs for his parish. As he

practised the religious hymns every week, he began to compose some religious songs. At the end

of diner, Thanh Truc would have liked to speak privately with me. We had got out the house to

smoke. At once outside, he asked me:

“It seems you worked with Hung’s family with a view to flee oversea?”

“Yes, why do you ask me about that? I answered him. Do you want to go with his family?”

He told me:

“I will leave tomorrow from here by his boat. I paid two taels of gold. It seems some people of my

choirs will also be in his boat. I am very happy if you also be with me in this adventure.”

I was transfixed with immense deception. I had suddenly understood, Hung’s family had decided

to abandon me; they could not accept free to someone to go with them. I kept silence, becoming a

zombie and I felt angry. I wondered why Hung or his father had not dared to tell me at the

beginning; even if they had wanted me to pay like orther people, I should have found this sum. All

my hope was placed on this family to whom Father Joachim had entrusted me. I had lit cigarette

after cigarette.
I could not sleep that night. Khanh understood my sadness. We were smoking late in the night. It

was only 4:30 a. m., I had got out of bed. I went to the veranda and looked at the street lit on little

by some weak public lamps. The gate of the house was still closed. Some passing merchants were

carrying their goods in two bamboo baskets by a bamboo rod. Khanh’s mother were having

thought that she heard some noises from my coughs got up and went to see me sitting on the

veranda in the dark. She asked me:

“Why do you be awake too early?”

Then she called a breakfast merchant and invited me to eat a bowl of vermicelli. I said:
 411

“Hung family will go today or tonight, but he did not warn me of it. That is to say he had decided to

let me down.”

Khanh’s mother seemed to be very angry against Hung toward whom she had always behaved

kindly. Moreover, she believed that I had paid him with my gold tael for this escape. The sun had

not risen; but I was very impatient, I could not stay another minute at home; I had to go to Ba

Lang village. I thought that if the guest-boat people and Thanh Truc had gone fishing last night,

Hung and the members of his family would return home this morning, and would start again this

evening. They would search for all guests hidden in one of islands of the ocean.
When I arrived at Hung’s house, the sun had just come into sight. I saw his father and brothers

having been arranging their files on the deck of the boat. Having seen me coming, Hung rushed in

hurry to stop me at the gate and said:

“Don’t worry; when we go really, you will certainly be warned.”

I looked at him with amazement. What a liar!!! He had not dared to tell me the trust.

I told him: “Good luck.”

I turned my bicycle around and dashed away. When I reached the Hara Bridge, I wanted to see

Vinh whose parent’s house had been in the Xom Bong fishing village. Vinh had not wanted to see

an unusual person in this village as his family was always watched by the secret police. At the

beginning of the village, I saw by chance his younger sister. I stopped her and said:

“I need to see your brother. Does he at home?”

She answered me:

“You are lucky. He had just come home very later last night. He is still in bed.”

I told her:

“Please, tell your brother to go to see me at the “Violet Evening” coffee bar. I will be there waiting

for him.”
 412

I had already had four coffee cups and lighted almost a pack of cigarettes; but Vinh was not

arrived. Finally, he appeared at the entrance when I paid my coffee cups at the counter. He came

towards me and said:

“Sorry. I had come home at three o’clock. My sister had not dared to wake me up.”

Once more, I stayed and continued to smoke like a chimney. Our heads were covered by a thin

smoke. I told him:

“I feel a little tired and I am hungry. It is at noon, we will eat something at the Pho’s restaurant.”

He answered me:

“It is not convenient to speak in the restaurant because there are many people and it’s noisy. If you

are hungry, we could ask the waiter to bring us some sandwiches.”

I told him that Hung had let me down. Vinh was not surprised for that as he had just known this

person. He said:

“Hung had not trusted me. I had got in touch with bordered marine police for the diesel. He had not

followed this way, but he had not either given me a right response. It is not fair to bear on him in

this special business’. Hung was a cunning person. I had not trust him. ”

Vinh then assured me:

“Don’t worry. We are going to start shortly. In the next week, I will entrust Khanh’s family for some

people coming from Saigon…”

*****
When I returned home, Khanh’s mother was waiting for me in her grocery store. It was one

o’clock but she had not closed it. She said:

“Thuy had come here in the evening; she would like to see you.”

I told Khanh’s mother:

“I will not have a dinner at home this evening. I am going to Thanh Hai.”

She said:
 413

“My son; be careful. Will you see Vinh? Could you drop via Thuy’s house? who, I think, would like to

meet you?”

At three o’clock, I rode my bicycle toward Cu Lao hill on which was located the Po Nagar temple,

founded before 781 A.D. by the Cham people. It is dedicated to the goddess of the country, Yan Po

Nagar, who was identified later with the Hindu goddesses Bhagavati and Mahishasuramardini.

The Vietnamese people had called her ‘Thieê n Y Thaé nh Maê u’ that signified Heaven’s dress Holy

Mother. I sat down on the stairway leading to the second tower. The temple consisted of three

levels, the highest of which encompasses two rows of towers. The main tower is about 25 meters

high. It seemed that nobody was living inside now. I saw Thuy arriving on her bicycle. She was

very joyful to see me waiting her at the foot of Temple. She left her bike and came to sit down

side by side on the first step. She told me:

“I am afraid you would not come here. I have an important subject to discuss with you.”

I asked her:

“Where will we go now? I have to return home before seven o’clock.”

She was silent for a moment. Then she said:

“You have no heart. From the time past, you happened to avoid me. It is very difficult for me to see

you in this moment. I am always missing you very much. I wondered if you would have the same

feeling as I do for you. Today, I desire to be alone with you for some hours only. We have not much of

time, you know it…”

I looked at my wrist-watch and answered her:

“Thuy, I thank very much for your love. Bear in mind that we had already spoken about my

sentiment for you and our actual situation. I had not forgotten the night where we had been

together on the beach. I feel always your kiss on my lips. But actually, many worries occupy my

mind… We will go then to Ngoc Thuy, an island located in front of the Po Nagar Tower.”
 414

We left our bikes at a former trade women’s house who had bought our water spinach. We then

went to the transport boats at the wharf station. A small one conducted us to the other side of the

Cai River. A boatwoman told us:

“You have to come again here before six o’clock to return Nha Trang.”

We both walked for a stroll in the nice coconut orchard. The river was very calm as we were in

the fifth month according to the lunar calendar (on Saturday 18 th June). I wondered what I would

do if I could not escape Vietnam. Several female persons loved me very much, but I was losing

one after another. Thuy grasped my hands firmly and guided them around her. She kissed me

passionately. After a moment, she said:

“Si, I love you very much but I hate you so much. Why haven’t you said anything to me? You have

never told me that you love me. For some months, I can’t forget you although I tried to do it. Why

didn’t you love me? Who did you fall in love?”

We sat down on the grass ground looking the river blowing slowly in the afternoon. I tried to

seek some appropriate words to say to Thuy. I admired her love and I respected her

comportment. I told her:

“I think you have known a little of my life and my choice. For a longtime, I searched for

leavingVietnam by boat many times, but I had always failed. I continue to pursue my goal… You are

the most beautiful and winsome person I have ever met. You are worthy of a good man who loves

you and takes care of you. I can’t do it at this situation.”

She answered me:

“You are cruel and you did not understand me. I don’t need anybody. Last week, I have told my

father about my love. He accepts to give us enough gold taels to pay our escape by boat. Tell me

sincerely, will we go abroad together?”

I answered her:
 415

“I wish so much to say ‘yes’ to your proposition. You make me tremble deeply in my mind. You are an

excellent girl and I think you will be a very good woman. But I can’t tell you a lie. I can’t accept your

engagement…”

It was dark; she wept in secret and became taciturn. I heard the noise of the oar sound in the

water. I felt sad…

The Crucial Day
July had already come to the threshold of the house. The flamboyant before the grocery store

began to flower its beauty. Sitting down in the house, I looked at some birds jumping from branch

to branches of the trees. Hung had failed his departure, because he had cheated on the fuel.

Thanh Truc had told us that Hung and his family had received on the high ocean twenty jerry

cans filled to rim, but 90 percent was salt water.

Three days ago, at the end of June (Tuesday 30 th), Vinh had entrusted two people to Khanh’s

family. It was a young women and her son about 8 years old. They had to wait here for the days

that Vinh or his friend would come to lead them to the departure beach. To keep them out of

sight, Khanh’s parents had hidden them in the room located behind the house. They had received

them as their precious guests. Vinh told us to stay home because he could come to look for us any

time. Some days later, Khanh was bored to be remaining at home; he went out. I was at home and

had waited anxiously.

On Saturday afternoon, a young man had come to lead these people out of the house. I was afraid

to be once again abandoned. Khanh’s parents always keept silent but they could understand my

worry. Khanh had come home before the dinner. Khanh asked me:

“Didn’t Vinh come today?”

I answered him:

“Two guests had already gone away.”

Khanh said:

“I have met Thuy at the Bishop’s house; she asked me to give you this letter.”
 416

After dinner, I sat down on the veranda floor and smoked continually; in the meantime, Khanh

tried to compose a love song with his guitar. I read and read again Thuy’s letter. It was a simple

poem.

“My heart was bearing a separation’s sad.

In my mind, I miss always him, my first love.

Souvenirs could not be disappeared.

Always laughing, my heart is pained as being cut.

I wonder who don’t have smile blended tears.

At the boat station, I had lost my exit.

I had looked vainly for a ghost picture.

I had tried to press anger in the deep.

The sky was still brightening by the sun.

But my heart was very cold as ice-berg.

I had tried to forget and understand.

You don’t belong to me I must accept it.

I wonder myself: be smile so that my heart is less heavy.”

I had smoked my last cigarette and went to bed. The fresh air of the night had helped me into the

sleep.
*****
I was with Vinh in the sitting room; we were drinking coffee and smoking unceasingly. The

smoke was wrapping the ceiling like the fog. He had come here at eight o’clock. He wanted to

speak about the departure with me and Khanh. He had left the house in the early morning.. It was

eleven, Vinh again appeared impatient, and he told me:

 417

“I don’t have a lot of the time. I must go now. A member of our organization will come looking for

you this evening. I write down some words for Khanh.”

Khanh’s father comes into the sitting room with tetchiness. He mumbled:

“It is stupid not to be at home in this moment. Where is Khanh now?”

As Vinh stood up about to leave; Khanh arrived hurriedly. Khanh’s mother invited Vinh to stay to

have lunch with us, but he refused. He sat down again in the armchair. After a moment of

mediation, he told us:

“As I had tried to say some weeks ago, I could not take both of you into the boat. This one belongs to

my uncle who has to take his family and guests. There is no longer place for you both. You now have

to make a very difficult choice: Either Khanh will go with us or Si will do that.”

The silence invaded the whole room. I was feeling sorrowful in my heart. The atmosphere was

very heavy. Khanh began to say:

“If I go with you, Si cannot stay here in my family. However, he can no longer return to his house,

because he is in clandestinity. I am very sad not to be able to escape but I have my family and I can

dwell in the Bishop’s House as I want. Si has to go this evening. I speak about it with my parents

after you leaving here.”

Vinh said good-bye to everybody and quit the house quickly.

After the family lunch that had been in silence as it was difficult to broach the important matter,

the hour of our leave from here; a quarrel had broken out between Khanh and his father; because

he had not been at home in the important moment. In other words, Khanh’s father had

reproached him with carelessness in this crucial moment.

I had asked Khanh to go to the coffee bar that Yen his sister known. If someone came to look for

us, Yen would lead them to the coffee bar. Khanh and I, we had felt the time passing very slowly.

At five o’clock, Yen had come along with a young man to look for us and let him introduce himself.

Then Yen left once from there. This young man greeted us and said:

“I am Vinh’s cousin; one of you goes with me now.”

*****
 418

The man had not leaded me to the Nha Trang coaches’ station, located near the Ha Ra Bridge. But

we had waited for the coach at the three crossroad ways called Ma Vong, not too far from the

railway station. About six p. m., I had seen a van stop about two meters from our place. My guider

made a sign to me to go ahead to get into that vehicle. When the back car-door was opened, I got

into the passage cell where there were about ten people sitting down on the floor behind manioc

bags; then the van slowly drove away. We were in the dark for the cell of the van had no windows.

I felt sick because the road was very bad, full of pot-holes. One hour later, Vinh’s cousin told the

chauffer:

“Please stop about one kilometer before the checking-point, at the small spring nearby the forest.”

I wondered if the van had run 30 kilometer an hour, we could be now at Tan Binh or Cuu Loi

commune. The vehicle stopped quickly. The driver had left his wheel and went to open our

passage cell. Vinh’s cousin had given us careful instructions:

“You have to get out quickly and go straight into the rice-field. If you see any cars arriving, please lie

down on the ground so that they cannot see you.”

I was the first person to jump out of the vehicle. It would be only eight o’clock but the dark had

been fallen and the moon was in very small form of sickle (crescent moon. We were on Saturday

July 2nd, which was 22th of fifth month of the lunar calendar). Thanks to the noise of feet by the

walk, I could follow the group in the black night. We were walking sometime on the wet rice field

then we arrived at the marshy area of the salt water. I felt the ocean air. Far out in the field, some

marsh fires showing in the dark. We should be no doubt near the sea… At nine p.m., we arrived at

the foot of the small mountain where there were some rudimentary thatched houses. Our guider

told us to take a rest. He gave each one a handful of cooked glutinous rice for supper.
As we were very tired from the long walk, everybody slept well. The sun had just risen in sight;

all were already awake. There were three small thatched houses in this kitchen garden. In each

one, I had counted about ten persons. On the sandy soil, there were many manioc plants. Far by

the distance, I saw some mangos and coconut trees. This moment called back in my mind the
 419

failed escape at Ha Lien last year. I began to feel an unfounded fear. Vinh’s cousin brought each of

us one coconut, he said:

“We don’t have enough water here, for the breakfast; you will drink the coconut juice. Its fresh is

very good to eat. Don’t move out from your place. At noon and afternoon, I will bring you meals. We

wait here for the last group and we could start tonight.”

I observed one by one the people of my group. Three young boys and two teenagers looked very

worried sitting down on the sand ground, against the pillars of the house. The couple were sitting

down near them I belived that their parents. I asked the single man nearby me:

“Where do you come from?”

He answered me:

“I have just escaped from the reeducation center A30; I organized with Vinh this adventure.”

He appeared to be an intelligent and kindly man. I stated to make a conversation with him and

listened to his confidences:

“Vinh had often spoken about you. I am also a catholic. My wife is “Roneo Tien”s daughter. That is

the man who had created the rudimentary printer with his some duplicators ‘Roneo” made in

Germany.”

I was curious and asked him:

“Where is your wife? Do you have children?”

He answered me:

“My name is An (calm), I was a high school teacher. I will trust you with my story. I begin to miss my

three children whom I had left home with my wife. She was unfaithful. She had deceived me.”

I understood his heart’s pain. According to him, while he had been in the reeducation after

having been caught by the police, he met a very clever man in A.30. and became his good

comrade and close friend. He had been taken out of the prison before An. As his family had gone

abroad and his parents, brothers and sisters were in Canada, An (the calm) had suggested to him

to go living in his house. He had written a letter asking his wife to receive his friend like him. One
 420

year later, in the prison, he had learned that his wife had just born another son whose father

could be his friend. He was very sad. Therefore, he could not now bring them with him as his

family.
About ten o’clock, An had found an old and unclean cooking pot in the manioc field. We had

success to pull out about five or six kilos of manioc which we had just uprooted, removed its

bark, and cleaned with some manioc leaves. In the meantime, I went looking some dried

branches to fire the lucky cooking pot. Vinh’s cousin took a former jerry can abandoned in a

corner of the house and went out into the pathway. A half of hour later, he returned with ten

litters of water. We began to cook our food. He said:

“Here are our meals; lunch and dinner are ready.”

When the sun had just disappeared; I began to expect the crucial moment. I had waited for the

departure. According to Vinh’s cousin, two or three guiders would come to conduct us toward the

beach where the boat would come to pick us up in the middle of the night. I had not lived another

instant as exciting as that tonight. I had tried to pray but I could not concentrate myself. I thought

about all my relatives, also Khanh should no doubt be living in a difficult moment. The time

seemed to stop because nobody come looking for us. It was very late; like me, Vinh’s cousin was

also worried. He had given me some cigarettes and we went to smoke together in the field. He

told me:

“Normally, the last group had to arrive at nine or ten p.m.”

I asked him:

“Who was in that group?”

He answered me:

“It is Vinh’s mother, his youngest sister and some guests. They have to leave their house in the end as

they could be watched by the police.”

I remembered again the experience of Ha Lien last year. I asked him:

“What time is it?”

 421

He said:

“It is already one o’clock. It is too late for starting.”

We continued to smoke in silence. Suddenly, I heard some noise echoed from the pathway. I said:

“It seems the voice of someone talking.”

Vinh’s cousin rushed to different houses to order everybody to keep silence. But, the noise of

walking was growing louder. The people advanced toward ours hidden house. But I had

recognized the voice of Vinh. Phew! We were so afraid. Having arrived, Vinh told us:

“Excuse us. We could not go tonight because we are late. My family had lost my sister. She ought to

join us at Ma Vong, but she had not come to the appointed point. She had perhaps gone to meet her

boyfriend to say good-bye and would forget the time. We will start tomorrow without her.”

I had to pass another heavy long day. Vinh and his cousin had left us in the early morning. We

continued to eat cooked maniocs as yesterday. The night arrived again; I had been ready for

starting. At eleven p.m., Vinh and his guiders had come back. He ordered us:

“It is the time to start. We will be divided into three groups and each one will be lead by a man

holding a pile lamp. Good luck.”

Our group was in the last position. We had crossed the paddy field that was still wet; we were

walking on the muggy soil during an hour. Then we had entered into the mangrove swamp. From

time to time, we had to wade across a hole under salt water. I had hurt myself owing to the prop

roots of mangroves; they appeared as pendulums growing vertically down until they reach the

water. Therefore I had fallen many times into the mud, but I tried to rise and continued to walk

with difficultly. Finally, we had reached the beach on which many big reeds could hide us. When

everybody was assembled on the same beach, we sat down together in each group, Vinh said:

“The boat comes very soon. We star from one minute to another.”

That was right; from far out the sea a boat was advancing to the beach… The sky seemed to be

brightened with a thousand star lights…

“Deo Gratias!” I murmured to myself.

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*****

67) On the waves for the freedom

For five hours, our boat had glided peacefully on the ocean. It measured about eleven meters in

length and two meters the width. Therefore, we, forty four people, swayed lightly following the

waves. In the fifth month of the lunar calendar, the sea was very calm. I was feeling as I was in the

dream among the immense ocean watching a thousand of fire-flies scintillating that was in

reality the light of lamps spreading out from the fishing boats, through the fresh air of the sea. As

I was sitting down in the head of the boat, Vinh had wanted to attach me by a cord to a bracket on

the deck. Feeling tired, I went to sleep against the hold of the boat. When the sun rose, our boat

had already gone far away from the mainland. I began to feel sick. I was feeling dizzy. I was

vomiting several times on the deck. Happily, the water thrown over the boat cleaned the wooden

floor at once. Many other people had been sea sick like me. When the sun was above us, being

dazzled by the sunshine, I felt feverish and exhausted. I felt very weak. Some young men who

were in the fishing family had appeared well. Vinh and An ordered them to take care of our

health. With buckets, filled with salt water, they poured them on us. Thanks to the water, I began

to recover. Elsewhere, they helped us to take a shower. Vinh gave each one a thatched hat. Mr. An

brought me a cup of milk and said:

“Drink this milk; you will get your energy back.”

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I had been feeling better in the second day at the sea. It was perhaps Wednesday 6 th July 1983. I

tried to move toward the steering room and sat down against the wall of the cabin. Some women

and children were inside. They could avoid the heat of the sun. Two older men having been

behind the cabin were fishing with their fishingrod. They had captured many mackerels and red

tuna fish and albacore. Thanks to these men, we always had fish for our meals. Vinh who was

watching the sea had suddenly cried aloud:

“Lie down.”

I had just bent down on my knees; something flying like an arrows passed my shoulder. It was

the flying-fish (exocoetidate) which had fallen down inside the boat after some hundred meters

on the air. More than twenty beautiful ones were flapping on the wooden floor of the deck. Vinh

had picked up each of them and putting into his bucket. He said:

“We have then many live types of bait to catch the tuna.”

I remembered that my mother had bought this kind of fish at the market. She had prepared

meticulously their flesh into a kind of grilled chopped fish. I had loved this food very much. To

enjoy it, my mother had made some various useful dishes: A small bowl of tasty Mam Tom

(shrimp paste) mixed with a few drops of rice liquor and lemon juice, then carefully stirred with

some added slices of hot chili. A plate of roasted groundnuts, which are a rich brown color

following the removal of their flimsy covers. Accompanying the two dishes there was a plate of

pure white rice vermicelli and a plate of spicy vegetables. Finally, she had placed a stove with a

pan of boiling oil on its top on the table. I had enjoyed it when my mother opened the grilles to

allow pieces of grilled fish to drop into the oil. The grilled chopped fish would be done in this way

to ensure that connoisseurs had received piping hot food. But under the present circumstance,

they were worthy of becoming the bait for catching mackerels and red tuna fish. We had passed a

peaceful and nice day on the boat. When the night came, Vinh and An gave me some cigarettes

and I had enjoyed them and looking at thousands of stars in the sky. *****
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The following day, at about noon, while we were taking our lunch, the black cloud covered the

whole sky. One of of Vinh’s cousin, experienced as a fisherman, who was in charge of the boat’s

navigation told us:

“A storm should be happen in the area; we have to prepare ourselves to ‘welcome’ it.”

He ordered the women and children to get into the cabin. They were sitting down closely against

to each others. All young men had to stay on the deck and in the hold of the boat. Having been

attached with the other by a cord; they had received each one a bucket that was a former military

cap helmet. In the meantime, all the fisherman like Vinh, his father, uncle and cousin, took the

bamboos to put its in order out the hold of the boat, and then they attached them to the cover of

the boat. Vinh explained this work:

“With the fagot of bamboo, we hope to strengthen our boat. Furthermore, they make our boat

larger so that the storm should not upturn it.”

In the evening, the sea began to move and the wind was blustery. The sky was wholely covered by

the dark grey. A lot of the streak of lightning had tear up the sky piercing the black cloud. The

thunder was knocking in series and from time to time, some thunderbolts descended on the

wave. The boat failed to be swept away by the wind. Vinh’s uncle cried aloud to order two

persons holding the steering wheel:

“Don’t let sweep away by the wind. Go against the wave in order to avoid the center of the storm.”

The thousand drops of the rain storm were falling off and a great quantity of water fell into the

hold of the boat. Under the order of Vinh, like the other young men, with the cap helmet, I

scooped water out of the boat to the sea. We had to increase our work so that the water did not

sink our little boat. Unceasingly, the wave became bigger and bigger. The steersmen had tried

with their force to conduct the boat away from the center of the wind. Having scooped water, I

had succeeded not being thrown into the sea. I tried to take hold of the metal hanger fixed the

boat’s side. We struggled hard with the rain, wind and wave more than three hours. It was still

raining but the wind had fallen away. Then the wave receded. At about two o’clock, our boat was
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far from the stormy area. A lot of big fishes had jumped into our boat. Some women began to

cook the meal for everybody almost for all men who had fought against the storm.
*****
On Thursday morning (July 07th, 1983), it was again very beautiful at daybreak. The semi-circle of

the sun brightly appeared at the line dividing the sky and the ocean’s surface. It was calm and

wavy. We all were very happy as we had just escaped from death at sea. Some men still slept on

the deck. They had needed to recover their strength after the hard combat with the wave and

wind over the night. I had been feeling very tired but the unutterable joy of the new day chased

away all my fatigue. Having sat down at the front of the boat, I looked at far from the line of the

horizon dreaming to the freedom hidden over the border. Vinh and An came to join me. They

gave me a cup of coffee. In lieu of breath the fresh ocean’s air, we smoked together. I remarked

suddenly at many birds hovering over the sea. I told Vinh:

“The mainland should not be far from here; there are many sea’s birds.”

Vinh said:

“It is impossible. According to our ocean’s map, there are about one thousand nautical miles to the

Philippine archipelago.”

I watched attentively the surface of the sea and said:

“Why the sea doesn’t have the same color? I see some areas of which the color of the water is not

dark blue.”

An told us:

“We risk sailing into the coral islands.”

Vinh ordered the helmsman to slow down and went searching his military binoculars. We began

to organize for avoiding the other danger. Vinh watched the area before the direction of the boat.

An and me must help him to survey each both the left and the right (starboard). We tried to guide

our boat advancing slowly and safely on the nautical road. I shouted from joy seeing some

dolphins swimming far out from the starboard:

“Look! The dolphins.”

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I wondered if there were the dolphins in this area; we should be in the deepsea zone. I told Vinh:

“I think we could follow the direction of these dolphins; we would be safed.”

Thanks to these beautiful intelligent fish, our boat could run more and more quickly. From far out

of the sea, I caught sign of some silhouettes of the ships, more and more clearly.
In the evening, at about six o’clock, on our navigation way, a big warship was advancing toward

our little boat. Vinh gave me his binoculars so that I could see this monster. An immense dark

grey metal block was progressively appearing before my eyes. I had suddenly felt fearful. It

seemed that the warship had already known the presence of our boat. I told Vinh:

“A marine solder makes a sigh to stop our boat.”

This boat could not be immobile on the sea but it was only slowing down. Ten minute later, our

helmsman had succeeded to hold down the boat at the fixed spot. About twenty meters from us,

many marine solders looked at us as they watched the weird people. I tried to shout aloud:

“Please rescue us. We are out of force.”

Some marines had gotten their cameras and taking picture of our boat. Without response, the

warship began to move again and leave away. In the night and the whole Friday, we had been

crossing also some ships on the ocean’s way but we had understood not to disturb their normal

cruise.
On Saturday 9th July 1983, we had penetrated into the Philippine territorial waters. This country

was an important archipelago. In other words, more than seven thousand islands constituted a

nation. I saw many boats circulating in the sea areas. They were little wooden bright colored

fishing boat ones having two floaters on each side. One of them had approached to us:

“Are you Vietnamese? Yesterday, two boats had reached our island that is not far from here.”

Everybody would like to go at once to the mainland. Vinh looked at An and me trying to know our

opinion. I said:

“I think we are better to go straight to Manila, the capital of Philippines, located in the Manila bay.”

An asked the Philippino fisherman:

“How far is the Manila bay?”

 427

He answered him:

“It is about four or five hours of the navigation. If you want to be sure of the direction, try to locate

some merchant service ships and follow them.”

Mr. An said thank-you and told Vinh:

“We may stop on the little island for lunch and to continue on in the afternoon.”

As our boat had cast the anchor near a very beautiful natural and wild beach; I plunged into the

blue green water… I was feeling the first impression of freedom. Several people imitated me

jumping into the azure water.

At noon, our boat began to go following many kinds of ships. As the fisherman had spoken to us,

we were in the middle of the navigation international way. A hundred cargo ships carried goods,

plies, and materials. As I had very much love the ships and planes by small scale model, I had

tried to know how or what the sea was like. So I could now distinguish many sorts of ships. I

showed An and Vinh:

“Here is the cargo-ship that carries bulk and containers. It transports materials such as coal,

rubber, copra, tin wheat. Container ships are used for the carriage of miscellaneous goods. There, it

is tankers and two navy, perhaps warships we had met two days ago.”

Vinh told me:

“Please, tell me which ship will go to the Manila bay?”

I tried to pick three ships which would go to Manila harbor: 1) the passenger ship. If I saw it here,

it should certainly go to Manila to drop and take people at Manila city; 2) the cruise ship. Because

the Manila bay was a famous tourism place with many beautiful islands; 3) the ferry. That was a

form of transport, carrying (or ferrying) passengers and sometimes their vehicles. I showed Vinh

an ocean liner on the side of which was painted happily a Philippine flag. This one was a

horizontal bicolor with an equal bands of blue and red, and with a white equilateral triangle

based at the hoist side; in the center of the triangle is a golden yellow sun with eight primary

rays, each containing three individual rays; and at each corner of the triangle is a five-pointed
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golden yellow stars. Vinh took out of his pocket an exercise book inside of that flag of all

countries had been drawn. He turned some pages to search for the Philippine flag. Then he

watched one of the passenger ships which was sailing parallel to our boat. He told me:

“I see the same flag which was painted with the red field on top and the blue one underneath.”

I tried to draw from my memory a geographic lesson of Philippine. I remembered always in my

mind the word of my teacher:

“Please bear in mind that the Philippine flag is displayed with the blue field on top in times of peace,

and with the red field on top in times of war.”

I told Vinh what I had thought:

“I believe we have to follow this passenger ship.”

In the afternoon, we arrived in Manila bay following the guide of this ferry. I saw many other

ships which went in the same direction. Our boat had just passed into the entrance about 19 km.

Two small sea-faring vessels that seemed to be the police agencies to patrol bodies of water were

coming in eager haste toward our boat. They ordered us to slow down and stop in the middle of

the bay. Three policemen climbed onto our boat. They seemed to be accustomed with this

problem. One of them began to number each of us. Then they asked:

“Do you speak English?”

Mr. An and I were hands up. I said:

“I can understand if you speak slowly.”

The policeman told us:

“The children and women will get into our boat on our left. All men stay in your boat.”

Their boat approached closely to our boat. They helped about twenty people to move onto the

police boat. Then their vessels escorted our boat to the Manila port. In the mainland, four grey

vans were waiting to take us to the police station. It was about five p.m. They divided us into two

groups. A policeman asked me to be with the children and women so I could serve as interpreter

for them. Then he conducted us to one of the cells located behind the main house. We all
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staggered along like being drunk for a week floating on the waves. A moment after, some people

come bringing us mattress, change of clothes and soap. A police woman said:

“The toilet and shower are behind this room. We will help you to do what you need. At seven p. m.,

we will serve you supper.”

The Sunday July 10th, 1983, we sat down behind the bars of the police stations’ cells. Police

agents would work with us tomorrow, because they did not work on Sunday. We all looked happy

for our freedom is being found… I thanked God.

Sunday 20th January 2008

(Written by Ngo Dinh Si)
 430

PART TWO 1
1) Seminary, Sea and Nha Trang city 104
2) Liberty versus Socialism in High School 110
3) The long travel for the New Year 116
4) The Dragon’s Lunar New Year 122
5) Friendship, country and ideology 130
6) Kieu Sa, a friend budding poet 137
7) The dissolution of the seminary 143
8) The birth of the ten’s group 150
9) Father Thaddeus, a scapegoat 157
10) The exam of A-Level 162
11) A glorious success 167
12) Suspicion and investigation 174
13) Peninsula Binh Ba 181
14) A blue summer 187
15) A new life 193
16) The Stella Maris 197
17) Taking cassock 203
18) Making rice alcohol 209
19) Christmas event 214
20) Philosophy courses 220
21) Le Teê t of Horse (Maê u Ngo, 07/02/78)225
22) Peppermint’s Plantation and distillation 231
23) Tobacco’s fabrication 237
24) Escape from death 243
25) Good bye le seminary 247
PART THREE: 253
26) The Bishop’s House 253
27) Autumn 1978 259
28) First vineyard 264
29) Mont LaSalle 269
30) Morning glory fields 274
31) Festival of Christmas Hymns (December 1978)

280
32) Trip to Dalat (01/1979) 286
33) Song Pha 292
34) Event of Stella Maris 299
35) The New Year of Monkey (1980) 305
36) The return of father Thaddeus310
37) The New Year of Rooster (Thursday 5 th February

1981) 316
38) Enlistment 322
39) Petrol’s preparation 327
40) Buffalo accident 332
41) Thuy, the water in the summer 338
42) The first nightmare in the Bishop House 343
43) Ha Lieê n bay, second nightmare 348
 431

44) The new life outside of the former community

359
45) The New Year of the dog 367
46) Khanh’s family 375
47) The death of the ten’s group 382
48) Hung, an unbeloved bear 391
49) Truc Doan, a pretty fairy 397
50) Vinh, a fishing gentlemen 406
51) Brother Trong, pragmatic musician 412
52) What deceptions!!! 421
53) The Crucial Day 427
54) On the waves for the freedom 434