Vietnam 1971
She stood on the path at the edge of her village, watching them leave. Her eyes were focused on one in particular, the third one in the line, the one that stole a glance over his shoulder at her, whose eyes were as full as hers; the one who took her heart with him.
She watched as they crossed the verdant fields, braving the open space, secure that the enemy was not close. The little group headed towards the path at the other side of the field, the forest and hillside just ahead. Like a worm, they inched across the last of the field and into the green of the forest, her favorite turning his head towards her once more as he trudged behind the leader. Soon they disappeared into the trees and she knew that the path would take a slight turn, climb the small hill, and then head east. It would take him back to his home, thousands of miles from her. He'd promised he would come back for her but she knew that he'd promised the impossible. The gods were not that gracious to her. Already they had taken her older brother and sister. And now her mother was sick. But her greatest fear was what would come next, now that he and his friends had left.
She turned away from the scene, away from him and looked out over the lush green fields alongside their village. Father was out there, working. He had hopes for a large harvest this time. They would have much rice to warm their bellies this winter, thanks to the help of the Americans.
The Americans had helped with many things around the village while they were there. A new well had been dug and the school rebuilt. One, they called him Tex, had written home and many books had come. From the books, they began to learn English. And they had learned others things as well. Her brother had studied the pictures in one book and learned how to fix the old truck that sat on the edge of the village. It would be used to take their harvest down the mountain to be traded at the market. Then others things that the village needed would be brought back. It was a good book.
Her Marine had shown her a book filled with pictures. Many were of the city that was his home. He'd told her about his home, his family, his dreams… and she had dreamed with him. But now he was gone and so were her dreams.
With a sigh, she turned and walked along the path into the village. Entering her home, she smiled as her little brother scurried away from the kettle. "You are hungry?" she asked. He nodded that he was and she poured a spoonful of the rice soup into a bowl for him to eat. Then she moved to where her mother laid on the mat, sleeping. Carefully she touched her mother's head; the fever still raged. Taking the rag from the bowl of water beside her, she began to wipe her mother's brow, patting the hot skin with the cooler rag. There was little hope for recovery, but perhaps this might give some comfort.
And as she tended her mother, she thought of him. They had met early in morning in the trees behind her family's hut. He had spent the night with his men in the forest and found her as soon as the group returned to the village at dawn. They'd known this day was coming for weeks but her heart still ached. And under the cover of the trees he'd kissed her and held her and whispered his love to her. And he had cried with her. She remembered his face as he'd backed away from her, his grief plain to see in his eyes. Tears rolled down her face as she tried to focus on her mother and push these memories away.
A little while later, she heard rustling near the door. Looking up, she saw her older brother enter. He approached the two women and nodded toward the mother. "Is she any better?"
"No, the same…"
He crouched next to her. "They are gone…the Americans?"
"Yes,'" she nodded as sadness filled her.
"It is not good," he said. "Up in the hills, the enemy waits. They will be here soon."
"I know," she said.
"You must hide in the forest when they come. There are stories…from other villages," he implored.
"But what of our mother? Who will care for her?"
He glanced down at his mother, regret in his eyes. "She is beyond help, barely alive. But if they find you here…" he sucked in a deep breath. "Father will die too…from the shame."
"Alright then, I will hide in the forest. But what about you?"
"I will hide too," he assured her. "The militia will fight them for a few days but we cannot hold out long. Then we will scatter and hide…until they leave."
"Be careful, Brother. Father and the little one will need you…after."
"And you," he said heavily.
"I will be careful as well. But I lost my heart today… and my desire to live."
"You knew he would leave, they always do," her brother admonished.
"But before, I cared about them as friends. This time, I loved him as a woman loves a man. He carries my heart with him and will always."
Sighing, her brother touched her arm to give her comfort. "And he loves you as well. He asked Father for you. I'm not supposed to tell you. But he wanted to take you back with him, back to America. Father had given his blessing but the American Captain said no, there would be no wedding. It is against their policy. He was very angry when he came to explain to Father."
Tears began to roll down her face. "I know. He told me. And he said he would come back for me as soon as he could. But it will not happen. They won't come back…" She wiped her tears and took a deep breath to calm herself. "But one day, I will go to America and I will find him…one day."
Weeks passed. Their mother died and they buried her together. That night in the dark, she heard her father weeping. She rolled on her side and wept too, for her mother and for her man.
The enemy did come and they ransacked the village in anger since the Americans had stayed there. The older brother, Tuan, was in the fields but her father was in the hut along with the younger brother, Nguyen. The Communist soldiers rummaged through the family's few meager belongings and discovered one of her dresses. The father tried to tell them it had belonged to his dead wife but one of the soldiers beat him and the younger brother, fearing for his father's life had blurted out that his sister had left the village that morning. The men left in search of the daughter and found her in the forest. They dragged her back to the hut where they raped her repeatedly as the father and the brother were forced to watch. And then laughing, they left; but not before killing her father. She helped her brothers bury him next to their mother. Then she and her brothers returned to their hut.
Months passed and her belly grew large with a baby. The villagers knew what the soldiers had done; several of the girls of the village had been raped that day. All were shamed by it and shunned the girls in their grief. Saddened by the treatment, she spent most of her time in the hut, cooking and caring for her brothers.
And then the baby was born and there was no doubt; the baby had blue eyes like his father. He wasn't the product of the soldiers' rape but of her time spent with the American. It was a shame even worse than the rapes and the villagers became threatening. Even her older brother, Tuan, treated her differently. "You let him use you," he spat at her one evening. "And now he is gone and we are left with this shame."
She and the baby remained inside while her brothers worked in the fields. She only emerged when her brothers were nearby to protect her. It was that way for two years, until the enemy came back as victors and took their land. She and her family were moved to another village to work there. But she held onto her hope; one day she would go to America and find him; one day…
The new village was larger than their old village. At first, the faces were friendly and she thought it might be safer for her baby. Within a few days, however, the reason for them being there became apparent. It was a work camp. The work was hard and seemingly non-stop. And if they hesitated or made a mistake they were whipped and starved, along with everyone else there. Yet the other workers remained friendly for awhile.
But as soon as one of the women saw the color of her son's eyes, word spread and the air grew heavy with disapproval and anger. So again, she began spending most of her free time in their hut. The baby, who was now almost three, was difficult at times, energetic and feeling confined. So it became Nguyen's responsibility to take him for walks, never going far from their home.
The girl, now a woman, didn't mind so much for herself but it angered her that her people treated her child so horribly. Other children would throw stones at him as Nguyen walked him through the village. Women spat at him and swung their brooms and over time, the boy grew quiet. Then one day he balked at going out.
That night, she and Tuan talked. It was time to leave. They had heard stories of people leaving on boats and being picked up by the Americans…
A few nights later they slipped away and made their way to Saigon, now renamed Ho Chi Minh City. There Tuan found work and Nguyen went to school. She found work as well, cleaning for others. Her son was tolerated in the city, but barely. And she was looked upon as being no better than a prostitute. But still, she had hope.
It took three years to save money and then find the opportunity to leave. Finally, they found a man who would take them on his boat. They were to meet him in two nights. When they arrived, she was surprised by how many people would go on the boat with them. Once they were all on board, there was no room to move and no privacy.
She was nervous when she saw how low the boat rode in the water as they made their way out into the deep water before turning south and heading for the ocean. On the fourth day, another boat came upon them. Cramped from sitting in one place so much, hot, hungry, and thirsty, she hoped that perhaps this new boat would bring help. But men with guns ordered the boat captain to stop and the men pulled some of them off and threw them in the water. She watched in horror as they laughed at the people drowning. Then they pulled their smaller boat to land.
The men with guns raped the women and girls and beat the men. All of their belongings were stolen and they were left to die. Tuan looked after his family, bringing wood to burn for warmth and finding berries and other food to eat. Together the two of them crafted a pot from scraps left by the pirates and she boiled water for them to drink. A few days later, another boat happened by and the survivors were rescued. They were taken to another place where doctors and nurses cared for them and then they were sent to a camp.
It frightened her when they were told about the camp. Would it be like the work camp they had been sent to before, where they worked all day and were whipped and starved? The people at the camp looked tired and hungry. And there was no work. But they did not bother her or her son. Everyone there was focused on one thing, survival. Days passed into months, and then the months became years. And slowly, she lost hope.
Then a new man came to run the camp. The people were put to work with various tasks to make their camp better. The food became more plentiful and better quality. And teachers came to teach Nguyen and her son. As the boy learned, he would share his knowledge with his mother and slowly she began to learn English, not only to speak it but to read and write it as well.
Other men came wearing dark clothes and sometimes they brought women with them who wore long robes and covered their heads. But they were nice as they talked to the people and asked questions. She liked talking to them because they were kind and it helped her learn her new language. One of the men took a special interest in her son and her family.
Then one day, word came. They were going to America. And hope was reborn.
"Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without words, and never stops at all."
Emily Dickinson