Introduction
I have always wanted to write 3 books in my life: the first one on where I come from and what makes me ME, the second one on my struggle through life, and the third one on my message after I am gone.
I did a draft on my first book, gave it a title, “Agony of a People”, and told my childhood stories and the impact left by the war on my people, our culture and way of life, an unseen scar which still has its effects through generations, sometimes so well described by poets, writers, film makers, sociologists and the likes. I never published this book, and worse, I lost my manuscript in one of my journeys.
I plan to call my third book, “A Mother’s Love”, which I ponder on the subject of Love and Compassion, as expressed through plenty of experiences of sacrifices from mothers I encounter, start with my own. But let’s get back to my present concern, my struggle through life, which I intend to name: “Back to Square One”.
Back To Square One - This is the letter that many of my childhood friends have been waiting from me, since I left Vietnam 25 years ago, as a happy bride for Switzerland
... I would like to share some anecdotes of my life with all readers of this book. The theme which I wish to develop is around the concept of karma and the impermanence of life. This is the reason why I name this book “Back to Square One”, in Vietnamese, it would be translated “Tro ve con so khong” ( meaning back to case zero). Through understanding the impermanence of life, we can contribute to get our own “liberation” out of the life and death wheel of life (luan hoi sanh tu).
My knowledge of Buddhist theories is still at the first stage. I was born a Buddhist, have practiced Buddhism throughout my whole life, started studying Buddhism as a subject at age 50, that is some years ago, and yet still not know much on the subject. All I remember from the teaching of my mother is that “When you are not causing harm to others, you are already doing good to them”. When I had my first lesson in Buddhism, the rule was very simple: “Practice the five principles, that is, do not kill, do not lie, do not say bad or wrong things to or about people, do not steal, and do not involve in adultery”. I find it wonderful and easy to start with these five principles as it is within the reach of everybody who wishes to be better.
With this simple approach in mind, I hope, with practice, I will, by the time this book is accomplished, to get a clearer view of my own life experience, as witness to the evolution of the everchanging and multicolor of what we call LIFE.
Have a good reading!
Extracts from part main events in my life, my book project
ReplyDelete4. 1982: Meeting Kurt. He was on visit in Vung Tau, urged by a need to come to Vietnam, and understood WHY when he met ME. He had been waiting for his entry visa to Vietnam for SEVEN years since 1975. He was on his accident bed when he learnt about Vietnam’s last days and had set his mind to visit my country. Short encounter on the beach. I was guiding my tour and about to send them back to HCMC. Kurt sat at a table beach and I said „Bonjour, vous êtes Suisse“. He then replied „Oh, vous êtes surement de la police de sûreté, avec mission de me suivre“. I then said „it’s fine, I only wanted to say Hello because you are a visitor to my country, and I speak French, but if you feel you are spied on, then have a nice day“ and went off. „Oh no, I would like to meet up with you again“. In the hotel lobby, he squeezed his address into my hands and invited me to come to Switzerland for a visit. One year later, he came and asked for my hands. Our engagement was celebrated in secret, with the witness of a Canadian Diplomat, Robert, an ex-Senator Lawyer of South Vietnam, Mrs...
My parents were not allowed to come to the ceremony due to security reasons but agreed to meet up with Kurt in a temple in secret. During the engagement ceremony, I fainted due to exhaustion and emotion and fell sick the following days after Kurt left for Switzerland to take care of the formalities regarding my application to marry a foreigner through the Swiss embassy in Hanoi. To me, that was like a fairy tale, and it happened to ME. Only, in fairy tales, it just ends with a kiss, and never says HOW to proceed with the marriage, paper work, exit permit, visa for my new country, etc.
To Zee Beck, my American Teacher in Dalat (1973) who had introduced this poem to us in class and to all my friends in the same class: Hanh Dinh, Diep Huong, and all those whom I never met again since then.
ReplyDeleteTwo roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.
The Road Not Taken (Robert Frost, 1916)
My parents, me and the war
ReplyDeleteGrowing up in Vietnam during these years, I was seldom exposed to the reality of war, except from stories by my mother who joined the resistance at age 16 while on holiday in Bao Loc, the family's Tea Plantation. I learnt from her story how my grandfather, the owner of the plantation which covered the majority of Bao Loc-Di Linh Province, became a Viet Minh leader, after leaving behind all his possession, to join Hochiminh's call for independance in 1945. He was killed by French troops not long after. My mother, who was a French-educated and beautiful young girl, spent her youth as a nurse taking care of minorities ethnics under control of the Viet Minh leaders. She was made prisoner by French troops, was released after one year in Phanthiet jail, then eventually moved to Dalat where I was born. I was sent to French school in Couvent des Oiseaux, thereafter to Lycée Yersin and took classes in English with American advisors and GI's who came to class with an M16, ready to shoot at the first suspicious alarm. Nevertheless, I followed my 19 evening classes during these 3 years and got my Certificate of Proficiency in English and even the Michigan Certificate of Proficiency, without being killed. A wonder!!! I did not know about the activities of my parents until after 1975, when I came back, escaping the "re-education" stay at my own uncle's headquarter in Bien Hoa. He had become a very high ranking Officer of the FNL/NLF and had spent 30 years of his life in Cu-chi tunnels, directing the whole resistance activities from there.