I have become accustomed to the daily procession of maimed people begging for money or wanting to sell some souvenir or another in the hope of improving their pitiful lives.
Whilst I feel sadness for their meagre lives and often think of my own fortunate life, my spiritual beliefs and values enable me to avoid feeling overwhelmed and consumed in sympathy although I do feel empathy and often great admiration for a race of people who despite the atrocities inflicted upon them, still manage to find it in their hearts to be genuinely friendly and polite.
That is until yesterday, I felt my heart crack and the tears freely roll down my cheeks. I was completely overcome and even now feel immense sadness as I recall that moment.
It’s not unusual to see a young person leading an older person, blind or with some disability that prevents them from getting about by themselves.
The very sight of this young man leading the older man who was obviously blind really rocked me. The whole of the blind man’s pupils were pale grey/white, like the worst case of cataracts I have ever seen. In one sense I was horrified and momentarily found it hard to look at him, he looked like a character from a horror movie. I was both appalled and deeply saddened at the same time. I don't recall feeling this mixed emotion before and struggled with my feelings. My heart skipped a beat as I tried to come to terms with what was happening.........fight, flight, freeze.............
It was also something about the young man leading him along, the humility, something that seemed different from the norm. Perhaps it was my own moment of humility and awareness.
Later that day, a visit to the War Museum was an interesting if not sobering experience. There were all manner of aircraft on display in the grounds, all sorts of weapons, artillery and bombs used during the war. I was fascinated by the Huey’s…once a force to be reckoned with, now languishing, their huge, black hulking bodies, rotors hanging limply. I find my mind wandering……..I hear the sounds of the rotors, thwack, thwack, thwack, I’m reminded of the music of the time, Jimi Hendrix, Steppenwolf, Buffalo Springfield………back to reality, here they are sitting on the scrap heap amongst piles of rubble that surround the perimeter of the yard.
Information provided stated the atrocities inflicted by the US and from a Vietnamese perspective, it’s probably pretty close to the truth.
Many large photographs lined the walls inside the museum, a story unfolds of how the US tortured and killed innocent peasants, no mention of the Viet Cong! The most graphic was of a US soldier carrying the remains of a dismembered body, the only recognisable part was the head. Then there was the display case which held deformed foetuses, a grizzly reminder of the legacy of Agent Orange that destroyed more than vast tracts of forest.
Quite a large area was dedicated to the victims of Agent Orange poisoning and phosphorous bombing. Many photos were of babies born in the mid nineties long after the war was over. Many photos of adults burned, disfigured, without limbs, children with huge over sized heads and small beady eyes. As is the case in the west, the repercussions of Agent Orange have become a generational catastrophe that lingers on even today.
It was such a fascinating and yet disturbing experience being at the War Museum in Saigon and being part of a silent and slowly moving procession of people of all nationalities edging their way around the 'displays'....how many people understood the English translations, how many felt repulsed by the sights of dismembered and battered bodies of men, women and children, how many would have welcomed the opportunity to verbalise their distaste at the propaganda so proudly being displayed here.....how many even understood how this would be perceived by the western mind as propaganda....there was such a mix of emotions playing out in that moment in time......all consuming....amidst a large prescence of military personal 'patrolling' the museum.
In stark contrast to so many of the beautiful tourist attractions all over Vietnam, this attraction conjured up all sorts of emotions and memories for me, after all, this was MY time....the Vietnam War as we know it and the American War as it is known in Viet Nam.
And after touring the war museum and the Cu Chi Tunnels, it's not hard to get a completely different perspective on who the enemy was in this war, whether real or perceived.
Despite all this, It never ceased to amaze me, the level of genuine friendliness of the everyday people towards us, Aussies and other foreigners.....we in the west could learn so much in so many ways from spending time in countries such as Viet Nam, Lao and Cambodia.....they have suffered much from war, oppression and poverty, and yet still manage to smile and be polite.............
Copyright March 2011
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