My life is a photo montage

Hello blog friends! Again, I apologize for the long lapse in posting. It’s actually been kind of a rough time around here recently. A host-family change, some relational upheaval and the mid-service term blues all conspired to give me a pretty traumatic past month. I don’t really feel like spelling it all out on the good old world wide web, so if you’re curious, you can either (a) ask a close friend or family member of mine when you run into them at the supermarket or (b) email me (rosabethbk@gmail.com) and I’ll probably be happy to hear from you give you an update.

In my new host-home, I have my own room. Previously I shared with a 23-year old host-sister. I feel kind of crappy about my Western space-hogging sensibilities, but there they are none the less. I really like having some space to call my own. So recently I’ve been enjoying such luxuries as putting my posters and photos up on the wall, joyfully lingering over the arrangement of my possessions, swinging my window opening in the morning (my old room didn’t have one), being naked when I want to be, reading my book undisturbed, lighting a candle, doing yoga, and listening to the music of my choice. In a time when I’m in need of some extra self-care, these small joys of self-possession are indeed a blessing.

During a recent yoga practice, I was listening to music on my laptop, and after the allotted 5 minutes of inactivity, the screensaver kicked in and began cycling at random through my photos. Every time my eyes came forward, I would catch a glimpse of a moment in my life that happened to get captured in the click of a camera.

Eventually, I stopped the yoga all together and went to squat (Asian style) in front of the shifting screen. As each picture came up, it seemed to trigger a bursting sunbeam in my head, illuminating some forgotten grassy hollow of my brain. And as each memory presented itself and I stumbled forward to meet it, its smell, the touch of it on my cheek, its feel in the pit of my stomach, and its fullness in my mouth broke open before me anew. Like one of those hinged plastic Easter eggs filled with the chocolate of my rich and joyful life so far.

Eventually, the computer completed its screen-saving mission, switched to the blank, black colour of sleep, and I returned to yoga. But those 10 transcendent minutes of photo montage have stayed with me and I keep returning to them in my mind and to the memories they recall.

I arrived in Viet Nam with the determined intention to be PRESENT in the PRESENT!, the idea being that the past, the future and all beings outside my immediate experience should not distract me from fully sensing each moment as it comes. Sounds good, right? However, in practice, the rewards of pursuing the present have proved frustratingly illusive to me.

I don’t really know what’s gone wrong with my intention, but seems it’s time for me to try something new. After beating the present to death and succeeding in the production of a muddy pulp, what a breath of fresh air to recall times when I wasn’t even trying, yet the sun made my hair glow, familiar arms fitted themselves comfortably around my waist and thankfulness poured from my heart and out my eyes.

Not so long ago, I’d say I had pretty much come to terms with being unhappy in Viet Nam... I’m here, this is a good experience, it’s worthwhile, but it is not and will not make me happy. At this moment in time, mostly thanks to the rousing effect of a couple recent crises, I’ve decided that, in fact, I’m not quite ready to settle for suffering.

With new inspiration and a new lack of clear intention, I’m feeling ok with the good sensations that come along with remembering the past. It feels good... in the present.

As I gazed into the pixilated past and lounged in memories of North American sunshine (SE Asian is more into hazy brightness), a more recent photo from Viet Nam came up... and somehow that one made me smile too. And I thought about how, in future when I’m somewhere else, I’ll see that picture and warmly recall the moment it features. So now I’m relishing thoughts of the future, and it feels good too… in the present.

It seems to me that enjoying the present has something to do with not getting stuck in it—just as you should not get stuck in pondering the past or the future—because the present was also the future and will also be the past... and the linear spectrum of past, present and future… it melts together into a sphere of being.

Below are some of those photos that flashed by. I know this blog is supposed to be about Viet Nam, but when the past, present and future are all running together, I guess it's all relevant...

In the world, there are open spaces for breathing. I'm especially partial to the ones in my hometown.

I love people who smile when you kiss them, especially Maria.

Fresh cookies and warm light are delicious.

Me Lien (old host-mom), me and the pomelo peal enjoy each others' company.

Snow falls from the sky and Sarah and Miriam are my friends.

The Millrace + Bethy + bicycles + a Goshen summer + yoga + blue sky = my bliss.

The week before leaving for Viet Nam, the love surrounding and pushing me off was basically overwhelming...
"I can't stand feeling so full of happiness anymore, I just need to leave!"

I remember am capable of doing crazy things... like shaving all my hair off! It's fun. And then it grows back.

Christmas and such

Dearest blog readers,

In fact I have not dropped off the face of the planet! My sincerest apologies for my neglect of you over the last month and a half. So much to report on! Here's some of it...

My dad and I recently spent a lovely week and a half together over Christmas! He arrived in Ho Chi Minh City (the national capital in southern VN) where he met up with Max Ediger (MCC co-worker of mine and old Bethel College friend of his), and the two of them spent about a week working their way north, visiting American (Vietnam) War-related sites all the way. They were both involved in the anti-war movement back in the day, so I think it was a fascinating experience to visit some of those places they did not go. Well, actually Max as in VN during part of the war with MCC... in any case, still interesting. Hannah and I met up with them in Hue, a small-ish city in central Viet Nam. Here we spent a day in the old De-Milliarized Zone, the DMZ, which divided North and South Viet Nam during the French and American occupations. We visited a network of tunnels used during the war by villagers in hiding and resistance fighters, as those who opposed the Americans are known here. Right: Hannah and me feeling a little clostraphobic, closely followed by Indiana Jones, a.k.a, my father Dennis. Below: Papa and me after exiting the tunnels (wheew!) near the shore of the South China Sea.

Also in the DMZ, we visited the cite of an American air base, compete with rusting war relics and a small museum. Below left: an old killing machine now surrounded my wild flowers. Below right: a photo in the museum titled "Vinh Linh female militias' smile." Though it seems the Americans have never really realized it, we were largely defeated by women in Vietnam. For example, the American soldiers thought that women who wore black clothing were sympathetic to the Viet Cong, while women who wore white supported the American forces. In fact, many female resistance fighters would just change their clothes depending on the identity the wanted to take on. Who would have thought women in Vietnam could possibly be so clever?? Anyway, I particularly liked this picture because I know women here who smile just like that, and I can just imagine the laugh that follows the smile and the speeding words and intonations of a funny story being told around the lunch table. And it seems to me, when you can not just look at the pictures and read the reports about war, but know in your mind's eye how the people depicted in sound and move, war simply becomes an absurd impossibility.

We also took a family-operated boat tour down the Perfume River and visited several gorgeous old pagodas and temples. Left: Tam, the captain of the boat, Max, Hannah and Dennis. Below: a view of the tomb of King Minh Mach, though it's much bigger than what this picture shows, lots more of gardens, arch ways, walkways and pagoda-ish buildings.



All together, it was really great to have a change of scenery for couples days and visit some intriguing new parts of Viet Nam and get to share the experience with my dad, as well as Hannah and Max.

CHRISTMAS! We all returned to Ha Noi on Christmas Eve morning. My dad, Hannah and I spent the next couple of days relaxing at Derek and Ana’s house (though they were in Cambodia with Ana’s family at the time). We went to a the joint Christmas Eve service of our international church (Hanoi International Church) and the other international church in town (Hanoi International Fellowship... creative names, I know). Then we returned to Derek and Ana's to exchange gifts and generally enjoy a cozy Christmas time with hot cocoa and the Messiah playing in the background. Right: our little little Christmas tree. Left: look what I got for Christmas - a Hannah! Isn't she cute?

For the next couple of days, I took my dad around Ha Noi, visited the MCC office, we met my extended host-family for dinner and joined in the excitement of Viet Nam winning the ASEAN soccer cup! Following the conclusion of the game, he, Hannah and I walked the 30 minute walk between my house and Derek and Ana's and joined the hordes of people racing their motor bikes down the street, waving flags, beating drums and yelling "Viet Nam Vo Dich!" - Viet Nam is the Champion! Quite thrilling. And everyone thought it was very funny to see these three white people joining in the celebration. White people are so just so silly!

My dad left on December 29 after a very full visit to Viet Nam. I want to thank him for taking the time and money to come visit me here. And it's such a privilege for all involved that he was able to do these things. Since then, I've been getting on alright... sometimes more homesick, sometimes less, always learning. Please keep checking here to hear more coming in the future, hopfully with more regularity than recently! Chuc mung nam moi (happy new year) to you all!

Thanksgiving

Last Thursday the foreign Ha Noi MCCers celebrated Thanksgiving Day with a traditional-ish meal (chicken because turkey is quite expensive, tropical fruit salad instead of cranberry sauce and green bean ice cream with the pumpkin pie) and the first carol singing of the season. It was fun to be together and practice some familiar rituals, even far from home.

The group included Hannah and me (the SALT couple); Derek, Ana, Lucas and Chase (CR family); Thadyus, Tra and Quinn (Derek's brother and family who also live in HN); Hiro and Sawako (MCCers from Japan); and Max (SE Asia MCCer extraordinaire). See us in Thanksgiving action below...

Sawako and Lucas prepare the green beans

Hannah and I are domestic goddesses

An di! (Eat up!)

Hannah (with Lucas's help) led us in some post-dinner Christmas song singing

More than just a host-family in VN!

So apparently I have some real family here too! (Though I should say my wonderful host-family is feeling more and more family-like all the time.) I actually knew this before coming but was just recently introduced to these relatives who live in Ha Noi.

The relation goes something like this: my mother's brother, Steve, married Therese, who is a Vietnamese woman born in Ha Noi. They met in France and continue to live there today. Therese's brother, Khang, also born in Ha Noi, now lives in Luxembourg and has a job that involves traveling to Viet Nam quite regularly. So last Friday Khang invited me to have dinner with him and his (and Therese's) cousin, Khoi, and his family. We had a lovely time and I hope to be in touch with them more in the future!

Khang also showed be around the neighbourhood where his family once owned most of the property. There home is long gone (following thier departure from Ha Noi around 1954), but we walked through an alley-way under part a new house that is now there, and he pointed out some still visible tiles where the floor of their kitchen once was! Wild.

Special thanks to Steve and Therese for making this new connection happen for me!

From left: Ly (Khoi's niece), Van Anh (olderst daugter), Khang, Khoi, me, Van (Khoi's wife)

Minh Chau (3rd daughter) and her father switch places behind the camera

JustPeace in Nepal

Between October 23 and 31, I traveled from Ha Noi to Katmandu, Nepal and back in order to attend a workshop put on by the Centre for JustPeace in Asia (http://www.daga.org/justpeace/index.html), a regional civil society organization. The group as basically a loose coalition of NGOs based in about 10 Southeast Asian countries. Representatives of these NGOs gather semi-regularly to share strategy, show solidarity and generally network. The theme of the 2008 workshop was “Our Stories, Our Challenges” and it focused on finding common ground through personal stories, moving from there to identify common challenges, which in turn led to discussion of future collaboration for the common goal of a truly just peace in SE Asia.

Half of my SALT assignment is working as an administrative assistant to Max Ediger, a long-term MCCer who has lived in SE Asia for the past 30 years. (And who incidentally is an old Bethel friend of my dad’s. It’s a small Mennonite world, as usual.) He was one of the main organizers behind the workshop, and so I got to tag along as the official note-taker and future report-writer (which I am now in the midst of) and also had the opportunity to take part in group work and discussion. SALT continues to be full of wonders!

Along with enjoying the beauty of the Katmandu valley as featured below:

The view from the lovey mountainside guesthouse where we stayed and held meetings

Lots of gorgeous Buddhist and Hindu temples everywhere

Me, Max and Co Bay (one of the national MCC staff) at the top of a very foggy mountain

…The workshop participants also spent a lot of time listening, presenting, discussing and, in the case of the photo below, singing in this conference room:


For me, the workshop was all together terribly interesting, rich and challenging. It was such a new and fascinating experience to be interacting with “primary sources” concerning peace and justice work. Not a professor or North American service worker coming home to share about their experience, but people who have actually experienced torture and been refugees and child soldiers, and yet they go on living and have a personal investment in working for peace for their people. The whole week was a quite a jumble of intense learning, which I could not lay out nicely for you even if I tried. So I will offer you some select bits of journaling…

29 October
…Bobby from Mindanao, Philippines talked about this square red, green and yellow scarf that his ethnic group has traditionally used for a variety purposes. It is usually worn around the head and then can be removed to shelter it owner from rain or sun, to use as a rug on which to offer Muslim daily prayers or to bind the wound of a comrade. Bobby was explaining different ways it can be wrapped around the head, but as he was attempting to demonstrate, he had to admit that he did not remember how to do any of the wraps besides the basic one because this tradition has been all but been replaced by the wearing of cowboy-style hats. Point about the loss of traditional cultures well made. So this was making me think about how frustrating it is that even those who desire to preserve “minority” wisdom are often so estranged from it that they cannot follow its teaching even though they want to. It is lost.
And I was thinking about this in context of the conference – how the “workshop style” is based on so many “majority” assumptions: Western intellectual style (critical, linier, systematic thinking), the masculine norm (the assumption that participants are free to leave home and family in order to attend), wealth (money necessary for international travel), citizenship status necessary for international travel (which many indigenous groups do not have), proficiency in English (the common language here, though it is no Asian person’s native language)... and I was thinking about how rotten it is that I can not even think of other ways to go about this kind of event. I was thinking about it especially in the context of the marginalization of the feminine in such a form but how the “alternative” wisdom is just not there, or at least not accessible to me. And so, like Bobby and his scarf, even though I want to use my tradition, it is lost to me. How can we ever recover these things once they slip unpassed though a couple of generations??…

30 October
…My conversation with Lek (see Lek and me in photo) and Saw Mort and the week altogether has been making has been making me think about how important it is not the get stuck in theory… which I get the
feeling (at least for me) might be a tempting thing to do. Like it seems easier to critique and lament the loss of “other” cultures as the West moves in with other Western folks, as opposed to actually talking with the “others” and having to realize the complexity of the issues that comes when one is working with multiple perspectives… especially when you are the majority person attempting to analyze the situation of the minority.
I feel like it’s easy to self-aggrandize, for example, believing that Western culture has the power to destroy Eastern culture. So even as I am being saddened and outraged by this situation of domination, I am also able to feel comfort in the power of my own culture. However, this self-important delusion is destroyed when I interact with people like Saw Mort and Lek who say actually, we like some parts of your culture and want to takes these parts on and work for our own goals; in claiming these, they reject the notion that Western culture is being imposed upon them. Whoo. So even as I’m dis-ing theory, there’s a load of it! Good to have both theory and practice, I suppose…

Plenty of thoughts bouncing around and contradicting each other nicely. I guess that’s what happens when you’re learning a million new things everyday! Seriously, I wish I could just take a break sometimes. So it goes. I feel so privileged to have had the opportunity to attend this workshop, and I hope the new ideas and feelings it stirred up with continue to stew and germinate... who know what will come out in the end… whenever that is!

Things I live for in Viet Nam

1) Eating a breakfast of either sticky rice with dried garlic and dried shredded pork or fresh French bread with a fried egg and sliced cucumbers slipped in the center, both of which Me Lien buys from venders on our street in the morning

2) Squeezing by motor bikes and cars at a stop light on my trusty blue bicycle, which constantly surprises me with its amazing balancing and maneuvering abilities

3) Checking my email in the morning and anticipating messages from home, where it is then bed time, so everyone has just sent their evening emails

4) Having moments of clarity where I (think I) understand clearly what my Vietnamese co-worker wants to communicate and I can fit it into professional sounding English

5) Talking in Vietnamese at lunch time and realizing that I can say more than last week

6) NAP TIME! Always a highlight. Depending on the day, sometimes the highlight.

7) Upon waking, savoring a cup of strong Vietnamese coffee with sweetened condensed milk or of green tea with the leaves floating free in the water

8) Laughing with Hannah, Ana and Co Giang (our Vietnamese teacher) in language class as we struggle to talk in Vietnamese about our lives and the sense of achievement when we’re understood and then again the hilarity of the verbal simplicity we’re forced into for lack of bigger, better words

9) Arriving home from work/school, getting a glass of water, some fruit or a cookie or some home-made yoghurt from the fridge and sitting down at the table with Me Lien to ask about her day and try to tell her about mine

10) Going upstairs to change clothes and then laying on my bed in front of the fan, closing my eyes and taking some deep breaths to decompress from the day and particularly the bike ride home in heavy traffic

11) Sitting at the kitchen table pealing and chopping cucumbers (my latest cooking specialty, though I do also still enjoy the tofu frying) while Me Lien moves about the kitchen performing various other culinary acrobatics

12) Saying “Chao Phuong!” when she (my sister) arrives home from university class around 6pm and always being surprised by her varying daily moods – sometimes singing a song about “Rosie Rosie Rosie!” and doing a little dance of greeting, sometimes lamenting her long and tiring day and bickering with her mother. In any case, I’m always happy to see her!

13) Following dinner, calling up the stairs, “Phuong oi! Rua bat!” (Dear Phuong! Wash dishes!) to the great amusement of my parents. (Phuong usually finishes eating quickly and goes to prepare to go out with her boyfriend for the evening.) And until she comes down to help, pretending to be deathly fatigued as I attempt to wash the dishes without her help. Also very funny to Me Lien and Ba Minh.

14) In the evening, sometimes family members will come over to sit around the kitchen table and talk and laugh and eat fruit. If I’m home, I usually join them for a bit, which always ends of being an entertaining experience for all involved, as I attempt to answer questions about Vietnamese food I think is “ngon lam” (very delicious), my “ban trai My” (American boyfriend), what dress I will wear to the upcoming wedding (it’s looking like it will be the “vay den” – black dress) and everything in between.

15) Doing yoga every night before bed and looking at the moon from our open flat roof

16) Laying down in the quiet, air-conditioned (shh, don’t tell the suffering service worker police!) bedroom I share with Phuong and closing my eyes on the day

The Fam*

Almost one month ago, I moved in with my Vietnamese host-family. Soon after, I started asking myself, how on earth did I get so lucky?? I think I can probably thank MCC’s extensive selection process for that, but I still just end up feeling ridiculously fortunate about getting to live with this ridiculously fabulous family!


My family includes my mom, Lien who I call Me (mother in Vietnamese), my dad, Minh who I call Ba (father), my 22-year-old sister, Phuong, and my 14-year-old brother, Son. Additionally, almost all of Me and Ba’s siblings and their families live on the same street we do, so there is always extended family in and out of the house. All together, it’s a really close family, and I feel so privileged to be invited into that in a small way.

The family owns a small electronic appliance store, which takes up most of the first floor of the house. The set up is something like this: you walk in to the shop from the street, then if you continue back into the house, you enter the kitchen. So we’ll be sitting around the kitchen table eating a meal and someone will give a call from the shop, so Ba or Me will get up and go help them. Between the shop and the kitchen is a spiral stair case that core-samples its all the way up to the fifth floor.


So for quick virtual walking tour of the house: if you start the trek upstairs, you will first reach the second floor, which includes computer room (with internet), bathroom and living room… continuing to the third floor, you will find Phuong's and my room, my parents’ and Son’s room and another bathroom… then on the fourth floor is the family alter room and a storage room, plus a washing machine on the landing… and finally (all out of breath by now) the fifth floor is mostly open flat roof (with a tin roof over that), dived by an indoor landing – clothes lines for laundry on one side and a big open space on the other, which happens to be perfect for yoga. So there’s the house. Certainly different than what I’m used to but quite comfortable overall… not that me being comfortable is always the most important thing in this experience… but I’m not complaining too much.

To illustrate the feel of family life, I will try to narrate a typical evening around the house. I arrive home around 5pm, hot and frazzled after a 30 minute bike ride from work in rush hour traffic. Ba waves and says, “Chao, Rosie!” as he comes out to lock up my bike and waves me inside. Me comes to meet me as I walk into the house, asks me if I’m hot and tired, which I confirm, and maybe says some other things I do not fully understand but try to respond to in a reasonable way. Below is be in my full biking gear. And yes, I am also considering robbing a bank if MCC does not increase my PDA pretty soon!


I go upstairs to change clothes and say hi to Son as I pass by the computer room where he is probably playing World of War Craft. I then return downstairs to help Me and usually Phoung cook dinner. The process always involves preparing several dishes, made up of vegetables and meat sometimes mixed together and sometimes not. Plus rice, or course. In any case, almost always delicious. In the kitchen, I specialize in pointing at food and saying its name repeatedly, as well as chopping vegetables and frying tofu. Following one incident in which there was some lively music playing on the TV and I did a little dance while standing over the tofu, there is now always some “dau phu (doe foo) danzing!” involved when tofu is on the menu.

We usually sit down to eat around 6:30. Phuong graciously translates some parts of the conversation so that her parents and I can communicate in slightly more complex ways than what my Vietnamese skills usually permit. At other times, I just enjoy my food silently and revel in the occasional word or phrase I catch as it flies by. I really feel like an infant a lot of the time – not comprehending much but (hopefully) absorbing all the time. And sometimes, I appreciate not being expected to participate in conversation and tune out all together. The meal is always followed by fresh fruit, which is almost always pealed and eaten in interesting ways that incline its consumers to remain seated and eat slowly and savor the delicate flavor and the good company of other fruit-eaters around the table. Below is me stylishly sporting the peal of a "qua buoi" (pomelo in English - similar to a grapefruit) much to Me Lien's amusment.


Phuong and/or I wash the dishes… which also happens to include dancing on my part, this time “Rua bat (zu-ah bot) danzing!” (dish-washing dancing). The young people then tend to filter off, Phuong to go out with her boyfriend, Son to study or play on the computer or go school (I have not been able to figure the public school schedule yet… it seems to be happening all the time!), me to read or do homework or email. Sometimes around 9:00, Me, Son and I, plus Co (aunt) Tuyet and cousins Hai (16) and Be (13) will go for an evening walk, which is always enjoyable. See them below. I conclude most days with yoga on the roof, which I feel really thankful for. Me will sometimes come up to join in for a bit and to make sure I’m not falling off the balcony.


So there you have it, yet another long and rambling blog post! I hope this answers many of the questions that I have (understandably) been receiving. Thanks you to everyone who has been emailing and (even better!) writing me letters. I really appreciate it. Xin chao (good bye and hello) for now!


*Thank you to my dear friend Rachel Yoder for her creative abbreviating effect on my vocabulary, e.g., the “fam,” of course, stands for the nuclear family unit. I think of you every time I say it.