Sister Phượng carrying stuff for wounded war veterans.
Photo by Nguyễn Tín
Phạm Thanh Nghiên * Translated by Chấn Minh & friends (Danlambao) - On the morning of October 1, 2019, two days after the demolition of our home, I went back to the Lộc Hưng Vegetable Garden Area (LHVGA). Before going back, I had promised to myself that I will not cry no matter what. And yet, once I got there and as I stood over the rubbles that used to be our beloved home, tears couldn’t stop streaming down.
I burst into tears. The familiar narrow road, the rental homes of the poor working class and the lush green rows of vegetables all had dissapeared in just one night. I walked slowly and gingerly over the piles of rubbles. With each step, my legs felt rubbery as if they would buckle and make me fall down. And I just couldn't stop the tears that rolled down my cheeks and the sobs that welled up in my throat.
The boundaries between the rental homes were no longer visible. But I was able to recognize the tiny and well-trodden dirt path that led into Chị Phượng’s home. And so down that path I went. Now and then, I saw some of the residents of the LHVGA. They were crying as they squatted on top of the rubbles. Only a few days ago these rubbles were the homes within which they once they walked around, smiled, talked, and lived out their lives. Some of the people I saw couldn’t even cry. They just stood there shaking, listless and dispirited.
Then I saw “chị” (“older sister”) Thúy, chị Trâm, Mrs. Hiển, Mrs. Lan, “anh” (“older brother”) Thịnh and my husband. Only two days has passed since the demolition of the LHVGA and yet each one of them looked so haggard and miserable.
- Anh Thịnh!
I called out to him. The two of us rushed into each other’s arms and cried.
The same thing happened when I met Mrs. Hiển, chị Thúy and chị Trâm. We just hugged each other and cried. And then we tried to comfort and lift each other’s spirit so as to be able to overcome this hardship.
I looked out for Chị Phượng. There she was, carrying on her back the mattresses and the folding beds that the wounded veterans of the armed forces of the Republic of Vietnam used. Her load was heavy, and she struggled hard to make her way over the rubbles. She saw me too but pretended she didn’t and turned her face away because she didn’t want to cry.
I took my phone out and started to livestream the whole scene directly on Facebook. I want the public to see and know what happened here. I want them to see with their own eyes the horrible destruction and the terrifying ruins that the government had caused and created. I want them see that nothing remained here except for a gigantic pile of rubbles. Within these terrifying rubbles were the rental homes belonging to chị Phượng. I lived in one of these rental homes for many years and had become so attached to it. Also within these rubbles was the home that my husband and I just finished building and inside of which we slept just one and only one night.
For the people who used to live in the LHVGA, nothing remained but despair and the feeling of powerlessness. They lost everything and waiting for them in the future are a growing pile of debts, poverty, and destitution. Many lives will be destroyed. Many will no longer have a future. Some of them have even gone mad, such as Mr. Tám who was sent to a mental hospital.
And the losses were not limited to the 468 homes valued at 77 billion VND, or the 4 taels of gold and 46 million VND that vanished from the homes of the people without a trace. We can measure material losses, but we can’t even fathom or compensate for spiritual ones. The government had cleverly picked the date for the demolition of the LHVGA to inflict maximum pain and suffering. The Tết New Year celebration is just around the corner.
As I ended the livestream, I still couldn’t stop sobbing. I didn’t want to keep crying and crying, but somehow the tears kept pouring out endlessly. These tears made my eyes blurry and I can’t see anything clearly. I had to sit down. And so I sat right on top of the knick-knacks that once were in my home and now were waiting to be trucked away.
- Don’t you worry about anything. I was able to rent some storage spaces not so long ago. You can go home now to take care of your baby Tôm. My husband, Mr. Tú and I will take care of everything here.
Chị Phượng talked to me as she handled some knick-knacks.. He voice was calm and steady, as if nothing happened.
I felt embarrassed. It is always like that. If anything bad happened, if a hiccup or concern cropped up, she could always handle them. She and her husband have always made me and my family feel warm and safe.
She speaks plainly. Even the way she address others is also...different. For me, she could have used the word “Chị” or “older sister” to refer to herself because she is older than me. But no, when talking to me, she always says “Đây” meaning “Me Here” and she always calls me by my name, “Nghiên.” And when she talks to my husband she addresses him as “Ông Tú”, or “Mr. Tú” and uses the word “Em” or “Younger Sister” to refer to herself.
Of the victims of the destruction of the Vegetable Garden Area, she and her family are among those who suffered the most. She lost ten rental apartments and a beautiful house she just finished building.
After August 1, the landlord that she was became a homeless person. And it wasn’t just her who became homeless. It was her entire family. The family roamed the city streets during the day. At nightfall, they looked for a friend’s house to have a place to sleep.
But just a few days after the destruction of the LHVGA, she threw herself back to her work. She went to the Office of the Justice and Peace organization to continue supporting the wounded veterans of the armed forces of the former Republic of Vietnam. She and her husband have helped the Redemptorist priests in this line of work for many years.
She was dedicated, enthusiastic, dynamic and effective. She never bragged about herself to anyone. Instead, she threw herself wholeheartedly into activities including fighting for prisoners of conscience, freedom and human rights. And she did all of the above quietly, silently, without the need for recognition from anyone.
Throughout the two weeks after the event, when houses were demolished and land taken away, not once did I see her cry in public.
A few days ago, she and her husband came to visit us at our new rental home. Anh Thịnh, her husband, told me proudly:
- The two of us went into the LNVGA several days after its demolition to look for some lost items. With her flashlight, Phượng found your sandals. She said: “Look, the worn blue sandals that Tôm’s mom used to go everywhere!” And then she cried.
That was good. A good cry can sometimes ease the suffering, the anger and the pains that she must bear.
A distraught couple contemplating the ruins of their former home.
Photo by TMCNN
The three years that I rented a home from her were happy, heart warming, and peaceful. I am a woman living away from home, a “foreign bride from a faraway land," so to speak, but I never felt that I was living in a rental home. I felt that lived in a true home that was really mine and that I was attached to. And today, the communists have totally destroyed this LHVGA and turned the people who are closest to me, namely Chị Phượng and her husband and many close and beloved neighbors into homeless people. They have also denied my husband, my baby Tôm and me shelter.
If she knew that I was writing about her, she would surely be unhappy. But to write about her I must. Even if what I write about is so tiny compared to what I want and must write about. I want her to know that, even if I never said so before, that we cherish her and we are grateful to her and her family. Not just now, but from the time when she and her husband braved enormous dangers to shelter and nurture two returning prisoners - my husband Tú and Mr. Trí - until Mr. Trí passed away.
We are grateful to Chị Phượng and her husband not only because both of them thought of us as their members of their own family and cared for our baby Tôm as their own daughter. We are also grateful because she and her husband opened their arms to accept and care for wounded war veterans with all their heart and devotion.
May God bless and protect you, Chị Phượng.
*
English version: by Chấn Minh & friends
Vietnamese version:
Chị Phượng
