Cavorting Couples

Saturday night in Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon), men drive their dates to the waterfront and park. In open areas of the city, you see rows of couples sitting on their bikes, talking and kissing.Not only is there no room to walk in Ho Chi Minh City, there’s really no reason to. The car taxi fare for a short ride is about a dollar, and no tip is expected. I was once charged a mere $18 for a ride out to the suburbs.

Still, a former New Yorker, I like to walk sometimes. This raises the ire of the motorcycle taxi drivers, who shout “Motorbike! Motorbike!”or “Motorbike you!” at me every few minutes. Meanwhile, I struggle for the nearest Vietnamese equivalent to, “No, I prefer not to ride in your deathmobile today.” Actually, to call these guys “motorcycle taxi drivers” is to glorify their behavior, as often they’re not taxi drivers but just guys on bikes who happen to be passing by. Planning my trip to the Mekong Delta village of Thanh Phong, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was nervous when I realized what a lengthy bike ride it would require.

Children guided farm animals by the side of the dirt road, which later narrowed to a single-lane bicycle and motorcycle path lined by huts made of bamboo, board, and thatch. This won’t be so off-the-beaten-track much longer. The whole of southern Bentre Province, which includes Thanh Phong, is a hive of construction work. Brand-new buildings dot the landscape, and workers with heavy equipment are at work on new bridges.

Grand Prix Biker

Back on the main road, my suspicions about Vietnamese motorcyclers were confirmed. A bike in the oncoming lane veered into our lane, attempting an impossible pass. With a family of four bearing down on us, I flinched in a futile attempt to use Sang as a steering device and—WHAM—the foot rest of the oncoming vehicle whacked my foot as it passed. Sang moved over to the right and stopped while the other driver continued his Grand Prix driving style.

“He is really crazy,” Sang said, as I got off and hobbled around. I checked my foot, and it looked okay, although by that evening my middle toe had turned blue. After a minute or two, I got back on, and we continued toward Thanh Phong. After the third ferry, the road turns to dirt with deep ruts. The forest disappears, and there are paddies and thatch huts on both sides. A sign marks the border of Thanh Phong commune. This commune was formed by merging the original village of Thanh Phong with five nearby villages, creating a town of 2,000 to 4,000 residents.

Maybe I should back up. What was I doing here?

Thanh Phong gained notoriety in April 2001, when former Senator Bob Kerrey confessed to having committed “an atrocity” when he led a commando raid on the village during the Vietnam War. I was interested in seeing the place myself and maybe finding out what effect the event had on today’s residents.

If you’re not familiar with the history, Kerrey’s U.S. Navy SEAL team killed up to 21 villagers in the raid, which occurred on Feb. 25, 1969. One victim was an old man, the others were women and children. Kerrey claims his team fired only in response to enemy fire, but this claim is disputed by a member of his own team, as well as by Pham Tri Lanh and Bui Thi Luom, survivors of the massacre. Kerrey received the Bronze Star for his conduct that night. He is now president of the New School University in New York.

Not Anti-American

So as not to keep you in suspense any longer, I will address the most common questions people ask about Vietnam. First, no, living here (I’ve been here for ?? years), I don’t encounter much anti-Americanism. My students at Vietnam National University talk about former North Vietnamese President Ho Chi Minh as if he is a god (IS HE STILL ALIVE? I HAVE TO ADMIT MY IGNORANCE. I DON’T KNOW. BUT IF HE’S DEAD, THIS SHOULD BE IN PAST TENSE), but they don’t express much in the way of political opinion beyond that. When I asked why she liked Ho, one student responded, “He could speak six languages and drove out the French.” (Apparently, this is a version of Ho’s life redacted to avoid offending the American teacher.) 

As far as current government policy goes, everyone seems to be a happy camper. They may have no choice, however. Several people I talked to seemed frightened when I asked political questions and told me that the police arrest people who discuss such issues. The first family Sang and I met in Thanh Phong commune invited us into their house and served us tea. Eleven villagers gathered around, laughing and smiling as Sang translated my questions. Nguyen Van Ri, the head of the household, explained that he had “only seven children.”

Ri, 45, was once a woodcutter, but now earns his living raising shrimp and fish. A year ago, the family moved into a newly built modern house, which cost them about $13,000. Before they moved to the new home, they had only a battery-powered radio. Now they have a television. Unlike every other television I saw in Ho Chi Minh and Mytho, this one was turned off.

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