Thầy Hùng passed away last night.
He taught me many important lessons during my stay in Vietnam and I will miss him dearly for his compassion, his selflessness, and the love he shared for those around him.
Cái chết đến sớm, hay trể, không có quan trọng. - Death arriving early, or late, isn't important. He taught me to not fear death, for it is the impact we make on others while we are alive that is truly important.
Thầy Hùng was brave enough to take a stand in a society that ostracized the sick and poor, to be the voice of compassion where it was needed the most. In his honor and in honor of all the people who have fallen to poverty, sickness, and despair, I will continue this journey that I am on with the simple goal of making the world a better place for others, to make a difference, and to be the force of change that is needed. For the orphaned children of Vietnam, for the single-mothers living in the slums, for the grandmothers who have survived to watch over all of them - I promise you I won't forget what I saw and the stories you shared with me.
When I first met him, he told me to call him Anh Hùng, meaning Brother Hung, though he was much older than myself. In fact, he was my father's age. I took it as a sign of humbleness and I later came to call him Thầy, meaning teacher or mentor. He later introduced me to the children as Chú Lộc, meaning uncle. One day, in Thầy Hùng's absence, a child called me thầy during a brief English lesson. The words resonated within me and it humbled me to even think I could be considered his peer. I am not brave enough, not strong enough to be on the same level as such a great human being. Someday, I hope to live up to that standard, even if it's only a title.
Thầy Hùng is a hero and his lessons will live on through the lives of others. That is the greatest legacy a man can leave behind and the greatest honor a human being can have. We will miss you, Thầy Hùng, may you rest in peace.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Meanderings on Life and Death
[Originally posted last night on Dave@Xanga]
Things are getting better. My apologies to those who were worried by my last post, I haven't been myself lately. Also, my thanks goes out to the great friends who have provided encouragement and support through the times when I needed someone to lean on. Sometimes, a little extra help is needed to face up to the real issues in our lives, even when a person is unwilling to admit that they need it.
Today Professor Griego, my Public Health professor, reminded us of an important mantra that students often use while taking tests, "This too will come to pass". It's not the end of the world, we just have to weather the personal storms that we are thrown into, regardless of whether those issues are caused by internal or external factors. So what can we do when things go beyond our control? Cut our losses, accept the fact that we cannot control everything around ourselves, and adapt. Adaptation, after all, is one of the key determinants to our survival.
I have to accept the fact that I cannot control suffering and death; no one can. The other night, I received an email message from Vietnam updating me on Thầy Hùng's condition. He is in the final stages of his illness, suffering from a combination of liver cancer, tuberculosis, and hepatitis - his liver is essentially no longer functioning well enough to sustain him. He has been transferred from the public, Vietnamese hospital to a French hospital where his pain is being managed more adequately. Thankfully, he will be able to pass peacefully and with dignity, surrounded by loved ones such as Leslie, his fiance, by his bedside.
They are two of the bravest people I have ever met. Leslie is an American woman, a movie director who lives in Paris when she isn't traveling. She once told me her story during a long bus ride and I was amazed at how she has overcome great personal tragedies in her life and followed her heart with her career choices. Her decisions are remarkably led by compassion for others. She and Thầy Hùng don't speak the same language, but over the course of many years they have learned to communicate with each other intuitively through a mixture of French, English, and Vietnamese. Somehow, she always knows what he is thinking and vice versa. I believe the couple, well into their fifties, are soul-mates.
Thầy Hùng has survived war, famine, and communist reeducation in a lifetime filled by what I consider to be the greatest tragedies of Vietnamese history. I believe his illnesses are the the battle wounds of surviving through so many years of hardship. Through it all, he has started two organizations to help street children and families affected by HIV/AIDS. He has changed hundreds, if not thousands of lives and in many ways, saved people from lives of even greater poverty and desperation in the slums. Several weeks before he was hospitalized, he taught me many lessons and I remember someone asking him what Smile Group would ever do in his absence. He responded, with great conviction, "Cái chết đến sớm, hay trể, không có quan trọng." (Death arriving early, or late, isn't important.) That afternoon he taught me that no matter what happens to us, we are at the very least left with our humanity and that death is only the beginning. While he is Catholic and myself a Buddhist, I find great value in his words. If we live fulfilling lives, trying our best to make the most with what we have and helping others in the process, we will have nothing to fear when death comes to take us.
The last time I spoke to him over the phone, his voice was weak but still alive with the fire of great conviction, he told me to try and continue helping the children and doing what I do. Even on his deathbed he is still concerned with helping others and saving the poor children of Vietnam. This, to me, is the most dignified way a person can live.
This too will come to pass - the pain, the suffering, and eventually life itself. Our greatest tragedies come in in the form of holding onto and trying to control that which we cannot. I cannot control death, and ultimately I have to own up to that reality because no matter how much I tell myself this fact, a part of me will never accept it. I will never accept that the world is not a fair place and that people have to suffer unnecessarily, especially when there is hope for change; I understand this value to be my greatest burden as well as my deepest motivation in life.
There is always hope and humanity to hold onto, don't ever forget that. If these great people have come and gone, surviving and adapting, changing the world around them for the better, all the while transcending their own personal tragedy, so can we. Our potential rests in our ability to make the most of what is set before us, even death. Where death exists, so does life, and with darkness comes the light of a better day, we just can't forget about that when our problems overwhelm us.
Things are getting better. My apologies to those who were worried by my last post, I haven't been myself lately. Also, my thanks goes out to the great friends who have provided encouragement and support through the times when I needed someone to lean on. Sometimes, a little extra help is needed to face up to the real issues in our lives, even when a person is unwilling to admit that they need it.
Today Professor Griego, my Public Health professor, reminded us of an important mantra that students often use while taking tests, "This too will come to pass". It's not the end of the world, we just have to weather the personal storms that we are thrown into, regardless of whether those issues are caused by internal or external factors. So what can we do when things go beyond our control? Cut our losses, accept the fact that we cannot control everything around ourselves, and adapt. Adaptation, after all, is one of the key determinants to our survival.
I have to accept the fact that I cannot control suffering and death; no one can. The other night, I received an email message from Vietnam updating me on Thầy Hùng's condition. He is in the final stages of his illness, suffering from a combination of liver cancer, tuberculosis, and hepatitis - his liver is essentially no longer functioning well enough to sustain him. He has been transferred from the public, Vietnamese hospital to a French hospital where his pain is being managed more adequately. Thankfully, he will be able to pass peacefully and with dignity, surrounded by loved ones such as Leslie, his fiance, by his bedside.
They are two of the bravest people I have ever met. Leslie is an American woman, a movie director who lives in Paris when she isn't traveling. She once told me her story during a long bus ride and I was amazed at how she has overcome great personal tragedies in her life and followed her heart with her career choices. Her decisions are remarkably led by compassion for others. She and Thầy Hùng don't speak the same language, but over the course of many years they have learned to communicate with each other intuitively through a mixture of French, English, and Vietnamese. Somehow, she always knows what he is thinking and vice versa. I believe the couple, well into their fifties, are soul-mates.
Thầy Hùng has survived war, famine, and communist reeducation in a lifetime filled by what I consider to be the greatest tragedies of Vietnamese history. I believe his illnesses are the the battle wounds of surviving through so many years of hardship. Through it all, he has started two organizations to help street children and families affected by HIV/AIDS. He has changed hundreds, if not thousands of lives and in many ways, saved people from lives of even greater poverty and desperation in the slums. Several weeks before he was hospitalized, he taught me many lessons and I remember someone asking him what Smile Group would ever do in his absence. He responded, with great conviction, "Cái chết đến sớm, hay trể, không có quan trọng." (Death arriving early, or late, isn't important.) That afternoon he taught me that no matter what happens to us, we are at the very least left with our humanity and that death is only the beginning. While he is Catholic and myself a Buddhist, I find great value in his words. If we live fulfilling lives, trying our best to make the most with what we have and helping others in the process, we will have nothing to fear when death comes to take us.
The last time I spoke to him over the phone, his voice was weak but still alive with the fire of great conviction, he told me to try and continue helping the children and doing what I do. Even on his deathbed he is still concerned with helping others and saving the poor children of Vietnam. This, to me, is the most dignified way a person can live.
This too will come to pass - the pain, the suffering, and eventually life itself. Our greatest tragedies come in in the form of holding onto and trying to control that which we cannot. I cannot control death, and ultimately I have to own up to that reality because no matter how much I tell myself this fact, a part of me will never accept it. I will never accept that the world is not a fair place and that people have to suffer unnecessarily, especially when there is hope for change; I understand this value to be my greatest burden as well as my deepest motivation in life.
There is always hope and humanity to hold onto, don't ever forget that. If these great people have come and gone, surviving and adapting, changing the world around them for the better, all the while transcending their own personal tragedy, so can we. Our potential rests in our ability to make the most of what is set before us, even death. Where death exists, so does life, and with darkness comes the light of a better day, we just can't forget about that when our problems overwhelm us.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Fear
"They need people like you, those children do, people who aren't afraid of their illness. People like me, we're too afraid even if we know..." my barber said to me in Vietnamese.
I explained to her that it's not that I am unafraid, because everybody is afraid of HIV, it's just that I understand the risks involved in what I do and how to be careful. There is nothing to fear when we really understand the reality of working with people who are ill, so long as we are safe about it.
I explained to her that it's not that I am unafraid, because everybody is afraid of HIV, it's just that I understand the risks involved in what I do and how to be careful. There is nothing to fear when we really understand the reality of working with people who are ill, so long as we are safe about it.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
An excerpt from my other blog, Dave@Xanga:
I feel like my trip there taught me innumerable lessons about life, love, compassion, and suffering. In some ways, my trip to Vietnam helped return me to my Buddhist roots, grounding me firmly in some of the tenets of Buddhism through developing an understanding of the relationship between suffering, life and death. I learned about love in all forms by learning more about the lives of others, the sacrifices they make, and the choices they are forced into out of necessity and survival. I learned about the compassion of a leader for their community and the struggle for redemption. I learned about romantic love, the unexpected connection developed between two strangers that pushes every boundary, the confluence of physical, emotional, and spiritual. I couldn't have possibly been more mesmerized by Viet Nam and what it holds in store for me for the future.
I'm back in Berkeley but I feel like I left my mind in Viet Nam and my heart on a plane heading westward, somewhere in between this country and the next. We'll see what the future holds.
Home
After more than twenty hours of flying, I am home. I am jet lagged and nocturnal, darker skinned, and slightly heavier than before I left. Life as I know it, has changed. I am still having trouble feeling grounded these days. As Jackie put it, the "real unpacking" has yet to begin.
I have yet to sort out all that has occurred in the last two months. When people ask me how Vietnam was, I simply respond with "intense" because there is no other word I could possibly think of that would sum up my experiences in Sai Gon. Jimmy said I had the full experience of studying abroad - something eye opening, something educational, and something exciting. In fact, I feel blessed to have many of each.
I will continue to write in this blog as those thoughts come to me. Eventually, I will post videos of some of the homes I've seen and my adventures. I believe this journal has mostly chronicled my thoughts on Vietnam, but the full meaning of all that has occurred has yet to reveal itself. Someday, I will look back on this summer as the two months that changed the way I look at the world, my friends, and myself.
To life, love, and happiness.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Full Circle
The past two months have been amazing. I still haven't had enough time to fully reflect on all that I've seen, or as Jackie put it "fully unpack" all the thoughts and memories that have accumulated during my travels. The last two months have been crucial in terms of preparing me to follow my dreams of starting a non-profit. I am still unsure if I want to work on the local, national, or international level, but one thing is certain - I don't have to pick any single option and it is very possible that I may do all three. What is certain though, is that I am going to find a way to help this world as best as I can.
I've come to understand poverty in its truest form. With my own eyes I saw desperation and suffering, the economic impacts of foreign trade, the sick and dying, the poor and forgotten. At times it was depressing and impossible to handle, I didn't know how to sort it all out and I still don't. There is nothing more scarring than seeing a young child with amazing potential be lost to AIDS. There is nothing more saddening than seeing a community leader losing his life to cancer. Through all the suffering I see here, there is a hope that prevails through it all, a chance for survival, a wish for a better day.
Realistically, I can't solve all of these problems and I can't prevent other peoples' suffering. It would tear me apart to take responsibility and share the burden of so much suffering, but it would also be wrong for me to ignore it. What's the solution? I can try as hard as I can to make good of what I've seen, to use all of my photographs, clips and memories to share the stories of the amazing families I've met. The stories of Ba Sau, Co Tam, Thanh Thi and of all the strong people I've met will never be forgotten in vain. I can't put an end to all the suffering that I see, but I can damn sure try.
My study abroad trip has been a journey more than anything. As this journey nears its end I can only reflect on what I've seen while being present for the finale. Tomorrow, I'll be stepping onto a plane back to the US, but a part of me will always remain in Vietnam, more than words can say and more than pictures can hold.
We'll see what the future holds, not just for me, but for this country and these people as a whole.
I've come to understand poverty in its truest form. With my own eyes I saw desperation and suffering, the economic impacts of foreign trade, the sick and dying, the poor and forgotten. At times it was depressing and impossible to handle, I didn't know how to sort it all out and I still don't. There is nothing more scarring than seeing a young child with amazing potential be lost to AIDS. There is nothing more saddening than seeing a community leader losing his life to cancer. Through all the suffering I see here, there is a hope that prevails through it all, a chance for survival, a wish for a better day.
Realistically, I can't solve all of these problems and I can't prevent other peoples' suffering. It would tear me apart to take responsibility and share the burden of so much suffering, but it would also be wrong for me to ignore it. What's the solution? I can try as hard as I can to make good of what I've seen, to use all of my photographs, clips and memories to share the stories of the amazing families I've met. The stories of Ba Sau, Co Tam, Thanh Thi and of all the strong people I've met will never be forgotten in vain. I can't put an end to all the suffering that I see, but I can damn sure try.
My study abroad trip has been a journey more than anything. As this journey nears its end I can only reflect on what I've seen while being present for the finale. Tomorrow, I'll be stepping onto a plane back to the US, but a part of me will always remain in Vietnam, more than words can say and more than pictures can hold.
We'll see what the future holds, not just for me, but for this country and these people as a whole.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Photo Update
Photo update!
Summer '07 in Vietnam: Part 5: Rice Pot
Summer '07 in Vietnam: Part 5: Rice Pot
- Cat Tien National Park
- Lan's visit to my internship
- Lan's grandfather's home
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Bước Chân Của Mình
I have three days lefts in Vietnam. The past eight weeks have been very hectic and there has been very little time for me to sit and reflect on all the changes that have occured since then. The last two weeks have been especially intense as I've been wrapping up my internship, schoolwork, and my extra curricular activities in Vietnam. I've been writing in my journal every chance I get, jotting down ideas and feelings, a quick reflection of a moment that has just passed. The vividness of those moments will never occur again and I'd like to think that in those moments when I am writing, part of me is truly present with the world around me.
I don't know how I'm going to say goodbye to this place, the friends I've made, and the bonds I've formed. Nothing is final - we'll all see each other again someday, hopefully. It just might be a little while. I am of the mindset that whichever roads we choose to follow in life will curve and wind, intersecting again and again with roads we've been on and roads we have yet to see. Life becomes an adventure, a dream to be boldly chased after, a journey without a destination.
The past is past, all that's left are foot prints to be washed away with the next rainstorm.
The past is past, all that's left are foot prints to be washed away with the next rainstorm.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Six Days
Six days left and I'm stuck in a Saigon love story.
Four days left and she's going back to Hawaii.
Life in Vietnam, for all it's worth, is complicated.
But it's alright because I have many stories to tell and many adventures to speak of.
Stories of being a gentleman and being caught in the rain to catch a taxi cab, of salsa dancing in the best night clubs in Saigon, and of waking up in the rain forest under a mosquito net. I have ghost stories, family stories, and personal histories to tell...
In due time.
Four days left and she's going back to Hawaii.
Life in Vietnam, for all it's worth, is complicated.
But it's alright because I have many stories to tell and many adventures to speak of.
Stories of being a gentleman and being caught in the rain to catch a taxi cab, of salsa dancing in the best night clubs in Saigon, and of waking up in the rain forest under a mosquito net. I have ghost stories, family stories, and personal histories to tell...
In due time.
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