Rediscovery of my Vietnamese Roots, part 2
My sister and I decided to face our family history together in 2013. Before we came in contact with our Vietnamese family, our only tangible connection was our grandmother’s sister (and her daughter’s family), who lived in Paris.
Our parents were not overjoyed when we notified them of our plans. I remember vividly seeing the uncertainty in their eyes. They left Vietnam with so much fear and doubt engrained in their psyche, it’s hard to let go such feelings. They were unaware of the changes in Vietnam through the decades. Was it safe enough for us? Would our family accept or reject us? Remarkable isn’t it? How we humans tend to integrate fear as the most important factor when making decisions. Most of the time reality unfolds into a completely different direction than we anticipate. I’m glad my sister and I decided to overcome our fears and jumped into the unknown.
In general I’m a rational guy, but I do believe in some form of cosmic energy (you may call it fate or destiny) that guides or nudges us to the right direction, if you’re willing to open yourself up to it. Everybody has the experience at least once, when you were thinking about somebody, that the phone will ring, or message will popup from that exact person. I sincerely believe such events can’t be coincidences.
In this case, my father had lost contact with his brothers for 10 years over a dispute I can’t even remember anymore. A few months after my sister and I explained our plans to our parents, my dad’s youngest brother made contact again. What’s the chance in that? So contact with my father’s family was re-established and plans were made for me and my sister for accommodation in our oldest uncle’s house in the centre of Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City). My oldest uncle just recovered from serious heart surgery and was the main reason why my youngest uncle had made contact again with my dad. Fate it seems was bringing our family back together again.
That feeling to head into the unknown … it’s a strange sensation. It’s as exhilarating as it is scary. I remember having all these questions rattling in my mind when I stepped on the plane. How will my family receive me? Will they accept me or will they keep me at an arms length? Will they have the same characteristics like my parents? Do I even look like them? There were so many questions and uncertainties.
All my worries were debunked immediately on the first day I arrived. I barely got to know any of my newfound relatives, but somehow the unconditional trust was very much present already. “Go home with your uncle Truong”, my cousin tells to my little nephew. Without hesitation this little boy grabbed my hand and walked with me across some of the busiest streets I have seen my entire life. If you’ve been in Saigon, you know what I’m talking about.
For the first time in my life, I was engulfed with so much love, warmth and trust from people I barely even knew. A feeling I had only been able to share with my parents and my brother and sister when I grew up. So this is how it really feels to have family?
Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City) was not at all what I’d expected. I grew up with seeing black-and-white pictures of streets filled with bicycles and little houses and shops. Saigon however has grown into a concrete massive city, where millions of people are stacked together in towering houses stretching out as far as the eye can see. Motorcycles replaced the bicycle as the main form of transportation, which had huge impact on the air quality of the city.
My uncle had an appartement in District 1, which is located in the center of Saigon. It had one living room, one extra room, a small kitchen and toilet unit. If you wanted to sleep, you’d pick a pillow and sleep somewhere on the floor. If you needed to visit the toilet, you’d had to crawl through the kitchen to get into the toilet unit, which was shower/toilet and washing unit combined. If I wanted to take a shower, I’d be pouring water over my head. In this place, three generations were living a packed life together; my uncle and his wife, his daughter and two sons, one of his sons with his wife and children. The moment I stepped into that house, my life was shared with the people in that little appartement. There was no such thing as personal privacy. Living a few days like this made realize how lucky we are in The Netherlands, growing up as we did.
My father’s family is living in Saigon, whereas my mother’s family is living in Da Lat. A relative small city in the mountain area north of Saigon and the home town of my grandfather. He was still alive back then with a mindboggling age of 91. Visiting him was one of the major highlights of my first visit to Vietnam. He’s the only relative of his generation still alive at the time. Here’s a man that lived through the French occupation, the Japanese Occupation and the second Vietnam war and still alive to tell a tale or two about it. He was being taken care of by my youngest aunt, living in comfort in Da Lat. My grandfather was a CEO of a fairly large company back in the day, but lost most of his company and belongings to the state after unification. I had so much desired to get lost in his stories, the things he could have told me. Sadly I had to accept the truth that this was not going to happen, because I can barely speak Vietnamese. I remember feeling enormously guilty about it. This man had tremendous life experience and the only thing I could tell him was saying hello or that I was thirsty or hungry. Our conversation were mediated through our aunt, which made any true organic conversation impossible.
Nevertheless, it was an experience never to forget. My grandfather still had exceptional memory, remembering all the pictures and letters which my mother had sent him all these years ago. During my stay, he gave me assurance with an occasional nod of approvement and a well placed hand on my shoulder to make me feel that he really appreciated my visit. Dispite being lost in translation, we were still able to connect emotionally.
After meeting my grandfather, I vowed the following to myself: My mother must see him again while he’s still alive, no matter what. She would never forgive herself otherwise. So when my sister and I came back to the Netherlands, we managed to persuade our parents to join us on our next trip, albeit reluctantly. I’ll write my next story about this experience.
During my whole life, I did’nt have a clue from what I’ve been deprived of. It’s in little differences that you notice these kind of things. For example when you visit birthdays and you’re being exposed to parties loaded with people, family for the most part. Whereas my own birthdays were just my mother, father and the friends whom I’d invited from grammar-school. It made me feel tiny and vulnerable.
The absence of family is like an invisible presence looming around. Something everybody at home knows there is, but don’t ever speak of. To grow up in an environment where subconsciously difficult things were hidden from you, it shaped my own habits enormously. I’ve always grown up with the idea that we’re on our own. If you want to achieve something, you’d have to work hard yourself for it. Feeling uncertain and vulnerable about it was not something to be spoken of openly. This undoubtedly counted for my parents, starting out in The Netherlands with nothing, trying to be strong as they could for me and my brother and sister.
Fortunately the whole debate on refugees was totally different in the 80ies. There was a big ammount of sentiment towards Vietnamese refugees back then. So eventually the people who took care of my parents and the friends who I grew up with, basically were the closest thing I had as family. My hometown and the people in it will always be cherised in my heart for this.
However once you’ve experienced the real deal, there’s nothing that compares even close to it. I would urge everyone who has questions about lost family and relatives, to actively pursue plans to meet them. You’ll come up with one million excuses not to do it, but deep inside you know that you really should pursue it. Set aside your fears and doubts, because you never know when it’s too late. I can assure you that it will be a lifechanging experience, you’ll be able to recover bits and pieces of the puzzle that is you. It provides you with the experience and knowledge to face any problems about yourself head on! It’s wealth that no-one ever can take away from you.
So this will be my final thought on this story. I wish you all love and peace.
