Vietnamese Child

Peering into old family albums, while visiting my Vietnamese grandmother in France, revealed a treasure trove of historical wonders.

One afternoon during May, I found this wonderful photo of my grandmother, Phuong Lan.

Phuong Lan at ten

I was blown away, partly by the intensity of her gaze and the exoticism of the Vietnamese setting. I loved the way her hand reaches out to caress that leaf. It is a hauntingly beautiful photo. But its meaning deepens and inspires sadness once you understand my grandmother's past. 

You must know that my grandmother's mother, a Vietnamese princess, had eloped with a French man when Phuong Lan was only an infant. Princess Cong-Nu-Cuc-Phuong discarded her baby, leaving Phuong Lan with her father, never to return. Maybe I am imagining this but my grandmother's expression in this photo is so solemn that I can't help but feel that she would have deeply resented her  abandonment as a child.

She is ten years old in this photo and you will notice that her hair is completely shaved. I asked her why. In response, she gave a shy smile and answered, "That is the way we did things."

Since my return from France, I conducted a little research and I found that it is common practice in traditional Vietnamese communities to shave off a child's head. A newborn's hair is considered 'dirty' or not as healthy. It is believed that by shaving it off, one gives better chance for new, healthier hair to grow later. From a rational viewpoint, this practice would at least inhibit lice and other disease-carrying agents. 

Another interesting finding is that Vietnamese parents traditionally resort to practices that aim to 'confuse the evil spirits' who otherwise might harm their child. It is best, for example, to refer to a child with an unpleasant name rather than use words that praise how beautiful it is. The idea is that lurking spirits, feared for their ability to cause a child's illness or death, would not be attracted to an 'ugly' child. Similarly a girl, with a shaved head could look less attractive to the evil spirits hence ensuring that she is kept safe.

I mentioned in a post years ago, that when she married my grandfather, Yves Candeau, one of the conditions placed on my grandmother by her mandarin father was that she ought to never cut her hair. At this time, when she was twenty-four, her hair had grown long and healthy, down to her ankles. I ignore whether the shaving she had been subjected as a child had paid off, but she certainly had an abundant bunch of gorgeous hair as an adult!

And here she is in all her glory. 

She told me this is one of her favorite photos. 

When the Mongols Invaded Vietnam - A History of an Independent People

For those who do not know my grandmother, Phuong Lan and who misguidedly fall into the trap of their own prejudices or else employ irreverent condescending language towards a 'little old Vietnamese' woman, you are in for a BIG surprise.

There is nothing seemingly fierce about this peaceful, broad-faced, soft-skinned five-foot woman who enjoys the company of her little cubs (aka, her grandchildren) and demonstrates artful patience in the kitchen. But show her an ounce of disrespect or else badmouth her ancestors and you will find a woman who can defend herself. You will be subjected to a well-timed repartee whose wit is as admirable as its ability to cut to the core.

Appearances are deceptive.

When people encounter peaceful, non-boisterous others, they are tempted to judge them as weaker or else attribute their retiring demeanour to lack of ability.

In Eastern cultures especially, this attribution could not be further from the truth. Recall Lao Tzu's emphasis on seemingly soft, flowing water and its ability to carve rock over time. Strength has a different meaning in the East where one's flexibility, one's ability to 'bend' is a marker of strength.

But this should not be seen as a sign that those who bend will bend forever. The decision of whether to bend, to 'let it slide' or to fight back comes with wisdom. It comes with an evaluation of the right action to take for the greater good.

When does it become necessary to fight back?

If it is only your ego under attack: Bend. Bend.
For what is ego? Why does it matter? And would you ruin your relationships to preserve your ego?
(Though one has to discard relationships that are toxic...)

But what if your country is under attack? What if it is more than your own petty preoccupations at stake?

Since I began this post about my grandmother, I want to reflect on an impressive Vietnamese battle.
This is a battle that was fought by the Vietnamese people in the 13th century. The Battle of Bạch Đằng. It took place when the Mongols tried to invade the Vietnamese land, just as they had previously invaded most of the world and were at the time, the rulers of China.

In this battle, Genghis Khan's grandson, Kublai Khan, who had since conquered the Chinese and led to the collapse of the Song Dynasty, sent the Mongol fleet to take Vietnam or what was then called, Đại Việt.

It was a mighty fleet that Kublai sent. It had 500 vessels, manned by one hundred thousand men. Please note that the Mongols did not build this fleet. They appropriated it from the Song Dynasty Chinese and initially, the Mongol navy consisted of Chinese defectors.

 Let us see what happened in this battle, when the might of the then world, came ploughing at the Đại Việt's door...

The Battle of Bạch Đằng
The painting above shows the distressed Mongol fleet after it was lured into a Vietnamese naval ambush.
It does not look good.

It turns out that The Battle of Bạch Đằng was the third invasion into the Đại Việt by the Mongols. The Mongols had been defeated twice before but they were at it again. For this third battle, Kublai Khan had entrusted victory to his general son, Toghan. "Son, do me proud!" And for the third time, the Mongols were militarily defeated by the Vietnamese Tran generals.

In a period where the Mongols stood as the uncontested leaders of the world and had subjects across many nations, the Vietnamese successfully resisted them for thirty years.

Kublai Khan was so furious upon learning of this defeat, that he banished his own son, Toghan, for life. I suppose Kublai Khan's ego was severely trampled on at this point and his reprisal is a perfect example of someone who cannot 'bend' gracefully.

In the end, however, the Tran rulers officially agreed to pay tribute as Kublai's 'subjects' if only to avoid further war which was ruining their own people. Resistance, no matter how successful, was costing lives and so the Vietnamese accepted the loss of face and chose to 'bend' for the greater good.

I enjoyed highlighting the Mongol-Vietnamese war for two reasons. On the one hand, it illustrates what happens when we undermine our opponent. In this story, the Mongols undermined the Vietnamese. Surely, it should have been easy to take the Đại Việt given their other conquests? But it was not.
This is a reminder of the strength of what we perceive as 'little' things. It is also a reminder of the endurance and determination of those who feel self-righteous in defending their own land.

The other reason for this post is that I think the Vietnamese people are not given credit for their strategic genius and their fighting spirit. I sought to highlight their amazing achievements. They are peaceful people who for years have suffered invasions and or colonialism. Yet they have proved time and time again that they will fight, and successfully so, for their independence.

The Vietnamese resistance to the Mongols in the 13th century is only one example of their spirited rise in the face of invasion. In later years, during the 15th century Ming Dynasty, Chinese emperor Zhu Di was fully aware that the Chinese invading army was not faring well in Vietnam. He ought to have known, given that his army had since appropriated samples of Vietnamese-made firearms, known then to be technologically superior than the Ming cannons. He knew long before his death that the Vietnamese would eventually win and reclaim their independence.
And he was right. In 1427, three years after Zhu Di's death, after 10 years of battling the Chinese, Vietnamese leader Le Loi defeated the Ming army and proclaimed the Đại Việt’s independence.

There is another story along those lines... The story we are all familiar with. A story where Vietnamese soldiers were pitted against the French imperialist force and then later against the greatest army in the modern world: the US military.

Of course, there were no real 'winners' in the Vietnam-US war, since war is a harbinger of loss and tragedy for all sides. But having said that, it is clear that the US, just like the Mongols before them and just like the Chinese during the Ming Dynasty, did eventually retreat.

Sometimes 'bending' is good for all.

I leave you, now with these two strong Vietnamese sisters.

The Trung sisters. Two Vietnamese women, amazon-like figures whose story you may Google, a story that was originally passed down orally for generations in Vietnam's early history. Distrust of oral tradition has given their story a legendary reputation. But we know better.

It is not legend.

The Scroll - A Vietnamese Uncanny Tale

Seers, Shamans, mediums, psychics, visionary authors and all those who experience precognition of what is to come, have long captivated me. They find their place in my novel, The Ming Storytellers but also in this short tale which I wrote when I was fifteen. This is based on a true story told to me by my grandmother, Phuong Lan. I've often thought it would translate well into a screenplay, perhaps in a Twilight Zone styled series based in Asia. For at its core, is the uncanny, that is, the ambiguous blur between the paranormal and the way we conceive our reality to inform it with an occultic meaning.

Here it is, slightly edited. I hope you still enjoy it.


The Scroll

Lost in profound reflection, Bao Lee tried to visualise images from the past. His wooden villa in the country of Thanh-Hoa and that vast plain stretching out beyond the shaded veranda, how he missed them. The double teak wood doors with their outstanding carved characters that would automatically greet any newcomer, they seemed barred and vanished forever. It was a spacious villa and the main room, adorned with European furniture and a gallery of traditional portraits was the most impressive of sights. Who would have thought that in Annam, the central part of Vietnam there lived a province governor who had established an exact replica of a French lounge? Who would have thought that his opulence would be short-lived? But one had to admit it would have made quite an impression on Trang Trinh, the day he came, the day everything was to change. Blessed be Trang Trinh.

When the doorman introduced the newcomer, Bao Lee raised one eyebrow. Before him stood a man of whom he had heard volumes. Once they were seated in front of each other, Bao Lee examined Trang Trinh. Yes, it was the young clairvoyant. Or so the people of Annam referred to him. He would spend hours examining palms, studying books on astrology, comparing the stars' positions to that of the planets and meditating mystically. Sometimes his words were merely spoken and not evidenced by eventual happenings but there were many times where his prophecies found themselves beneficial to the imperial court. The young man was no charlatan. No, he had rightfully earned his doctorate and his abilities in the occult were a pleasure to ponder.

After a ceremony of silent tea-drinking, Trang was brief about the purpose of his presence. His father, previously imprisoned for political reasons, was determined to escape and continue his movement. But Trang knew that if the escape failed, his father would be shot. This was why Trang had imposed on the honourable Bao Lee who he kindly requested to do a favour for his humble servant, to do whatever a province chief had the power to do and help liberate the venerable Phuong Trinh.

"You will not be at a loss," affirmed Trang reverently. "Please consider that if you agree, I will thank you more than twice." Several bows preceded his departure.

At the time, people came from a multitude of villages to plead for Bao's assistance. The need for money was the reason for most of these visits. How wise he had been not to refuse this time. What would have become of him if he had not sent out the money order to pay for Phuong Trinh's bail? Reflecting on this, Bao breathed heavily. He ran his palms across his chest, arms and scalp. Yes, he was all there, in one piece. Thanks to Trang Trinh.

It had begun with the mysterious scroll. The minute Bao Lee set his dark eyes on the sealed scroll of paper, he almost felt as though it would be key to the rest of his existence. Trang Trinh was still overwhelmed with joy from the thought of his father's freedom. The fortune teller could not help but tremble lightly with emotion as he held the rolled paper gently, presenting it to his benefactor with a tender gaze.

"Thank you. Thank you," he said, bowing deeply. "May the path where you walk on be sprinkled with the most fragrant lotus petals."

Bao Lee reached to grasp the odd gift and better examine it. The parchment's surface felt smooth although somewhat tarnished because of the low quality. He was about to let open the wax seal when Trang Trinh placed a firm hand on his arm.

"Promise me! Promise me that at exactly half past noon on the third day of the fourth lunar month next year, you will take the scroll outside with you. Only then will you read the content of this letter."

Taken aback, Bao Lee said nothing. Then reluctantly, he nodded to honor the promise.

During the following three months, Bao Lee nearly forgot about the letter. He spent his working days normally, enjoying the cool of the evening without wondering about the scroll's message. Besides, his cousin whose house had recently crumbled in ruins from ravaging termites needed his assistance and busy days kept him away from the yellow paper resting on his bedside table. The doorman, his only companion, had left him and even though there seemed none to keep him company, Bao Lee ignored his growing curiosity. Being alone had no influence on him. It did not until the end of the year.

During the few weeks preceding the new year, Bao began to feel the first effects of unsatisfied curiosity. At first, the nagging in his chest was left unnoticed but as the days progressed, Bao's bedside table became the centre of his attention. He was ceaselessly roaming around the room even during his working hours, blowing the dust off the faded paper even when it was a product of his imagination. He might have known the dimensions by heart. The colour, he would have recognised it amongst a thousand sunset hues, but how he longed to read the mysterious contents of that scroll.

After returning from a New Year function in the late month, Bao Lee had had his share of promises. So what, he thought. If I read the letter at midnight tonight or at noon on the fourth month, what difference does it make? What will Trang Trinh do then? Curse me? The man is poor and his occupation is one which depends highly on coincidences. What if I read the scroll tonight?

Outside, the moon shone gloomily permitting only a timid light to penetrate the bamboo screens. Bao ran upstairs sweating with excitement. He would have taken three steps at a time had the stairs not made a sinister creaking sound under his mass. Thoughts hastened in his tortured mind, as he made it to his room, panting furiously. Bao lit the oil lamp on the bedside table but in his frustration, knocked it to the floor. Cursing himself for his clumsiness and forgetting the scroll for an instant, he bent low to pick up the lamp. Horror. The sight that greeted him filled him with repulsion. Channelled within the thin intervals of the wooden flooring was a thin procession of termites. He hated those insects. Was it an omen? Bao poured the remaining of his hot tea into the wood intervals. Slowly the nauseating urge to satisfy his unanswered questions disappeared and he replaced both scroll and lamp in their respectable place.

The second month saw a different man in Bao Lee. If Buddha advised patience and loyalty from his followers, Buddha's wishes would be granted. He began to attend more to business duties, granting aid to the poor farmers in the district and often suggesting innovative ideas to the leading agriculturists. The state of the province was improved and a strict barrier was erected between Bao and the scroll. But he still wondered about what he would see when the fourth month came. What if the message was an unpleasant one? It may even mean another omen. Bao frantically buried the disturbing thoughts to the back of his mind. And where was Trang Trinh all this time? No doubt, he was now laughing over the mischief that he had created in his province chief. And although the disturbing hypotheses were numerous, Bao Lee never touched the scroll until the time arrived.

The calendar showed clearly that it was the third day of the fourth month. The date was given an incredulous stare from Bao Lee. He had waited so long. He wondered what the outcome of the day would be. He spent three morning hours in profound meditation bowing to the Buddha sculpture in the main hall. At lunch, he sat before a lacquered table and began to eat the steamed carrots he had prepared. Each bite seemed to take years but he held on.

In a few minutes Trang Trinh's gift would hold no more secrets. Gone would be the insatiable pangs in his chest. Gone would be the conflict in his soul. Gone would be...a nearby clock struck the half hour. Bao Lee stood, solemn. He began to contemplate the green sight from his dining room window. How beautiful were the plains reaching towards the distant mountains. It was a long, appreciative glance.

He looked at his watch, remembering Trang Trinh's instructions: "Take the scroll outside with you. Only then..."

Outside? Well, why not.

The scroll in hand, Bao stepped outside his villa. The afternoon sun greeted him with a sudden glare. Nervously, Bao stepped down the veranda and accelerated down a grassy slope. The moment he had longed for had finally arrived. He inspected the seal and tore it off. With trembling fingers, he fumbled to unroll the scroll. His avid eyes widened, ready to devour each of the characters he would discover. But just as he raised the scroll towards the blinding sun, a sudden clamor behind him caused him to lose his grasp. The parchment fell to the ground. In an instant, the air was filled with dust and wooden particles. Succumbing to a violent cough, the astounded Bao, spun round only to witness the last wall of his mansion collapse to the ground. He realised that had he stayed one more minute inside, he would have been crushed to death.

Remembering the scroll, the trembling Bao reached forth to pick it up. Overwhelmed with a feverish wonder, as though he knew what he would find, he began to frantically unfurl it. Then, he gasped. In front of him was a blank parchment.