In Saigon, one of the first activities we participated in was a scavenger hunt with Vietnamese college students. We divided into smaller groups and were handed a list of places to go and items to pick up. We set off on the race, and my team consisted of three of us girls and the Vietnamese student. The student we were with insisted we call her Jane. We each asked her questions as we searched for these various places and items, and she was clearly into the actual scavenging as she had already planned a route for us to save time. We learned that Jane studies English, and and that she is not from a rural town a few hours from Saigon. In return, she asked us about our travels. She noted how different Saigon must be for us, how unused to the traffic we probably were, and how we must be enjoying this change of scenery. She also asked us how many countries we had each been to, and was amazed by our answers. She told us about her dream of travelling, and I remembered how students in Morocco – I went for Winter Study this year – had asked similar questions and reacted similarly to my response. That ‘tourist’ feeling hit me hard at that moment, and I kept thinking about the interaction throughout the trip.  Since we were less concerned with finishing first, we stopped her to ask about propaganda posted around the city. She did her best to translate for us, although she did say that the Vietnamese on the posters had academic jargon that she did not completely understand. When we returned to the hotel, the rest of the students chatted with us until the dinner we had planned as a group. I casually mentioned to one of the girls that there were many fruits I hadn’t tried yet (or even heard of) and that I was looking forward to trying more. After this discussion, we quickly got ready and went to dinner with the students. I had forgotten about the conversation I had with the student about the fruit.

This was the only time we met Jane. We met some of the other students twice more. One night, they – two girls and a boy – took us to Chinatown, but not before bringing me the fruit I had asked for! After exploring Chinatown and having dinner, they dropped us off at the hotel. I thought that would be the last time we would see them, but we had one more dinner together at a restaurant that had become one of our favorites in Saigon. At the end of the dinner, I did not expect them to be so upset at the thought of not seeing us again. They didn’t want to leave and started to get a little emotional. I think we were all touched, albeit surprised. I personally didn’t feel like I had contributed much to their lives; in fact, I felt that they had been so generous to us but as tourists, we couldn’t quite reciprocate. One of the girls continued to stay in touch with me throughout the trip, asking to hear updates and telling me how much she missed all of us. Though I appreciated this about her, it also felt out of place to me. I felt bad for thinking of myself as less close to her as she thought she was to me. But it also occurred to me that her, and my, feelings about this could be due to so many cultural, linguistic, and other factors. For me, meeting these students was an integral part of the trip precisely because it made me think about all these factors.

Of course, in re-telling this story I do not intend to make generalizations about Vietnamese students or even about the students we met specifically. My interactions with the students did, however, make me think about how they must have seen us, and also wonder about what my peers on the trip were thinking about these students and their feelings towards us. Now that we are back in America, I am still thinking about what these relationships mean and what a privilege it is to have traveled to a new country and been taken care of by these students who knew nothing about us. I am truly thankful for their hospitality, and still wrestling with understanding these stories that I have shared.

 

We were warmly welcomed into a shaded room, with jackfruit pieces neatly cut and laid out on tables set up for us, by a – later to become a few – Viet Cong veterans from the American War. I distinctly remember his animation as he relayed a few stories from his time during the war. Throughout the visit, I heard some recurring themes that had been introduced by the course materials and earlier visits in Saigon, especially about the inevitably of war in Vietnam for some Vietnamese people who lived during the years of occupation. In the beginning of this course, I found it hard to understand how Vietnam was able to repair relations with the United States, and how diplomatically successful they seem to be when dealing with other countries as well. This idea about war, however, helped me reconcile some of these contradictions in my head. The VC veteran reiterated that war happens, and when it does, the countrymen mobilize to protect themselves and the country. War is part of the Vietnamese identity in this way. Directing anger at the foreign invaders is not a personal attack on the faces that actually fight on the ground, it is a way to preserve Vietnam and it is a constant struggle. He said this again when asked about whether or not he feels some kind of solidarity with the people of Iraq and Afghanistan. From what I gathered from the translation, he felt for them because he – and the Vietnamese people – know what it is like to suffer, but he also reiterated the fact that sometimes war happens and people have to deal with the consequences. He did not talk much about American foreign policy, or war policy specifically, but I sensed that he would not hesitate to voice disagreement with these policies if he did not like them, considering his ease in separating people from governments. That being said, it was more important for him to prioritize the people’s suffering and their spirit of resilience than details about the perpetrators of this suffering. When Americans came to fight his side, the VC veteran recognized the humanity in them, and he separated their allegiance to their country from them as men, even going so far as to tell us that the American soldiers were forced to fight for the American government, and he could not really blame them.

The second recurring theme was exactly this – that those fighting the VC were forced to fight for the other side, Americans and Vietnamese. Not only were they forced in his mind, they were not particularly good at fighting because of it. From what I gathered from his talk, the veteran believes that because the VC fought on the side of justice, they were better at the physical fighting. Those who were forced to fight for the other side must have recognized, at least at some level, the nobility of the VC, meaning that the main reason that they continued to fight against the VC was because of the pressures of the American government. This allowed him to both continue fighting, be proud of his service, and understand the humanity of his opponents, blaming the fragility and insincerity of their cause and not them.

The last part of the meeting that stuck with me was the brief discussion of Agent Orange. For the most part, the veteran was quite forgiving of the Americans – except for Agent Orange. That was one action that the veteran could not understand, and could not forgive. It did not affect his attitude towards us or towards his visit to the U.S., but it clearly stuck in his mind, especially because the victims and their children continue to suffer the consequences of the attack. I wonder how other Vietnamese who lived through the war feel about Agent Orange – to what extent does it taint their feelings toward America? How much does Agent Orange still affect Vietnam today, especially those who did not directly suffer from the chemicals?