Vietnam Diary

Flags flying in Hanoi

Friday 20th November

Well nearly packed and nearly ready to go….Friday afternoon and Vietnam beckons. I’m excited, but it is the start of a nerve wracking journey…not because of the flights, the airports, meeting people, a new country, a new town, a new experience…all these factors fade into insignificance….I am nervous because I know that I mustn’t fail. I must return with a story and a story that will satisfy not only Ragdoll, but also DFID. A story that must strongly feature girls. A story that shows in picture alone, aspects of their lives, their strength and their power. It is a huge honour to be a guest of Oxfam in Vietnam, but it is an even greater honour to be a representative of the young Vietnamese and it is my fear of failing in this that makes me nervous about the trip. But until I start the workshops it is out of my hands. It is a fear of thought. The flight departs at 20.30.

Saturday 21st November

Arrive Hanoi at 22.30 local time, its 16.30 in the UK – 20 hours of travelling. I could see very little on the journey from the airport but was aware of soft lights illuminating small huddles of people between the buildings, eating around tables, chatting under trees, inspecting their motorbikes, selling vegetables. I wonder about their world…so different from my own and envy them their night-time adventures. There is an air of close community and habitual familiarity that each scene conveys, but that might just be in my imagination. Hotel and to bed at midnight.

Sunday 22nd November

I sleep well, but am aware from the early hours, of the amount of traffic passing my window. Curiously, I get up and draw back my curtains. I am amazed not just by the quantity of traffic, but by the speed….the road is a packed race track with cars, motorbikes and lorries passing as if in a Monaco speed race. I doubt anyone ever tries to cross the road, other than at the traffic lights, which, by the way, I can’t see. The constant hooting and roar of engines is something else. They weave between each other with an expertise that to the human eye defies logic.

Here they come!

The receptionist shows me a map and where to walk for breakfast. But how do I cross the speedway? There are no traffic lights and no crossings. I look at him. “Here” he says. I look at him unbelieving. “Here?” I say. “Yes” he says, as he takes my arm and we step out as if on a suicide mission. He’s walking far too slowly I think, and I start to run…”No” he says, strolling slowly across. “You must stay at the same pace and in the same direction. They will miss you” And they do

Sitting having coffee I have my first look at the Vietnamese in Hanoi. The amount of motorbikes is fantastic, motorbike after motorbike, after motorbike, each bearing a family…sometimes 4 to 5 people squashed on…its dangerous I know, but it looks such fun and each family arrives as a package. Each holding on to each other, their arms like the string around a parcel. I am amazed that although there is a law in Hanoi to wear helmets, that so many don’t – I am equally amazed that sometimes the parents are wearing helmets, but the children are not.

I watch children perfectly at ease riding their push bikes along the crowded roads and crossing at intersections, which are uncontrolled, in front of hundreds of vehicles. They don’t change their speed either. They continue on their way, completely un- phased by the traffic that is approaching and as if they were cycling on a deserted English country lane. I watch women heading to market with their various trade produce: carrying balloons, baskets on yokes across their shoulders, panniers covering their bikes completely, trays slung from their necks. I watch the police moving them on, when they stop in an unauthorised area and watch as the police are completely ignored despite their frantic gestures - the traders cross the road and then re-cross when all is clear. I see a young girl with a disabled child on her back.

Although exhausting for the carrier, it must be nice to feel the body movement and motion of a walk when disabled, in preference to a wheel chair. What strong characters both those children must have. I continue to watch the comings and the goings that unfold in front of me. The shoppers, the workers, the mothers and children. I’m beginning to feel more at ease. At home normally, I never take the time to stop and just watch…it is amazing what it exposes and how it fuels your mind. And this traffic is certainly not normal and neither is this bill that totals 30,000 Vietnamese dollars for a coffee!

Back towards the hotel and I cross the road with trepidation. A swarm of bikes and cars is bearing down on me, but remembering not to run I saunter across the road, get to the other side and feel like a local.

Several hours later I have met the Oxfam representatives and discussed the schedule and requirements for the following week. I will be working with children from a minorities hill-tribe just outside SaPa. Life in remote, ethnic minority communities, particularly in Lao Cai province can be a struggle to survive with geographical difficulties, lack of accessible roads, poor parents, poor school facilities, child malnutrition, no year round access to clean water, a general lack of hygienic latrines and language barriers.

Trang, the interpreter, takes me on her motorbike into the old town and we join the throng of cyclists and cars up and down the busy streets. I feel completely exhilarated by the life, the sound of beeping horns, the lights from the gift shops, and the roar of the bikes and as I sit nonchalantly on pillion, I am transported back to a care free youth.

At 8.15 that evening we rendezvous at the hotel to head towards the railway station.

Sunday night:

What a terrible train journey. The train with obviously faulty couplings, shudders and jerks its way along the line. Sleep is virtually impossible with people shouting and talking in a language I don’t understand, but which acts as a constant reminder that I am not at home, not in England, not in a culture that I understand. Lights flash, horns blare, shadows skip past the windows and the never ending rattle of the train continues and continues and continues. But it is exciting. I feel I am a real adventurer. I close my eyes – not to go to sleep – but just to be able to soak up the night-time sounds, to anticipate the future, to worry about the forthcoming workshop, the future friendships, what I’ m going……………….. Crash. Bang. Jerk…..I awake with a start. We have stopped at a station. It is dark. I guess it is the middle of the night….One or two doors slam. The whistle blows. Someone shouts. We are off again. I stretch to one side to look out of the window, but can see nothing. Everything is in darkness and we shudder on our way.

There are four of us in the sleeper: myself, Trang, from Oxfam and the man from the Government Press Office, Chung, but there is also one other. I concern myself with how close my nose is - just inches - from the ceiling and then I think of him, just inches away from me on the other side. Security becomes high on my list of priorities. I am carrying a lot of dollars – in fact enough cash to pay for the entire trip, a stills camera, three video cameras, a laptop and a mobile phone, and each piece of luggage is hooked either through my arms or my legs so that if I do manage to return to sleep I will be woken by any theft… However neither of these events happen.

Monday 23rd November

At 05.00 we arrive a Lao Cai City, the centre of Lao Cai province, which is located in the North of Vietnam, and wearily stumble into a waiting car and are driven to Sa Pa. The hotel room is not ready, so we leave our bags in reception, that is Trang, Chung and myself and I suggest a drive around to get familiar with our surroundings.

This is Trang, the Interpreter

And this is Mr Chung

SaPa is the one place in the North West where tourism is booming and has become an important market town for the hill-tribes, their future prosperity has become closely tied with the tourism industry and the streets are full of women and children selling their emblematic embroidery.

The market place

The proposed schedule had been to visit three schools today in order to chose where we carry out the workshop, but I abandon this idea, as paperwork giving authorisation had not been received by the local government authority therefore delaying us and I could not afford another day off the schedule for three visits.

To use every moment constructively, while we waited for this authorisation, we visited the nearby village of Ta Phin. A rather tourist effected village where everyone wanted to be paid for absolutely everything, including conversation and photos. It is understandable and the effect of tourism, but sadly it paints a rather unreal picture of rural life and although no one would begrudge these people for cashing in to the tourist bank, you cant help but think it is sad that their lives have been tainted. It, does, however, confirm in my mind that we will need to go and film in villages much further up the mountain and away from the tourist radius.

By mid afternoon, and a rather upright meeting around a table with tea and various official observers, the paperwork came through and I pick one school ad hoc - Sa Pa Elementary School.

After meeting an extremely obliging and enthusiastic head at the school, the workshop was set for the following day with a variety of children aged between 11 – 14 years old. These children were from the Hmong tribe. They have animist beliefs and are subdivided into the Flower, Red, Green, Black and White Hmong. These were Black Hmong and on discovering they spoke limited Vietnamese, the need for a local minority’s translator heightened. And then he appeared, Mr Su. Mr Su became a godsend both for his translation and knowledge of the area and lifestyles. This was my lucky day.

On returning to Sa Pa, job done, we manoeuvre our way through the hosts of ethnic minorities that sell to the tourist trade. What to do? To buy or not to buy? They are very persistent. We settle down to a good meal and hopefully a good night’s rest. But it is cold…very cold….the whole area is shrouded in an impenetrable mist that also leaves it rather damp….and although beautiful during the day, the evenings take on an all too familiar chill, that leaves me sleeping in my jacket.

Tuesday 24th November

08.00 and here I am with 15 children, all in their tribal costumes, sitting around the desks waiting. We have distributed pens and paper. I was so worried that they wouldn’t be able to talk to us, but amazingly here were 15 children full of enthusiasm and energy. “Are you nervous?” I ask. They laugh and reply “No”. Well I am.

We start by introducing ourselves. It is a long and tedious process with the children speaking through their interpreter and then he in turn speaking through mine. By the time we have the information I suspect it has been watered down a little. It is hard in any circumstance when questions and answers are relayed through an interpreter but going through two takes so much time and saps so much energy for everyone. However, we have no choice. But here they are, 15 wide eyed children looking at me with amazement and I guess expectation.

I show the South Sudan film and they love it. It has fired them with energy and they are keen to start telling me their stories. The day progresses brilliantly with a heated competition about the virtues of looking after water buffalo v. pig. The two teams draw, after discussing economics, supply and demand, energy levels, fertilizer etc. I am becoming an expert.

They tell me about what they are good at or bad at, what they do each day, their job demands, their relationships with family amongst other things.

I get run over by a motorbike this evening. I didn’t run, or alter my pace, and it wasn’t my fault, I don’t think. Just my luck!

Wednesday 25th November

The kids are waiting for us to arrive. They have each brought in something that is special to them because of its emotional value and I learn about mouth flutes, marriage rings, bracelets to scare away evil spirits, tribal necklaces. I also learn that many of these children have nothing to bring, but even these find something at school to talk about. One child holds up his biro and says that this is special to him because it helps to educate him – can you imagine one of our children saying this – and I promise to give him my pen at the end of the workshop as a reward for his spontaneous discussion – Many other boys tried the same tact by holding up their biros, each hoping that I would offer a pen in return. Sadly I couldn’t.

After lunch they chose to view the Chinese film. Again, they were transfixed and it seemed to inspire them to create a story for the series.

There were many discussions and stories about pigs, fetching wood, going to market, ghosts, snakes, parties. Before we left we showed the kids how to operate the camera.

The school has a number of borders who are unable to travel the extreme distance to their home village each day. I was amazed to see such young children enthusiastically cooking the evening meal: lighting the fire, boiling the rice, and chopping the food.

Thursday 26th November

This morning the kids are divided into two groups to go and film sequences within the two nearest villages, that relate to our discussions during the two previous days e.g. family, activities, games, wood collecting, pigs, etc. I go with the group that is majority girls to Sa Pa and the Government Press man goes with the second group, mainly boys to Ma Tra It never ceases to amaze me how brilliant with the camera they are. They seem to instinctively understand the wide shots and close ups and at one point I see a girl helping to do a steady left to right pan!

We are invited into the home of one of the girls in our group. They are very excited and tea is poured. Her brother tells us that she should have married this year, but she wanted to finish her studies. She will now be married in the summer of 2010. She will be 14 years old.

The girls enjoy the filming experience, taking it in turns, and quite naturally falling into groups of directors, producers, camera people, location scouts or subjects to be filmed. There are no arguments, just team spirit and by lunchtime we are ready to return to the school. Many of the group have to return to their homes this afternoon, to do farm work – they have now been at school for two complete days.

We, on the other hand, head off to look at even more distant villages and led by the minorities teacher, Mr Su, who has now become a very valuable member of our team we head high up the mountainside to Sau Chua.

Friday 27th November

The Village of Giang Tra is our first port of call today, as we are not meeting with the kids until this afternoon. A lovely village high up the mountainside and well away from any tourist effect. We stroll amongst the homes, with Mr Su explaining our presence, and are greeted with copious amounts of hospitality and interest. The villagers are keen to show us into their homes and around the area and the children come out to peep at us around corners and run off as soon as cameras are up to our eyes. No one seems surprised at the strange questioning that takes place: what is this used for? When do you do that? How does it happen? Who does what? They are just proud to be the focus of our attention and proud to show us how they live.

On the way down the paddy field steppes I stop to film a girl carrying a large basket of wood on her back. She puts the basket down and runs from the cameras gaze. I wait and sure enough she reappears, but as soon as I try to film, she runs again. This time I crawl alongside the paddy field wall so that I cant be spotted and pop up to surprise her from a different angle. She spots me immediately and re hides. We play this game for some time and it is a game, I’m afraid to say, that I miserably fail at. I never seem to catch her. I start to walk down the mountainside to catch up with my guides. She stops by her basket to watch me go. She then waves a friendly goodbye and I return the wave. It is then that I realize that this image is an image that will stay with me as representative of Vietnamese children. The fun and the mischievousness, coupled with shyness and a feeling of unspoken friendship and bonding between myself and this young girl pervades.

A moment of fun, a moment of friendship and a moment that will be for ever in my head.

The afternoon of viewing with the kids brought laughter, laughter and more laughter. We had distributed food, drinks and presents as a farewell party and here they were viewing 2 hours of footage they had shot the previous day. Like children everywhere they loved seeing themselves and what they had shot on camera and their laughter was hysterical for the 2 hours non stop.

Who could look at these kids and feel only sorrow…it confirmed once again that ‘what makes me happy’ hits the right note… These children can laugh as loud as any kid anywhere in the world. I love my job.

Saturday

Stories were beginning to form and it was imperative to go deep into a forest area. The driver took us to a forest in Khoa Hamlet. We climbed for quite a long way before we came to a small homestead tucked into the mountainside. As we waved a greeting and continued our climb, we were tracked by a number of small children who dived in and out and behind the trees. A photograph? No way. They were too quick and nimble. But as one hid behind an enormous leaf, an idea for a story began to form.

And then the homeward journey…bags to pack, bills to pay, and thank you’s to be given. Re-tucking myself into the night train, I knew what to expect this time and I was right….

Sunday 29th November

As I slipped between the sheets in the hotel it was only moments before I fell asleep.

Monday 30th November

Final meetings, debriefs with DFID and Oxfam and the waiting game of returning home starts. At Hanoi airport four hours before departure, At Seoul airport six hours before check in.

Tuesday 1st December

and stuck for 4 hours on the M40 heading home due to traffic congestion!

Annie Gibbs