Pam's Email Story
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Anyway, the trip to Tuyen Quang was very enjoyable. The purpose of the visit was to find communities which we would work with to build/rebuild primary education facilities and malnutrition control for pre-school children.
Left my guest house at 430am Friday. The city is very different at that time. Quiet. The bus I took was also someone's bedroom, complete with mosquito net, mattress, pillows and a bus driver brushing his teeth in front of the bus ... I took my place behind the driver's seat. That's supposed to be the safest seat in a vehicle right? I still had the Lonely Planet warning ringing in my ear to ... Never Never take a bus in Vietnam! But I was off the tourist route, and this was the only way to get where I needed to...
We took off on time. 630am. I fell asleep shortly, but was awoken unceremoniously by the bus shrieking to an abrupt stop, barely missing the vehicle in front. The first of many such misses. Allow me to explain the bus system in Vietnam, as I began to understand it. Several buses ply the same route, and potential passengers wait along the way. Competition is stiff, so the buses honk, speed, swerve to be the first to meet each passenger. To improve the process, each driver has a side kick who swings out of the opened bus door, announcing the arrival of the bus (as if the honking was not enough) with a ridiculous high pitched 'whoooo hooo!!!'.
So the bus fills up. Before long, passengers are seated butt to butt, shoulder to shoulder, seat to aisle, aisle to seat, swerving to the frantic rhythm of the bus.
Six hours later, I am in Nahang, a district of Tuyen Quang. I am met with a representative of the commune that I am visiting, and prepare for a three hour bike ride to Da Vi Commune, situated in the mountains.
The ride was unexpectedly short. Barely ten minutes from leaving the bus station, I was brought to a secluded dorm room, and told by my guide, whose name I did not start to know, to take a shower. This must be a joke I thought? Aren't we headed for a school in the mountains? Are we staying here? This did not seem like part of the plan .... Well, it was part of the plan. And my host, whom you will get to know later, organised this as part of a treat (a shower!) before I headed up the mountains. Phew!
My shower was quick as we did not want to travel in the dark. En route, we passed heavy construction before breaking into a windy dirt road that went on and on for the next three hours. We stopped several times to ask for directions, as all we had was a hand drawn map (which still does not make much sense to me). Along the way, we were met by Hoang, who was to be my host and bed mate for the next four nights.
"This is my school!" Hoang exclaimed, as she pointed to several sticks in the ground, enclosed by bamboo sheets. Hoang and 2 other female teachers, Thui and Hai, single and attractive in their mid twenties, stay in this school that caters to 25 children. The school is a 'small school' that exists as part of a 14 school system in the commune that has one central school primarily for children above 11, and 13 small schools scattered across the commune for children ages 3 to 11. Each small school serves 20-30 children.
After visiting about eight schools, I had a pretty good idea of what we were dealing with. The design of each small school is invariably the same. One wretched structure serving as a classroom, and another as the teacher's quarters. There is also a separate 'toilet', which can best be described as a nasty hole in the ground. Each of these, and the many that spot the countryside is a superb breeding ground for H5N1, as pigs, chickens, ducks, goats, cows and humans fraternise in close proximity. I could almost see the virus mutating and jumping from bird to mammal in this small theatre of activity.
The schools were situated far apart from each other, one school serving several hamlets. Some schools were easier to reach than others. Although easier is a relative term. We started each day at the break of dawn, travelling long distances on dirt and mud roads that did not seem to end. The deeper into the hills we went though, the more gorgeous the scenary, which made the head thumping rides through poor roads fantastically enjoyable. Unfortunately, Hoang was not a very good biker, and we spent a great deal of the way slip sliding along horrid mud roads, shrieking in delight and raucous laughter every time we hit a bump that threatened to throw us both into the air. We also decided at some stage that it was probably safer that we split up, and Hoang, the village belle, easily arranged for someone to take me on another bike.
One of the schools we visited justified wading across a river, and a one hour hike each way through a steep mountain. Talk about a school with a view! Mist covered mountains, fields, terraces ... hill tribes working the land, children on their way to school... And the children! In rags, no shoes, and the brightest of smiles. They also were much smaller than children their age should be, a sad result of malnutrition. I tried at each stop to take picture portraits of each child, aware that this might be their only shot at a visual token of their childhood. And each day, I was disappointed when the battery on my camera ran out.
The days ended quite routinely. Dinner was a grand affair, and preparations started at about five. The kitchen is a shed behind the teacher's quarters, put together by 'surprise surprise' poles in the muddy ground and made discrete by 'what else' bamboo sheets. Made discrete as the kitchen is also the bathing facility. Which made sense as this location was the single source of water. There were always 2 fires burning at this time, one for cooking and another for boiling bath water. The fires provided us with some light for our activities. Four of us would take turns with preparing the food, and with taking our daily bath. Hardly a dull experience, we were in full view of each other either way, laughing and bantering in whatever mutual languages we could muster. What a fantastic way to bond with fellow women!
Past dinner, Hoang and I settle down for English lessons (for her I mean), as an endless stream of visitors, many men, drop in. The dance of courtship was evident as the girls either blithely ignored or flirted shamelessly with their visitors.
Falling asleep each night was relatively easy, as the days started early with much ground covered, we were often tired by the time we came back to the school. Besides, after night fall, there really wasn't much to do. The quality of sleep differed though. If the rats scampering above the wooden boards throughout the night did not wake me, the cocks that sometimes crowed prematurely or the pigs snorting behind the house might. What I did like very much was to be woken by the sound of children arriving at the school, greeting the teachers, and talking in their native migrant tongues. From beneath the mosquito net where I slept each day, I could see children peaking through the open door.
Its hard making trips like that, and I don't quite mean physical discomfort. Everytime you visit a community, you bring hope. Hope that things will get better and the sense that they are not alone. After these trips, I know that we will have to make decisions about which communities to work with and how. Some will be left out, and after spending time the way I did with just one (and this will certainly not be the last), I know that any decision would be a heartbreaking one. With regards to Da Vi, I know that our priority is to work with communties where no schools exist (and there are many many like that, especially in the north). Should a community like Da Vi that has tried its best to put together these wretched small schools be left out? Their children malnutritioned, and cold during the winter? I know whatever the decision of Child's Dream, I will be back to Da Vi, perhaps as an individual, to do whatever I can to help.
I left yesterday at seven in the morning. The trip would have been slightly more complicated back as I had to drop off at the province capital Tuyen Quang, and then hitch another bus to Hanoi. Along the way though, my bus driver spotted another bus that was heading towards Hanoi, travelling in the opposite direction. He waved the other driver down, and without warning, stopped our bus. His sidekick then grabbed my bag, and rushed towards the other bus. As soon as I realised what was happening, I slipped on my shoes, grabbed the rest of my belongings, and climbed onto the other bus, which was waiting for me in the middle of the road. I then began what was left of four hours of my journey.
I am giving myself a break today. You might not believe it, but these trips are tiring as much as they are enjoyable. My time alone in Vietnam can also get very lonely. Over the next few days, I shall have to start preparing to go North West.
--Pamela
