“A kind gesture can reach a wound that only compassion can heal.” (Steve Maraboli)

Tien Phuoc: Mission to help brighten the lives of a few disadvantaged community members.

By Ellis Silove.

Up early again at crazy o’clock, but this time off in a mini-bus. Stop off to pick up local government officials Mr Hai and Mr Sinh. We are visiting 3 families in the disadvantaged region of Tien Phuoc.

First up: a family consisting of a father, Mr Nhan, two daughters,Anh, aged 9, and Phuong aged 8, and a boy, Hoang Nam of 7. The mother ran off with another man leaving the father to provide for his 3 children. Anna has already supplied a cow to this family to breed more cows to sell as a source of income. (You can read his full story and our last visit to him at: http://missionnampossible.blogspot.com.au/2013/07/everyone-can-do-simple-things-to-make.html)

We trudge along a dirt path, narrow enough so we are forced to walk single file. It’s raining so we have donned raincoats that may as well have been garbage bags with arm holes. To either side are rice fields, ahead and behind us only the dirt path. 

Soon we turn off the track and I get my first glimpse of the family’s home. As expected it was a rundown thing with few rooms and dirty walls. As we approach, the Man of the house comes around the corner with the cow Anna had donated last July.

The kids poke their heads out from the door as we approach, probably scared out of their minds at the sight of westerners. The officials stacked the food and toys on a table and rested the bike next to it. In regular Vietnamese fashion, they made a whole big deal of thanking us in a very ceremonial way. Luckily this time at our request there was no big banner to mark the occasion.

The father, Mr Nhan, was overcome with emotion as he told us that these are the first toys his children have ever had.

We are supporting these three children to continue with their education, providing funds for uniforms and text books.

The second family we visited had a similarly narrow path up to their house. On our left as we headed uphill were rice fields. Trying to get all the food and supplies we bought this family up to them, took the effort of three men and a wheelbarrow!

 At this time of morning the sun peeked through the clouds to shyly embrace the watery paddies. If it were not for the state of the family’s house, it would have been a beautiful place to live. The house, like many others we had seen throughout the district, was rundown. As if the weight of the sky had become too much for the building in its old age, buckling the roof. To our left on the verge of the hill, amiss the vegetation was a cow. The cow we had bought this family.

We were soon introduced to Grandma Nhu and her two grandchildren: Long, aged 13 and Ly aged 8. Grandma was a 76 year old women, tasked with the upbringing of her two grandchildren after their dad, her son, died in a flood, and their mum ran off with another man. Mum has not returned for her children, not even for a visit. Grandma does not want to give them up to an orphanage. This strong lady, who goes and begs around the community for a bowl of rice almost every day, just to feed her grandchildren touched our hearts at her sheer tenacity and determination in keeping these children with her. Ly peered out curiously from behind Grandma, eyes coming to rest on the bag of toys we held. Long had a more cautious look in his eyes as he beheld us. Although only 13 years old, it was clear, responsibility had been thrust upon his shoulders after the disappearance of his parents.

Here, unfortunately, the embarrassing thank you banner made an appearance for us. Again, the toys, food/supplies and bike were set up for ceremony and photography. 

To our delight, Ly grew ever more excited at the presentation at each new thing. At the sight of her very own doll with adjustable accessories, she could not contain her joy. An excited squeal escaped her lips and she visibly started shaking. Even at the presentation of her brothers bike, Ly's enthusiasm was palpable. She even managed to harass an embarrassed smile onto her brother's face. After forced smiles for official photos, Ly eagerly pulled apart the toy packaging’s and set to work with glee. I helped her put in the batteries for an electronic tetris game, and was profusely thanked by the Grandma who was reduced to tears by the whole event. After a tour of the late father’s alter and a quick selfie with the cow, we were off again into the morning drizzle.

I left there feeling a sense of accomplishment. The amount of innocent joy we had brought Ly and Long was something to smile about. Even though he didn't show it, I like to think we made a difference to Long too. Making the hard times ahead he would face as man of the house,  that little bit easier. And once cow starts to have babies in a year, the begging for rice to help survive would cease. Long, already has developed the hard shell that has emerged from having to deal with life's challenges already: I could not imagine what his reality is like: knowing that his mother intentionally turned her back on him and his sister, must weigh on his mind. And then there is the rest: so poor, having to beg for food, feeling protective over his Grandma and sister, continue with school and keep up with school work also…. A heavy burden for such small shoulders. 

From then on the roads grew bumpy. After a very long drive, we arrived in a town where we stopped for a good 15 minutes. There we were joined by Phoung, the 16 year old girl we have been supporting to go to school. It transpired that the town was where she went to school, so we gave her a lift back to her house/our destination.  After another 15 minutes of jolting travel, Anna and I grew confused, as we rationalised that it was a very long way for Phuong to cycle to and from school every day. After another 10 minutes, we had still not yet reached our destination. After asking Mr Hai, one of the government officials, it turned out that Phuong took a bus to school on Mondays, boarded at school for the week, and returned by bus at the end of the week, on a Sunday to help at home before returning back to school.

We finally made it to our destination, a surprisingly new looking house. In addition to our funding of Phuong's school fees, the local government had built her family a new house. A section of the old building sprouted off the new house like a growth.

In this older part is where we found Phuong's 2 hemophiliac brothers.  The younger boy, 11 years old, lay in a hammock. The older brother, 23 years old, sat on a wooden bed. Both wore expressions of extreme boredom. The younger boys knee was bandaged up whilst the older boys knee was swollen to the size of a volley ball. Still the officials forced them outside to pose for their bloody photos.  The older boy managed on crutches but the younger had to be pushed out in a wheelchair.

Even after giving the younger boy the toys, no smile was forthcoming to his face. Phoung showed us her school results which a translator told us were very good. When asked what she wanted to do after high school, she told us she wanted to go to university to study banking. Anna kindly gave some money to an elderly women who had wandered over from the next door house.
As this was the last family, the officials presented us with heart of gold certificates and lucky bracelets.

Standing outside the house of this poor family the gesture only served to make me feel sick. I could not understand why even with this great new house, the boys still stayed in the dark rotting room of theirs. This family served to remind me that even though we help in the ways we can, sometimes things can't be helped. I left the third house feeling almost the opposite way I felt leaving the second. You have to pick your battles, and so when I think back on our journey throughout Tien Phuoc, I choose to focus on the second family, and the smile on the little girls face.

'A smile is a curve that sets everything straight'

Destination: Tam Ky.

Written By Ellis Silove.

What seemed like moments after arriving in Tam Ky and settling into our accommodation, we were off again. Orphanage bound. My excitement to see the kids was only bested by Anna’s. Shaking with anticipation, the untapped euphoria bubbling from her was awe-inspiring.

First up: Peace Village.  Arrival at PV was met by many familiar faces, and some new ones. However, indiscriminately, all concerned were overjoyed by Anna’s coming. With a lot of hugging and shrieks of joy we made our way to the main courtyard.

Anna told me that she didn’t really have a high expectation of them remembering her. But! She underestimated the disabled children and they did remember her. Ba, came running out, threw herself on Anna, repeating her name and sobbing. The others, Truc, Cuong, Loc, Lanh, Thao.... all had the biggest grins when she approached them. Some reached out to Anna and squeezed her hand. Again, these kids trumped us. Hands down.

PV now have 56 residents..... when Anna left six months ago there were around 24.... the carers here, super women with what they have to deal with, were smiling and happy to see us. 3 carers to care for 56 residents who in reality, need 1:1 care!!!!!

Donations fund two carers here, which brings us to 5 carers in total. Still a ridiculous ratio.

I went in search of Ngan. I found her in the second room I tried. She was sitting on the floor playing with a water bottle and its lid. At first she seemed to either not recognise me or at least not notice me. I took the bottle from her hand and screwed the lid onto it. A huge smile spread across Ngan’s face. When I picked her up I realised how big she had gotten. Nowhere near the size to match the 17 years of life that she has lived. But bigger than the toddler she had been the last time I had seen her. 

After putting her down outside and finding the other kids. I came back and attempted to pick her up. Half way up she pulls herself to her feet and sets off walking. Before I even have time to register what’s happening, she is dragging me around the courtyard.

Whether it is because I have become accustomed to the confronting nature of PV, or the overriding excitement of seeing the kids again so grown up, my first introduction back into Peace Village was to the say the least a very positive experience. We had to leave after too short a time, but I left there wanting more than I had gotten. 

Arrival at baby orphanage was a similar if not a completely different affair. The majority of kids were at school so the welcoming party was considerably smaller than that at PV. However what the group lacked in size, they made up for in sheer noise. As soon as the car pulled in the kids were already excited at the idea of visitors. However, as soon as recognition appeared on the first kids face, the call went up and a barrage of excitement hit us. “ANNA” “ANNA” AAAANNAAAA”. After a quick hug and excited babble the first kids sprinted off into the orphanage to inform the inhabitants of our coming. I recognised faces here and there as toddlers ran out screaming bloody murder. Before long a sea of thigh-high toddlers spread out around us, pinning us in.

For every kid excited to see me, 10 more were clambering over each other to reach their beloved Anna. Was I slightly disappointed at the lack of attention? Yes. Was I jealous at the massively superior amount of love and attention aimed at Anna? Hell no. The look of pure euphoria spread across Anna’s face was one in a million. Her face lit up like the proverbial sun. This expression put all smiles I had witnessed on Anna’s face in the past 6 months to mortifying shame.  

After making the rounds and picking up a few strays, we headed out the front of the orphanage to await the arrival of the older kids returning from school. The reactions were priceless. Screams, shouts, outstretched arms. One girl Anna informed me later that she wasn’t even that close with, burst into tears at the sight of her. A pair of boys on a bike were so distracted by us that they rode headlong into a group of girls standing next to us. I filmed the whole encounter; Capturing the raw expressions and primal joy flowing off the faces of all involved.

14 newborns; Laid out in a row as if on display at a supermarket. “Take your pick; we have one of every kind”. 3 boys and 11 girls…beautiful bodies of life. That first day in the baby room I re-learnt three things: how to correctly hold a baby, how to correctly feed a baby, and how to correctly become overly attached to a baby.

'Nothing ever becomes real until it is experienced'

Impressions: By 14 year old Ellis Silove:

First day in Vietnam and already I feel like I’ve been here for weeks. As we ride in the car from the airport through Da Nang city motorbikes swerve chaotically around us in an endless game of chicken. I don’t even blink. Even though I’ve only been here once before ( Dec 2012), the daredevil driving habits of the population seem to me like old news. As Anna and her friend Mark get reacquainted, I take in the sights and sounds of Vietnam. Babies fly by squished onto the back of motorbikes, street vendors shout their wares and anyone and everyone in half a mile radius, children run through the street barefoot, and through the crack in my window the scent of a million people living together in reaches my nose.

We are heading out for dinner to meet Mr Tuan and Mr Phuc, two local physiotherapists who cofound a volunteer program in Da Nang. Our destination; a place only described to me as Dirty Chicken. We pick up a mother/daughter volunteering duo along the way and finally make it to our destination.

We first glimpse our dinner being roasted over a street fire at one of many vendors on the street. There was nothing to distinguish it from all the countless other chicken vendors; however Anna assures me that this one is special. There are two things on the menu: wings... and feet. Thankfully we stuck with wings. Mr T and P arrived soon after us and after brief pleasantries we get down to serious discussion over delicious food.

After waking up at stupid o’clock in the morning, we take a taxi to the Red Cross orphanage that Mr T and Mr P are working at that morning. As we walk in we see an elderly man playing with the kids, a massive grin upon his face. He introduces himself to us as Alan, and as we continue inside he resumes interacting with the young children in his care. From the very beginning I developed a large amount of respect and even awe when regarding Alan. To still be giving back to the world and caring for others in the way I observed him care for the Children at Red Cross was astounding and inspiring. Here was a man who knew what is important in life, and wasn’t going to let anything stop him from achieving his goals.

We found Mr T and P who showed us around. The main room: A wooden enclosure filled with noisy babies and toddlers playing with building blocks. A TV blares Vietnamese programming from the wall above it. Harsh metal cots litter the room with kids staring out from within.

The next room is smaller but has no lack of occupants. Cots line the walls containing kids in various states of health. Most of the children seem perfectly fine, if not frustrated out of sheer boredom.

One boy stuck in my mind. But for the fact Mr T informed us he was 4 years old, I would have thought he was a toddler. Sitting in a wheel chair bundled up in clothes, you couldn’t tell the extent of his condition.  Only by feeling his legs and arms ourselves, did we realise that he was literally skin and bones. There are few words to describe the unfortunately fragile state this boy was in, but to say the least his was not a face I would be soon forgetting.

The last room had fewer occupants, but more disabilities. Mr T introduced us to 2 volunteer physiotherapists who were helping these children. To be completely honest these were not the worst disabilities I have encountered, nor of those I knew I would encounter. All the same, these kids affected me in a way I had forgotten I could be affected.

Now done with our tour, we got down to some serious baby playing. There was one girl who I grew quite connected to. At six years of age, the carers had shaved her head because she would get frustrated or hot and start to pull her hair out. We first met during feeding time. I started off feeding her, until she grabbed the spoon off me and fed herself. After that we took turns.

 After 2 bowls and a bottle of water, she was fed and eager to go. She pulled me around the whole orphanage, supposedly showing me her home. She then found a pair of socks, made me put them on her, and off outside we went. After a brief walk, in which I taught her how to flap her arms like chicken wings, I heard a wailing coming from the door of the orphanage. Another, younger girl was there crying because she wanted to go for a walk to. I returned the first girl to the orphanage and was soon walking two more. Somehow they soon got it into their heads that I could carry both of them at the same time. As it turned out, I could not.

The rest of the time was spent playing and interacting with all the kids in the orphanage. I had forgotten how such little things could radiate so much joy. I left there elevated by the children’s boundless happiness. However there also existed within me a sense of loss leaving these children I bonded with in the short time I knew them. With a heavy heart I realised that this would be only a fraction of the sensation felt leaving Vietnam completely.

Tomorrow... you're only a day away!