Posted on 08/08/2005 8:16:58 PM PDT by Army Air Corps
My paternal grandmother was addicted to tobacco and baby urine. In my village, there were a dozen old women who smoked tobacco, but as far as drinking baby’s urine was concerned, my grandma was the only one. When I was only four years old, I was already at her service.
She often ordered me to fetch her a light to aid her smoking habit. I would run home with a smouldering bunch of straw and use a bamboo splinter to light a fire. The way she smoked tobacco was not the same as the male neighbours. They exhaled the smoke very quickly, but my grandma inhaled her tobaco slowly and then exhaled luxuriously after each breath. I would stand by her to see if the flaming bamboo splinter was dying, just in case I needed to fetch a new one.
Occasionally my father wrote home, and as always, he would ask my mother to prepare enough bamboo splinters for my grandmother. I had never even seen my father’s face. Grandmother said that the day father went to the battle front, I had not yet seen my first ray of sun.
A girl next door named Nhai (Frog) was my girlfriend. They gave her that name to keep away the evil spirits, because her parents had lost all of their other children. Since Nhai was healthy, they named their next baby Coc (Toad). This baby boy was among those in the hamlet whose urine my grandmother drank.
Her second habit irritated the neighbours. One day she went to a house to ask for the urine of a certain baby boy, but the owner told her that their child was not well. So grandmother left without a word. She came home and forced me to piss.
I looked sullen, saying: "Why don’t you ask the girl next door, Nhai, to give it to you?"
She got angry and scolded me.
Mother whispered: "Girl’s urine is not suitable for her. You should behave well so that dad will give you some gifts when he comes home."
When mother was recovering after giving birth to me, grandmother went and got baby urine for my mother for three straight months. At first mother vomited when she drank it, but grandmother forced her to continue, advising her that drinking baby urine could help her develop a strong stomach and avoid getting rheumatism. She said it would even drive away evil spirits.
Then father returned home one day. It was a great surprise. Grandmother was speechless.
Mother helped him take the knapsack off his back, speaking in a low voice, "You look so thin."
Father threw me in the air in a happy mood, saying to grandmother: "Mum, I can only drop in for a moment since I’m on a march. After this I have to go to catch up with my unit."
Grandmother took me by the hand, saying: "Let’s go to aunt Hoi’s to get a chicken to celebrate the occasion. Be quick!"
"You can go alone. I’ll be with my father."
"You must obey me!" she shouted, dragging me along.
I cried as I walked after her. Having arrived at the house, I did not hear grandmother say anything about the chicken. She was chatting at random.
That was my opportunity: I dashed off to the field. The moonless sky was lit with innumerable twinkling stars. I ran and ran, breathing heavily as I heard someone running after me. Finally having arrived at the gate, I burst into tears.
"Mum! Dad!" I yelled.
There was no light inside the house and the door was tightly shut. I knocked heavily on the door. A moment later, it opened and father embraced me. Mother wiped the tears from my face.
***
When the commune organised the memorial service in honour of my father, I did not see any tears on grandmother’s face. Mother was crying madly, throwing herself on the ground. Then night came. Grandmother sat alone on the bamboo bed, smoking tobacco compulsively. Her shadow was on the wall.
I remembered that she once told me she had become a widow at a young age. Grandfather had died suddenly at a large gambling party. There he lost it all, his house and his fields. Since then, grandmother had to raise her children in poverty. She used to be a beautiful woman, and it was because of her beauty that she had to bear her widowhood a thousand times greater. She had to struggle for the life that had taken away her beauty. She had to rebuild her life from scratch. After years of hard work, she was finally able to afford a small house and rice field.
Father grew into a strong, robust man. He took after my grandmother in shape, with a round face and pleasant smile.
The rice-hulling mill belonging to my family was not working. Mr Huynh was very good at running the rice-hulling mill in the village. He became fatherless when he was still very small. His mother had remarried, so he had been forced to live with his paternal grandmother, who was now more than eighty years old. He was more than thirty but remained single. His house was only a few houses from mine. He was invited to come and repair my house’s rice-hulling mill.
Uncle Huynh took a look at the mill and then shook his head: "This mill has been used for so long, you should build a new one."
"You’d better repair it first as we don’t use it often."
He then asked me to go and fetch a bamboo basket of dried earth in his house, which would be used to repair the mill. I went immediately. At noon, mother came home from the market. She quickly went into the kitchen to prepare the lunch. Suddenly I heard uncle Huynh crying in pain. I saw blood oozing from his hand onto the floor.
"Mum. Uncle Huynh... He..." I stuttered.
Mother was alarmed and ran toward us. Grandmother gave her some tobacco to cover the injured hand. Mother took his hand and bandaged it for him.
"Are you hurt much?" she asked.
"I’m okay," he said, smiling.
During the meal, I saw Uncle Huynh found it difficult to handle the chopsticks, as his hand was really hurt. Mother seemed not pay any heed to his pain: she was busy serving food to grandmother. After the meal, he started working again because he had so much to do the next day. He worked diligently, taking no notice of his injury. At twilight, he finished.
"I’ve got something to do, so I have to go now," he said to grandmother.
"No. We don’t care if you’re busy somewhere. You’ve got to stay and have dinner with us," grandmother said, while mother stopped him at the threshold.
"Anyway, we have to pay you as you have been working hard all day long," grandmother said firmly.
"Don’t worry about it."
Uncle Huynh went to the gate. Mother ran after him and, a moment later, she came back, saying as if nothing had happened: "Let’s have dinner. Everything is getting cold."
***
One day, it was a little bit cold outside. I woke up and found my mother wasn’t beside me. I felt about the bed, but she was not there.
"Mum! Where’s mum?"
Immediately, grandmother’s voice resounded from outside: "Quang, don’t cry. Do come here with me!"
I cried in the dark. Grandmother lit a lamp and walked with a stick to my bed.
"You can sleep with me!" grandmother said.
"Mum! Where are you?"
"Stop crying! Your mother is having a stomach ache. She is in the lavatory," grandmother shouted.
I stopped crying. Grandmother took me to the outer room, complaining: "You, a grown up boy, why do you cry in that way?"
I slept with grandmother. I opened the window to look outside. There was a misty moon that lit up the sky.
Grandmother tapped lightly my head.
"Why do you open the window? It is cold outside," she said.
"Mum! Is it you mum!" I shouted.
The door creaked. There appeared in the golden red lamp light, mother trembling. She sobbed and kneeled down to embrace grandmother’s leg.
"Oh, God, mum!" she said to grandmother.
"Mum!" I shouted, not knowing what else to say.
Grandmother was standing there, showing no emotion at all.
"Okay. You both should come in and go to bed now."
Having settled down on the bed, mother caressed my back to lull me to sleep.
"Go to sleep now. I’ll buy you some paper to make a kite, and also a roll of string. Don’t worry about it."
My eyes were still half open, so I could see there was still a lamp lit in the outer room. Grandmother was smoking tobacco. Crickets were chirping outside the house. I started to sink into sleep. Then mother tiptoed to the outer room. I held my breath, waiting for something to happen.
"I’ve told you time and again that when you stop mourning the death of Quang’s father, you can marry someone else. Is Mr Huynh still standing outside? If he is, please tell him to come in here," grandmother said.
"Mother! Please don’t force him to do that. It’s my fault. I myself made that mistake."
"I did ask him to do it in a dignified manner. I had only my Quang and you have your only son Quang. My husband died when I was 28 and your husband was killed in action when you were 25. But each case is different from the other. My family situation at that time was difficult, so if I wanted it, I could not afford it. If I did anything to ban you from remarrying, I would be considered insensitive. Mr Huynh is a good man, but you should love him sincerely. If you marry him for convenience, you’ll bear all of the sufferings that go with it."
Mother cried. It seemed that she wanted to speak but could not.
Grandmother continued: "Quang’s father was short-lived for his people and motherland. I am the mother of a martyr and you are the wife of a martyr, so if you want to remarry, you should do it carefully because we are a mirror for the people around us. My time is quite different from yours. You know, I did run away one night, leaving Quang’s father behind. I ran to the river in the hopes I could meet someone to match with. But I thought of Quang’s father, so I ran back home, finding the boy in tears. I have known about your affair with Mr Huynh for a long time now. It’s late already, go to bed or you’ll get cold."
Mother came in and lay down next to me. I did not want her lying near me, so I turned my face to wall to show her that I knew everything. Mother sat up and turned my face to her. I wept.
"What’s happening?" asked grandma.
"Nothing. My son is dreaming."
I wept louder and asked to sleep with grandmother.
***
The American war against Viet Nam was escalating in a fierce way. My village was not very far from a bridge on the highway, so it became the target of bombings. People were killed, houses were destroyed. People were asked to dig shelters to hide. Uncle Huynh, now my stepfather, decided to dig a shelter for grandmother under her bed. The shelter was large enough for her to stay there all day and night.
Grandmother lived in great fear of the air raid sirens, although the people around us were not as afraid of the bombings. Many of them emerged from shelters to watch enemy planes in flames.
In the first days after my mother’s second wedding, it was decided that I would live with grandmother, but our daily care was still in the hands of stepfather Huynh and mother.
One year after that, I had a little brother named Huy. Mother and stepfather Huynh worked hard for the family. My family’s bomb shelter was one of the best in the village. My brother Huy and I could play and sleep there.
One day, after a quick meal, when it was already dark. Stepfather Huynh kissed my brother Huy good-bye and caressed my head. He then went to the bridge for alert duty. The flares were lighting up the sky from afar and the roaring enemy war planes could be heard. We were soon asleep when suddenly the sirens began blaring.
Mother woke me up.
"Wake up, Quang!" she screamed.
The flares looked menacing in the sky. Enemy war planes were flying over the roof tops. Mother, with little brother Huy in her harms, shouted loudly so grandmother could hear her.
"You stay here with Quang. Don’t be frightened!" she yelled.
Then she ran along the trenches to get out of the shelter. My brother cried and cried. Suddenly the shelter shook violently and bombs exploded nearby. Mother returned sweating, even though it was very cold.
"They are bombing the bridge," she reported.
The planes returned.
"Lie down!" mother shouted.
Wave after wave of bombers roared through the sky, filling the ground with explosions.
***
Early the next morning, stepfather Huynh was carried home on a stretcher. His head was bandaged and his shirt was soaked with blood. His eyes were shut. He lay there motionless.
"Huynh! My dear Huynh!" screamed mother.
No answer. Mother screamed at the top of her lungs and embraced him tightly.
Grandmother’s eyes suddenly grew dim. She sat in the shelter for days. My neighbour Nhai came to help with some chores, and slept there during the night. My family got another incense burner. Besides worshipping my grandfather and father, now we also worshipped my stepfather Huynh. Mother looked listless. The memorial service in honour of stepfather Huynh was organised at the communal office and mother tried to be strong during the period of mourning. But upon seeing my little brother Huy with the mourning turban on his head, she fainted.
It was quite a surprise that after the death of stepfather Huynh, grandmother did not show any fear of the enemy planes. Each time they came to drop bombs, she sat tranquilly smoking tobacco.
Translated by MANH CHUONG
Folks, this falls under the "Thank G-d I am an American" category...
Ping
There are some customs and practices that should fade away...
But remember, they're just as good as we are.
Frankly, this is a new one on me. I knew the old and fading habit of chewing betel nut, but I had never read about this nor have any of the Vietnamese folks I know ever said anything about drinking baby urine. Yech.
Or I shouldn't read, yikes!!!
Judging by some of the statements in the article, the author is from Norther Vietnam. Most of the Vietnamese I know are Southerners. Odds are that this is a northern practice - and a rare one at that.
Doesn't change the yikes. LOL
Isn't that the truth. One may need a swig of ba xi day do forget about this practice. Dang, doesn't anyone in northern Viet Nam chew betel quids anymore?
What are betel quids?
Betel is a type of nut. The nut is wrapped in a betel leaf and chewed in a manner similar to cewing tobacco. Chewing betel, much like chewing khat, produces a mild narcotic effect. It will stain the teeth black after long term use.
Ugh... OMG, that's just awful! Did you ever do that?
Oh Lord, this conversation is deteriorating, but I'm having fun. LOL!!!
The good thing is that betel chewing declined sharply after the US influence came into Viet Nam. The idea of jet black teeth (healthy, but stained black) as a sigh of beauty gave way to gleaming smiles. Now, one rarely sees anyone but old women chewing betel quids.
Yep, that is it! Now, women in Viet Nam want smiles like the women who appear in American movies - gleaming, straight teeth. I saw tons of ads and billboards for whitening toothpaste and other teeth whitening products.
I'm glad. That black stuff looks very unhealthy.
But, since only old ladies practice this habit, what money is there to make? Didn't you say young women don't do it?
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