#45 - Rest in peace my dear friend...

        Sunday was a very emotionally charged day, me enduring a roll coaster of feelings as I heard one thing to the next. That morning, I awoke at around seven, hearing the sounds of the siblings moving around outside. I was still pretty tired that morning, sleeping late at night once again. I got up, greeting Vi, who was cooking some rice congee with chicken. I brushed my teeth and freshened up, noticing my tired looking face in the mirror. Shaking my head, I thought "you really need to take start taking care of yourself." My uncle Phong and his wife had already left, waking up early to tend to morning business, leaving just us children in the house. The son of the family had headed off to a friends house, I was told, so me, Vi, and Nhan all ate together on a table on the front porch of the house. "I wish we had more time, we want to show you around Hue and this area" Vi told me, to which I replied, "we do, I will return when my maternal grandparents come back." We continued to eat and talk, swatting flies with one of the electric fly swatters (it was rather satisfying to here the click of getting one). Eventually, I called my uncle, telling him to take me back to the center before noon to have lunch with the children.
         He was busy that morning, today being a religious holiday honoring the parents in the household, causing many of the villagers of Hai Nhuan to converge upon the central Buddhist temple. "Come join us," my uncle said, prompting Nhan to take me on one of the family motorbikes over to the temple. "Thanks for everything and have a great day!" I told her, waving her off as she road back home. Hundreds of people, dressed in light blue outfits were all huddled up either in or just on the outside of the temple looking in. They were in deep prayer, many of them bowing and praying, listening to the senior monk chant prayers. My uncle Duyet was there, nearby the altar near the temple steps, engaging in the event just like the rest of the people. The smaller children also dressed up, but were running around the temple to play and converse with one another. I decided to take part in the event for just a little bit, bowing to each statue and relaxing in the feeling of comfort and peace. My met my aunt Cam there, who told me to go and set my stuff at her house, and so I did, walking right around the corner of the temple.
         That morning, while waiting for the ceremony to end, I spent researching about the education system in Vietnam, thinking over the ways I could develop a program to improve English language teaching, knowing that this is a bigger issue than I had foreseen in the past. Now I realize the importance of my mission back to Vietnam, not just for the children, but for the whole country, and my responsibility to make things right, to do what others will not, and to do it for free. Those two hours were some of the most enlightening I've had at my stay, due to my current benefit of being to read Vietnamese to some degree, figuring out what exactly I am dealing with. My uncle came back, sweating like crazy, and said "alright, let's go, get your things." I closed my laptop, said goodbye to my relatives, and was off once again, riding the same nostalgic road out of my village. Two more weeks in Vietnam... Just two...
       Rolling into the center, I noticed how quiet it seemed, almost too quiet. I was dropped off in front of the Phung Vi house, one of the houses of the little children. "Ben, Ben, Ben, where have you been, how was the wedding!?" they screamed at me from the house. "It was great, how are all of you?" I asked. At the corner of my eye I noticed a new child of the center, he was cute, about two years of age, and not directly of Vietnamese blood, but of an ethnic minority in Vietnam. "His name is Thiec, but Mrs. Hong has decided to name him after you, Bin," said Tuy, standing at the door. I smiled, greeting the little boy and grasping his soft hands. "You are in the right hands" I thought, smiling at him. And that is when I heard it.
       "Ben, Min is dead!" said Phe, "Min passed away at midnight today." My heart dropped. "You are lying!" I said, "no way, no way, tell me what happened!" And so they told me, all the children huddling around me and letting me know the situation. So throughout my whole stay at the center, Min had an abnormal lump of skin growing out of one of its eyes, threatening to blind the dog if not taken out. Mrs. Hong decided to take the dog to the veterinarian the other day in order to remove it. And so the vets did, and Min was brought home just fine, or so it seemed. However this was not the case, as hours later, Min was seen to have blood running out of its mouth and its movement slow and weak. Min was rushed back to the vet's office, hoping to be saved, but in the end, Min was lost. A new dog, a small black one, was brought to the center by Mrs. Hong to replace Min, many of the children disliking the dog at the moment. What I will say is that hearing about the loss of my cherished friend, one that had not even reached one year of age, during my stay at the center is about as heart breaking as it had gotten for me at the center. It was one thing to see Quyen, Phuoc, and Vung leave the center the last few weeks, but having a death is a whole different story. I spoke to all the children down there, also updating them on how the wedding was back at the village. I took a slow long walk back up to my room, staring out at all the locations Min used to run at, playing in the plants, biting at this and that, and running after me as I walked up and down the center. The older brothers and sisters were in their houses eating lunch and so I decided not to disturb then, quietly walking back to my room and set my things aside.
        When I got into my room, I remembered strongly the smell of Min, the places in my room where it would run around and try to bite its tail, and the little mat and towel that it slept on when it stayed overnight in my room those few days ago. I let out a sigh and sat in my bed, thinking over those fond memories with that dog, knowing that I had to at least give it the honor of my remembrance. I looked at the time and noticed that I had to get down to eat with the children, though I payed a stop at Mrs. Hong's house to hear the story from her side. She told me it all, saying that she cried all morning, and brought him a dog that was once hers, given away, and now taken back. She didn't know what to name it and gave that honor to me. "I don't know what to say, I'm speechless" I told her, "I need to go have lunch, let's talk later." And so she waved me off as I began my slow walk back down to the Phung Vi house.
       Mrs. Thao, the previous mother of that house returned, bringing home her wedding photos in giant picture frames for the children to see, all of them admiring her and her husbands beauty and commenting on their outfits, one frame of traditional clothes, and another in the more Western look. I decided not to talk anymore about Min that lunch, saving that discussion for later on, and focusing on catching up with the children. "Ben, it was boring without you swimming the other day, and even when not swimming its boring" said Phi. Them telling me this is just a precursor to the pain that we will endure when we say our goodbyes. I know it will hurt, but that is of course the nature of life and the result of separating a bond that has been forged over these last six weeks, and soon to be eight. After finishing up lunch, Phi, Phe, Luong, Binh, and Chinh followed me up to my room, asking if they could watch a film with me and relax. "Sure why not?" I told them, seeing as how Ms. Nga and Ms. Lang, their mothers, gave them permission.
        The next four hours into the afternoon were nothing but relaxation and thinking. I thought over the loss of Min, but also about my plans for the center these last two weeks. After the children left to go sign paperwork at school at around three, I spent an hour cleaning the whole room and doing laundry, giving me some peace for a small moment of the day. At around five, Mrs. Hong called me as I was planning out my lesson for Monday, asking me to eat with her family for the night. I agreed and walked down to the Phung Vi house to tell them my plans. I saw my brothers and sisters from the houses up near my room, all of them still reacting to the loss of Min, some more than others. They greeted me back, hugging me, and asking me to stay for a bit to talk. And so I did, talking and joking with them, and finally made my way to Mrs. Hong's house.
         The power went out about an hour into waiting for the food to be cooked, her daughter doing the cooking while she talked with two friends that came up to ask her about the center. I ate early, Mrs. Hong busy for most of the dinner. The moon was bright tonight, causing for us to not even need to have lighting outside. It was beautiful, perhaps symbolic in some way. Mrs. Hong asked to speak with me outside.
         For the next half hour or so, I spoke with Mrs. Hong, her asking many questions about my feelings about the center. I told her exactly what I felt about it, my feeling of responsibility in servicing the country of my roots, and my happiness that I have found living in the center. I told about my plans to donate to the center in the future, asking her for many different things, and planning to work with the employees in the following weeks to straighten out these ideas. She asked me if the center needed anything else, and I paused. "I'm thinking about that right now, as I find no major problems at this time to point out" I told her, though I realize while writing this that there are definitely issues to bring up. Some odd that I noticed while talking to her is that a bright orb of light following what looked to be a power line floated up behind her, as she talked, my eyes watching the orb as it glided from one tree to the next tree, and finally along the wall and behind the bakery house. "How odd?" I thought, "am I seeing things?" I continued my conversation with Mrs. Hong, the power eventually being restored and cries of happiness erupting from the center. I bid her goodbye and headed down to the younger childrens' houses, spending some time with them and tutoring some more children in English.
          Tomorrow is the first day of school for many of the children, marking an end of a consistent schedule of teaching. This does pose a small challenge for me, but nothing I cannot find a way to work around. I walked up in the darkness, opening my room, and staying up late once again, reading and thinking over the day. As I lay in bed, just about to close my eyes to sleep, I starred back at the mat I placed in front my the bathroom door in my room where Min used to sleep. I imagined it laying there, curled up into a little ball, resting peacefully. "Rest in peace my dear friend..." I said, then covering myself with my blanket and letting exhaustion guide me to sleep. I will never forget...