Trang Nguyen
FYS 124
Professor Gregg
September 26th 2015

“Bearing witness”

Yawning, I complained about being waked up at 4am for the charity trip. We were on the car going to Hoa Binh village (a village where homeless people and disable children live) from Hanoi. That time, I, a 13 years old girl, could not have understood the meaning of the trip. I thought that it would have been a boring meaningless trip. “Why do we have to such a place where I find nothing interesting?”
10am, we arrived at Hoa Binh village. Because the entrance was too small, we had to leave our car outside and walk into the village. “Such a dirty and dilapidated place”- I thought.
There were only about fifteen houses in the village, all of them being really small and old. We went into the first house. The atmosphere smelt weird, like dirty diapers. Someone was yelling at the corner of the house. Coming closer, I realized that it was a boy, no, an adult, wearing a underwear and talking with some language that I did not know. He was not a normal person. He looks like a 30 years old man, but he acted like a baby, playing with the three wheels car, smiling unconsciously and talking with himself. I was absolutely surprised, and scared. “Almost of people in this village were like that. They are affected by Agent Orange from the war. They cannot live like normal people. They are not aware of what happens around. They do not live, they just breathe. And being alive.”- Our guider told us about people in this village.
We walked around the house. I could not believe that there were 10 people living in a fifty square meters house. All of them were attached by the rope at every corner of the house. Talking with themselves. Crying. Screaming. Playing with everything they found on the ground. Laughing. All of these noises obsessed me for a long time. This was the first time I saw a dark side of this beautiful life. Those people cannot do anything by themselves. They even ate and defecated at the same time, in the same place. They were ignored by the society. That was terrible.
Leaving that house, we keep moving to another house. I heard the kids crying. Walking into the house, we saw three women being around with ten newborns. I was told that those kids were left by their real mothers. People found those kids in front of temples’ door or on the street. “They are so cute, how can they be left by their real mothers? This world got crazy?”- I thought. I hugged a kid. He was about three months old. He looked like an angel. Life was not fair. Everyone was born in different situation. We could not choose our parents, our nation. I knew it. But I had never imagined that there were so many unlucky people, who became orphaned when they were born.
We spent a day in that village. We were playing with the kids. We donated some money, food and clothing. But for me, this trip meant so much. I could not see the war, but I did see people and the pain they must suffer from the war. I could not see the parents and could not understand the reasons, but I did see their kids, being left and becoming orphans. That moment I felt like I was being a witness for the unfairness, for the scars in this society, from the wars.
From the trip, I started spending my time for the charity. I participated in a lot of charity projects and found for myself a project which aims to call for help and donations for disabled children.
I am not just a witness.
I am working to be a helper.
With a purpose of making a better world where everybody has right to live happily and comfortable.