When I had first agreed to teach at HUFLIT University, one of the stipulations that the President and I had agreed upon was that a portion of the money that I earnead would be donated to the victims of Agent Orange. As the Chairman of the Board for the Ho Chi Minh City Association for Victims of Agent Orange, he was pushing for me to visit the Tu Du village, which is part of the local hospital.
As the time neared to make the donation and visit the children, I was hesitant to go. If you venture around the most populous parts of the city (particularly in tourist hot spots), you are bound to see a person afflicted with physical deformities associated with Agent Orange. So, one would assume that after an extended period of living in this city, I had seen enough of this to desensitize myself from what I was going to see at the hospital.
Even so, I felt very uneasy about my impending visit. I was afraid of what I was going to see and how I would react. On the eve of my visit I continued to mull over the necessity of visiting the site. Needless to say, I decided that the right thing to do was to go and to face my fears.
When I stepped into the village area, where about 60 children live, I was greeted with smiles—all of the children were so excited to have new visitors to interact with. An area approximately the size of the an SA classroom hosted doctor’s offices and beds for all 60 children (ranging from the age of 3-28).
Some children were bedridden because of the growing tumors and mental disabilities, and others were free to roam around on the floor outside. The first few moments you are in one of their bedrooms, and their reality sets in, your heart begins to sink.
In a country with a healthcare system that is already poor, children with special needs are particularly marginalized (on many different levels). Not only have many of these children been abandoned by their parents, but to say that their medical treatment and living facilities are subpar would be a major understatement. Seeing a life in suffering is never easy, the natural reaction is to feel sorry for them. However, when I interacted with them—I could not keep the smile off my face. These children were so full of life and just genuinely happy to be playing with my friend and I. Whatever physical disabilities they had did not obstruct their jovial nature—it was a challenge to keep up with their pace!
In exploring one of the rooms reserved for older girls, I met a girl named Hong. I had been tired out by the younger kids and wanted to take a break, so I sat down on the floor and she happened to come up and talk to me. I found out that she is a student and that she will be completing her degree in Information Technology this year, and already has a job lined up as a manager after she graduates. She lives in the hospital in a small room with about 12 other girls, and when she is not studying for her own schooling, she helps tutor the younger students who are able to attend general school. Every day she drives her motorbike to the university without any special assistance. Hong has no legs and one functioning arm.
Finally, I understood what my instructor had told me : to feel sorry for these children would be to undermine everything they have accomplished. It is truly amazing.-Linh
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