Saturday.05.22.04
erstwhile finger cup, two speeches at a seminar and business suits to go all around [ ] - quoc viet - -@_.com @ 12:50am
out of nowhere the small girl in the jean jacket and ruffled hair appears from the dark air in front of us, a cute face on a confident gait, 6 years old maybe. im shovelling fried frog legs and scrambled fried fish into my mouth, rice coming in after. food’s become a sort of distraction for me, taking me away from the work that has pretty much consumed my life. funny how things happen… once i looked down on business as a fool’s game, a steady climb up an unending ladder that would eventually end in unhappiness. quite possibly a mid-life crisis somewhere along the line. but i’ve had my mid-life crisis, am having it now… the way i drive and spend my days, i don’t think i expect to live past 30. she struts up to the table, her coolness stopping my hands holding the spoon with the rice in mid-air.
“mister, i’m gonna drink this tea ok.”
more of a statement than a question, pudgy little fingers reach out and grab a small and white plastic cup, the color shaded light brown from old age. she pours a bit of tea into it and drinks it slowly, watching me with her cool eyes. finally, she finishes drinking and puts the cup back in its place, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her jean jacket.
“some good tea huh?” i ask her. short-stout laughs and adds, “so luxurious, just coming and drinking like that.”
she watches us with her eyes as she steps to the side, to get out. pointing her fingers at my sweet orange drink (a sugary concoction by the name of Twister, 1/3rd the size of the foreign brand Cokes and Pepsis), she asks with a slight push of conviction,
“what’s this?”
i follow her fingers to her face, a face not smiling but not frowning either.
“it’s orange drink. some good tea huh?” i reply. she steps off and walks past the street, the vendor smiling at her as he’s bringing food to the other tables. i follow her half-stomping walk back to a small stand by the edge of the street, cigarettes and candy stuffed inside a metal container with wheels. carefree, innocent. an old woman in pajamas sits on an old lawn chair, talking to some other woman. i smile for some reason, a smile to break from the flurry of activity that fills my days, a distraction from the bigger dreams and pervading sense of duty.
i’ve been working close to 10 hours a day, taking things that were once mediocre and ugly and transforming them into something polished and worthy. it’s not the money really… even if this company explodes i don’t think i’ll expect to make more than what i’m making now, which is peanuts to what i could be making back in the States. but it’s that dream, that glimmering brass ring just out of reach that pushes me. i remember my time in London, chasing that ideal, coming here to Vietnam for the first time and feeling shocked as i walked down the dirty streets. i was afraid, in awe that i was actually doing something i thought of and wanted to do, not what someone else expected. the business could get big.. really big. and although i hated business, i am now in a position to finally affect something, bring to Vietnam what it so desperately needs right now: American-style efficiency to rake in the dough and to give people some livelihood.
short-stout and me, we run errands like crazy sometimes. i’m not sure why he does it. he said to me the other day, “you know, living by yourself away from family, you live a kind of ‘vo tu’ existence. you don’t think about the future and just live for the day.” and even though every action i perform is rooted in the implications of the future, of days where i can see my students again and not feel heavy in the chest, of the time when i can do something instead of wither at the sight of deformed hands and feet, i nodded and replied,
“there’s nothing wrong with that man.”
because the sun comes up tomorrow regardless of what i do.
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