The children of Vietnam

I am behind but I want to keep this all in some kind of order.  On Friday, February 28th, we spent the morning in Tan Chau, a river village on the shores of the Mekong.  First at a fish farm and then on a rickshaw ride.  The fish farm was not well named because it was basically a floating house with a hole in the floor.  The in the hole there was a very large cage in the water and the fish were in the cage. We were allowed to feed the fish and then they had items for sale.  I got brightly colored scarves and they gave me a white bag to put them in.

The rickshaw ride was a rather precarious venture. The driver was up front and I was on a raised platform behind with no leg room and no back rest.  The guide yelled to everyone as we all sat in our places, “Don’t lean back.”  He was puzzled that we all giggled nervously, but then again he was puzzled that we laughed when he said, “No one has gotten the GI problems in this group… yet.”  Maybe we just have gallows humor.

So after the ride, happy to stretch our legs, we walked around Vinh Hoa and talked to the local children.  They saw my bag with bright colors inside and thought I had candy for them. After I convinced them that I had none, they walked with me. A little girl convinced her toddling brother to hold her hand and mine.  We walked down the way like that for a long while.  They were all healthy and happy abet very dusty.  This area is all dust in the months between the rain storms. The children practiced their english words on me. “Apple Juice” “Fruit Juice” “Orange” (meaning the color as a little girl pointed to her shirt) “Banana” “Rain” “Clouds” “Cow” “Chicken" 

Their families all were farmers. They grew corn, eggplant, tiny hot red peppers, pumpkins, very long green beans and a green yellow squash type thing that grew on a vine on a wooden frame.  The children went to school either in the morning or the afternoon depending on their grade level. In the rainy season, their family has to take the kids to school in a boat.  In the dry season, they walk or bike. They had nothing to sell, were not looking for handouts and there was not a pick pocket among them.  They were just happy to see us and to talk to us. I will admit however that they descended like seagulls on a woman who gave them a pack of gum.  

Sugar is the universal language.