Yesterday, we travelled from Da Nang to Hue via a detour to the old city of Hoi An. We spent an enjoyable couple of hours strolling through the extensive street market in Hoi An. Markets always bring me to the ground floor of the local experience -- they are so filled with aromas: spicy, punget, human, fish, fruit. They are filled with the noises of commerce, haggling, banging, chopping, yelling. They are filled with the reality of people interacting in ways meaningful, real, traditional and efficient. The old women are snoozing beneath their conical hats. The young people are checking out electronics or new clothes. Families are slurping noodles, squatting on benches. It transports me and humbles me. i never miss the chance to stroll up and down the dark passage ways between all the various stalls.
After a fine lunch at the Blue Dragon (which supports education for at risk kids in Vietnam -- there is a great theme to our travel here in Vietnam in that so many of the places that we visit for meals and necessities are supporting causes: of training street kids in the food industry ~Wa Xua in Hanoi, education in promoting helmet compliance for motos and bike drivers/riders, etc... at least it's compassionate, humanitarian tourism) we backtracked through Da Nang to pass through the six kilometer Hai Van tunnel. Duc, CPI's fabulous and meticulous logistics director and Vietnam's best driver, brought us into Hue so that we could visit two Clear Path beneficiaries.
Our first visit was with young Nghia. I had the privilege of meeting him and his family on last year's trip. He had been a recent victim of a mortar explosion that had blown off both of his feet and his left hand and wrist. At that time, he was very withdrawn and depressed, feet and arm bandaged and wrapped post amputation. The horrendous devastation of the destructive explosion had been equally painfully obvious on the drawn faces of his parents.As Duc negotiated his way through the back roads of Hue, uncharacteristically, he brought us to a very sudden stop. "There he is!, There's Nghia!!!" He was excitingly pointing to a group of young local guys kicking a red plastic soccer ball around. Unbelievably, there was Nghia kicking the ball with force right at the improvised goal: a stick going across two small trees. We piled out enthusiastically - surprising everyone. In his blue jeans, not even my professional, clinical eyes would have guessed -or perhaps even believed- that this solidly healthy, athletic young man (he's 14 this year) could be a triple amputee. There is the slightest sense that maybe he's minimally more bowlegged than the average Joe, but otherwise one simply sees brilliant, vibrant, physical, thriving life. Together,
we all wandered up the lane to Nghia's home where his obviously proud parents poured tea for all of us. Duc and Son (CPI's marvelous medical liaison specialist) helped us to find out how Nghia was doing He was just about to re-enter school, they translated. We enquired if he had any special needs that we could help with. Nghia indicated that all was well; i asked if there was anything that he was having problems with physically (though, after watching his football performance, i doubted it...) Nope, he was doing everything he wanted to ~ except for riding a bike. [and i will soon be correcting that] A bit concerned, i asked if he was the only amputee in his class. He quickly shook his bashfully smiling head. This meant that not only would he not stand out in his school (one in five landmine/UXO survivors are children -- CPI has helped greater than 2500 since it began its mission), but there were companions that would benefit from his example of complete recovery, and especially the strength of his spirit.If there are ever moments of doubt, of self questioning: Are we doing something? Is what we're doing making a difference? Is what we do changing how someone gets through life? Nghia puts them completely, inarguably to rest with one swift, powerful kick through the uprights.
Thanks, Nghia.
wolfgang brolley rpt
CPI Rehab Advisor
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