THE THIRTIETH OF APRIL

 

“April is the cruelest month”, waxed T.S. Eliot.  On those terms, thus, the Thirtieth is the pinnacle of cruelty.  Indeed, for the Vietnamese who lived south of the 17th parallel, the Thirtieth of April, 1975, was a tragic end; with the fall of their coveted Saigon into the hands of foreign occupiers, who also called themselves Vietnamese and had the same yellow skin, but worshipped different heroes. “Lenin dang o Moscova, co sao den gac vuon hoa Ba-Dinh?” (Lenin was living in Moscow, why did he come to guard the Gardens of Ba-Dinh?)  Popular Vietnamese saying after 1975, alluding to Lenin’s statue erected in Ba Dinh Square, Hanoi.

 

For the North Vietnamese, the Thirtieth of April, 1975, was the realization of a national dream that began long before the Americans arrived in Danang, long before the French carved up Indochina and enslaved it, even before Emperor Gia-Long unified the country and named it Vietnam.  This was the dream of a sovereign state, undivided by regionalism, un-wrecked by politics and power struggles, unmolested by foreign occupation and intervention, independent and free.  For this, the North Vietnamese were willing to accept all consequences: “Sinh Bac Tu Nam.” (To be born in the North, to die in the South).  The battle-cry of the Bo Doi Bac Viet – North Vietnamese People’s Army.

 

So how shall the Vietnamese commemorate the Thirtieth of April?  Shall they beat their drums and dance with joy or shall they lower their flags in anger and remorse?  Thirty years later, we are still laughing and crying at the same time.  For those who fled Vietnam, the pain and losses are unforgettable, even though many have forgiven those who have trespassed against them.  While the majority who remained and endured the hardships, are just now beginning to overcome abject poverty and suffering.

 

There is no right or wrong way to commemorate the Thirtieth of April because there are no real winners or losers.  Those who call themselves the “Victors in Vietnam”, have came to power only through treachery and treason, betraying their own countrymen and destroying the very dream that they set out to attain.  Vietnam today is no more free or democratic than it was a hundred, or two hundred years ago.  While those who presumably “lost the war” and went overseas didn’t really lose their country, but instead, gained the world.  They are the same people who are bringing know-how and tens of billions of dollars a year back to rebuild and modernize their beloved Vietnam.

 

So who should celebrate and who should hang their heads in shame?  Perhaps everyone, and no one at all.  Perhaps it is best to mark the occasion with a somber “moment of silence” to remember the best of us who have perished, and to re-dedicate ourselves to carrying on their legacy.  Unspeakable horrors have come to pass.  It is time to embrace each other and to heal the pain, to make-up for the losses.  War is no less a natural disaster as is a hurricane, or earthquake, or tsunami.  It is a grotesque outgrowth of human nature, despite our best efforts to hold it in check.  We can only hope to minimize its effects, and work toward banishing it from our societies for as long as we can.

 

JOSEPH DOVINH

Copyright 2005. Telephone: (714) 936-9119. Email:  JOSEPHDOVINH@MSN.COM.

 

The second seminar on Vietnamese American Achievement was held at the Vietnamese American Community of Northern California Cultural Center last Sunday, April 17.
 
The above reflection is seminar organizer Joseph Do Vinh's contribution to the colloquium. 
 
In considering these somewhat controversial views from DoVinh the issues of identity of a young man who came to America in 1975 as a child can be seen in his poem from green plums; collected poems in english and vietnamese 1985-2005:  (courtesy of the author, Josephdovinh@aol.com )
 
    we've come  (2002)
 
skies of jacaranda blossoms, shores of strawberry vines,
we've come to dawdle and to daydream
among the orange groves, beneath the shady palms.
 
with nothing in our hands but water
with nothing on our backs but sun--
we've crossed the rivers and the oceans.
we've risked it all and we've won.
 
we've come to this land that trembles beneath us,
yet we love her and feel no fear.  the valleys here are watered
with immigrant sweat, refugee tears.  we've come
 
as far south as south should be,
as far north as north should go,
as wide east as east should get,
as near west as west should know. 
 
the nights, a-blooming jasmine, perfuming near and far.
weightless on feathered backs, we're swimming with stars.
 
 
Thank you very much for your contribution to the community, Do Vinh, and your submission of thoughts to this list.
 
Jean Libby
Viet-Am Review