The unrelenting Vietnamese sun peered
through the bulky drapes in my hotel room. Morning had come for us. I sauntered
out of bed and made my way to the shower. I stood for a while and slowly dialed
down the hot tap until it was as cold as I could withstand, hopeful to carry my
new found freshness with me into the day.
I am struck by the blinding morning sun and
a wall of muggy heat as I enter the roof top dining area, my shower now miles
away from me. Our team gathers at various tables, all at different stages of
readiness for the day. The babies eat tiny, distracted bites of breakfast,
warming up to the possibility of play.
I smartly had brought a travel mug with me
from home. A North American life style conditions you to want endless amounts
of drip coffee. This is fairly abnormal in the rest of the universe, so I have
extensive experience with getting lovely cups of international coffee and being
incredibly disappointed when they're gone within minutes. Yes - I am the person
who orders three 'flat whites' in a row. They have drip coffee at this little
breakfast buffet, so I plan to fill my gigantic mug before we leave for the
day. I'm sure the hotel staff think that I'm some sort of glutton. But being in
Vietnam has created a new beast in me. I don't just crave my normal drip java.
One of the things that I have become obsessed with is Vietnamese coffee - iced
coffee in particular. It is incredibly strong and thick, mixed with condensed
milk and poured over ice. It has an enchanting flavour of toasted caramel. I
don't know what on earth they do to it, but it sure is good. As I walk to the
buffet table mug in hand, I am stopped by a staff member. We are unable to
communicate but she seems to want my mug, understanding the goal of my mission.
I hand it over, curious about what will happen next. She whisks it away and I stand
disenfranchised near the table, eagerly anticipating its return. She reappears
moments later smiling and hands me my mug. I thank her and dash off to return
to my room. While in the elevator, I enjoy a sip....and it is the most
marvelous coffee concoction that I have ever tasted. I open the lid and look
into the mug. It is thick and dark and has a beautiful aroma of toasted
caramel. Condensed milk - I know it. But how? How on earth do they make it so
good? I spend the next two weeks relentlessly trying to recreate this
experience to no avail. Another reason Vietnam will always have my heart. They
have the coffee.
I digress.
We are hurried off in the van for another
busy day at the hospital. Now forgive me dear followers as this is the fork in
the road of our tale. Our days and evenings in Long Xuyen and beyond became
incredibly hectic; full days teaching followed by group plans in the evening.
There was so much to do, I found it incredibly hard to track our adventures the
way that I had originally planned. So please accept my humble apologies for the
interruption in the cadence of this story. From here, I will divide our tale
into pieces about the larger scale stories from our teaching symposium, and our
hospital tour from the words and perspectives of our team. Outside of our work,
the beautiful photography of CLR and Dave Easton will tell the tale of
adventure until the end.
But I do have one more story that I want to
share. I can feel it tugging on my heart.
After our busy day of teaching, we are once
again herded to our van. Another commitment awaits us and we must make haste as
there is little time. We are expected at a ceremony. We travel a short distance
and find ourselves at a school. We are greeted by our hosts who usher us into a
large open-to-air auditorium that is densely packed with seated people.
We have arrived at the Bike Ceremony.
Our seats are reserved in the front row and
we organize ourselves accordingly. There are about one hundred impressive
bicycles - brand new and sparkling in light. They are for the CHKV sponsored
students with the families of those recipients seated behind us.
In addition to sponsoring families of
children so they are able to attend school, CHKV also fundraises to provide
bicycles to poor students whose families do not already receive money. Many,
many children come from deeply impoverished homes and walk incredible distances
to and from school everyday in order to receive an education. For some, the
bicycle will ease the physical burden of getting to school, removing at least
one formidable barrier from continuing with an education. For others, it will
be an absolute necessity, allowing them to return home quickly if they are
needed to work for the family's survival. These bikes are not for fun. They are
not for games. They are insurance for a child’s future and maybe also for a
little bit of fun.
I look around the room and scan the faces I
see waiting in the audience. Hundreds of people are there to take in the
ceremony. I contemplate the power of how many lives can be so positively
impacted by a gift as simple as a bicycle. As I take in the view, I note that
the ceremony is starting. The students walk in wearing smart white and blue school
uniforms. They are seated in the audience as the speeches begin.
A number of remarks are made by Nguyen, our
friend and advocate from the Retired Teachers Association as well as Chau and
Darlene on behalf of CHKV. Chau shared with the students that "not long
ago I was in your shoes, born in the aftermath and turmoil of the war. My
parents scrounged up all of their physical possessions and could only afford to
purchase one boat ticket and made the heart-wrenching decision to allow me to
escape.” To the children, she shared "I could have easily been anyone of
you living in hardship and sitting in this crowd anxiously awaiting the
generosity that is given to you by our Canadian team." Chau reminded the
children to "always remember your worth and value and study hard to
persevere. Appreciate your humble roots and use your hard work to discover the
power of education so that you can in turn help your own family and
others."
I am intrigued when two students are
invited to the stage. They are young, less than 12 years old. They tell us
about their lives and what school means to them. We hear about their hopes for
the future and how they make sense of hardship. They express their gratitude
for what little they have.
And now my perspective is changing. I had
been deeply discouraged by our visit to the family homes the day before. I was
overcome by my own wealth, unintentional selfishness, and unfair advantage in
life. While I was contemplating such dark thoughts, I was met by the ugliest
notion of all - "why even bother?" I can't change the world. Where
would I even begin? I could live an entire lifetime of handing out money and
where would that get me. The burden of injustice will still prevail. We will
never reach the summit that we envision.
But suddenly I am seated before children at
a microphone declaring to the world what they will do with their education. I
look beside me at the team of people who have traveled with me from Canada. I
look to Chau, Darlene, Thu, Tieng and Christian and all of the retired teachers
who have made this possible
I look to the children. And now my vision is different - changed somehow. I am no longer looking at poverty. I am looking at potential. And all of the work that we have arrived to do is now assembling in my consciousness in a way that speaks to my heart.
We are not here to change the entire world.
We cannot fix the incredible poverty that lives here. My power to influence
lives is limited. All of these things are true. But today is a miracle because
helpers chose to make the world different. Flying in the face of insurmountable
odds - we were giving bicycles to children in need in the hope that they could
make the difference. And even if it was only one child who was able to leverage
sponsorship or their shiny new bicycle into a chance to break the cycle -
wouldn't that be enough?
Just look at Chau Pham.
The children are asked to come to the stage
to receive recognition for their achievements. Chau insists that each of us
have a turn coming on the stage and shaking their hands. I feel guilty
participating in this - as though I had somehow not contributed to this
incredible occasion. But Chau sure has a way of getting you right in there. I
accept my fate and relish in my opportunity to recognize these fine children.
And then the moment that we are waiting for
arrives. I watch as tears well up in my eyes. The children come to the front of
the room and each stand beside their new bicycle. They are disciplined and
stoic - no doubt the result of the structure of their school. But if you look
closely enough you can see their eyes dancing, brimming with the excitement of
wheeling their brand new, precious bicycle from the auditorium.
Their purgatory of suspended anticipation
lasts for a few minutes as we take some photos.
And then they are dispersed. My heart races
as we watch them leave the room. They are smiling and laughing, such gratitude
animates their faces. I run out of the room and behold the most beautiful
sight.
Dozens of children riding on bicycles -
everywhere and as far as I could see. As they slowly rode off into a dusky
evening sky, I stood outside and took in the magic of this brief moment in
time. I contemplated how unfair life has been for these small people who have
been born into incredible hardship. But today - today is different for them.
Today they were given a gift. Today they have some good fortune. Today their
hand changes, even if in the slightest way.
Today I watched the most deserving children
on earth receive a most special gift.
A beautiful new bicycle.
To the sweet students of CHKV - may it
carry you far and bring you the good luck you so deserve.
Love always,
The CHKV team
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