Some days I am just overwhelmed at how blessed I am to have the experiences I am enjoying. And how lucky I am to be born into the life I was. Today was one of those days. I am here in Hoi An, Vietnam, near Da Nang on the southern coast. Hoi An is a UNESCO World Heritage site. The ancient city was a major trading port in the seventeenth century before the river was made shallower by silt. Many original buildings still stand.
This is my third experience with 'voluntourism", my second with GlobeAware. Two years ago my friend Kyle and I travelled to work in a village outside Siem Riep, Cambodia where most of our work was teaching English in a village school. This year we returned to Asia where we were expected to be doing a variety of things needed in the community. Day One we’d be helping to build a bathroom for a poor family outside of town. I expected this day to be rewarding for its physical contribution, along the lines of doing laundry at a refugee camp in Greece, last year’s trip. Once again, I was surprised and delighted.
During breakfast, the family’s dire situation had been explained to us. The home belonged to an elderly couple. At sixty, I had to ask for clarification as to what was considered ‘elderly’ here. The couple in in their 80s. They have three sons. One of them, 40, has two sons of his own and lives with his parents. His wife left him when his youngest, now 7, was one year old. I will refer to them as Grandmother, Grandfather, Father and Son. The older son lives elsewhere now so it’s the four of them in the house. Father had a serious accident and is unable to do physical labor. He works at night as a guard. Their home has one old style bathroom, a tiled room with a hole in the floor. Since eventually they will be building an adjacent house for Father and Son, they decided to start with a “modern” bathroom. We’d be mixing mortar for the brick wall and hauling sand to the area to build up the floor bed about a foot or so. It was long, hard, hot work. We learned that Son has special needs and has been diagnosed with autism. In Vietnam there is no Student Services or Special Ed in public schools. Teachers there were not able to work with him so he was removed from public school and is served by a non-profit agency in Ho An. He has a chronic cough so he was home from school today.
As is not surprising in a village, he was quite shy and did not really interact with us ... at first. As a teacher and auntie, I was bound and determined to get a smile out of him. But I also knew not to push. I have experience with children with special needs which served me well today. Kyle has brought some coloring books and crayons which he presented to Father. I suggested we just set them down and wait for Son to show an interest. Curiosity eventually won out and his dad gave him a book and the crayons. A bit later I peeked into the house and he was intently focused on his coloring. He sure knew how to stay in the lines. But he would not leave the house.
I continued my work, walking back and forth with wheelbarrow loads of sand. Rather than use words, if I needed my fellow volunteers to move when I was passing by I made the sound of a motorbike horn, much like the roadrunner’s “beep, beep.” I observed that this sound got Son’s attention and eventually he would mimic me each time I’d beep-beep. Ah! A crack in the armor! I noticed Son had moved from a bed on the back wall to a day bed closer to the door. I smiled but still said nothing but beep beep.
We stopped to take a water break and we sat on the porch. Son had ventured as far as the porch by now, wanting one of the wipes we used to cool our faces. He left the house! We are making progress, I thought, and said hello. Later as I was walking back and forth if I caught him looking at me I said hello. And sometimes he’d again mimic me with a hello back! By the time I took my next break he came up and tapped me on the shoulder, wanting me to color with him! Oi troi oi! Success! We colored for a bit, not speaking much but pointing and smiling. When it was time for us to leave for lunch, I asked our coordinator to translate that we were going to go, but we would come back. I was rewarded with the biggest smile! All the hard work of the morning melted away.
Upon returning from lunch, we set back to hauling sand and mixing mortar. Son kept tying to get me to stop working and sit with him. My friend Kyle sort of insisted that my work that day should be playing with Son. Reluctantly I sat, not because I didn’t want to, but I felt guilty watching everyone else do this hard, physical work, and here I was playing with a child. Kyle said two things that sealed the deal. “Who or what is making me feel guilt? The work you are doing with Son may be more important.” So I went into teacher mode and focused soley on Son. He quickly picked up the English words for colors. He learned to use my name instead of just kind of saying “hey.” I’d learned how to count to four in Vietnamese and I determined he already knew how his numbers. As is common in the US, people assume that students with special needs can’t learn. In fact, I’d heard one of the NGO employees say, only half of the 12 students and the center where he attends school “are capable of learning.” Uh no, Kathy, everyone can learn, just in different ways and in different times.
Son and I had a wonderful day together. We colored, we played with trucks, beep, beep and we talked as best we could giving language barriers. But his smile spoke volumes.
As our time was winding down, we all sat sat down together, volunteers, program coordinators, the family and contractors. With help of our translator, Father expressed their gratitude for our work and we expressed ours at the honor of being able to help them. When he found out I was a teacher he asked for any advise, given what I knew from being with his son. As a professional educator I was reluctant to offer suggestions without having done any sort of real assessment. But I also realized he’d probably never get a real assessment so I offered a few insights. I wanted him to know how smart his son is and not to underestimate him. Use language as much as possible and insist that Son use his words as well. The look of surprise and pride as he heard my words translated warms my heart even now. He eagerly devoured my words and asked follow up questions. I was sucked in and we talked for quite a while. I apologized to my friends for dominating the conversation but they assured me this was what was needed. Father’s love for his son was so apparent as he listened to me and to the translator. Grandmother showed the same parental love and concern as she intently watched her own son during the discussion. I felt so fortunate to have the knowledge and experience to offer this family hope for Son and real actionable information to help him themselves.
It was time to get back to work, but Son didn’t want me to go. So I invited him to help me. I was unable to see his huge smile as we pushed the wheelbarrow back and forth. Only later we I rewarded with the image. We prepared to leave he put his arms in the air for me to pick him up. He clung to me like a koala to a eucalyptus branch. I’d say, for that day, his armor was completely demolished.
Although we drove away extremely dirty, tired and sore, I would not have change a thing about the day. My heart is filled with gratitude.
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