Già rồi bạn ơi! (We Are Getting Old)

(Note:  long time readers know of my good friend Mr. Cu.  We’re a lot alike – same age, grandfathers, photographers, kind of introverted – but he is in Huê, Việt Nam, and I am in America.  He recently sent me an email in Vietnamese – he’s never done that before – but he wanted to write in his native tongue so he could express his deepest feelings.  Trang translated it for me and did a wonderful job.  It was an introspective and contemplative email.)

All photos except the one above and the one of the old lady holding her own picture are Mr. Cu’s.  Be sure to click on each photo to see a larger version

Phan Cu was born on a sampan – a small boat on the Perfume River in Huê.  His father died at  age 42, probably from overwork as a xích lô driver, the three-wheeled pedaled conveyance used to transport people and freight.  The river people were then and are now among the poorest of the poor in Huê.  They live, work and die on the water.  Here and there along the river are clusters of moored boats – floating villages.  The largest was alongside Bạch Đằng Street on a canal that fed into the nearby river. It’s where Cu’s parents’ boat was located.  Cu lived on a boat like these with his brother and sister until he was in his teens.

I wish I’d known Cu as a young man.  Besides his obvious intelligence, I would like to know what spurred him to wanting something more than living on a sampan.  The boat kids seldom got a good education so they reverted back to working on the river as their parents did, continuing the cycle of poverty.  Cu had something inside himself that drove him to achieve higher goals.  He attended Quốc Học High School, one of the three most prestigious high schools in all of Việt Nam..  He learned English and used that skill to land a job working with the Americans at the big Phu Bai airbase near Huê. 

After the policy of đổi mới opened up Communist Việt Nam in the early 90s, Cu became part of the new emerging middle class – the owner of a prosperous café catering to western tourists and selling a lot of his photographs. But, he never forgot his modest roots.  As I got to know him better back in 2005-06, I would hear about him taking wedding photos for poor couples.  He once took me to a pagoda that cared for elderly people with no family – and Cu gave a framed portrait to each of the old people to keep as their own.  When the two of us would go out on photo jaunts, he would always surreptitiously slip a few bills into the hand of a particularly poor or elderly person.  Cu believed in giving back.

It is not unusual for Cu to escort western photographers around Huê to get the kind of shots they might not get by themselves.  I went with him on one such trip when he rented a boat and cruised the river and the sampan villages, all the while telling the two Americans about his humble beginnings.  He is proud of his river heritage, and he loves the Hương Giang – the Perfume River – the river that is almost sacred to Cu and many others who grew up in the cultural capital of Việt Nam. 

This was in the email he sent:

“Hometown is the most beautiful place in one’s heart. That’s how I feel about my beloved Huê where the gentle Hương Giang joins itself to the East Sea. The river, where I was born, has sheltered my life, witnessing all ups and downs of my boatman family. I love my Hương Giang and wish to bury myself in this river. . . I open my heart to Hương Giang and to the people whose lives are floating on the river.”

Then he told me about the news of the day

 “ . . . You know, yesterday was a memorable day for me too. The boat village . . . in Hue  . . . has been removed. I hope the boat families from now on will have a stable life.”

The place of his childhood is gone.

Ever the observer of life, Cu documented what he saw.  People whose lives are forever changed as the government moves them off the river and into new homes on land.  People’s meager belongings stacked in the dirt.  People’s boats taken apart.  People’s lives changed forever.

Cu went on:

“My hometown is very poor
 
Lack of clothes in winter
 
Shortage of food in summer
 
Flood comes every year”

And Cu took photos of his people undergoing still another wrenching event.  More than merely moving from one house to another, it was a dramatic change in lifestyle for them.

I once exchanged strong words with a European tourist.  She decried the disappearance of the old Việt Nam – saying that Việt Nam was becoming just another boring country of concrete, glass, and pavement.  She wanted the peasants to always be there, wearing conical hats. She took lots of pictures of the boats on the river.  I asked her if she wanted the people and country to remain poor just so tourists would have exotic photos to take home.  Startled, she knew what I meant.  Change must happen – it is the only constant in life.

Yet, there is a deep sadness in Mr. Cu as he watches his beloved country change.  It’s more than just getting old and wanting things to be like they used to be – Việt Nam has been through too much to cause any Vietnamese to pine for “the good old days.”

Cu ended with this:

“As you know I am born and grown up into a boatman family. I therefore feel lost when the village is no longer existing. But, let’s be cheerful, and hope for a brighter future for the unfortunate lives.”

And I will end with one of my favorite photos of Cu’s.  It expresses his love of the river and of Huê.  It is titled “Fishing the Whole Sun.”  A large print hangs in my home in America, reminding me of my second home town of Huê - - and of my good friend Cu.

Comments

[Trang]

I was having a hard time putting myself back to work after reading his email. It was very touching. I am flattered that he has asked me to translate it.

[James TREE Machin]

Thank you for sharing this.

[martha stanley]

Great blog, and was just thinking of him today, wondering how he was doing mentally and physically! Know he went through some tough times for a while! And good work, Trang!!!

[Sam]

The poems Mr Cu is actually from an old famous song, which depicted almost the exact situation of Hue's natives, and I used the same phrase (My hometown is very poor ) for one of my Hue's picture here:

http://vdphoto.net/ShowImage.aspx?ImgId=2555

and a picture of women washing clothes on Perfume River (Gia-Hoi district)

http://fineartamerica.com/featured/women-washing-clothes-in-river-sanh-tran.html

I took quite a few pictures of the Hue's boat people during 2006 and 2008 trips, because just like the Old Quarter in Ha-Noi, I know those images will soon or later be gone forever as the tide of change and progress will slowly but surely eradicate the "negative" past. You're quite right about we rather wanted poor people to have better life in a better environment than keep them in the same place so we can take pictures to brag about.
Last year, I didn't stop by to visit Mr. Cu, due to time limited and I was a tour guide for my 4 sons, but I will definitely pay him a visit end of this year when I arrived Hue one more time.
Someday, I will post a blog with all of Hue's places that I visited, including the boat villages near Vy Da, sharing my love to Hue and its people.

Thanks for sharing Doug, and compliment to Trang for the translation, but I bet nothing better than listen his word in person and sipping a cup of coffee with him, right buddy?

Sam

[MGB]

Oh, Sam, send the pictures you mentioned above, to Doug in an email so we can see them, too. Maybe Doug will post them?? Hugs to Cathy!! xoxo