Paradise of the Blind

“To live with dignity, the important thing is never to despair. You give up once, and everything gives way. They say ginger root becomes stringy, but pungent with age. Unhappiness forges a woman, makes her selfless, compassionate.”

My mother had lived like this, according to proverbs and duties. She wanted me to show the same selflessness. And what had I done? My uncle, her younger brother—her only brother—had asked for my help. He was sick, and here I was, preparing to abandon him.

When she smiled, I always noticed the sparkling whiteness of her teeth, aligned in perfect rows, and it made me sad. This was the last trace of her beauty, her youth, of a whole life lived for nothing, for no one.

“Ton’s family has always lived in peace with everyone,” my mother stammered. “They’ve never laid a finger on anyone here. You know that. Here in the village, everyone knows who’s bad and who’s good.”

Uncle Chinh interrupted, correcting her sternly: “You must not let yourself be influenced by others, or betray your class. We must crush the landowning classes, these cruel oppressors, and return the land to the peasants. If you don’t listen to me, you’ll be forced out of the community and punished according to revolutionary sanctions.”

Someday I’ll be even richer. This ancestral house will be renovated. It’s going to be even more opulent than before. I’ll show people. Even if I have to tear this body of mine apart. […]

People say I’m extravagant. I tell them, “Yes, that’s right, and I’m offering this to myself in memory of all my suffering.”

My mother was stunned and embarrassed. “l can’t accept all this. I’ve got enough to celebrate Tet already. This is too much. How could we eat it all?”

Aunt Tam replied coldly, “I’m not giving this food to you. This is my offering to my brother’s memory. It’s all for Hang. She can offer the food to her teachers, her friends, anyone she likes.”

“He’s all the family I have left. He’s so unhappy. Needs so much.” She went on, indignant. “And your poor cousins…they looked so straggly, like potato vines.”

I thought to myself, Mother, why don’t you just say what you mean: “My two nephews, my two little drops of Do blood.” At bottom, she was just like Aunt Tam. These were the only two loving women I had in my life. I said nothing.

I knew she had been counting on Aunt Tam to offer me the Tet banquet. That suited her just fine, since it left her free to put her savings toward her brother’s family.

“It’s just splendid, our Tet. Thank your lucky star.” She kissed me. I couldn’t stand the indignity of it, and I turned away.

How could my mother accept this humiliation? Why did she lower herself in front of my uncle and his pockmarked wife, before their children? Why did she love people who enslaved her?

Cadres in my country lived for these moments, for their luxury goods. They were good at this sordid secondhand trade in scarce imports. Some even lived off it. My uncle was no exception. All he cared about was the contents of my suitcase.

One night, when I couldn’t stand it anymore, I said to my mother, “I don’t even have the energy to study. Let’s sell one of the rings.”

“We can’t. They’re Aunt Tam’s,” my mother said, irritated.

I tried to keep calm. “She gave them to me. I need to survive and study before I can wear any ring.”

“No,” she snapped.

“Mother, I’m hungry,” I pleaded, biting back my tears. She went white and glowered at me. Suddenly, she jumped up, screaming like a madwoman, “No! Shut up! I said NO.”

“So there you have it, Mr. Uncle Chinh. The old child molester had never set foot on a dance floor. Of course, he did like to lecture his workers about how dancing was decadent, how their generation indulged in shameful pleasures, and how everyone should devote himself to the revolution. He had the same worldview as you, the same tastes. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean to insult you. I know you don’t have the same vices. But I must say, the resemblance is somewhat troubling.”

“The Saratov is mine. I paid for that refrigerator with my study-grant money while I was in the Soviet Union. In this house, only the television is yours. Sell it if you like. But try and explain that to the boys.”

I drifted off in silence; the couple, lost in their calculations, probably didn't even notice my departure.

I had never met a man so gentle and yet so firm. He had helped me. This was the first time in my life I had accepted help from someone outside my family. With him, my problems seemed to melt into thin air.