#69: Down Highway One of Vietnam:
Journey Through Ancient Kingdoms And Old Battlefields
04 DEC 2002
Vietnam. That land of lush green paddy fields with scattered thatch and bamboo houses. The erotic sensual beauty of girls in flowing silk ao dai and conical hats cycling on pretty country lanes. Timeless rivers meandering lazily through the countryside and dense jungles. Shaded trees, caf�s and colonnaded hotels, orange sunsets and fireflies.
Images of those killers from the sky, B-52 bombers dispersing chains of explosions from above that sinister, dirty-green jungle canopy. That painful, agonized face of a Viet Cong man about to be executed, the televised gunshot into his temple and the spurting of blood from his head. The screaming naked girl running from the napalm descended from the sky.
I left Hanoi on a tourist bus, speeding southwards along Highway One to discover the Vietnam of my dreams. This is the road that runs from Hanoi in the northern delta of the Red River, through the narrow coastal plains of this long-shaped country, all the way to the southern Mekong River delta, to Ho Chi Minh City, better known as Saigon. This is a journey into the rural idyll of Vietnam, as well as its turbulent history.
I passed by endless plots of paddy fields – muscle-rippled farmers with their coal-black water buffaloes, and farmers fishing for fish and frogs in their flooded rice fields which look like a vast glittering inland sea. Along this highway – the word is a misnomer for at certain places it resembles more a BMX track than an autobahn – are numerous remnants to Vietnam’s recent tragic past, the obelisks and cemetery to the country’s war dead, or Liet Si, meaning “martyrs”. These tall structures bear the words To Quoc Chi Cong, or “The Motherland Salutes You”. A large urn with joss sticks stands in front of each one.
Vietnam’s 400,000 missing in action are honoured in their hometowns and villages (contrast the 4,000 Americans missing in action). For the Vietnamese, death without body remains is particularly tragic, as it means the spirits of the dead are wandering around, with no hope of redemption. Land is too precious in Vietnam. The huge craters that once scarred this country have mostly been filled. There are only the painful memories that stay with the less than 40% of the population born before 1975, as well as the more than two million live victims (and their future generations) of Agent Orange. Under the terms of the agreement to resume diplomatic relations, the Vietnamese government had long given up any claims against the U.S.
Monsoon rain beat us in a relentless, threshing assault. During these times, the exotic lush green Indochine is drained of all colour, even the sky hangs in thundery black and white. At certain stretches, Highway One turns into a river of mud, and vehicles on it resemble boats negotiating the rapids. Even when it is dry, vehicles often have to shudder in and out of potholes. It is at such moments when the traveller asks himself, why am I here.
Hue, imperial capital of Vietnam and World Heritage city, was my destination. It lies near the geographical heart of Vietnam and capital of the country under the 19th century Nguyen Dynasty. Here the Nguyen emperors built an enormous citadel and palace complex partially modeled after the Forbidden City in Beijing (many of the gates and palaces in Hue have exactly the same name as those in Beijing), as well as huge tomb complexes along the Perfume River valley.
I walked around its massive ramparts and moats, and visited what remains of the once magnificent palaces, with its faded colours and broken pillars. The war against the French following W.W.II has done a lot of damage, but it was the Tet Offensive of 1968 that led to the destruction of this monument. On the first day of the Vietnamese New Year in 1968, Viet Cong (Vietnamese Communists) led a nationwide uprising, supported by North Vietnam forces that swarmed across the 17th parallel border. They occupied Hue (and took control of most major cities, including the U.S. Embassy in Saigon for a couple of days) and held on to it for twenty-five days, in spite of heavy shelling and air raids by U.S. forces.
This was a cruel war – 3,000 Hue residents were rounded up and shot by Viet Cong as collaborators of the regime, and the remaining citizens of Hue were subjected to relentless shelling by the Americans. Although Viet Cong lost the Tet Offensive with heavy casualties, the damage it did to American morale was tremendous. Most Americans stopped believing what their government had told them, that they were winning the war. This set in process peace talks and the U.S. withdrawal from Vietnam. For Hue, however, it was complete destruction, the most magnificent manifestation of Vietnamese architecture and art in ruins. Today, international organizations are helping the Vietnamese to restore and rebuild the palace complex.
I joined a day tour to the old Demilitarized Zone (DMZ). Under the Geneva Accords of 1955 which followed the defeat of French forces at the Battle of Dien Bien Phu, Vietnam was divided into two on the Ben Hai River at the 17th parallel (with a DMZ of five kilometers on each side of the line). The north was placed under the Viet Minh (Communist-Nationalist) forces led by Ho Chi Minh, and the south was retained by the French temporarily.
Free elections would be held in 1956 in both parts of Vietnam. However, by 1956, the Americans, who had financed the French in their struggle against Viet Minh, had by that time set up a puppet government of the Republic of Vietnam, better known as South Vietnam, in Saigon, and refused to hold free elections in accordance with the Geneva Accords. This led to the division of Vietnam and the eventual outbreak of the war between the U.S. and the Vietnamese nation.
Our group was led by Lanh, a pretty Vietnamese girl in her late 20’s, whose engaging features reminded me of a Vietnamese Mona Lisa – I could well forgive the travel agency for sending her instead of the promised “war veteran” as a guide. Whilst it was a pity that we did not have a man on the field telling us about the war, Lanh did bring history alive by her accounts of how she, as a child, fled with her family along Highway One, as fierce fighting broke out between North Vietnam forces and the South Vietnamese forces (Army of the Republic of Vietnam or ARVN). Many died on this highway of death, from bombs, hunger and exposure. Ceremonies are still held to remember the wandering souls lost in those terrible days.
We dropped by places that once dominated world headlines – Ben Hai River, Rock Pile, Darkrong Bridge, Vinh Moc Tunnels, Khe Sanh Combat Base. The tropics have a way of conquering the landscape. A casual observer would not have noticed the terrible scars of battles. Bush and vegetation have long camouflaged the bombs craters, but in what was once the most pristine dense tropical rain forests, only bushes and grass grow on these rolling hills. U.S. bombing has destroyed twenty-five percent of the nature cover in Vietnam, as well as seventy percent of the mangrove forests.
Mines and cluster bombs that littered the landscape – often dropped randomly by bombers across huge territories – will take 350 years to clear, under the current rate of de-mining. Lanh said, just two months ago, two children were killed by a bomb in Quang Tri Province where we were. Chemical weapons that have entered human body and the food-chain will take at least 200 years to disappear. According to a recent issue of the Economist, NGO’s have discovered that radiation levels have remained dangerously high in many areas, and cancer rates are higher here than most parts of the world. Millions are continuing to suffer from the effects of chemical weapons by the U.S. The Vietnamese Government is unwilling to highlight these issues for fear that it would affect the booming tourist industry and agricultural export. What a heavy price the Vietnamese have paid and are continuing to pay for their fight for freedom!
South of Hue is the Hai Van Pass. This lies between Hue and the city of Danang, Vietnam’s third largest city. The Hai Van Pass sits on what was once the border between the Vietnamese kingdom and the ancient kingdom of Champa. The inhabitants of Champa, the Chams, were a Malay-Indonesian people who once built a coastal Hindu empire stretching from the Hai Van Pass all the way south to the Mekong Delta. They built magnificent Hindu temples (and a few Buddhist ones too) and traded with India and China.
This once powerful kingdom, however, was destroyed when the Vietnamese expanded southwards in the 16th century. Now they are a tiny minority within Vietnam, their old Hindu beliefs lost and replaced by a form of moderate Islam that co-exists with certain Brahmanic rites. Danang is a far more interesting place. It was here that the French first invaded Vietnam, as well as where the first American troops landed officially to “help” their corrupt South Vietnamese allies (or puppets, depending on whom you support) fight the Viet Cong. U.S. involvement turned Danang Airport into the world’s busiest after Chicago in the late 1960’s. Today, Danang is a sleepy place, although the city is waking again. Direct flights to Singapore, Hong Kong and Taipei bring investors and tourists to central Vietnam. The phoenix has arisen again.
I arrived in Hoi An, a small town near Danang on a hot and humid afternoon. Hoi An, once known as Faifoo, was at one time the most important port in Indo-China. Its strategic Vietnam and trading volume has attracted large Chinese and Japanese traders and settlers, who built beautiful mansions and temples. Hoi An, miraculously, escaped the terrible wars of the 20th century, thus preserving an amazing combination of Vietnamese, Southern Chinese and Japanese architectural wonders.
Old Hoi An was also once the home to many Hainanese, traders from the Chinese island province of Hainan, where my ancestors hailed from. In this World Heritage city, the Hainanese built beautiful mansions and clan association buildings. I dropped by the ancient Hoi An Hainanese Association, and tried speaking Hainanese to the people. Not surprisingly, their Hainanese was worse than mine (which is actually quite awful), and we spoke Mandarin instead!
The Hainanese is the second largest Chinese dialect group in Vietnam, not surprising given that Hainan Island is next door to Vietnam. Many Hainanese, however, have left as boat people after the 1978 persecution campaigns against the “Hoas” (ethnic Chinese of Vietnam), and those who remain have become very much assimilated. Also in Hoi An was the Tran Family Temple. The Tran is a major surname in Vietnam, especially in Hoi An. This is the Vietnamese spelling for the “Chen” (in standard Mandarin Chinese) or “Tan” among the Hainanese in Singapore. In a very broadbrush manner, I am among my own “relatives”. Like most of the local Chinese, the girl at the gate could speak neither Hainanese nor Mandarin. She said that I needed to pay an entrance fee to come in. So much for distant relations!
I stumbled onto a nice restaurant by the picturesque riverside. Rose Restaurant is run by friendly Xu, a Teochew Chinese in his fifties. He was delighted to find another Chinese speaker. The Mandarin of his friendly daughter did not extend beyond ni hao (hello) and xie xie (thank you). Xu had a difficult life. In 1969, he was drafted into the South Vietnam Army. When Saigon fell to the communists in 1975, he was sent to a re-education camp like the hundreds of thousands of people on the “losing side” of the war. It was a difficult year of hard labour and intensive ideological realignment.
Soon after, with encouragement from the U.S.S.R., Vietnam launched an anti-capitalistic and anti-Chinese campaign during which private properties, especially those owned by the Chinese – some three million of them – were confiscated. Corrupt and zealous officials forced many of the Chinese living in “strategic areas” choose between moving to poor inland areas known as “New Economic Zones”, or leaving the country. Deprived of their properties and facing harsh discrimination, many Chinese in Vietnam decided to leave. What remained of their possessions were confiscated as they left the country. Most left on boats, hence the term “boat people”.
Thousands died in the stormy South China Sea, or were killed by pirates along the way. It was a terrible era. Xu’s mother and brothers left and found their way to the U.S.A. He stayed on. Life was tough. After China’s withdrawal of food aid to Vietnam, as well as the subsequent collapse of harvest due to enforced collectivization, there was hardly any food. International sanctions heightened the isolation Vietnam experienced throughout the late 1970’s and 1980’s.
Life has improved significantly since the resolution of the Cambodian Issue and after Vietnam’s opening to foreign tourism and investment. The Doi Moi reforms have turned Vietnam into the second largest producer of rice. Two million tourists visit the country now. The first restaurants in Hoi An opened eight years ago and Xu opened his five years ago. Xu’s mother and brothers visited him here. With outdated ideological baggage discarded, Vietnam is now experiencing unprecedented growth. I smell another tiger emerging.
My Son is the most important sacred site of the Champa kingdom. Located in a remote valley near Hoi An, this 4th to 15th century site was patronised by the ancient kings of Champa, who built grand Hindu temples in honour of the gods. Despite its proximity to the densely populated coastal regions, My Son was well protected by mountains to offer sanctuary to Cham kings during times of national crisis and foreign invasions. It is also due to this unusual sense of isolation that dense tropical forests surround the site, in deep contrast to the lush green rice fields not too far away.
I took a bus to the entrance of the World Heritage site, and walked across a temporary wooden bridge across a muddy fast-flowing stream. Then a jeep ride across a semi-dirt track to the site. There are groups of structures, built in typical southern Indian architectural style, towers reaching for the skies, complete with scattered linga (Hindu phallic symbols) carvings, floating nymphs and statues of the trinity of Hindu gods – Shiva, Vishnu and Kali. The place has a picturesque deserted feel, with grass and bush grown onto the solid rock face of the temples.
They say not to stray beyond the beaten path for there are mines and unexploded bombs everywhere. Just as the ancient temples of My Son had hosted the Cham kings in times of foreign invasion, they have also played sanctuary to Viet Cong guerillas during the American War. As a result, the Americans launched several B-52 raids against this ancient site – one notices the craters all over. According to archaeologists, twenty-five out of the seventy original temples in My Son survived. Out of these twenty-five, four were destroyed by sustained aerial bombardment from the U.S.
A1, the most magnificent of the Champa sacred temples, survived the initial aerial bombings, but the deliberate touch of the button by the crew of a helicopter gunship sent specifically for A1, finally delivered the holy temple into pure history. President Nixon was forced to order his forces not to further damage any Champa relics. My Son was not the only example of willful destruction of Champa relics. Indrapura, capital of the Cham kingdom and site of an important Cham Buddhist monastery, was completely destroyed and attracts no tourists today. And they talked about the Serb destruction in Dubrovnik and Taliban of the Giant Buddha’s of Bamiyan. The Serbs were only trying to get rid of Croatian “separatists” and the Taliban images of “godless infidels”!
I went on to Nha Trang, Vietnam’s premier beach resort. I’m not a beach person. Sun tanning is certainly not a thing to do in the monsoon season. I took a cyclo (a kind of trishaw) to the Po Nagar Cham Towers. Situated high up on a hill overlooking the city of Nha Trang and a picturesque river-mouth full of bluish-green fishing boats and floating and silt houses, this is an example of how holy sites transform with changing demographic landscapes. The statues of Hindu gods are clothed in golden robes full of Chinese religious inscriptions and fresh flowers. What an exotic sight with the mixture of Hindu and Chinese-Vietnamese religious iconology!
Ho Chi Minh City, the city once named Saigon. This was the capital of the defeated Republic of Vietnam, renamed after the founder of Vietnam who died in 1969, six years before the fall of Saigon. The locals still call it Saigon, mostly because they are used to it, and also because HCMC is such a mouthful, as someone explained to me.
Saigon has once again returned to its previous freewheeling way. Many Viet Kieu (overseas Vietnamese) have returned to invest in their old hometown. This is the richest city in Vietnam, with cars, bikes, bars, discos, sleaze, massage parlors, and pollution. Sometimes it looks as though the bad old days are back. I asked a cyclo rider what all that struggle was for. He reminded me that those wars weren’t really about ideology, but rather, independence and freedom from foreign domination.
Indeed, many of the ex-ARVN people I met weren’t as bitter as one might have imagined, despite time in re-education camps after 1975. Ho Chi Minh, who is seen more as a nationalistic rather than a communist hero by the masses, is respected by most. I saw his photo in many private homes in both North and South, complete with joss sticks in an urn in front, an indication of daily veneration by the ordinary people. The Communists might still rule Vietnam. However, like China, it has adopted pragmatic economic policies. Strong-arm rule, Confucian-style, provides social and political stability while the country undertakes tough reforms. What’s more, Vietnam now has a relatively fair distribution of land ownership, thanks to land reforms since 1975. The nation is ready for the next stage of market development. This country has tremendous prospects.
