Saigon: War, Peace, and My Dreams 49 Years After the End of the War

On the afternoon of April 29, 1975, I left my homeland by boat. The following morning, tanks and communist troops entered the Presidential Palace, and the Republic of Vietnam surrendered. Saigon was officially renamed the following year, becoming, as Pham Duy wrote in his song, a city that "must bear the names of the dead," or as Nguyen Dinh Toan wrote, "Oh Saigon! We lost you as you lost your name." I was born and raised in Saigon. My parents, who had moved south from Nam Dinh after the 1954 Geneva Accords, settled in Nghia Hoa parish, a newly established Catholic settlement in the Nga Ba Ong Ta area, home to tens of thousands of Catholic refugees from the North. I was born a year later. While it's not entirely accurate to say I was born in Saigon, as my birth certificate lists my birthplace as Tan Son Hoa village, Tan Binh district, Gia Dinh province, Nga Ba Ong Ta was adjacent to the capital. From here, it was only three hundred meters along Pham Hong Thai extended road to Le Van Duyet, and crossing Bac Hai road from Gia Dinh meant entering District 3 of Saigon. After 1975, the Nga Ba Ong Ta area became part of Ho Chi Minh City. As a child, I rarely visited the city center. I only remember one occasion when my father took us to the Zoo, the Zoological Gardens, to watch elephants eat sugarcane and monkeys eat bananas. Another year, my father took us to Bach Dang Wharf to watch fireworks on National Day, October 26th, with explosions in the sky forming images of President Ngo and bamboo clusters. On several occasions, my uncle took me on a horse-drawn carriage or a three-wheeled cyclo to the city center for rallies commemorating the National Day of Hatred, July 20th, marking the division of the country, or to participate in protests against the military government. I attended Nghia Hoa elementary school and Thanh Tam secondary school in Nga Ba Ong Ta. In 10th grade, I transferred to Nguyen Ba Tong school on Bui Thi Xuan street, and from then on, Saigon became more familiar. It was my first year attending school in the city, and it was a transitional year without the final high school exams, so I often skipped classes to explore. I was no longer the excellent student I had been at Thanh Tam school, where I consistently ranked first, second, or third in academic performance and received honor rolls. Now, I was just an average student among 50 classmates. I often skipped school to watch movies at the Cao Thang or Nam Quang cinemas, or I would cycle around the city center. Streets like Nguyen Hue, Tu Do, Ham Nghi, Cao Thang, Tran Hung Dao, and Le Thanh Ton became familiar. Ben Thanh Market and Khai Tri bookstore on Le Loi street were places I frequented. I often visited the Tuoi Hoa newspaper office on Ky Dong street to read books and newspapers. In front of the General Post Office, there were stalls selling 'bo bia' (a type of sweet crepe) and stamps, where I would buy envelopes when special first-day covers were issued. Turning right on Tran Van Thach street from Hai Ba Trung street, near Tan Dinh Market, I would visit a small grocery store owned by a Chinese man to buy collectible stamps, a hobby of mine. In the city center, I witnessed many student protests around Quach Thi Trang roundabout or in front of the National Assembly building, protesting President Nguyen Van Thieu's policies and opposing American involvement in the war. After 10th grade, Nguyen Ba Tong school in Saigon became exclusively for female students, so I transferred to Nguyen Ba Tong Gia Dinh for 11th and 12th grade. Pham Van Thiem, a very good friend from 10th grade, would pick me up from Hoa Hung every day to go to school. Some days after school, we would go into the city center via Bong Bridge, which was filled with the fluttering white ao dais of female students from Le Van Duyet school. By the end of 11th grade, the war had erupted in many provinces. During the "Fiery Summer" of 1972, Tran The Vinh, a former student of Nguyen Ba Tong and an Air Force Captain honored as a tank killer, died in action. Although the battles were far away, they felt very close. In my neighborhood, Dinh Van Vu lost his life when a C-130 transport plane crashed into the sea during a resupply mission in the Central region. Ngô Đắc Doanh, a childhood friend, was killed in action, and Nguyen Van Nam went missing before turning twenty. Unlike the Tet Offensive, when guerrillas attacked provincial towns, this time the communist army attacked many places with tanks and heavy artillery, from Quang Tri at the demarcation line, to Kontum on the red highlands, and An Loc, not far from the capital. The government issued a conscription order. I was of military age, worried about my studies, my future, and deeply concerned about the war. Many afternoons, I would go to a cafe to listen to music that was both romantic and melancholic, reflecting my worries for the homeland and the fate of our people. "Follow me down the street at noon, Still lost in a drunken haze. Follow me as we step into pain, The sun has already risen quickly outside…" (Le Uyen Phuong) "At night, Mother sits and prays, The white walls are silent, Bombs shake the windowpanes…" (Trinh Cong Son) After passing the first part of the baccalaureate exam, I was granted a deferment to continue my studies in 12th grade. Returning to school, I discovered that some of my classmates had already enlisted. While studying English with Mr. Hoang Dinh, he reassured his anxious students: "Nixon has been to China and will go to Russia. The game is over. The war will end." Looking at the flamboyant trees blooming red in the schoolyard, he said, "The flamboyant trees are blooming profusely this year. You all will pass your exams and have the opportunity to contribute to building the country." At the end of the academic year, Mr. Dinh went to the US for further studies. Near my house, there was a US military base on Nguyen Van Thoai street, surrounded by bars. One afternoon, I heard a loud explosion and ran out to see a body blackened by TNT explosives planted on a bicycle by the Viet Cong. A neighbor, on her way home from school, died that day. Every night, I heard the mother's heartbreaking cries: "My child, in life, bamboo shoots cry for the bamboo, but who would have thought a mother would have to cry for her child." At school, I enjoyed literature classes with Mr. Tran Bang Phong, who admired the spirit of Nguyen Cong Tru, who served as an official and was later exiled but never discouraged. With his guidance, I created a wall newspaper for the class that year. During civics education, Mr. Nguyen Van Tieou led us in discussions on national issues. I brought up corruption, having read news reports about parliamentarians bringing back smuggled perfumes, cosmetics, underwear, and Playboy calendars from overseas trips to sell. Some parliamentarians were accused of stealing ancient Champa artifacts from museums and taking them abroad, earning them the moniker "Champa Artifact Parliamentarians" in the press, yet none were arrested. Minister of Economy Pham Kim Ngoc introduced a value-added tax policy that was criticized and mocked as "Minister Stupid." Some classmates expressed their hatred for "King Kissinger who visits at night" because the Paris Peace Talks dragged on for years without any sign of peace. Parliamentarians Kieu Mong Thu and Ngo Cong Duc demanded the withdrawal of US forces and a ceasefire from the Republic of Vietnam. One classmate asked why they didn't demand that North Vietnam cease its invasion of the South. In early 1973, the Paris Peace Accords were signed. I was overjoyed that the war was ending and that Vietnamese would no longer kill each other. "Wearing good shoes and socks, wearing clean clothes, I bid farewell to my country, now at peace…" (Pham Duy) On the morning the accords took effect, my friends and I went to the city center and sat in a cafe on Nguyen Du street, where the music echoed with the lyrics, a long-held dream: "When my country no longer has war, Children sing nursery rhymes in the streets…" "When my country no longer kills each other, People go out to the streets, offering smiles." To celebrate the end of the war, I designed and made two iron gates for the front of my house, with a peace symbol in the middle of each. After the gates were completed, one day, a police officer visited my house and told my father that they were anti-war symbols and demanded their removal. I was young... Information source: BBC Vietnamese