B7 Bis: The cozy school in my life

In 1965, I was selected by the government to study Vietnamese in Vietnam. The 1965 cohort of Chinese students consisted of over 30 men, all of whom were well-suited to the wartime circumstances of Vietnam.

The author of this article is Professor Chuc Ngưỡng Tu, a special professor at Lijiang Academy – Guangxi Normal University (China).

Between 1965 and 1967, the Vietnam War was rapidly escalating. We took an international train to Hanoi, and had to disembark shortly after leaving Dong Dang station to avoid enemy aircraft. Along the way, we could still see anti-aircraft artillery and anti-aircraft missile positions. Although the US hadn't yet dared to attack Hanoi, the heart of Vietnam, the city was filled with an atmosphere of readiness for battle. Passenger buses were painted in camouflage, trucks were covered with camouflage, anti-aircraft gun emplacements were placed on the rooftops of multi-story buildings, and there were many individual bomb shelters on the sidewalks. I was very impressed by these shelters and considered them a clever invention of a simple culture: a shelter made from a pre-cast cement pipe buried in the ground, about 1 meter deep, with a lid, just wide enough for one person to squat in. When an air raid siren sounded, people would simply jump in and close the lid. Simple but very practical.

The Vietnamese side arranged for us to study at Hanoi University, so building B7 Bis became our place of residence and study. At that time, the white main building of the Polytechnic University hadn't been built yet, so B7 Bis was naturally a rather "prestigious" building on the Polytechnic campus. The building had four floors: the first floor housed offices and a cafeteria, the fourth floor had classrooms, and the second and third floors were dormitories, with three students sharing each room. On the west side of the building, there was a bomb shelter for international students.

Arriving in a strange place, with unfamiliar people and a foreign language, and facing war, we were all bewildered and uneasy. However, thanks to the extremely thoughtful and enthusiastic care and assistance of the Vietnamese Language Department, in a very short time, we integrated with our Vietnamese classmates, and all aspects of our lives and studies settled into a routine.

During my time studying at B7 Bis, the most profound impression was still the war. We witnessed war crimes firsthand: standing on the bank of the Red River, watching the fire at the Gia Lam oil depot caused by rocket fire, it felt as if an American plane had dropped a small atomic bomb; going to Phu Xa village northwest of the city, we saw the tragic scene of the farmers in the suburbs and felt both pity and hatred… We also witnessed the victory of the army and people of the Vietnamese capital: seeing three missiles soaring into the sky and converging at a single point in the air, shooting down an enemy plane; one evening, walking through the streets, I saw a large, obese American pilot being tied up and escorted towards Hoa Lo prison.

In terms of material living conditions, things were incredibly difficult. Although our hosts allowed us to shop at the International Club, we still felt we lacked many things. In the lesson, to introduce us to the distinctive dishes, the author listed all sorts of delicious and famous dishes in Hanoi. Just pho alone had many variations, such as chicken pho and beef pho… but due to our limited resources, we could only hear about them without actually tasting them.

According to an agreement between the governments of China and Vietnam, each of us received a monthly scholarship of 125 Vietnamese Dong, of which 80 Dong covered food expenses and 45 Dong was for pocket money. At that time, the exchange rate between the Vietnamese Dong and the Chinese Yuan was 100/73, so with that amount, we lived comfortably. However, due to extremely limited material resources, the faculty staff had to overcome many difficulties to ensure we had decent meals: every day we still received three full meals, a glass of milk for breakfast, and fruit for dessert, usually bananas, for lunch and dinner. Seeing that most of us were from northern China and enjoyed eating pastries, the cooks "invented" a type of steamed bun similar to the Chinese baozi, with a fluffy white exterior and a filling of half a boiled duck egg. Frankly, it wasn't particularly delicious, but it was very satisfying: the bun carried the warm affection of the school staff for the Chinese students. It's worth noting that, according to regulations, even the kitchen staff only received two meals a day. Thank you to the people of Hanoi for nurturing us while they themselves had to tighten their belts to persevere in the resistance war.

Because it was wartime, our studies had to be adapted to the demands of combat readiness. We were always prepared for evacuation, each equipped with a small backpack containing essential items, a water canteen, a pair of "resistance" sandals made from car tires, and a hard beret. Adding a rifle would make us genuine Hanoi militiamen. At that time, most Vietnamese students had evacuated to rural areas of Son Tay and other provinces, leaving very few students in the vast Polytechnic campus. In the evenings, after dinner, we often took walks in the Polytechnic campus grounds. However, whether attending classes or resting, we always had to be vigilant, ready to report any aircraft alerts. Back then, the loudspeakers in the dormitories and the outdoor public address systems had become commonplace and indispensable to everyone. The loudspeakers broadcast news of victories, condemned the enemy, reminded the people, sounded the alarm, and announced peace. To this day, I still remember some of the phrases I learned from the loudspeakers: "There is no electricity tonight"; "A group of enemy planes is operating in the skies over Hanoi. People should be vigilant; when the alarm sounds, quickly take cover"; "A group of enemy planes is flying near Hanoi. People should take cover in their trenches"; "The enemy planes have flown away. People are invited to return to normal life"; "Currently, only our planes are operating in the skies over Hanoi. Militia and self-defense forces should not fire"... Thanks to the loudspeakers, we learned a lot of information and many Vietnamese words. In particular, through the loudspeaker in my room, I heard for the first time President Ho Chi Minh read the resounding call to arms against the Americans to save the country. His deep voice gave everyone immense strength; I felt my blood boiling, and I just wanted to grab a gun and go to war with my Vietnamese comrades. I have to admit that installing speakers in the student dormitories was a brilliant initiative of the Vietnamese Language Department.

When we first entered school, our Vietnamese language skills were at a very basic level; we had to start from scratch. At that time, there were no properly published textbooks, only poorly written and self-prepared syllabuses. Meanwhile, our teachers didn't know Chinese. That means the teachers were "blind" to Chinese, and the students were "blind" to Vietnamese. In this situation of mutual ignorance, the teachers taught according to their own understanding, and the students imitated them. Communication was limited to words with Chinese characters accompanying each lesson. It wasn't until our second year that the school assigned a teacher who knew Chinese to teach us. This staffing arrangement and teaching method initially created many difficulties, forcing both teachers and students to find ways to understand each other, but ultimately, it proved very effective. From that experience, I realized a truth: necessity and proactiveness are two positive factors that drive teaching and learning. After becoming a teacher, I also paid attention to applying those two elements.

To improve teaching effectiveness, the teachers came up with many ways. I still remember Ms. Thanh, a slender woman who had just graduated from the former Soviet Union, when she came to class, she insisted that we take turns "telling current events." This gave us a very effective opportunity to practice speaking Vietnamese.

Despite many difficulties, the Department organized a field trip for us to a fairly large village (I think it was called Dai Tu) located southwest of Hanoi. There, we both studied and worked, and I learned the names of farming tools like hoes, shovels, picks, plowshares, etc.; I also learned the names of many plants like yam, pomelo, jackfruit, etc. There, we walked along the brick-paved village road – an infrastructure project contributed by the grooms with their dowry money – and learned about Vietnamese culture and customs. That field trip was so effective and memorable!

To be fair, we Chinese students were all very hardworking and good students. Outside of class, we also took advantage of extra study time. At that time, Hanoi had many small, privately owned bookstores. We frequently visited these bookstores, sometimes to buy books, sometimes just to practice speaking: lingering for a while, chatting with the shop owner before buying (or sometimes not buying) a cheap book! This method of learning, which involved a lot of talking but cost no money, helped us quickly master spoken Vietnamese.

At that time, at B7 Bis, the number of countries sending students to study there, as well as the number of students living and studying there, wasn't large. It seemed there was only one Mongolian girl, one Bulgarian man, two Indonesian siblings, a Cuban couple, and us. Therefore, Chinese students had the most "prestige." The Faculty and the University paid special attention to us. I remember once, at a New Year's celebration, even though we only sang one song, the Rector, Mr. Nguy Nhu Kontum, went up on stage to present us with flowers.

Memories aren't always filled with beautiful and joyful things. During that time, an unpleasant incident occurred. For convenience, the Cultural Department of the Chinese Embassy bought each of us a "Eternal" bicycle. The bikes were brand new, ran perfectly, and everyone took great care of them. One evening, we all went to see a cultural performance at the Grand Theater. When we went to pick up our bikes to go home, some of my friends noticed that their bells were missing. This was a small and perfectly normal matter, something we should have overlooked. But we lacked foresight and reported it to the school. Not long after, the school announced that they had solved the case and returned the missing bells. Looking at the brand-new bells, we realized that our Vietnamese friends had bought new ones to return to us. We felt remorse and learned a lesson from that experience.

During my first time studying abroad, I was fortunate enough to meet the beloved President Ho Chi Minh twice. The first time, he came to the Chinese Embassy to watch a performance by the Chinese Railway Circus, accompanied by Prime Minister Pham Van Dong. Before the performance began, we students gathered around him, seated in the middle, and we chatted very intimately and happily. Looking at him, I was deeply moved: it turned out that a great man could be so down-to-earth, how truly great! The second time, in the summer of 1966, President Ho Chi Minh received Chinese students at the Presidential Palace. He kindly taught us many things. I thought to myself, a head of state in a country at war, busy with countless tasks, yet he cared about the studies of ordinary students like us—it was a profound act of kindness, beyond compare. After the meeting, I had the honor of writing a letter to him on behalf of all the Chinese students to express our gratitude.

In 1967, we returned to Vietnam to participate in the Cultural Revolution. With the Vietnamese language skills I had accumulated during my less than two years studying at the Vietnamese Language Department, I entered the translation profession and then the teaching profession, and from then on, I became someone who lived almost my entire life using the Vietnamese language.

Twenty-seven years later, in 1994, I was once again sent to Vietnam by the State to study. It was still the Vietnamese Language Department, still the same building, B7 Bis. I found the teachers and staff there still enthusiastic, still thoughtful, still working systematically, still very much…the Vietnamese Language Department. The only difference was that the Department had matured comprehensively, gained a reputation both domestically and internationally, and become the strongest "on-site Vietnamese language export" institution in Vietnam. The situation of the Vietnamese Language Department at that time is already quite clear, so I will leave it outside the scope of this memoir.

This year I turned 70. My career and life have been closely intertwined with the Vietnamese Language Department in particular and the Vietnamese language in general. I have been, am, and will continue to strive to contribute my small part to cultural exchange between China and Vietnam. Incidentally, my grandson was born on Vietnam's National Day – September 2nd, 2004. Is that fate, destiny, or both?

Class B7 Bis was truly a warm and welcoming school in my life. As an alumnus, I sincerely thank Mr. Dao, Mr. Thoi, Ms. Thanh, and all the teachers whose names I no longer remember! Thank you to the Department of Vietnamese Studies, and thank you to the University of Hanoi, now known as the University of Social Sciences and Humanities – Vietnam National University, Hanoi!