It's difficult to describe the emotions of the visiting delegation upon arriving at Van Canh Friendship Village (Xuan Phuong, Tu Liem, Hanoi) as part of the seminar "Psychological Consequences in Victims of Chemical Warfare in Vietnam".The small Friendship Village, located more than ten kilometers from the city center, was quiet in the early morning sun. “It’s quiet because the children are out of school and work right now. It comes alive again during their break,” explained Mr. Dang Vu Dung, the Village Director. Only by directly visiting the village and witnessing the difficult and painful living and learning conditions of the children here can one truly understand the brutality of war. Clearly, no material power can compensate for the physical and mental suffering of the children's families. Therefore, we better understood Professor Mike Gorkin's sentiments in his opening remarks during the visit. He hoped the US government would implement more appropriate policies to alleviate the pain of war in Vietnam. While it may not be possible to completely heal the wounds left by the war, timely encouragement can at least partially soothe the pain of this brutality. Each child at this Friendship Village represents a unique and poignant story, showcasing extraordinary resilience that deeply moved the visiting delegation. The consequences of war have prevented these children from living normal lives. Intellectual disability, motor disabilities, and other conditions have created countless obstacles in their lives. Meeting nearly 100 children from various provinces in Northern Vietnam, the delegation was truly deeply affected. This impact stemmed not only from the devastating effects of war and the painful wounds they carried, but also from their unwavering determination. In the village's most special classroom – the one for the most intellectually disabled children – the teacher was instructing them on how to wash their hands. Ms. Oanh, the teacher, explained: "This is the class for the most intellectually disabled children at the Friendship Village. Their memories are very poor; if the teacher doesn't check on them when they need to use the toilet, they might even forget the way out." In this class, the children are taught the most basic life skills, such as washing their hands and faces... However, only 3 out of 8 children in this class are able to grasp it. The rest are almost completely incapable of understanding... Trung tremblingly held the bar of soap and rubbed it on his hands. The soap kept slipping and sliding, refusing to obey his control. His already weak and deformed hands, coupled with his intellectual disability, made what would be easy for any 4-year-old incredibly difficult for a 10-year-old like Trung. It was heartbreaking, but everyone tried to smile. A smile as a form of encouragement and comfort as the tiny, deformed hands of "young man" Nguyen Quang Hoa (almost 29 years old) were dwarfed by Professor Gorkin's hands. If he were like many healthy young people, his children would be almost in first grade this year. But this young man remains as innocent as a child. He cheerfully shook hands and inquired about the health of anyone he met. Hoa had a very good ability to imitate (even foreign languages). But once he finished speaking, Hoa would forget everything, remembering almost nothing except his name, Nguyen Quang Hoa, and his hometown, Phu Tho.
Nguyet's (Tuyen Quang) path to literacy is infinitely more difficult than that of other children due to her intellectual disability. Her teacher said that the children in Nguyet's class forget what they've learned, making it very challenging to teach them to read and do math. The teacher had Nguyet practice writing the word "gồ ghề" (rough/rough), but she wrote it as two separate words, resulting in "ghề gồ" (rough/grough). Nguyet's path to literacy and integration into life, like that of the children here, is as rough as the words she's been practicing for three years, still misspelled. In the computer class, many children, though still trembling and not pronouncing words clearly, have begun to learn to use the keyboard thanks to the efforts of both teachers and students. Yen's (Thai Binh) hands have been learning to type for four years. Her typing speed is still slow, but Yen and her classmates are doing better. I had to ask her three times before I understood her spelling out "Thai Binh," her hometown. Because she and her friends here have difficulty pronouncing words. This year, Yen is 23 years old! Thom's bright smile at the embroidery class caught my attention. The survey team watching distracted Thom. It took her five attempts to thread the new string. Seemingly understanding the trembling in the hands of this 22-year-old girl, the whole team had to look away. Thom has a truly bright smile. If not for the lingering effects of war, this year she could have been a pretty, youthful final-year student at some university. After six years of embroidery, Binh's hands can now produce the most beautiful and intricate embroidery pieces at the Center. Of the more than ten students in the embroidery class, even the least skilled can now create stitches that accurately reflect the design. These unfortunate hands, thanks to extraordinary willpower, have blossomed! Unlike Binh, Thom in the sewing class is less fortunate because both of her hands only have three fingers, and none of them are intact anymore. Yet, the extraordinary hands of this 27-year-old woman have been able to produce truly skillful garments. Each situation at this Friendship Village is a page filled with tears. But, their hands have written pages of life that are truly miraculous and beautiful. Dung's hands were too weak to hold scissors in the paper flower making class, even though she loved cutting paper. She learned gluing, an important step in the paper flower making process. Those trembling, pale, and frail hands, along with extraordinary willpower, after four years helped her become a skilled paper flower maker.
Leaving the vocational training center, we continued to the special care area for children who are unable to perceive life. For nearly 20 years, Mother Bien's hands have devotedly held the hands of each child with cognitive impairment in this Friendship Village, feeding them spoonfuls of rice. Thao is blind, although her eyes are wide open. Remarkably, Thao doesn't know how to chew. Every spoonful put in her mouth, Thao only swallows. At 54 years old, Mother Bien never stops hoping that one day, Thao and the other children in this special care home will be able to hold a spoon and eat on their own. A strap loops from one side of the wheelchair to the other to keep the neck of 12-year-old Toan from tilting forward. This strap is what keeps Toan attached to his wheelchair. For eight years, since he learned to sit in a wheelchair, Toan has been bound to it. It can be said that it is the thread connecting Toan to a life that is not very vibrant but is filled with warmth and love in this Friendship Village. Watching a group of little girls playing in the yard, each member of the delegation felt a warmth in their hearts. Anyone could think they were healthy. Yet, while they were playing, even if their mother, Lan, called them home for dinner until her voice was hoarse, it wouldn't help. They were all hearing impaired. Each situation here, as Mother Bien put it, is a "heartbreaking tragedy for each family and the entire nation." But looking at the still-scribbled but clearly written words, the gnarled fingers typing away on the computer keyboard, the colorful flowers gradually appearing on the embroidered fabrics… we, like the members of this Friendship Village, never stop hoping for a better tomorrow, when better things can come to these children through their resilience and the loving care of the kind mothers at this Friendship Village.
