many other passengers being smuggled. All young women who were being given jobs in the hotel industry. They would have to work to pay for the cost of being brought to America. That would not take long. There was a tremendous amount of money to be made. They would have no problem paying off their debt, even while sending money home to their families.
Bin knew that for many of the young women, their fate would no be so. He had heard rumours that some of the young women lacked morals and became greedy, opting instead to make more money by selling their bodies. Some sent money home to Vietnam for their parents, who became rich, but when asked about their daughters, the shame was evident. They said their daughters worked in hotels or restaurants, but few believed it. Maids in hotels were not paid that much.
Bin had talked at length about this to both his daughters. He had also spoken to the smugglers. If there was even a suggestion that they engage in any impropriety, he would go to the authorities. He was assured otherwise. This family was decent, heartbroken over the loss of their own daughters. He was told that he was foolish to worry. Still, these were his daughters. What father would not worry?
Bin’s daughters were fortunate. They would not have to work at all to pay for their voyage. His was a special situation. Bin’s contact had taken a picture of Hng and Linh standing in front of the One Pillar Pagoda close to where Bin worked. The picture was sent to America and Bin heard that the family instantly loved his daughters. He was told that if his daughters were truly unhappy, then the American family would pay to return them to Vietnam.
Bin thought about the Westerners’ use of the word love. He decided that it was a word they used as if they were saying hello. From Westerners, it sounded about as genuine as the fake Rolexes sold at the market. The Vietnamese expressed love more often through action, by doing something nice for the person. It had more meaning.
It was the same with Western names, Bin mused. They never stood for anything. His own name, Bin, meant ocean. Western names did not usually have meaning. Bin was told the name of the American family was Pops and it meant friendly father. Believing the name to be real, he felt reassured. Had he known it was a nickname with a secretive, twisted, and perverse meaning, he would have been aghast.
Bin reflected upon the picture of his two daughters. His contact had graciously provided him with a black and white photocopy. In the picture, Hng held Linh’s hand. Not that she was afraid Linh would run out into traffic. She knew better. She held Linh’s hand because she loved her. Their spirits entwined like one. Anyone looking at the picture could see their true beauty. Perhaps the American family were sincere when they said they loved my children? It would be impossible not to ....
Bin had not always lived in Hanoi. As a child, he was raised in the South. Saigon. Bin still preferred the city by its old name, but while working in Hanoi, he was careful to refer to it as H Chi Minh City.
Bin’s father had served with the South Vietnamese army and fought alongside the Americans until the Communists achieved victory in 1975. His father had learned English and taught it to Bin, who in turn, taught it to both his daughters. After the war, Bin’s father was placed in a re-education camp, where he died thirteen years later. Bin scoffed at the term reeducation. It was a camp of forced labour and brutality.
Bin’s wife, formerly from Dong Ha, had been exposed to heavy concentrations of Agent Orange during the war. Their daughter, Hng, like many second generation children, was born with an abnormality. She had an extra thumb protruding off the thumb of one hand. This was only a minor imperfection, Bin decided, when so many other families had children who were born without feet or arms.
Hng’s extra thumb was not something that had been hidden from the American family. Bin was told that Pops would have an American doctor fix it, but only if Hng wished. Bin knew that Hng would wish it to be so. She wanted to be perfect. She does not understand that she already is.
Linh was born without any abnormalities. Something that was cause for extreme joy. A sign that the future would improve, thought Bin. He had received a teaching degree just days after Linh was born. He felt like their lives were complete and that their future would be good. But it was not good.
Bin’s wife died six months later of organ failure brought on by the dioxin in her body. The closest Bin ever came to being a teacher was doing janitorial work at a school. The Communist party was only too aware of his family’s sympathy to the South during the war. He would not be allowed to teach.
It was not until recently that the government recognized the benefit of tourism and knew that Bin’s ability to speak English could be an asset. He was sent to Hanoi to act as a tour guide at Uncle H’s Mausoleum.
Bin lived in a one-room apartment facing an alley that he shared with his daughters and his own mother. His kitchen, like others in his neighbourhood, was a small plastic table and chairs set out on the sidewalk at the front of the building. The rest of his kitchen consisted of a hot plate set up on wooden boxes in the alley. The boxes were on their sides and a piece of cloth wired to the boxes acted as a curtain to keep the dust off the dishes. All
