When Heaven & Earth Change Places by Le Ly Hayslip

Author:Le Ly Hayslip [Hayslip, Le Ly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-82368-7
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2012-08-22T04:00:00+00:00

MIDMORNING, APRIL 7, 1986:

DANANG, SOCIALIST REPUBLIC OF VIETNAM

Our approach and landing at the great Danang airport is smooth and uneventful, but the calm of the cabin belies the anxiety in my heart. I wonder about the reception I’ll receive from my Hanoi brother, Bon Nghe. Will he remember me fondly or with the narrow eye of a party official looking down on a fallen hero? And above my brother looms the figure of my mother, now almost eighty. Will she greet me as the long-lost daughter of her womb—the unlikely child she bore in middle age and nurtured with buffalo milk and songs? Or will time and the ocean that came between us—the events that separated her daughter from a daughter’s duty—diminish me to a shadow: a Westernized ghost whose eyes have become “too round” to see the spirits of the past that still inhabit Ky La?

As we step from the plane to the passenger stair, the moist, earthy air of the Central Coast wraps me like a familiar old blanket and I feel the same surge of joy that gripped me days ago in Saigon. Only this time “home” is truly home—Ky La is no more than a few hours’ walk or a short half-hour ride by car. The coconut and palm trees sigh in the wind and the sweet smell of fertile sod—that delicate mix of decayed vegetation and fresh new growth that is the bouquet of the jungle, as much its signature as the salt air at China Beach—embraces me like a perfumed aunt. The biggest change is on the airport tarmac: it is almost bare of planes and ours is the only airliner on the base. In its heyday, when American bombers struck targets all over the North and South almost twenty-four hours a day, Danang was one of the busiest airports in the world.

We go into the terminal to claim our luggage and while we wait for the handlers to sort things out, I am scanned by one of the many bo doi—the uniformed soldiers—who wander aimlessly around the building. By accident, our eyes meet and I give him a friendly smile. It’s enough to make him amble over and begin a conversation.

He gives my Western-style hair and makeup the once-over and says, “You are Viet Kieu?”

I nod and smile some more.

“Cho toi coi thong hanh” (Show me your passport), he says abruptly.

I hand him my travel card, which is supposed to take care of such things, but he still holds out his hand expectantly. So much for brother Quang and his National Committee! I find my passport at the bottom of my purse and reluctantly hand it over.

“Please step over here.” The soldier walks a few paces away from the passengers. I give Anh a concerned look but he signals for me to follow.

“It says here you’re from Quang Nam—” the soldier asks. I can tell from his accent that he’s from the Central Coast as well.

“Yes—I was born in Ky La, called Binh

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