Vietnam has been hailed as the 2nd-fastest growing economy in Southeast Asia. Great news? Not quite. For development is a very strange thing. Cities strive for it endlessly. Yet, people of the developed nations tend to be in ceaseless search for cultures of less-developed nations to visit. The less structured a city is, the more joy a visitor often derives -- especially amongst those with a ferocious streak of adventure in them. Perhaps an example here would be timely. There were days when we would just walk the streets to wherever it would take us. Along the way, it is hard to miss the glimpses of the people's lifestyles. They would huddle about on street corners, a bowl of noodles in their hands -- the sight bore no pity, but rather, a sense of friendship. A subtle feeling of vicarious nostalgia tugged at me -- surely this must be the type of lifestyle my parents tell us they had lived: how it built unending friendships and experiences far lacking in today's developed world. Yes, it is a rather curious paradox.
As many would agree, development often takes people higher; lifting them from dilapidated houses and placing them in soaring buildings. A rather unspoken consequence of this is that in such exaltation, people are distanced from the one thing they rely on for survival -- the Earth and all the fruit it bears. In development, such land is often trampled upon as though they mattered little. In time, the land would become like so: wasted; spoilt beyond repair.
And when a country like Vietnam so develops, from whence would come our rice? As the people begin to don suits and demand a greater luxury, the life of a farmer inevitably becomes frowned upon; who would be left to feed the world? Vietnam is a massive producer of staple food, a trade flourished by the Mekong Delta that runs through the heart of the city: Ho Chi Minh. Should typical development occur, the world would experience a sudden food shortage.
Ah, but surely development seeks to push the limits of the human race. As we seek to understand who we are and what we can do, it is in such knowledge that we can stake our claim to dominance over all the Earth -- the mandate given to the first man by God. Surely development spurs the human race to achieve more. Surely that is something to praise? Indeed, and yet, it is akin to a tree reaching out for sunlight. In so doing, imagine if the tree were to uproot itself to stand taller. Such is the peril of development that people today find themselves in. For suddenly, nature is fighting back. We are desperate to push our roots back into the Earth where it belonged; as it should have been. Whether it is too late remains to be seen, and is not the point of this discussion.
And so, herein then lies the ultimate dilemma of all: do we cheer that a country like Vietnam is developing so rapidly?
You step out, and it is like 2 entirely different worlds. From the comfort of the clean airport, you step out almost immediately into the warm, dusty air of the city. The effect was much more photographic than health: the building edges seemed softer. It was like the city was shrouded in thin veil of mysterious charm. It teased; it beckoned. So I stepped forth...
The first thing one would eventually realise about Vietnam was how the two-wheeled vehicles ruled the streets; everything else did not matter. Cars could move only as quickly as the motorcycles would permit; painted white lines provided order for only as long as cyclists were not in a hurry. You see, a motorcycle in Vietnam is a a Multi-Purpose Vehicle:
1) Family vehicle. It is not uncommon to see a family of 5 sharing a single bike: child-father-child-child-mother. The dad holds the handlebars, the mom holds the dad; their arms reach around their children, holding them safe. Relatively-speaking, of course.
2) Mover. Requiring only 1 or 2 people, bikes can be used to transport almost everything from wooden boards to refrigerators (this I saw once!). The objects would rise vertically from the seats of the bikes, secured by ropes and string. If space permits, a back rider would spread his hands across the object, holding it in place. He (often, male) holds onto nothing else. Supported only by his legs wrapped around the seat, he often cannot see ahead. The bike would surge ahead, swerving suddenly and abruptly to squeeze forward. Still, he barely shows a sign of stress.
Clad in a half-helmet, the Vietnamese would often don a mask to filter the air they breathe. Betraying only their eyes and a bit of their forehead, their identity is otherwise concealed. Perhaps it is this that gives them the reckless bravery to live life so dangerously. As a tour guide would in a future day reveal, the Vietnamese live by the bike and die by it.
Not surprisingly, vehicle horns ring throughout the city. Horn! Coming through. Horn! Thanks. Horn! How is life? Horn! It's great; how is yours? The language of the street is rather cryptic, but the horns have to mean more than aggression. Once, as I crossed the street, a motorbike rushed towards me and swerved away, horning. I had a look at the cyclist: his expression betrayed no aggression.
Rain has fallen upon this street. The streets glisten; So too the trees -- Cleansed, refreshed.
Light from the lamps Peek between the foliage. Shadows dance where my foot falls; Upon my clothes and all over As I pass by.
I breathe deeply; The air is heavily damp. I wade on, barely deterred.
Cars drive by more slowly, Worried for safety. None walks about, Wary of the rain. For a moment, The street rests.
A bird cries out in the distance. A flutter of wings; A rustling of leaves; A shadow darts across the sky. It is gone.
Splash! I step into a puddle. Light bounces off the momentary ripples. And I suddenly see it. I step forward And turn to look. Too late; Only a black shadow remains. But now I know What it conceals.
Tomorrow it will be gone. The street will buzz again. Sounds of lifestyles will drown nature. For now, There is no other: Only the street, nature And I.
You reach out; You pull her close. Your heart races: You never held a girl this near; Never touched a girl like this.
It feels right, It feels wrong. Is this purely a desire for physical contact? And if so, is it not taking advantage? Yet, you hold her still. It feels right -- somehow.
Arms wrap tight around you; You realise this is not about you alone -- She wants you near, too. In spite of all your flaws; All your imperfections, Yes, she wants you near.
She says no words; She does not need to. She is here. Nothing else matters.
Your heart slows; You fear no more. You accept: You need her.
Her heart beats against your chest; It's the closest you can ever get. Perhaps a tear falls from your eye. You don't care.
You pull away; How much time has passed? It doesn't matter, for she smiles. You look upon her face: Can you live like this? You smile. Yes.
Well at least, I guess that's how it goes. I wouldn't know, really.
