The tunnels at Cu Chi, about an hour or so out of the city, are an extensive network of passages used by the Viet Cong to evade the US troops - in one case, even tunnelling directly beneath a US Army base. Our tour guide introduced himself confidently as Mr Binh, who turned out to be quite an eccentric but engaging veteran of the Vietnam War. Half Vietnamese and half Filipino, Mr Binh had moved to the US with his father and fought as part of the US Navy.
During the bus ride, Mr Binh delivered an extensive talk on his involvement in the war, which at times seemed to stretch the limits of plausibility. With no means of fact verification, I went along for the ride and was glad I had done so. Mr Binh's message was, at the end, one of peace. The war had stolen his life and his friends. It is fitting, then, that he wears a t-shirt with the message Peace and Happiness on its back.
While disagreeing with the ideology (Mr Binh is Roman Catholic), he admired the guerrilla fighting style of the Viet Cong. He described the way in which the brute force and sheer firepower of the US soldiers was countered again and again by the cunning and ingenuity of a people who knew their terrain better. The Cu Chi tunnels are an example of just this.
At the Communist-run site, we were led through the various bunkers and clever booby-traps engineered by the Viet Cong out of raw materials (bamboo) and detritus (bomb shells). While the Americans tried to burn tunnels, the clay only hardened; as they tried to flush the enemy out with water, the vast 250km long network simply drank their efforts. We were able to experience for ourselves, albeit briefly, what life was like underground, as we clambered through a short section of remaining tunnel. The passage zigged and zagged several times, so light was fleeting. Although widened to accommodate the sizeable girth of some western tourists, this was still not an experience for the claustrophobically inclined.
There were no winners of the Vietnam War. All parties suffered great losses and continuing anguish. Nothing is a more harrowing example of this than the sufferers of the effects of Agent Orange. Long after the end of the war, as the catastrophic effects of the toxins had been wraught on a generation of children, the streets of Saigon filled up with people who, unable to look after themselves, had to beg for help. At the beginning of the 21st century, the government began to house and feed the afflicted and, for those able, provided training in handicrafts that they can sell to earn a wage. We made a stop at one of the workshops and were able to see first-hand how this assistance has changed the fortunes of these people. The workshop is full of beautiful lacquerware, each painstakingly constructed from bamboo, duck eggshells and mother of pearl.
On returning home, we were greeted by our host, Oanh, who has been absent since our arrival owing to important bridesmaid duties at her best friend's wedding. She immediately whisked us out to dinner at a vegetarian restaurant we had been meaning to try, while informing us that it is one of her favourite places at which to eat. At the strangely named Loving Hut, Oanh took charge of ordering and precipitated a smorgasbord of veggie delights.
After an appetiser of summer rolls (they disappeared too quickly to get a photo), we dined on chanterelle mushroom and soy (yuba-style) 'pulled chicken' salad.
Following this, we enjoyed fruity rice cooked with pandan leaf, fried tofu with lemongrass (nutty from having been toasted), a sweet and aromatic clear soup with a green vegetable akin to French beans, and fried rice with mock pork cutlet in a sweet, sticky sauce.
On leaving, I noticed a sign that captured the restaurant's ethos: Be vegan, make peace.
I'm not sure whether a change in diet alone can bring about peace, but I appreciate the sentiment and hope that this and all other countries can know a time without conflict and suffering.
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