A story of language and youth

A post will come about all the amazing foods and sites in Vietnam not soon enough. This post, while it is still fresh in the mind, is about a part of my evening today. After being turned away from Ho Chi Minh's house of stilts behind the Vietnamese presidential Palace, I started to stroll in the neighborhood behind the greater government and touristy area. Quite quickly it went from the ordinary smaller well-maintained roads of the Vietnamese capital to old neighborhoods where roads were in various states of disrepair or entirely absent and too small for anything other than a scooter. The relic of part of a B-52 still remains in a pond preserved in this old neighborhood. Eventually climbing out onto a main road I find that I'm not far from the Hanoi Botanic Garden. I'm quite surprised to find its much more like any of the large popular parks in California's cities than the natural and educational botanic gardens I was anticipating. Nevertheless, there are a few signs here and there and it is undoubtedly beautiful all around. Enjoying the scenery I find a bench a bit off the main pathway of the garden facing out at the pond and knoll beyond.

One of the most touching moments of my travels (and perhaps my adult life) started when a six-year-old girl walked up to my bench and said hello. Seeing her mom a few feet away and recalling in the already fading unprioritized short-term memory a bent adult and quick hushed conversation before the girl parted and came to greet me, I realized this was OK and intentional.

She wanted to practice English. I looked like I spoke English. Slowing down my speech to the old habit of an ESL teacher, I discover this first grader was on par with almost all of my junior high schoolers and most of my high schoolers in Korea and Taiwan; incredible. The mom ambled about the nearby area of the park, passing the time on her phone, and the daughter told me as much of a life-story as a six-year-old can have. The bravery and courageousness to strike up a conversation with a foreigner that's almost five times older than you still astounds me. I don't have extensive memories of my sixth year of life, but none of them contain anything so bold.

After a little while and many of the topics a little Vietnamese girl and young American man can have had been covered, the mom came up and had a few words with her daughter, who apparently said she didn't want to go yet so the mom proceeded to enjoy the garden, sitting at a nearby bench eventually. I giggled every time she pronounced "know" like the initial "k" isn't silent, and more when I told her it's a silent "k" and she didn't care. I imagine all of the lessons in the girl's English textbook got covered, but her mind still raced and here was her opportunity to practice English, something she hadn't done in several hours (which perhaps feels like many decades in kid-time), so the normal conversation began to delve into the rich fantasy that is a child's imagination.

Language is a funny thing; vast and complex enough that I can only say little more with a sense of confidence. We react to language, and a different reaction happens when we hear "just the right word," than when we hear the lengthy common ones. I imagine most people are with me in feeling something stronger when we hear in our native tongue "arduous" instead of "hard," "loathe" instead of "hate," "contrivance" instead of "plan," or "cherish" or "adore" instead of "like." The list goes on indefinitely 😉 as we add more and more words to this growing language. What then is this different reaction we get from a greater degree of precision and infrequency? Perhaps "engagement;" how quickly, how automatically do I hear and then move past "let's go hangout" and "did he do the work very well?" While perhaps "let's celebrate our conviviality," and "did he accomplish the task precisely and accurately?" might stop me for a moment in my reaction.

Obviously a six year old ESL student isn't going to inspire this line of thought in me directly, but I do have her to thank for it in the end. She spoke with such enthusiasm and vitality, like the sounds of the words were important in and of themselves, and not as a soulless tool to convey abstract concepts. Even the most complex or sophisticated book or talk I've ever encountered hasn't generated such fervor in me like the contagious abundance in the tone of that child's voice. The words and content of our conversation weren't particularly important, and it started to venture into nonsensical and unusual to remember fields, but I recall parts where she said "I'm so hungry I want to eat the moon!" and I thought it natural to reply "would you save me a bite?" or her perfect child-logic "the moon is round and cold, so it is ice cream!" I remember talking about families and told her that her father's father's father's father's... and my father's father's father's father's... (and mothers too) were both born in and migrated from Africa. Without missing a beat and with total sincerity, she said that "now, they are in the stars." Not long after she explained so vividly of her desire to go to space and be an astronaut. All this with probably only having seen a few stars on the few nights Hanoi's light pollution and smog allows their twinkles down to the surface.

The effect that this enthusiastic tone paired with unreal but understandable language had was to make me feel like a child again. I went all the way back to six-years old or so in the middle of that. It felt like being on the playground after school with another my size, my age, thoughtless, alive.

During the 3rd or 4th visit from the mom, with the sun long gone, darkness and a slowly dropping temperature giving night to this park, the daughter got up off the bench and said goodnight. Touched, I ask the mom if she spoke English, she shook her head. Remembering her daughter say that she used to be a Chinese teacher, I asked her if she spoke Chinese, in Chinese. Surprised, she said yes in Chinese and I felt extremely grateful to be able to convey the appreciation and admiration I had for her daughter's English talent and fearless personality. Smiling, they walked away and a few silent minutes later, so did I.