Mao

Night.

As I watched pairs of Vietnamese friends kick shuttlecocks back and forth over chalk lines drawn on the sidewalk in the park, a man emerged from the darkness, pointed to the empty space on the bench next to me, and asked, "Can I sit?"

"Sure," I said.

Immediately I pulled back from my complete absorption in the scene before me and shifted into on-guard mode. Just as any traveler would do after meeting a new person in a dark park at night, I looked the man over and tried to, in an instant, evaluate if he posed any threat to me. He had nothing in his hands. He wasn't drunk. He looked clean. He didn't look emaciated or desperate.

He was slight of build and wore typical Vietnamese urban garb: light dress pants, flip-flops, a faded, untucked button up dress shirt with rolled sleeves. His hair, black as onyx, blended into the night behind him.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"America. Where are you from?"

He laughed. "Vietnam! Of course Vietnam. I live in Saigon my whole life."

"My name is Andrew. Nice to meet you." We shook. His hand felt small but strong in my grasp.

"I am Mao. Nice to meet you."

I talked to Mao for an hour and a half that night. I knew he wanted to practice his English, but I didn't feel that I'm-being-exploited-for-a-free-English-lesson feeling that I sometimes feel speaking with eager Japanese people in Japan. We were very open with each other and talked about our opinions on current events and our dreams for the future.

Mao is 31. He is a tailor who makes vests, but he also sells suitcases part-time in his parent's luggage shop. He earns $200 a month--two times as much as the average Vietnamese person working in Saigon. He studied English only in high school because he had no opportunity to study it earlier, although, he explained, children today in Vietnam start studying English in elementary school. Mao tries to speak to foreigners to practice his English so that one day he might be able to expand his parent's business by opening a store an area that sees foreign foot traffic.

After we had told each other about our families and our jobs, Mao turned to face me on the bench.

"What do you think of George Bush?" he asked.

"Good question, what do you think of George Bush?" I asked, laughing.

"Hmmm. Well many people don't like him. But I think he has difficult job. Very difficult. He make mistakes. But President of America--very difficult job. He must think about many things--America, Iraq, money, other countries. It is difficult," he said. "You agree?"

"Yeah, it's a difficult job, but he has many smart advisers, many helpers, to help him make good decisions. He shouldn't make such big mistakes. His job is too important for him to be making such big mistakes all the time. "

Mao smiled. "Maybe," he said. We agreed to disagree and stared out at the games of shuttlecock.

"It's easy. You should try!" Mao said as he motioned toward the games.

"Ehh maybe tomorrow, it's too hot tonight!"

A moment passed.

"Mao, I have a question for you. Today I visited one of the war museums in Saigon. I felt so strange in the museum because there were many Vietnamese people there and I felt horrible about the pictures I saw. I felt guilty because my government caused the death I saw in the pictures. Do you think older Vietnamese people see me in Vietnam and still feel angry about the war? Do you think older Vietnamese people meet Americans and feel angry with them?"

Mao tilted his head a bit to the side while he thought like a dog looking at a fly fluttering across a window pane. "I don't think it's problem. Maybe some old people feel sad, but many people see you and feel happy. Because when we see tourists we think Vietnam is safe now. Tourists make Vietnamese people think the economy is good."

"Do you feel the economy is getting better? For example, do you feel like it's easier to get a job in Saigon now than it was 10 years ago?"

"Yes. I can feel it. There are many jobs now. Many new buildings. I think the economy is getting strong, but too fast I think."

"Too fast?"

"Yes. It's not good. It's too strong now. It can't be this way for a long time. Some time the strong will stop. It must."