Children of War

Sitting on low chairs in a makeshift cafe, my friend told me, "I was 15 and living here in Hanoi.  We would hear a loud horn blaring throughout the city and then a man on a loudspeaker would yell, 'The Americans are coming!  The planes will arrive in 15 minutes.  Find cover now!'  And, so we would all race to shelter and wait for the bombing to stop.  Sometimes, I would look into the air and I would see an American plane crashing down out of the sky...  Several times, we had to evacuate the city.  We ran northwest to hide in the caves and wait."

"I was 12 years old," I say, "and living in the heartland of the United States.  I heard occasional news reports of the war, but my days were never interrupted by the goings on in some far part of the world."

I thought I would share about my brother who was almost drafted, but then re-considered.  How would it feel to someone who had to run for his life so many times to hear that someone else 'almost got drafted'...almost, but not...still in the safety of a country so rich that its people would never really understand the meaning of war and fear and death...

In Viet Nam, they call it the American War.  When I first heard this, I was amused thinking about the tendencies of countries (the US included) to turn events to their own favor.  But, I gave it more thought and came to the conclusion that is was, actually, the American war.  America was the aggressor.  America was the richest country in the world.  Viet Nam was a developing country.  America attacked a poor, developing country.

I can hear the push back now...'The Communists this...funding from this country and that...'  But it was Vietnamese people - mothers, children, grandmothers, fathers, brothers - who were killed, who lost their homes, who saw their crops devastated, who witnessed the long-term affects of agent orange in their bodies and water and food and children.

As I make more and more friends, many of whom have personal memories of the American war, I grow more and more amazed that I, NOT ONCE, have met a person who has been unkind or acted with anger toward me.  And, you can't look anymore American than do I, what with being a good foot taller than Vietnamese women, white as can be and wearing a head of white hair!  Even people I don't know are kind toward me...a stranger in their country, once an enemy and now a welcomed guest.

And the longer I am here, the more I realize what a monumental fact it is that I have been invited by the Vietnamese government into their institution of higher learning.  Know this...the Ho Chi Minh Academy for Politics and Public Affairs (HCMA) is the premier university in Viet Nam for training ALL of its political leaders.  Since its inception, it has been a closed institution, even to many in Viet Nam, and especially to foreigners.

Yet, I write this post from my room on the HCMA campus and soon I will eat my supper in the HCMA cafeteria.  I am on contract with HCMA.  They invited me and they are paying me from their own coffers.  This has NEVER been done before.  The enormity of this move on the part of the Vietnamese government can not be overstated.  And while I would love to bask in the glow of self adulation, the heroes of this story are the Vietnamese people who ask me daily to help them with English, and a government with the  foresight to know that strategic partnerships are critical to its future, the wisdom to find compassion for its enemies, and the courage to reach out in friendship to the very country that just a few years past wrought devastation on this fair land.

I am thankful for the incredible capacity of the human heart to open toward another, the deep well of compassion within each that holds unbounded grace and ability to forgive, and the quiet eyes and gentle demeanor of a people so wiling to welcome someone from a land that  has hurt them so deeply.

So, why was it that America saw fit to fly half way around the world and attack a poor, developing country?  Can any of us remember...really remember?  Perhaps more importantly, can we find in ourselves the unbounded capacity to love all peoples in this world?  And can we find the wisdom in our hearts to re-set our course as a nation?  It is not too late.

We can not continue to hoard and scavenge the world's wealth, nor can we continue to attack (either with warheads or with the WTO) countries that refuse to give us their resources .

Rather, to be truly and fully human (which I believe we are), we are challenged to find in the heart of our nation, compassion, forgiveness, respect and honor, a willingness to share the wealth, the courage to live with 'less', the openness to welcome others into our homeland, and the foresight to see that only together can humanity move forward.

We can do this thing.  We must do this thing.