Flowers

Haiku 49

My boss and her horse
Are ready for their journey
Invisible stop

APRIL 30, 1975

Ti, Ni, and I went to the Thanh Đa Riverside to pickup lục bình to play under many detonations. Lục bình is a kind of water lily with purple flowers, which lived and flowed on rivers. When the tide was down, Lục Bình was stranded in the bushes that grew at the edges of the river; the mixed stinky smell of mud, death fish, and garbage splashed into my lungs, but I loved strong smell that only existed in Vietnamese rivers.
We joyfully played in front of the balcony of my house while my family gathered in the family room to listen to the radio. Suddenly, a horrible explosion smashed into the air. The house was shaken. My face turned pale. I yelled awfully and crawled into my house under a bed like a little rat, “Ối trời ôi! Tôi chết rồi !” “Oh, I am dying! I am dying.”
My family and my friends followed me to the bed. They cried, “Baby. What happened?”
My Sixth brother announced, “Someone threw bomb at Saigon Bridge.”
My oldest sister nodded, “Yep, President Dương Văn Minh surrendered. Perhaps they did not want Việt Cộng to enter to Saigon, so they destroyed the bridge.”
My father called me, “My little girl. Come here with daddy, baby.”
I persisted, “I am dying. I am dying.”
Ni crawled under the bed, tapped my shoulder, and told me, “Bé, calm down, please. You’re fine. You’re still alive. Get out, please. Your parents and siblings are waiting for you.”
I shook my head, “No, I am scared. I already died.”
Ni reassured me, “Don’t say that, Bé. If you die, you cannot talk.”
Ni and Ti’s parents came to my house and asked them to go home. Ni told me, “I have to go home. Don’t be scared Bé. I will see you this afternoon. Bye, Bé.”
I heard their parents complained about Ti and Ni because they were worried about them. I crawled slowly out of the bed. My parents and my siblings looked serious. My mother said, “The end. No more war! Peaceful!”
I asked, “Mom, can we go anywhere and won’t fear Việt Cộng? Will daddy no longer work as an officer, and will he be a teacher?”
My father briefly said, “Yes, baby.”
I was surprised, “Daddy, why are you so sad when our country is peaceful? You should be happy because your dream came true.”
My father did not answer. I tried to figure out what was happening that day. My father often said that when our country was peaceful, he would work as a teacher, write, or research something. He said that he did not like his job because there was a lot of pressure, and he could not spend time for family. However, today he was sad and quiet. Today my family looked serious and strange. I did not understand why.
I followed my siblings to go to the balcony in order to see airplanes flying over the area. From the airplanes, voices repeated over and over that everyone should come to the Thanh Đa Park where airplanes landed in order to evacuate them; we saw waves of people to come to the riverside toward big boats. My father requested us, “From now, you are not allowed to go out. Việt Cộng will come in Saigon soon, but do not call them Cộng sản or Việt cộng.”
My little brother asked, “Father, why? What do we call them?”
Our father was confused. He posed a little bit, and then he said, “Brothers or uncles.”
My sisters curiously asked my father, “Father, what do they look like?”
“Father, do they have tails?”
“Do they kill and eat children?”
“Do they have fur?”
“Do they wear cloths?”
Our father did not answer. He continued, “Maybe there will be no electricity or water next few days. Thus, we should save water and food.”
He watched our sisters carefully and said, “Take out your necklaces and earrings. Cut your nails short. Try to wear simple clothes. Don’t wear short, dress, or skirt.”
My first sister asked, “Father, are Việt cộng so cruel? Do they take out female nails?”
My father yelled, “Don’t say Việt cộng please. You will be engaged to your boyfriend next month, and maybe get married next two months.
My first sister did not agree with him, “Father, you told me that I was still young. We should wait for a couple of years until I get my bachelor. Why do you change your mind? I am not ready to be a wife yet. I want to go abroad after I get my bachelor’s degree.”
My mother reprimanded her, “You should obey your father. He always wants to do good things for you.”
My parents and my siblings watched and searched my house carefully and burned many pictures and clothes that related to the army. More than that, our parents collected pieces of gold and hid them in secret and safe place at night. My mother explained, “Việt cộng is brutal. They do not like rich people. Your grandparents were killed because they were landlords and owned many pieces of land.
I heard the story about our grandparents over and over. My parents told us that communists killed our grandparents because they were landowners and rich. Only my maternal grandfather survived. He was kept in a small and deep hole with water to his neck. Thus, he was afraid of water. I did not like my maternal grandfather because he was dirty. He never bathed or cleaned his body. He wore the same cloth once a week. My parents complained and hit me because I avoided him, and I did not let him touch me. I often hid in a corner when he visited us.

My father looked serious and strange. I secretly followed his action. I did not want him in that mood at all. I wanted to help him, or to say something nice, but I knew that silence was best.
My father stayed late in his office. He took a small Colt in a drawer; he watched it carefully; He held the colt and lightly touched it as if it were a treasure. He held in his hand and put it on the table again and again. He frowned. His pupils were light and only focused on the colt. He bitterly sighed many times. I saw some gray hairs on his forehead. I wanted to pluck them out. He bit his lips hard and that made his chin squarer. His cheeks turned dark, and no longer pink white like his natural skin. His cheeks were sunken. I have never seen he was haggard like that. I wished to read what he was thinking. I could not bear to see my father in that situation. I did not know what happened. He leaned his head on the desk. He shook his head. His shoulders agitated. I silently squirmed under the desk, slightly hugged his leg. He immediately startled, and he took the Colt with a cautious act. His eyes were two blazing red fires toward me, but the fires died out right away when he noticed me. He gently put me on his thighs and sweetly asked me, “My little girl. What are you doing here? Why don’t you go to sleep? It’s late.”
I put my head on his chest and sobbed. He comforted me, “I am sorry. Today I was too busy to forget you. I know this morning you were very scared. It was over. I promise to protect you from now. I do not let anything harm my children.” He embraced, kissed, and took me to sleep in his bed that night.

MY FATHER IS A ROOF OF A HOUSE

AN UNSENT LETTER

Dear Mr. Tranchina,
I must write to release my painful burden. You do not know that you accidentally put a heavy rock on my heart, which suffocates me. I am like a tailor in a fairy tale: A tailor knew his king to have horse’s ears. The tailor was forced to keep the king secret instead of being dead. The tailor was depressed until he went to a jungle and told the secret to a giant maple tree. Like a tailor, I promised you and Dr. Czech to keep secret about our conference, but I always think that you discriminated against me. More than that, your acts fortuitously perish my pride and my confidence. I am not worthy to live or to talk to my family because I am useless and stupid. My soul is traumatic. I am breathing, but dead inside. I do not want to see or to talk to anyone else at all. I isolate myself from my family and the others who are surrounding me.
I fretted and doubted myself. Comparing your class to other English classes, which I took at SJSU, your class was easy, but I failed it. You were the first mean instructor whom I met. I was so disappointed because you often told us to teach students from our hearts, but you were heartless. I cried while I was driving, eating, and showering. It was a nightmare that haunted while I slept—you pointed at me and shouted, “Your English is not good enough to be a teacher. Give up your path.” I woke up full of guilt because I slandered my professors’ names.
I was proud and deserved my bachelor’s degree in English. My professors gave me vehicles to discover mysterious literature territories and mechanics to write beautiful English poems, interesting stories, and critical literature essays. My professors often said that my second English language was my strength, and poetry was my gift. They encouraged me to keep pursuing my path. I believed in my potential, but you made me doubt myself. I felt mortified because you diminished my English bachelor’s degree, which meant you disqualified my professors.
You pushed me down into the unworthy and guilty sea toward my professors like a bad feeling toward my parents when a Vietnamese called me, “Mất dạy,” “Uneducated,” Vietnamese often say, “Đỗ Mât day” “Uneducated,” to chide young people, who do not behave well. To Vietnamese, the word, “uneducated” is a taunted language, because it insults those who do not seriously teach their children manner. Once, an elderly neighbor of mine yelled at me, “Do mat day,” “Uneducated.” I got mad and told her that she could punish or reprimand me, but she must not blame to my parents. After that, I was always good because I did not want people to criticize my parents’ teaching. Now, I got mad because I made you disgrace my professors’ qualification. I wanted to shout loudly, “Mr. Tranchina, you are wrong and unfair when you alleged that I knew English very little. My professors taught me well. I bet you cannot write beautiful poems and stories as I do.”
I knew you did not like me at the first meeting when students shared with classmates their background and stories. I was shocked when you cut and moved quickly to another student while I was sharing. You never mentioned Vietnam, its people, and culture while you were interested in Roma’s stories. She told us a lot, and you asked her more and more. You often asked Roma about Indian culture and life, but not a word about Vietnam. I was jealous of Roma because India is also an Asian country, but you were only interested in India. In class, you rarely talked to Kathy and I who were Vietnamese students. I seldom raised my hand, but Kathy, who liked to talk in class, did raise her hands, and more than once, I saw you ignored her.
I reread my essay and did not know why it was wrong because you did not tell what I should have written, nor give any feedback. The NU’s instructors seemed lazy to give students’ essays feedback. I wrote the essay regarding my personal experience that related to what I understood about Jefferson’s great quote. I knew that my writing was different from your students’ essays because I was not educated in the United States. Moreover, I was a creative person, so I did not want to write ideas I read on the Internet and books. Therefore, I often wrote and explored my own thought, but still kept on the instructors’ assignments. You did not let students explore their creative writing ability. You only accepted students to write what you wanted. My essay was wrong because you did not provide me clear direction and feedback.
You were not pleased when I was late. It was not my mistake; you should have understood me. You changed our class schedule to 5:00 p.m. instead of 5:30p.m. per the NU’s regular schedule. I had to tutor my students after school, so you knew my effort to come on time, but sometimes I was late because of the traffic.
I was confused and did not know what you meant when you gave me an envelope with my name on it and said nothing. Your act made me confused. I still do not know why you gave me an envelope with no contents.
I was embarrassed when you reprimanded me in front of my friends because I did not let you know the reason for my absences. I was exasperated and speechless. My friends looked at me as if I were a bad student. I did not know where I could hide my face. I wished to become invisible. Why did you treat me like that? You should have kept my face. You could talk to, ask me why, or complain to me in your office. Moreover, seeing my face, you should have understood how seriously sick I was. I tried to go to school while I had the flu because I already missed two classed.
I asked you to turn in my final paper late because I was seriously sick. My family doctor asked if I needed the doctor’s proof, but I thought it was fine. You not only denied my request, but also said that if I did not turn it on time, I would fail. I tried to finish my final examination and knew that it was not good. I emailed you. You knew that, but you used my paper as a proof that I was not able to pursue the teaching credential program and asked Ms. Maria, the advisor, to drop me without discussing it with me.
Mr. Tranchina, I do not know why you were so strict. I think you were prejudice, and doubted my English ability. You are also an American minority. You should help a second English student learn to succeed. I did not want you to treat me different. Never. However, I expected you to be fair.
While writing this letter, my heart is tattered and bleeding because your claws are clinging to my emotion. My teardrops are a current of blood from the heart flowing down.

MATHSON LEE

Marvelous faces
Ambitious desires
Thoughtful hearts
Honorable wishes
Successful goals
Obedient attitudes
Noble behaviors
Welcome me

I want to embrace
Lovely, Eager, Exquisite jaguars