Today was our first volunteer experience here in Ho Chi Minh and it was definitely an trying experience. The volunteers started the day with an early breakfast and walked over to the most beautiful orphanage/pagoda. We walked in blindly and were quickly given small cutting boards, blunt knives, a stool only a few inches tall, and bags of food to begin preparing. Lainie and I were told to start on a seemingly never-ending bag of water spinach and began tearing small pieces for a stew. An hour of cutting and tearing passed before we realized how long it had been and finally straightened out our backs - ouch. After we cooked the ingredients into a porridge-like meal, it was time for a short break.
We walked out into the courtyard and began exploring the pagoda. The entire structure was painted a bright yellow that contrasted the blue sky beautifully, and the gold accents glinted with the sunlight - breathtaking. The many speakers continually played a chant/song that lulled in the background of my thoughts and gave the experience an aura of calm. Inside the pagoda we padded around with bare feet and I were awed by the hundreds of different Buddha statues - big and small - that lined the walls and filled the middle of the space. We climbed the four floors of the pagoda as the chanting hummed on, and I haven't felt as relaxed or as safe yet as I did in that structure. It was peaceful and almost hopeful as places of worship go.
When we stepped back into the orphanage part of the building we were greeted by smiling faces of Vietnamese children at the age of 2 or 3. Before today, we were told that we would be cooking for and feeding many disabled children, so these smiling faces were not what I was expecting to see. But, as we walked down the corridor towards more rooms of kids, I was caught off-guard yet again. In these rooms sat the disabled children that we were told about. We saw the same curved legs, enlarged heads, and half-limbs as the pictures showed in the War Remnants Museum: telltale signs that we were seeing Agent Orange affect generations of Vietnamese people. A large pang of guilt hit as I realized not only were these kids in pain, but that this pain was brought on by us. Suddenly, I wanted to go back into the kitchen; to cook more for these children; and to give them as much as I could, no matter the physical pain I felt. I wish we could all feel this feeling in order to realize the effects our actions have on others, especially in war.
As our break ended we were given bowls of food and spoons, as well as a child to help feed. As I walked over to the young-adult in orange who was strapped into a high-chair, my heart was beating out of my chest. Am I prepared or qualified for this? Why do I feel scared? I didn't want to inflict any more pain or discomfort on this girl than she was already feeling, in fact, I wanted to make it go away. As I spoon-fed her a yogurt cup with a smile on my face, I couldn't help but be thankful for the abilities that I have mentally and physically. I will never forget this feeling of extreme gratitude.
Leaving the orphanage, I still felt as though I had not done enough, but knew that I had done all that I could. We will go back tomorrow and Wednesday to help the same kids, and then will do the same for a local hospital on Thursday and Friday. I'm looking forward to another sobering experience before Lainie and I travel on our own, and will try to make a habit of thinking about this day every morning of my very blessed life.
With a changing perspective,
Lilly
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