Irene’s impression of her experience in Son Ky
The location
After winding through the traffic chaos so typical of Ho Chi Minh streets, I arrived at the Son Ky Orphanage with my husband, Paul. It is no more than a decrepit, three-storey shophouse with an old, rusty metal gate as its only security and the signboard “Son Ky Children Star Orphanage (only recently put up) its only indication of its existence to an outsider. All around it is a hodge-podge of shops engaged in various trades, among which is a family-run hotel, a pharmacy, grocery store, a coffee-house which screams for attention by blasting its music through the day, and a drinking waterhole thronged by drinkers and bargirls when the sun sets.
The orphanage
As I stepped into the orphanage, I had expected to see more signs of dereliction – perhaps ceilings blackened with neglect and paint peeling off walls, and shabbily-dressed children scampering about, either scrabbling for food or fighting over tattered belongings. Little did I expect to see a clean interior speckled with photos, posters and notices neatly pinned to newly-painted walls, all lending an air of respectability. The orphans ranging from ages 5 – 17 were all gathered in neat rows, all looking expectantly at their new visitors, their faces wreathed in welcoming smiles.
The orphans
An introduction was made by the director of the orphanage, Bro Jerome, who had run the orphanage since its inception in June 2007, taking in not only children who had lost their parents but also vulnerable street-boys who might be preyed upon by drug syndicates or exposed to a host of vices. Instantaneously, the boys all broke out into a heartwarming applause, following which they belted out a zesty Vietnamese welcome song. As they sang, some of them turned around to gaze at their visitors and when our eyes met, they again burst into coy smiles. I could not help but feel at home already.
Mealtimes
The gifts we brought were presented, for which they instinctively chorused their profuse thanks, after which we were invited to sit down to eat. All at once, there was a flurry of activity. The older boys entered the kitchen and came streaming out with aluminium bowls containing soup and rice while the younger ones busied themselves with arranging the melamine crockery on the concrete floor. There they all sat, in neat rows, with 4-5 of them sharing a bowl of soup and rice with a vegetable or meat dish as the main course. Grace was said in Vietnamese (usually led by an older brother) before tucking in. They talked as they ate but things were orderly- there was no snatching of food to get the lion’s share; in fact, the older boys were seen sharing their food with the younger ones. It was like one big fraternity, all enjoying a communal meal.
Occasionally Bro Jerome would give some extra food to a boy who came to his side either with a little complaint or just whispering sweet-nothings into his ear. Surprisingly, none of the others quibbled over his gesture nor cast a drooling look on the proffered food. They seemed to simply accept what is given and what is not.
Discipline
In no more than ten minutes, while we were still talking between mouthfuls of food, there came a sudden utterance of a prayer of thanks and another flurry of activity resumed. The clatter of dishes resounded through the hall as the boys collected the dishes for washing, and another group of boys moved in to sweep and mop the floor. This, I later learnt, is the same routine for all the meals.
On the surface, one might think that the director is running the place in military style, with the routines in clockwork precision. But I beg to differ. Seeing the readiness and eagerness in the boys to get things done and the effusive joy that emanated from that, can only mean one thing: they are all happy to be part of this one big family, and accept discipline in the form of cooperation and good behaviour.
Sleeping quarters
After dinner I was taken up to see their sleeping quarters. There are no beds for the boys, only bare floors on which they work, play and sleep. Their only sheet of comfort is a straw mat which they roll up and stash away on top of some low steel cabinets which contain their scant belongings. Like the hall, the rooms were hot and stuffy while the deafening traffic noise outside roared incessantly. I was told that 12 of the boys cram into one of the 3 small rooms while the rest sleep in the communal hall where they eat, study, have masses and receive visitors.
Learning English
Teaching the boys English posed quite a challenge indeed. The boys are grouped into elementary, intermediate and advanced classes according to their proficiency in the English language. While Paul handled the elementary boys (some as old as 14 years) with flash cards and songs, I was tasked to teach the intermediate class comprising boys mostly in their mid-teens. Although a couple of them demonstrated the ability to converse and write in more than simple English, a number of them were unable to express themselves verbally at all, even after breaking the ice with them. In addition, it was an immense struggle having to put up with not only the heat and humidity but also to raise my voice above all that din from the traffic noise outside.
Strong emphasis
Since our visit coincided with their long school vacation, the boys had English classes in the mornings, afternoons and even evenings. There is no letting-up in the learning of English where Bro Jerome is concerned. Even when he cannot physically teach the boys in the absence of volunteers, he makes them borrow books from the mini-library recently set up for their use and copy out English texts from the borrowed books. He may seem like a tough taskmaster but his philosophy is simple: any opportunity to learn English must not be wasted, for English opens up vistas for a better life.
Meaningfully occupied
Furthermore, an idle mind is a devil’s workshop. Hence the boys engage themselves in various other activities like doing artwork and bookbinding. Later, when they move into their new premises (donated by 2 German companies), it is hoped that they will learn woodwork and simple carpentry provided teacher-volunteers can be procured for this purpose. These are useful skills, apart from computing skills which some are already learning, that will propel them towards gainful employment and becoming useful citizens of God and their country.
Soccer passion
During vacation time, their day typically kicks off at 4.45am with a game of street soccer which they play in one of the small back streets. Most of the boys share a strong passion for soccer, and almost any one in their teens can enunciate and spell the names of their favourite soccer stars, be it a Rooney or a Ronaldo. And although most of the boys have practical aspirations of landing a job as an apprentice to any trade, one or two may proudly reiterate that their dream is to become a famous footballer one day.
Religion
Catholicism holds a special place in the orphanage, although those from non-Catholic families are allowed to continue to practise their different faith. Their days are punctuated with morning prayers and evening prayers apart from prayers of thanksgiving at mealtimes and during mass. Special Thanksgiving masses are often held to remind the boys of their gratitude to their benefactors.
Sabbath is strictly observed on Sundays on which the Catholic boys walk to a church nearby to attend mass. Presently five of the boys are awaiting confirmation, so besides the weekend masses, they attend evening mass on weekdays too.
Eagerness to learn
What I find truly commendable is the boys’ eagerness to learn everything to the letter. I had the privilege to attend an English Thanksgiving mass conducted for me and Dolly. Bro Jerome prepared the boys well for this mass, teaching them hymns and psalms in English with the assistance of Dolly, a choir leader, and boy, they mastered what they were taught within just two days! A miraculous feat indeed.
Wanting to belong
On my last day there, my morning lesson with the boys started on a heavy note, with some of them expressing their sadness over my imminent departure and that all good things must come to an end. When it was time to bid farewell, all the boys in the orphanage gathered in the hall to give us a good send-off. Some hovered around to pose for photographs with us, wishing to have a place in our hearts and minds. The sense of wanting to belong to someone, to fill a void in their lives, must be as overwhelming as the need for survival.
The capacity for love
When it was time for me to tear myself from them, I could see the longing in their eyes that seemed to cry out: Are you coming back for us? If so, when? Yet, they brushed aside their feelings, donned brave smiles and gave warm hugs and high-fives.
These boys, many of whom had lost both parents at a tender age, have so little in their lives, yet have so much to give from their heart.
