Fragments of Vietnamese Immigrant Workers’ Lives in Thailand

In January 2008, I was watching a Thai language news program when I heard a terrible news about a group of young Vietnamese people. Twenty-one people tried to cross the wide Mekong River from Thailand into Laos in the middle of the night on a small boat. When they reached the middle of river, the weight of the people and their belongings was too much for the boat to bear. It began to sink. In the end, 13 lost their life. Only 8 survived.

These young Vietnamese were on their way to Vietnam to celebrate the Lunar New Year with their family in the province of Ha Tinh. But they all entered Thailand to work illegally, which was the reason why they decided to find secretive but dangerous ways to cross the Thai borders in order to return home for the New Year celebration.

Because this issue of Dan Chua Magazine highlights the situation of Vietnamese migrant workers in Thailand, I have decided to introduce to our readers three young people to find out a little bit of their backgrounds and life as a migrant worker in this country.

Nguyen Van Doan



Nguyen Van Doan is a 24 year-old young man from Thanh Hoa province. He is the third son in a family of 7 children. The two older brothers are married with their own families. Doan has the responsibility of help take care of the three youngest siblings who are still in school. Doan quit school after he finished year 9, and crossed the border to Thailand when he was 18 years old.

Like many other young Vietnamese in Thailand, Doan sews clothes for a living. Doan works and lives in the house of a Thai family who is his boss. He has been sewing for four years. Everyday he starts working at 8 in the morning and finishes at midnight. “I choose to stop working at midnight,” Doan said. “But I know others who work until two or three in the morning. I think it is very bad for your health.” Working 16 hours a day, Doan earns about 7,000-8,000 baht a month, which is equivalent to 240-275 AUD.

Doan sews pants and is paid by the number of pairs he finishes. He is paid 17 baht each pair. With his earning, he sends whatever he could to his family which has many fiancial hardships. “But a lot of times I don’t send anything, or I have to borrow from friends to send to my family,” Doan said. The reason is that sometimes the living expenses take up all of his earning which does not leave him much to send home. Other times, some of the earning is given to the police. Like virtually all Vietnamese workers in Thailand, Doan is an illegal and is always in danger of being stopped by the police when he is outside. In the past 6 years, Doan has been stopped by the police 6 times. However, he relates that most of the time, he is able to talk to the police into letting him go.

Despite the risks of living in Thailand, Doan feels that this is still a better place to work than in Vietnam. “Right now, in Vietnam, there are not many jobs. The pay is low, but the price of goods is high,” he said. Recently, Doan thought about returning to Vietnam to find work selling goods for commission for Amway, a foreign company. But he has changed his mind and decided to stay in Thailand further until a better opportunity comes along.

Tran Van Tuan




I met Tran Van Tuan the first time when he went to Mass in Vietnamese language that was organized at a church in Bangkok. As I talked to him, I found out that he was working in a restaurant very close to where I was living in Bangkok at that time. The restaurant is located near a big and beautiful park in the heart of the city. Tuan works there with a friend from his hometown in Ha Tinh province.

Tuan is 22 years old and like Doan, he also came to Thailand when he was 18. Tuan is the fourth child in a family with five children. Tuan managed to finish only the 8th grade. He quit school twice, the first time after he finished year 6. At that time, the family had no one to take care of the buffalo, so Tuan had to quit school to take on this responsibility. After some time, he returned to school and completed the 8th grade. But because of financial difficulties in his family, Tuan had to quit school again to go to work.

Like many young people from Ha Tinh province, Tuan decided when he was 18 to find work in Thailand. Tuan ended up working in various restaurants, and has worked at the latest location for a year and a half.

One time Tuan told me that he took a bus to Pattaya, a tourist city two hours drive from Bangkok, to find a job. He only had a few hundred baht in his pocket. He wandered from place to place looking for work in restaurants, but was not able to find a good job. At night, he had no place to sleep because even cheap motel rooms were still too expensive for him. So he had to sleep on the beach. According to Tuan, having to sleep outdoors like a homeless person made him feel the most pitiful that he has ever felt in his life.

After he left Pataya, he took a bus back to Bangkok. After he got off at the bus station, he walked along many streets to look for work in restaurants. After many hours of job searching, by chance, he found the restaurant where he is now working near the center of the city. Tuan works from 4 in the afternoon until 1 in the morning, earning a base salary of 5,500 baht (189AUD) a month plus tips.

Vietnamese entering Thailand can stay for 30 days before they have to leave. Tuan, of course, stays for much longer than that. If he wants to maintain his legal status, he has to cross the border into Laos, then come back with an extension of 30 days. To make this trip costs about 1000 baht in transportation expenses, not including money lost for not going to work. Like most Vietnamese workers, Tuan decides to risk it instead of making the monthly trip.

In the past four years, Tuan has been stopped by the police 4 times. The latest incident took place only a few weeks ago. Tuan was helping a friend from Vietnam looking for work when they were stopped by the police. Tuan recountted, “Even though my passport was still valid, the police said he did not believe I was a tourist. He said, ‘I know you are here to work. If you are a tourist, why don’t you have any money to spend? What hotel are you staying?’ He took us in his car and drove us to the front of the immigration agency. He said, ‘You decide whether you want me to take you inside or you pay me and I let you go.’ We didn’t have much money in our pocket, so he took my cell phone instead.”

Tuan’s experience is not uncommon. Many Vietnamese workers have to pay the police in money or by cell phone to be let go. Recently, I received a call from Thoai. He told me over the Thai New Year, he went out with some friends and were stopped by the police. As a result, he also lost his cell phone. Thoai said sadly, “Now I have to work for about two weeks to have enough money to buy another phone.”
Duong Hoang Thuan


Duong Hoang Thuan is Thoai’s older brother. He is 25 years old, and comes from Huong Son District in Ha Tinh province. Thuan came to Thailand in 2004 and found work sewing clothes. He is paid 16 baht for every pair of pants he finishes. According to Thuan, on average, he can complete about 25 pairs of pants each day. As a result, each month, he is able to make about 8,000-9,000 baht.

Thuan has also had encounters with the Thai police. But unlike others who only had to pay money and let go, Thuan was put in prison for ten months not long after he came to Thailand. During those ten months, Thoai, Thuan’s brother had to use most of his earnings to take care of Thuan while he was in prison. After that period, Thuan was deported to Campuchia because he told the police that he was from this country. However, family and friends sent him money so that he could make his way back into Thailand again.

After returning from Kampuchia barely a month, Thuan was arrested again. This time, he was not even outside on the streets, but working inside the Thai owner’s home. Someone had reported to the police that there were illegal workers in that house. Thuan was put in prison for one month.

Another time that Thuan was stopped by the police, he only had to pay about 800 baht. “I only had 1000 baht in my pocket. So the police took 800 and let me have 200 so I could take the taxi home,” Thuan recounted. For some people, depending on how well they can deal with the police, they may have to pay 3,000-4,000 if they had the money in their wallet. But most are willing to pay to be let go because they don’t want to be taken to the police station, and then to the immigration agency. Once they are taken in, things become even more costly and complicated. Even though police corruption is bad for Thai society, but for the illegal workers, police corruption also helps them to be not arrested and deported to Vietnam.

According to Thuan, “The bad thing about working in Thailand is that we don’t have freedom to go about as we like. But on the other hand, Thai people are very good-hearted. Life here is more pleasant than in Vietnam.”

No one is sure how many Vietnamese workers there are in Thailand. The workers themselves tell me that there may be up to several hundred thousand. Even though life is not easy here, but for most, it is still better than in their home villages in Vietnam, where the situation is difficult and nowadays, even expensive.

Chatting with Margarita Phuong Vy: On teenage life and relationship with her mother

If you have been following the “Modern Talkings” page, you will notice that most of the time, it has been me who’s been presenting to you my take on things related to young people in modern society. For this issue, I’ve decided to take a break from doing the sharing, and let a young person share her thoughts and feelings on a topic that’s very important to all us. And that topic is about our relationship with our mother.

The person we’ve decided to interview for this topic is a sixteen year old from Sydney. Her name is Phuong Vi Nguyen, but she also goes by the name of Margarita. Phuong Vi is a bright and energetic young lady, and as far as we can see, she’s pretty representative of the modern, outgoing, and smart Vietnamese Australians, who can share with the readers some thoughts from a young person’s perspective.

MT: Can you tell us a little bit about yourself?

PVN: I’m 16 years old. I live in Sydney, and I’m in year 11. I’m Catholic. I go to a lot of churches, but the one I go to the most is Sacred Heart Cabramatta.

MT: Are you involved in activities at church?

PVN: Yeah I am involved. I’ve been in Thieu Nhi Thanh The since I was about 7 years old! It's a Vietnamese Eurcharist Youth Association. I've learnt so much from this, it’s where I developed my morals and sense of understanding. This youth group is like ONE BIG FAMILY, and everyone cares for each other – so no one is really selfish or anything.

MT: How many brothers and sisters do you have?

PVN: I have a pretty big family (like all Asian families [laugh]). My family has 5 kids, there are 2 boys and 3 girls and I'm the third sister. My Anh Hai Peter is 28, my big sisters, Maria and Teresa, are 26 and 24 and my little brother is 12. I guess the age difference between me and my big sister is big, but i think it's a good thing because she and the older siblings always live to spoil me and my little brother.

MT: Since we’re focusing on the topic of “mother” this issue, how would you describe your relationship with your mother?

PVN: Me and my mum have a very good relationship compared to a lot of people I know. I'd be lying if I said that I had a good relationship with my mum from the moment I was born... only the really lucky few have that. I had to build a relationship with my mum, it didn’t just pop out of thin air. To be honest, the time which I began to have a really good with her was since I was about 14 because before that I was a bit influenced by a lot of friends. Their relationships with their mums were terrible. They'd treat their mothers like strangers and expect the best from their mothers. There was no trust; they'd always bicker and complain – and I realised that. I never treated my mum like that, but I was just distant from her. Nowadays me and my mum joke around all the time, and open up to each other and I love it. She told me, “I trust you because I know how it felt when my own mother trusted me.” It's the best feeling in the world.

MT: What do you think is some of the most important things that your mother does for you?

PVN: Trust. The most important thing she can ever do for me is trust me. I really admire that she'll block out all rumours/media/tell tales for my sake, and that she always reminds me that she loves me whenever she teases me or opens up to me about something. My mum always cooks, cleans, and works hard for me... like really hard. My mum has been through many great personal hardships in her life and to see her stand up against them and see the positive side of life has really made me think of her as my role model.

MT: How would you describe the way your mother disciplines you?

PVN: My mum wanted me to understand the Vietnamese culture, so from the time when I was 2 till about 14 my mum took me to prayer groups at different houses every Sunday night. At these places, I learnt how to respect my elders because I was constantly around them. Elder people are always courteous, wise, funny and they always have a good thing to say, and I guess I was influenced by them over the years.

MT: What kind of punishment does she give you when you do something wrong?

PVN: The last time my mum ever spanked me (once with a stick) was when I was 8 years old. I didn’t blame her at the time [laugh] – like what mother wouldn’t hit their daughter who's just totally broke a new treadmill?

My Mum understands the pressures of the 'traditional' ways, you know... 100% UAI, NO BOYS, NOT ALLOWED TO GO OUT, ONLY GIRLS DO THIS AND NOT DO THAT, 30% FREEDOM, NO CHOICES. I seriously am not exaggarating because a lot of my friends suffer because of it. My mum understands, so she encourages me to do the best to my abilities, not beat a certain rank in the UAI. I'm not totally sure about boys, so I don’t do anything that might make her very hurt or suspicious like bringing a guy home (HELLO MUM'S WORST NIGHTMARE). So instead, I just mention my guy friends whenever it relates to a topic we're talking about, or ask her to say hi to them when I see them [laugh] Classic! And about 'going out', I really had to gain my mum's trust on this one in which I had to fulfill all of her requests even if I didn’t like it, and in the end it paid off big time.

MT: Are you comfortable sharing with your mother about issues in your life and also ask for her advice?

PVN: I admit, it's really hard talking to my mum about my issues and that's because I don't want to put extra weight onto her worries. She worries enough as it is. My mum usually pours her heart out to me and gives me advice when I don't ask for it, but I appreciate it because I wouldn’t have thought of asking for it anyway. I know my sisters always come to her for advice, but I think I just need more time to be more comfortable and assured that she won’t hyperventilate when I tell her about my issues. I think two things could happen 1. Be scolded and 2. Get her worried and she'll voluntarily intervene with my issues when I don’t want her to.

MT: What do you usually come to your mother for?

PVN: FOOD! I love my mum's cooking and I usually come to my mum when I want a good laugh. She always has her ways of making sure I know she loves me and it's always nice to know. I can't get enough of it, I probably wouldn’t last a day without teasing her and seeing her smile and blush.

MT: Do you think your mother is a good advice giver?

PVN: Well, according to my sisters she is. But it usually has to do with 'adult' stuff like love and money. Hahah, that is totally my 'no go zone'. I know she doesn't want me – a young teenager – to be meddling with that stuff now anyway.

MT: Do you think your mother, being a Vietnamese, understands what it is like for you to grow up in modern Australian society?

PVN: My mum does understand, but not as much as I like her to. However, I really appreciate that she understands a little at least for I know so many other people who'd kill for parents to understand that we need a 'social life'. I really think the word 'social life' is a taboo word amongst Vietnamese parents to be honest. What I usually hear is ' OMG, I need a life, my parents think my UAI is all that counts, I’m not allowed to go out or have fun! I'm so unhappy, but they won't listen to me'. Many kids has said that, trust me. I wish every parent would go to their kid right now and ask them, 'Do you feel loved? Am I being too unfair? How can I change to make a better life for you'. My mum showed her understanding because I talked to her about it. I wouldn’t think that she'd understand out of thin air (who could?), so I just talked about what I needed at the moment: Australia culture vs. Vietnamese culture and how it was important to me. I admit it was scary and awkward because I hadn’t stepped into that territory with my mum before. But now, I'm so glad that I did.

MT: If you were in your mother's shoes right now, what advice would you give your 16 year-old daughter to help her grow up to be a good person?

PVN: Well the first thing I would think is, “Treat her like I would like to be treated.” A lot of mums forget that making sure nothing will happen to their daughters, is literally making sure NOTHING happens to them. The best way for girls learn is via experience and learn from our mistakes. So knowing this, I'd set curfews and give them talks (not scold them) about dangers in life like being obsessed with boys, cars, drinking, and smoking. I would open her up to different positive perspectives by getting her to experience different things, e.g. raising money for charities, take her to the hospital, get her to meet pregnant teenage mothers, cooking, hanging out and gardening with the elders, babysitting and what not. I wouldn’t give my daughter advice alone. I'll actually make her gain experiences as well so I can guarantee she'll become a good person.

MT: What do you most respect about your mother?

PVN: Her persistence even though she's been through so much in her life. She always cares about the less advantaged people no matter what.

MT: What is a memory that you have with your mother that you will always cherish?

PVN: Feeding my mum icecream in Cabramatta and telling her sweet mushy nothings in front of everyone.

Do nice guys always finish last?

Having fun and enjoying life is part of being a young person. Meeting people, finding someone you like and perhaps fall in love with is also part of the plan. But for many people, this is no easy task. Recently, I received an email from Hoang, a Vietnamese American in his 20s. Hoang is what many people would describe as a “nice guy”. In his email, Hoang asked me for advice. He said:

“Father, I scored over 133 on my super IQ test, I was ranked in the top 98% of people taking the test. But only 70 on my sex IQ tes; it ranks me in the low 10% of people who took the test. Following the guidelines of the church makes me so dumb. Father, I've been missing out a lot in life because my parents didn't want me to have the fun they had when they were young.”

In a second email, Hoang expressed more frustrations about his experience in meeting girls. He said:

“What I find out is that girls seem to like bad boy, the one who is tough and demanding...Ever since I show my toughnesss, many girls seem to like me... Even with the girl I'm with now, I still have to hide a lot from her. I wonder when will I be able to live with the real me. Of course, if you're too nice, they are going to think you're cheap and weak. Have you heard that nice guys always sleep alone, Father? I want to change that man, I'm tired of my life. Every cute girl that I run into always go after your pocket and how slavishly you live your life. So what do you think about that?”

I am sure that there are many people out there who can sympathize with what Hoang is going though in trying to find that girl or guy who really appreciates you for who you are. As young people growing up in a modern society, we are trying to balance between having fun, fitting in, but also keeping the moral guidelines that our parents and our church teach us. Sometimes, it is not easy to do. And without thorough understanding of the church teachings, many of us end up blaming the church for keeping us from having the fun that we think we should be having.
However, let me put something straight at the very start. Yes, if we follow the church teachings, we should not be having sex before marriage; we shouldn’t be using alcohol irresponsibly or using drugs illegally; we shouldn’t cheat, steal, or do physical or mental harm to others. We should be going to church every Sunday and praying everyday. But there is nothing in church teachings that restricts us or prevents us from having fun, and finding joy in being a cheerful, healthy, outgoing, and caring person that makes us a magnet attracting others to come to us.

There are plenty of young people who participate in the church choir, in youth groups, and in other clubs and activities that help them to meet people who also enjoy doing the same things that they do. A lot of those people live according to the church guidelines, end up getting married to someone they met, and build for themselves a happy family. The test of our true success in relationship is whether we meet and build a loving relationship with that person, and not how many points we get on some sex IQ test, which only gives us points if we do certain things.

The way I see it, being a faithful and religious person has nothing to do with the fact that you can’t meet the right girl or guy. It’s how you are as a person that determines whether you are attractive to others. Have you wondered how some people just seem to exude charm and confidence that draw people to them, while others just drive people away?

Now comes the million dollar question: Is it true that the bad boy gets the girl and the nice guy always finishes last?

Like I said before, Hoang is what people often label a “nice guy”. And I think from Hoang’s email, he also thinks of himself as that. But for some reason, being nice has gotten him nowhere in the girl department. He feels like he has to turn into a “bad boy” with a hard exterior in order to get the girl because being “sensitive” just doesn’t work.

But in my opinion, a lot of people are a little bit confused between being “nice” and being a bunch other other things. For example, some people equate “insecurity” with “niceness”. Let’s say a girl sees a guy who’s decent looking. But he’s really shy. He goes to a party and just sort of stands to one corner and is afraid to go around talking to people, or is afraid to strike up a conversation with a girl because he’s afraid of being rejected. If you look at the guy, perhaps you can say that he’s nice; or in fact, he’s just very insecure, which makes him not very attractive.
Some people confuse being “sappy” with being “nice”. One time, I was awaken at three in the morning by a friend name Tuan. Tuan is another so called “nice guy” who has tried for years to find a girl that suits him. But no matter how much he tries, he can’t find anyone. This time, Tuan called me to complain about a girl he has recently met. He sent her a big bouquet of flowers and other gifts, but didn’t hear anything back from her. I asked him when did he meet her? He said only over a week ago. I told him, “She’s probably scared of you. If you keep sending her stuff like that, she’d probably think you’re a weirdo. Take it easy, man.”

Some people confuse being clingy with being nice. Yes, it’s that guy who always wants to be with the girl, who always calls her, and wants to know what she’s doing; that’s the guy that thinks he’s being nice by showing how much he cares and pays attention to the girl. But in fact, he’s just afraid to lose her. Or he’s trying to make her fall in love with him right away.

Some people confuse being depressed with being nice. It seems that it’s only the so called nice guys that lament about the terrible fate of being nice. Why does no one recognize his niceness? Why do girls reject his niceness? Why do they take advantage of his niceness? If you take a second look, maybe he’s not so nice, but just very depressed about who he is.

The truth is, being insecure, clingy, overly romantic, sappy, or self-pitying does not make you a nice person. It makes you an unattractive person, one that is no fun to be around. Also, if you are someone who ends up hating women because all they want is your money (something that my friend Tuan unceasingly told me, and Hoang also complained about in his email), it doesn’t make you a nice guy.

What then is my advice to Hoang? Stop calling yourself a “nice guy”. Stop labeling yourself, and stop labeling others. I believe that really nice guys don’t go around calling themselves “I’m a nice guy”, just like bad boys don’t go around introducing themselves “I’m a bad boy”, or humble people don’t tell others “I’m a humble person.” They just do what they do, and be who they are.
“Nice guys” don’t get the girl, or have a lot of friends because, a lot of times, that’s just a positive label we put on pretty unattractive characteristics in a person. In fact, attracting to others doesn’t have much to do with being “nice” or being “bad”. Rather, it has to do with feeling good about ourselves, accepting ourselves for who we are, and being confident in our ability to relate to others.

Feeling good about ourselves comes about when we live a healthy life style. We eat well, get enough exercise, have fun hobbies, and are interested in the world around us. Accepting ourselves for who we are comes from being realistic and at peace with our strengths and weaknesses. We are accepting of our quirks, our imperfections, but also take pride in the things that we can do well. Being confident comes about when we practice taking risks in our life, whether it is starting a new project, entering into a new relationship, or doing something that we have never done before. The success and failures that we experience along the way help us to be stronger, more sturdy, and more aware of where our potential lies. Some people try to be “tough” in order to portray to others their confidence, like Hoang is trying to do. But true self confidence doesn’t mean being “tough” and trying to hide who you really are. Rather, true self confidence is the ability to know your self-worth, and what you are able to do, and what you are willing to try. If we “act tough” just because we don’t want to “look weak”, it’s pretty much faking and deceiving ourselves as well as others. Eventually, the act will break down and others will see who we really are.

The thing that determines whether people will swarm around us is whether they see that we are filled with positive energy; what drives them away is their fear to be infected by our negativity if they come too close. If we feel good about ourself, chances are, others will also feel good about us. If we are confident in ourself, chances are, others will feel confident about us as well.

Being an attractive person to others and living a “fun” life should not prevent anyone from following church moral guidelines. Being an attractive person also is not related to being “nice” or being “bad”. Being attractive, having fun, and enjoying life comes from living healthy, being self-confident and self-accepting, and willing to take charge of your own destiny in life. In conclusion, truly nice guys probably don’t finish last, only people who lament about their life finish last.

A Life of Changes

Ever since I decided to join the Society of the Divine Word, on average, I have moved place of residence once a year – from one house to another, from one city to another, from one state to another, or from one country to another. Each time I moved meant a whole series of decisions of deciding on what to pack up, what to keep, what to discard, or what to give away. Sometimes, it wasn’t just about the material things such as books, clothes, or memorabilias, but also non-physical things like plans, relationships, and projects.

In 1998, when I graduated from Berkeley with my bachelor degree and decided to enter Divine Word College as a postulant, I put away my biochemistry books, canceled my plan of going to medical school, and headed for something that was going to be quite exciting in, of all places, Epworth, Iowa – the cornfield town of the cornfield state.

Then a year later, I moved to Techny for the Novitiate Year. After taking my first vows in 2000, I moved to Chicago for theology, then to Vietnam for the Cross-Cultural Program, then back to Chicago. I took my final vows in September, 2005 and was ordained to the priesthood in May, 2006. At this time, I again packed up my belongings. The task of deciding what to keep and what to discard was even more intense this time because my assignment was going to be to the Australian province. That meant going to a different country for a long time, and possibly forever.

But Australia wasn’t going to be my last stop, because from Australia, I was assigned by the Provincial to the mission of Thailand. So in February 2006, I made my way to Bangkok to start my Thai language study program. With the exception of a 2-month hiatus in which I had to leave the country because of visa complications, I have been in Thailand since.

But as I write this, I have to tell the reader that I am no longer in Bangkok. As of three weeks ago, I have moved to Udon Thani, a province in the Northeast of Thailand, near Laos, where I am in the process of adapting to the new environment, memorizing new names of people I meet and of places I go to, learning how to recognize the tones of the new dialect (which is very different from the dialect that I learned in Bangkok), getting to know the new customs, learning how to eat even spicier food than what I had in Bangkok, and sometimes…. just feeling very overwhelmed at everything that is happening to me.

But before anyone thinks that I’m settled down….Not yet. As I am only in the stage of being inculturated into the local church and environment, I am now staying at the cathedral in Udon Thani for a short time until a long-term work is decided for me. That means I expect to move again not too long from now. And wherever that is, is a question that I am praying will come to me more clearly by the grace of God.

Our SVD Thailand mission is a small mission. We have now only four people, two brothers, and two new priests (myself and another confrere studying Thai in Bangkok). My addition to the Thai mission is part of the plan of the SVD to expand our work in this country where there are only 300,000 Catholics in a population of 63 million people. But expansion is a tricky experiment in which trial and error can occur as we find directions for our work that meets the need of the local church as well as corresponds to the SVD charism.

And so in the midst of uncertainty and explorations, we depend on the Holy Spirit to help us recognize the path that we should venture down in order to respond appropriately to the mission needs and aspirations of the church in which we serve. Standing before many paths stretching themselves before my eyes, I wonder with the greatest sincerity about what I have been called to do in this country.

Last Saturday, two Vincent de Paul sisters invited me to a school in the village where they teach English to students on the weekend. I accepted the invitation and was allowed to be guest teacher for the day. Standing before a group of 35 students, speaking Thai and English, teaching the kids how to sing the Barnie song, making them laugh when I said some jokes, I felt like working with young people continues to be something that is always in my list of pastoral activities.

After the sisters took over, I went to sit on one of the benches. A 70 year-old grandmother came to sit down next to me. She held my hand in hers and said, “Father, you’re so cute. The way you teach make the kids laugh and enjoy learning. I hope you will come here again next time.” I thanked her for her kind words and asked about her life, if she ate well and slept well at night. “Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night,” she said. “You think about something, and then it’s hard to fall asleep.”

“Grandmother, you’re old already. You shouldn’t be thinking anymore,” I told her.

“How can you not think?” she said. “There are grandchildren to take care, and the children don’t have good jobs. Before, it was easy to find money. But now, there are too many expenses and no way to make money.”

Life is hard in the villages, but the people are friendly and good-hearted. And I think to myself, should I stay in the city or do I prefer the village? Both has its own needs. Here in the city, I have met a group of people who definitely has a need for a priest who can speak Vietnamese. That’s the young Vietnamese people from the central provinces of Vietnam who have made their way to Thailand and stayed illegally in order to work in restaurants, sewing shops, and other manual labor work. I met them when I was in Bangkok and I have met some since I’ve come to Udon Thani.

No one knows how many Vietnamese illegal workers there are in Thailand, but in Bangkok, when a Vietnamese language Mass was organized, up to 600 attended. But these Masses only happen once every two months because it is difficult to find a church that allows for the mass to take place. The main reason has to do with the illegal status of the Vietnamese workers, most of whom are young people in their teens and twenties. Virtually everytime that a mass was organized, someone was arrested on the way to or from church as they were stopped by the police to check for documents. Because of the fear of being arrested, many don’t go to church on Sunday. However, if there were a Vietnamese language mass, many would risk it because they longed to attend mass in their own language and to have an opportunity to meet with their friends.

During my stay in Bangkok, I have gotten to know many of these young people and have helped another Vietnamese priest who works with the community. Here in Udon Thani, there are also many and they also long for a Vietnamese language mass or to have a Vietnamese to hear their confession. In reality, many of these workers, after living in Thailand for a significant amount of time, can speak Thai quite well, but there is nothing better than using one’s own mother tongue for very personal things like confession and worship.

Before coming to Thailand, it never came into my mind that there would be illegal Vietnamese migrant workers in this country who needed me pastorally. I did know, however, that there are Vietnamese-Thai who migrated to this country since the the first half of the 1900s and even several hundred years ago, during the persecution of Catholics in Vietnam. Vietnamese-Thai grow up in an environment where being Vietnamese was discriminated. As a result, many hid their identity, took on Thai names, and tried to live as Thai. Freedom and citizenship have been granted to people of Vietnamese ancestry only over a decade ago, so the mentality to hide their identity is still prevalent in the Vietnamese-Thai consciousness. Vietnamese-Thai, having migrated here long ago, speak the kind of Vietnamese that we find in Vietnam a hundred years ago – that is the one who can speak.

The first time I met a Vietnamese Thai who was able to speak to me in Vietnamese, she greeted, “Chao ong cha.” I was quite surprised because normally, Vietnamese people only say “Chao cha”. The word “Ong” usually used for men who are older is not used in conjunction with the word “cha” which means “father”. After being greeted this way many times by Vietnamese-Thai, I decided to ask why was I greeted in this way, especially when I am only a little over 30 years old. I was told that this was how priests were to be addressed, “ong cha”.

A large percentage of the Catholic population in Udon Thani, and in Thailand are of Vietnamese ancestry. And among the priests and religious, there are no few Vietnamese. But the ones who can speak their ancestor language are far and few. But my coming to Udon Thani has also brought about some interest to the Vietnamese-Thai here, especially the older people who still use the language and like to be able to use it with a Vietnamese speaking priest.

At this moment of relating to my conferes and readers of my work and experience in Thailand, I can only say this much. Choices and options are many. There are much to be reflected over and to be decided upon. When I made my decision to come to Thailand, I came for the Thai people and I am resolved to work with the Thai people. But nothing ever is exactly the way I plan it. Before me, there are Thai people, Vietnamese- Thai, and Vietnamese migrants. Before me are three groups of people, all of whom I would like to serve, all of whom I would like to get to know, and I hope all of whom would welcome me into their midst. Is there a place to work, a position, or an environment that would allow me to be in contact with all three groups? It is something that I am wondering and praying over at this time.

Uncertainty is prevalent. But there is one thing that I am sure of, and that is, I am moving…always moving. Moving physically, moving spiritually, moving culturally, and moving emotionally. There are moments where English-Vietnamese-Thai all seem to try to come out of my mouth at the same time as I try to have a conversation with someone standing before me. There are moments where I am filled with hope one instant then anxiety the next. There are moments where I wish I could settle down to a long-term assignment one minute, then suddenly become so grateful that these constant changes have brought me into so many encounters, some of which would never be possible if I had only stayed in one place the entire time.

Making the Right Choice

It was a normal high school lunch break in sunny Southern California. In the flag pole area by the administration building, the popular guys and girls were hanging out with each other. Over by the arts building was the more withdrawn group of students, usually dressed in black T-shirts of various rock or heavy metal bands. And towards the history building was the hang out for Asian American students. I had just come out of a school club meeting, and on my way to the restroom. I was a senior, my last year of high school.

As I made my way between the crowds of people, I bumped into Jenny, a Vietnamese friend in the 11th grade. She was crying.

“Hey, what’s up? Why are you crying?” I asked.

She hugged me tightly, then said, “I need someone to talk to?”

“Yeah, what’s the matter? You can talk to me. Do you want to go somewhere?” I tried my best to sound sympathetic and supportive.

“Can we go in the back of the science building?”

“Ok, let’s go,” I said forgetting that I needed to go to the bathroom.

As Jenny and I found a quiet place away from the crowd and sat down on the grass, I asked again, “Tell me what’s going on with you. It must be something serious because I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Tony, it’s serious. Promise me that you wouldn’t tell anybody,” Jenny said in between sobs.

“Of course, just tell me, maybe I can help,” I reassured her.

“Tony, I think…I think I’m pregnant,” Jenny told me at last.

“What? Are you positive? How do you know?” I was no longer so sure about what I could do to help.

“I’m not definite. I’m a few days late with my period.”

“But that doesn’t mean you’re pregnant, does it?” I wasn’t so much of an expert myself in terms of female biological issues. And in fact, Jenny didn’t know all that much either.

“I don’t really know, but I’m just so scared right now. I don’t know what to do.”

“When did this happen?”

“Just last week. My parents were away. David came over after school, and he convinced me into doing it. It was our first time,” Jenny told me how it came about.

Lunch break was now over, but Jenny was in no mood to go to fifth period. So, we both asked our teachers to let us go home early because of an emergency. Jenny and I found our way to a health center in the city. It was the only place we knew where pregnancy testing took place, even though we also knew that it was a place where abortion procedures were done. A staff member talked to us, but told us that it was still a little too early to check whether Jenny was pregnant or not, and to wait for a few more days.

The following days were very stressful for us, especially for Jenny who would have a heavy price to pay if she were really pregnant. We could not concentrate on our studies. All we could do was get on the phone to talk to each other about what to do if what we feared came true. We were both Catholic, and we knew that abortion was forbidden by the church. But if Jenny were to have the baby, what would happen to her future? As teenagers, the way to solve this issue seemed like something that neither of us had the ability to think of for ourselves. But we were also afraid to ask our parents because we didn’t think they would understand us. We were desperate.
Fortunately for Jenny, all the worries and anxieties were finally put to rest, when a few days later, she happily came to tell me that she was not pregnant after all. She finally had her period.

I was relieved that the decision of whether to abort or not abort a baby never had to be made by Jenny. However, as a teenager, I am not sure how I would have advised my friend at that time.
Now, as an adult, and as a priest, when thinking back on this event, I often wonder what I would have said then if our fears came true. Would I have given Jenny the right advice such as finding adults to help us sort out the issue? To think about the innocent baby that had no role in the fact that it was conceived? To try her best to handle the consequences of her action? Or to think about how she would feel if she did really kill a life?

I am not sure that I could have helped my friend to do these things because as a teenager, I was probably not mature enough to think of the right things to do. Perhaps the lack of maturity and wisdom that Jenny and I had could have led to the action that is being done by millions and millions of young people all over the world every year, and that’s resorting to abortion to solve the problem of unwanted pregnancy. From poor countries to rich countries, from big cities to small towns, teenagers are finding their ways to hospitals and clinics to have abortions done in order to put an end to their troubles. At least that’s what they think.

Troubles don’t end with abortions. Putting aside the fact that you’re killing a life; putting aside the fact that many of the abortion procedures are dangerous to your health; and putting aside the fact that you’re running away from your responsibility by getting rid of something sacred, the act of abortion will haunt you because you know in your heart and soul that you’re doing something really really immoral.

Recently, a young man came to me for confession. He said that he and his girlfriend had aborted their baby two years ago because at that time, they were not married and not ready to have a baby.

“Is this the first time you confess about this?” I asked.

“No father, I’ve already confessed this sin several times before,” he replied.

“When you confessed during those times, what did the priest tell you?”

“Father told me that I can be forgiven if I am truly sorry for what I have done. But for some reason, I still don’t feel like I am forgiven. My girlfriend and I always think about what we did, and it’s always on our mind. Even though it’s been two years, we still cannot forget about it. That’s why I wanted to confess again.”

The experience of this young man and his girlfriend is a very common experience with people who have aborted their babies. God made all of us to be good people. And because we are good people, if we do something terribly wrong, our conscience tells us right away. That is why there are so many people who struggle constantly in their heart because of the mistake they did in having an abortion. Having a baby unplanned can be very difficult and the price is definitely high, but perhaps nothing is as high as the feeling of guilt and pain that we carry within ourselves for having violated God’s law forbidding us to take away a helpless, innocent human life, especially when that human life is a part of our own flesh and blood.

It is true that God can forgive anything, even the gravest sin. God can forgive when we are truly sorry for what we have done, and we promise and do our best to repent for the sin that we have committed. But sometimes, it is easier for God to forgive us than for us to forgive ourselves. That’s why many people who have committed abortion face such grave emotional and spiritual troubles in their lives.

Dear friends, life is a series of decisions that we have to make everyday and every minute. We started to make decisions since we were just a few years old. Some decisions are a piece of cake; we can make them in a split second without giving a second thought. But not all decisions are this easy. Some have great implications for our life. As we live in this modern age, the issue of unplanned pregnancy is no longer something unfamiliar to us. Either we ourselves have encountered it, or someone we know like a friend or family member has had to face this experience.

Whatever we do, I believe that we cannot go wrong when we make the decision for life instead of against life; make the decision for accepting the responsibility instead of running away from responsibility; and most importantly, make the decision for abstinence so that we don’t have to make the choice of abortion in the first place!

A Beautiful Heart

What does a truly generous and loving heart look like? It is one that looks like that of a poor fisherman named Truong Chi. For those of us who don’t know, Truong Chi is one of the most famous characters in Vietnamese literature. And his story moves us because of his deep and sincere love.

Once upon a time, there was a very beautiful girl named My Nuong, the only daughter of a powerful mandarin. Like all the maidens of her station in life, she met no one and was kept secluded in a high tower in the palace. She spent most of her time reading, knitting or standing by the little window in order to cast her eyes upon the Tieu Tuong River, which passed quietly beneath her.

Gliding along, from time to time, was the small boat of Truong Chi, a poor angler, who would sing songs as he cast his nets on the river. From afar My Nuong could not see his face, but could hear him singing, an enchanting and melancholic voice.

No one knew what feelings this voice produced in My Nuong’s heart. However, one day the boat was not seen on the water and she began to wait. After waiting in vain for many moons, she fell ill. Her anxious father called for doctors to cure her, but even the most famous doctor of the time could not discover the cause of My Nuong’s illness.

One morning, to everyone's joy and surprise, My Nuong suddenly recovered her health. The little boat had returned to the river and the voice of Truong Chi again filled the sky. Based on the words revealed by My Nuong’s maid, the mandarin called the angler in and brought him before the daughter. But after just one glance, she did not wish to see Truong Chi anymore; his face was ugly, completely opposite of what she had pictured in her mind.

Nevertheless, the meeting was a fatal one. It put an end to the love in the bosom of the girl, but gave birth to a desperate one in the heart of the poor fisherman. Worn by a hopeless love, he pined away in solitude and finally drew his last breath one dark autumn evening. Truong Chi took the secret of his unrequited love with him into the next world.

Many years later, Truong Chi’s family exhumed his remains in order to transfer them to the family tomb. In the coffin, they found nothing but a marvellous and sparkling piece of gemstone, which they put on the prow of the boat as a decoration to remember the dead.

One day an old mandarin passed by the place. Taken aback by the splendour of the precious stone, he bought it and ordered a clever turner to make a beautiful teacup from it. It was then that he made a very strange discovery. Every time the cup was filled with tea, there appeared the image of some poor angler rowing his boat around the cup.

My Nuong heard about this strange story and wanted to see it herself. When she poured some tea into the cup, the image of the poor ugly man that she once met appeared and she could again hear the resonance of his enchanting voice that used to mesmerize her soul. Feelings of longing and regret surged in her heart and turned into tears running down the sides of her cheeks. A teardrop fell into the cup, and as this happened, the gemstone cup that My Nuong was holding in her hand melted into pure water.
Perhaps you would not be surprised to see why the story of Truong Chi and My Nuong is one of the most romantic folk tales in Vietnamese literature. As young people, the situation in the story may be unfamiliar to us. In our modern lifestyle, we don’t know anything about mandarins or young maidens being kept up in palaces. We don’t know anything about the life of fishing on the river in order to make a living. We can’t imagine what it’s like listen to someone singing on the river. What we know is fast cars, ADSL internet, and mobile phones. What we know is FM radio and Podcast.

And yet, there is one thing that we know, and it has nothing to do with time, place, or culture. And that’s the quality of a true heart – a really really good heart. We can see from the story that Truong Chi was a poor young man. He had little but his boat and his nets to catch fish to sell at the market. And add to that, he was ugly – so ugly that the moment My Nuong looked at him, she never wanted to see him again.

But while Truong Chi did not have money or good looks, he was blessed with a talent that few had – a beautiful voice. This was a talent that he did not keep to himself but he shared it with everyone. As Truong Chi sang while he was fishing on the river, it probably wasn’t My Nuong alone who was enchanted by his voice and felt less lonely being kept in the palace. Perhaps there were babies lying in the cradle who fell peacefully asleep as Truong Chi’s voice lulled them. Perhaps there were farmers working in the field, having their backs baked under the midday sun, who forgot their tiredness because they heard his songs.

The more I read this folk tale, the more I admire Truong Chi because of his sincere and generous heart. How many of us are blessed with very wonderful talents, but are afraid or unwilling to share them with others? We keep our talents to ourselves because we are afraid to be criticized, afraid to appear in public, or afraid to fail? We’re afraid that people will talk about us and make fun of us.

Truong Chi was poor, and he was ugly. But his voice was beautiful. And he shared his talent with others in the best way that he could. The fact that Truong Chi was brave enough to sing as he worked on the river was because his heart was sincere and true. He wanted to share his gift with others without worrying about being made fun of or being criticized.

But Truong Chi’s story, as we know, is a tragedy, because as sincere and generous as he was, it wasn’t good enough for My Nuong to love him the way he loved her. He was disappointed in love and suffered from heartsick. But despite this, Truong Chi’s heart never changed. That’s why when he died, his body turned into a precious and sparkling gemstone. Even in death, Truong Chi showed everyone how truly beautiful his heart was. In the end, My Nuong herself was filled with regret for having rejected Truong Chi.

The story of Truong Chi and My Nuong reminds us that in any time and place, what is on the inside is far more important than what is on the outside. Love is something that comes from the heart, and we have to feel other’s love with our heart as well. If we try to look for love with only our eyes, chances are we might overlook something very precious and true.
The story of Truong Chi and My Nuong also reminds us that we should let our heart help direct our actions. If we have a heart of generosity and openness, we are able to overcome things that hold us back such as shyness and insecurity. When we do things from the heart, we can change the lives of people around us in ways that even we are not aware of.

Today, we don’t make a living casting fish nets on the river like Truong Chi. We don’t sing the same kind of songs that Truong Chi sang. But definitely, we can be generous like Truong Chi was generous. And we can love like Truong Chi loved.

Hắn và Tôi

Tôi đã từng đọc nhiều tác phẩm, truyện ngắn có truyện dài có; thơ tôi cũng thỉnh thoảng đem ra đọc, thậm chí còn bày đặt làm thơ để thể hiện tính nghệ sỹ ẩn nấp sâu đâu đó trong tôi, mà ngay cả tôi cũng không biết phải đào tới mấy lớp mới kiếm ra được. Nhưng tôi chưa từng đọc tuyệt tác của Robert Louis Stevenson là Bác sỹ Jekyll và ông Hyde bao giờ, nhưng tôi nghe nói truyện này hay dễ sợ. Tối nay, khi tôi ngồi uống cà phê, nói chuyện với một thằng bạn thân, tôi hỏi nó:

- Êh mày, mày đã đọc truyện Bác sĩ Jekyll và ông Hyde bao giờ chưa?

- Ừhm, tao đọc lâu rồi, từ thời học cấp III kia. Mà sao mày hỏi? – Nó nhìn tôi với ánh mắt ngờ vực. Tôi ra vẻ phớt lờ.

- Thì tao tò mò muốn biết vậy thôi. Cốt truyện ra sao vậy mày?

- Đọc lâu lắm rồi, tao không nhớ chi tiết. Nhưng đại khái truyện viết về một ông bác sỹ tài giỏi. Ông ta thí nghiệm với một loại thuốc khiến cho bản tính ông bị chia thành hai, một bên thiện một bên ác. Nhưng dần dần thì ông mất đi sự tự chủ và ngày càng trở nên cực đoan. Ông bác sỹ hiền lành biến thành ông Hyde ghê sợ và tồi tệ ngày càng nhiều hơn. Sau đó ông Hyde bị cảnh sát truy lùng vì tội giết người, bác sỹ Jekyll đành quyết định tự vẫn để kết thúc thảm kịch do ông tạo nên.

- Truyện hay ghê. – Tôi tặc lưởi.

Thằng bạn nhíu mắt nhìn tôi, trên nét mặt lộ ra vẻ suy nghĩ như đang nghiên cứu một loài cây lạ trong rừng hay một con vật trong sở thú mới nhập khẩu từ Châu phi sang.

- Mày làm gì nhìn tao chăm chăm vậy mày? – Tôi hỏi.

- Tao đang xem coi dạo này mày giống bác sỹ Jekyll hay ông Hyde hơn. – Nó nhe răng cười, khoe hai hàm răng trắng bóc như mới đi chùi bằng kỹ thuật laser xong.

- Mày chọc tao hả? – Tôi làm mặt ngầu.

Nó cười rồi nói tiếp:

- Đâu có. Tao đùa với mày tí thôi. Mày hiền như Ma Seour mà làm gì có chuyện biến thành ông Hyde. Vã lại mày là kẻ tu trì mà, một ông cha, một nhà truyền giáo làm việc tận tụy trong vườn nho của Chúa. So với một thằng như tao, mày phải là thánh mới đáng.

Tôi không biết nó đang khen hay đang nói xỏ lá tôi. Tôi định hái chùm lá đưa nó xem nó có muốn xỏ hay không. Nhưng tôi làm biếng chạy ra ngoài hái lá, nên quyết định đáp trả bằng một câu chẳng gì là hay ho:

- Ừhm, tao cũng thấy mày giống ông Hyde dễ sợ.

Nó trợn mắt, há miệng, làm vẻ mặt hung dữ, nói giọng gừ gừ trong cổ:

- Bây giờ mày mới biết hả?

Nhìn nó biến dạng tôi phì cười. Nó cười theo. Cả hai đều cười xuýt bể bụng.


Nói chuyện bán dưa lê với thằng bạn, nhưng tối về nhà tôi nằm ngủ không yên. Hình ảnh ông Hyde hung dữ hiện lên trong đầu tôi, tròng mắt đỏ loét như đang có máu. Gân xanh nổi lên đầy trán, răng nhọn hoắc như một con quỷ. Tôi rùng mình.

Một lát sau, ngủ không được tôi dậy đi tắm, rồi xuống nhà bếp uống ly sữa loại không có chất lactose vì tôi vốn không uống được sữa bình thường. Uống loại sữa đó là tôi chạy tào tháo. Tôi ghét nhất là bị chạy tào tháo.

Nhìn mấy cái chén chưa rửa bên cạnh bồn nước tôi bổng dưng nhớ lại sự việc lúc tối qua. Trong bữa ăn tối, nhà dòng có thêm một số khách dùng bữa, khiến cho lượng chén bát nhiều hơn. Nhưng đến giờ rửa chén thì số người anh em ở lại giúp vẫn không thay đổi. Những ai thường ở lại rửa thì vẫn ở lại, trong đó có cha Maurice trên 70 tuổi rồi mà sức vẫn còn sung khủng khiếp. Còn những ai thường ăn xong rồi bỏ đi thì vẫn bỏ đi (Chúng tôi vốn có chế độ rửa chén ‘tự nguyện’). Những cha già thì không ái trách, họ có muốn rửa cũng không cho. Nhưng có ông trẻ sức lực còn đầy mình mà ăn xong rồi chỉ phủi mồm, không ở lại để lau khô một cái bát gọi là thể hiện tinh thần đoàn kết.

Thấy vậy, cái thằng có tính tình bủn xỉn trong tôi được đánh thức và nhảy toang ra. Hắn vừa lau bát vừa càm ràm: “Cha cụ gì mà làm biếng quá chừng”.

Hắn liếc nhìn ông cha với ánh mắt khinh dễ khi ông mang đĩa từ bàn ăn vào nhà bếp, đặt vào bồn nước, rồi bước ra khỏi phòng ăn một cách tỉnh bơ. Thấy vậy, hắn thầm nói một cách chua chát: “Biết ăn mà chẳng biết làm!”

Cái thằng có đầu óc so đo tính toán, và nhỏ mọn đó, hắn ẩn nấp trong tôi, và sẵn sàng chụp lấy bất cứ cơ hội nào để lao ra và thể hiện chính mình. Tốc độ xuất hiện của hắn nhanh đến nỗi tôi không kịp chận hắn lại. Không có hắn, trong đầu tôi nẩy lên nhiều tư tưởng rất cao thượng. Tôi quan tâm đến người nghèo khổ, bệnh tật, và những người bị đàn áp. Tôi có những hoài bảo được đấu tranh cho công lý và hoà bình. Tôi mong mỏi được trở nên dụng cụ mang Tin Mừng và sự bình an của Chúa đến mọi người. Không có hắn, tôi là hiện thân của lòng từ bi và nhân ai. Nhưng khi hắn xuất hiện, hắn cướp đi trí thông minh của tôi. Hắn hoàn toàn điều khiển miệng lưởi và suy nghĩ của tôi. Tôi trở nên một tay sai ngu ngốc của hắn.

Tôi rất ghét cái thằng bủn xỉn đó, nhưng hắn không muốn rời bỏ tôi. Hắn cứ lẩn quẩn chờ đợi một hành động, một lời nói, hay một cử chỉ của ai đó làm cho tôi không vừa lòng là hắn tự động trình diện khuôn mặt dữ tợn của hắn. Khi tôi đuổi hắn đi, hắn thu mình lại một cách miễn cưỡng, nét mặt hầm hực, và ánh mắt hắn tỏ ra đầy hận thù với lời tuyên bố như của Arnold Schwarzenegger trong bộ phim Kẻ huỷ diệt: “Tao sẽ trở lại!”

Trong cuộc sống, có nhiều khi diễn ra cuộc xung đột giữa tôi và hắn một cách ác liệt. Khi tôi đầy đủ vũ khí để đối phó với hắn thì hắn bị đánh nhừ, có khi còn nằm thoi thóp như chờ chết. Nhưng hắn không chết, hắn nhắm mắt giả vờ tắt thở. Tôi nhìn thấy hắn nằm không động đậy, tưởng hắn chết thật, nên quay mặt đi. Tôi trở lại với công việc quan trọng mà tôi được giao trách nhiệm để thực hành. Nhưng rồi trong khi tôi đang tự tin và chủ quan, hắn lại hồi sinh với sức mạnh ngoan cường. Hắn hoành hành và tấn công làm cho tôi bầm dập.

Thằng bạn tôi nói đúng, tôi là một nhà tu, một ông cha, một nhà truyền giáo, đáng ra tôi phải rất thánh thiện. Nhưng sự thực thì trong tôi cái thiện với cái ác lúc nào cũng chung sống với nhau, bên này chờ bên kia xuống sức để thể hiện chính mình. Nhưng nghĩ như vậy không thì có lẽ cũng bi quan quá. Dẫu biết thiện và ác đều hiện diện, nhưng không lẽ tôi để cho cái ác nó hoành hành vô tội vạ sao? Tôi tự nhủ: Nếu không muốn cái ác có cơ hội điều khiển mình thì tôi phải tiếp tục chiến đấu. Nghĩ đến đây trong lòng tôi dâng lên một ý chí quyết tâm mới. Tôi cảm thấy lạc quan hơn. Nhưng tôi biết, chẳng khác gì cuộc xung đột giữa khối Ả-rập và nước Do Thái, cuộc chiến khốc liệt giữa cái thiện và cái ác trong tôi còn dai dẳng. Vì thế tốt nhất là phải luôn luôn trong tư thế “sẵn sàng chiến đấu”!