Journey Back to Vietnam

By Gerard J. Monaghan LTC, US Army (Ret.)

The visa application includes this question: "Have you been to Vietnam before?"

When the "Freedom Bird" lifted off from Tan Son Nhut airport in March 1971, there was no thought of returning to that beautiful, intriguing, bomb- and Agent Orange-scarred country.

A lot has happened in the intervening 53 years.

In 1975, we decided to add a Vietnamese orphan to our family; our son, Sean, had been born in 1971. 

In August, my wife, Eileen, two friends, and I headed to Vietnam and Cambodia, with a layover in Doha, Qatar. The trip had been planned several years ago, but Covid quashed it. Now, we were doing a 14-day Viking river cruise from Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) to Hanoi. When we arrived in Tan Son Nhut and arranged transportation to our hotel, I thought, "The last time I was here, I didn't have to worry about ground transportation." The Army had taken care of all those details.

The Viking tour – seven days on a boat and seven in various hotels, all in comfort – covered the basics … Saigon, Ankor Wat, the Hanoi Hilton, etc. Our tour guide, Bik Tran, was knowledgeable and engaging, providing background on the many historic and cultural sights. It was fascinating visiting places like the War Remnants Museum in Ho Chi Minh City, seeing the Vietnamese side of the war and remembering that history is written by the winners.
The accommodations, tours, service, and food all were mind boggling – and this wasn't our first travel! We've been to 67 countries on all seven continents. But this is not a travel story.

We added a few days at the beginning and end.

And that's what this story is about.

We had our daughter Brenna's birth certificate. It identifies her mother, but no father, and listed two witnesses. Her mother, Phan Thi Phan, was from the hamlet of Binh Phuoc Xuan; Brenna was born in the village of Tan My when her mother was 36. That would make her mother 86 and it was unlikely she would still be alive. Both villages are on an island in the Mekong River, in the river's Delta, in An Giang Province, near Cambodia, about 3 ½ hours by car today from Ho Chi Minh City. Much of the trip was on modern toll expressways but, off these roads, it was through poor villages on poor streets – and along the river as well -- lined with corrugated metal sheds, which serve as both business and home.

It is amazing how much the country has changed, and yet how much has remained the same, in 53 years. The cities, especially Saigon, which was not bombed and retains its French influence, are modern, but the countryside still is rural and poor. Eileen said I had told her Vietnam is beautiful, but she couldn't find that beauty. Guess I should have clarified that it's beautiful from 3,000 feet, seen from the open door of a helicopter.

That's the geography and the background.

When we initially planned the trip, we had hired a guide, Nhu Nguyen, through Tours by Locals. We had asked her if she could, by using Brenna's Vietnamese birth certificate, find any information about her. But, with the Covid collapse of the trip, we did not pursue the contact.

Fast forward three years. After the Covid travel restrictions eased, we re-energized our trip plans, with the same friends. We contacted the company again and found Nhu still was working as a guide. We booked her through Tours by Locals for a tour to the Cao Dai Temple in Tay Ninh – an incredibly beautiful and unique compound I had first visited in 1970 -- and then began working directly with her through WhatsAp to track down Brenna's background.

As with all certified Vietnam tour guides, she has a four-year degree in hospitality. Now 30, she said her business closed completely for two years during Covid, and she drained her savings. Business once again is improving and she has been able to travel for pleasure, most recently to India.

With a copy of the birth certificate in hand, Nhu went on to the Facebook page for An Giang Province. Isn't it amazing, that a rural province in the Mekong River delta would have its own Facebook page? She put out the names of the mother and the two witnesses – and got a hit. One of the witnesses, Ty Thi Nguyen (no relation), now 74, contacted our guide. (Nguyen is one of the more common surnames in Vietnam, tracing to a prominent dynasty active from the 16th Century through 1945).

All Nhu would tell us was that she had found a witness.

Arriving in Ho Chi Minh City on Aug. 25, we met Nhu for dinner at a fabulous local restaurant and confirmed arrangements to meet her and a driver, Tue Thien, the next morning for the 115-mile trip to An Giang Province, mostly on modern superhighways.

We arrived on the island by ferry (big enough for one car and a few ubiquitous motor scooters) from Hoi An. On the ferry, Eileen kept looking at the shore, thinking "if this sinks, I can swim that far." One-lane back roads (there only are back roads) led to Binh Phuoc Xuan. To call it a town would be a major exaggeration; the hamlet was a collection of perhaps 20 small bamboo or corrugated metal houses, little more than shacks. But it was cleaner and neater than many places we passed, with many flowers. The local waterway was filled with water hyacinths, which are used to weave into baskets.

Then, north about six miles to Tan My. On the way, we stopped at the absolutely beautiful Chua Phuoc Thanh Buddhist Temple, with the largest buddha statue we've ever seen. It has been honored by the Vietnam Federation of UNESCO Associations, and should be considered for a World Heritage site. Of course, there were local vendors, so we risked street food for a cold, refreshing drink in the Delta's heat and humidity.

In Tan My, the hospital where Brenna had been born, Nhu told us, had long since closed. But the Cu Lao Gieng Catholic Church, built in 1889 in classic French style, dominates the main street. We visited, and learned two Vietnamese Catholic saints were beheaded nearby in 1859; one is buried at the church. Hundreds of thousands of Catholics were killed; their feast is celebrated on Nov. 24.

All this was prelude.

Nguyen took us next door, to a small house. As we walked up the front path, Ty greeted us with a shy smile. It turns out she was not just a witness on the birth certificate – she was the assistant midwife who had helped deliver Brenna! Her aunt, who had died a few years ago and whose picture hangs in a small shrine in the little house, was the principal midwife.

Ty, of course, does not remember Brenna ("That was 52 years ago and there were a lot of babies."). She was, however, delighted to meet us (and we, her). Pointing to the name on the birth certificate, she said "that's me!" Her shy smile broadened as she looked at photos of Brenna, obviously delighted that one of her babies had had such a good life and paid it forward by adopting her oldest son -- and that we had tracked her down.

We had wanted to bring something back to Brenna from her village. Ty's special needs grandson sat nearby, weaving baskets, which she sells at wholesale. We bought two, one for us and one for Brenna.

She kept some of the photos, saying she would pass them around in the village, since many family resemblances persist in the small population.

Then it was back to the mainland, this time on a bridge and back to Ho Chi Minh City.

Emotions, to say the least, ran high. Closure? Full circle? Rewarding?

After this, the rest of the trip – amazing though it was – was almost anti-climactic. Our friends said this was by far the highlight of the trip.

And we can't blame Nhu for keeping Ty's role a secret until we met her!