October 20, 2008

To date, in these blog entries, I have tried to steer away from a treatise on my personal experiences in Vietnam (as in a diary) and focus on my interpretations of life around us. This entry is going to be a little different, as it's focus is a topic which is, by it's nature, something deeply personal to me lady and I - namely, the arrival of our wee one into the world just over one year ago, and the experiences we've gained surrounding her.

It was with great joy we discovered that me lady was pregnant. After the initial physical clues that something was amiss, the first thing we did was to head down to local street side pharmacy for the tools to confirm it. Now at this stage, me lady had very recently completed 6 months of Vietnamese language training, but none of this of course had taught her the Vietnamese word for 'pregnancy test kit'. Alas, all the courses for most languages have section headings like 'At the dinner table', 'At the Airport', 'At the market', and so forth. But none of them seem to have an 'At the pharmacy' section. But we managed - mainly due to the pharmacists having perfect English. Isn't it embarrassing when you use your broken Vietnamese, French, Italian, German, Chinese, Yiddish, Uzbekistani or whatever to explain something and they respond in perfect English. Ones response in those situations is often 'ah, ….yes. Thank you'. So be it.

Anyway. The test came up with two lines. Pregnant! So, what next. Not having been exposed to the Vietnam medical system by this stage we decided the first visit would be to the SOS medical clinic down the road from us. I often love the early part of medical visits when the poor doctor's role is simply to tell you the bleedin' obvious. I mean, I am sure their skill at reading the two lines on the pregnancy test are just as good as ours. Nonetheless, there is always something reassuring about a qualified person confirming the conclusion that you had already come to by the exact same means the day before. Thankfully, it is the subsequent actions that enable doctors to prove their true value add.

One of the next steps for us was to decide where to seek the subsequent gynecological care. We were quite determined not to join the exodus of people to head to Singapore or Bangkok. I mean, with a population generated from 80 million successful births we were confident that the Vietnamese medical establishment had a petty good understanding of what they are doing. Having said this, we did not wish to go too deep into the Vietnamese public hospital birthing system – while effective, the idea of sharing beds (yes, beds, not rooms) and birthing theaters did not sound so grand.

So, we settled for Benh Vien Viet Phap - the French Hospital in Hanoi. Our diminutive Dr. Hop looked after me lady all the way through to, and including, delivery. While very professional, she was rather 'clinical' in her approach - questions and instructions were rather rapid fire. 'How do you feel?', 'How much do you weigh?', 'Whats your favourite colour?', 'What's the wing-to-weight ratio of an African swallow?', 'Ok, on the bench please'. One of our great delights was after about our 3rd or 4th meeting when we managed to elicit a smile from her J. But we were very happy with her. And to her benefit, it was a French hospital in Vietnam, so after Vietnamese and French, English was a poor third in her linguistic repertoire – though, far better than our Vietnamese! And on occasion we did have a bit of fun trying to determine the English words for some of the medical terms that came up. All-in-all we, and especially me lady, were very happy with our experience there. In fact, my only complaint about the place was that it was very difficult for me to pronounce the name of the hospital well enough for the taxi drivers to understand me - many a trip started with the taxi driver giving me a confused look and me ending up by saying 'I'll point out the way'.

After 9 months of anticipation, our wee one arrived into the world. I shall not bore you with the intricate details, nor the 'oh, how our life has changed' musings. What will be of interest though is our subsequent observations of having a wee child in this country that are at times amusing and worth explaining further.

But just before I do, one quick word about pregnancy here in Vietnam. It is quite a coup for a Vietnamese woman to have become pregnant - the whole family breathes a sigh of relief. Their daughter is fertile! To help advertise the fact from day one, it is not uncommon for very very newly pregnant women to be donning long shapeless preggy dresses, holding their hand on the back of their hip as they walk, and walking with their feet pointing outwards - an image one might normally associate with a woman in the final days before delivery. It's like they want to shout to the world 'I am pregnant!!!'.

The Vietnamese love children. And the younger the better. They dote on them tremendously. They also have very major opinions on them as well! Ok, let's face it - everyone has an opinion on when a baby should be doing what, and some of these come down to cultural expectations (or is that just a phrase we use to avoid the point?). As soon as you take your baby out of the comfort of your own home and in to the public arena expect comments galore in this town.

Our first venture out with our wee one must have been around the grand old age of 10 days old. What a commotion this caused on the street. Little old ladies would come up to us waving their hands, cursing me lady. 'Too young too young', 'Too hot', 'Too cold'. Nothing we did was right. Someone always had a comment. Fashion for young babies is also quite rigid. From the comments we got it would seem that any baby should not leave home without a hat - regardless of the weather, or the fact that it was in a covered pram. Nevermind, we dealt with these glares and comments with a smile and responses like 'oh, she's a mixed baby so the rules are different'. But that is interesting in itself. In Hanoi, most people at first assume me lady is Vietnamese. And because of this, she gets the full brunt of the 'attack' as though she has broken 'the code'. And, some of these 'curses' can be pretty terse - especially, from the older folks. Couples in which both parents are foreigners are naturally given less harsh judgment, though they may get a scowl after they have walked by.

As I understand it, or as it was certainly made known to me in the first few weeks, a Vietnamese baby would never leave home in the first month. Something that I am sure harks back to the days when infant mortality rates were way above what they are today and it was wiser to keep infants at home until their immunities were stronger. Hence, come the end of the first month we looked forward to some reprieve on this subject. Alas, it did not end there. It turns out that this rule is open to some interpretation! Come the second month, we were still accosted. Now we became confused! When we advised people that the wee one was now 6 weeks and therefore quite alright to be out on the streets of Hanoi, we were then advised that Vietnamese babies will not go out until they are two months. The rule was changing. On one occasion, when the wee one was about three months old, we went into a shop in town and were surrounded by the usual flock of young shop assistants, so I decided to play a little game. When asked how old she was I advised them that she was five months old - after which I was told the age of 'coming out' was one year. We have even had one person suggest five years. Nevermind.

What is perhaps more interesting about the whole experience, and this was really highlighted after during the 'after one month' encounters, is that:

1.Everyone has an opinion on your child;

2.The parents will be made known of this opinion, whether you want it or not;

3.Your opinions are wrong;

4.In situations where more than one person is in a position to give you their opinion, there is a hierarchy of opinion - beginning with unmarried teenage boys with no children on the very bottom rung, and mothers with two or more children on the top rung. It is quite amusing to watch them argue whilst they all discuss the rights and wrongs of your child …. and the regality with which the most experienced mother places her closing comments on the matter.

Anyway. I say this in all fun. While a little trying at times, we survived with much patience. The Vietnamese love babies and this is just one of the more evocative way in which they express this.

There are some wonderful benefits that come from bringing a child up in a culture that is so demonstrably affectionate to children. One of the greatest has to be when you visit a restaurant. Not once did we ever have to worry about taking our wee one out to a restaurant. The staff in all such places are always very eager to take the child off you and let you enjoy your meal in peace. Those who are parents already will truly understand the value of this little treasure. A small number of our foreign friends here express concern at this 'service' but we have no problems at all. Vietnam is a safe place in this respect. Sure, we keep an eye on things from our table, but we have no concern about any ill coming to our wee one (except perhaps once when one teenage boy looked rather uncouth holding her and we thought he might drop her). You know, I can just picture David Bellamy's commentary on a documentary on human behaviour. For those of you familiar with Mr. Bellamy, please apply his usual low peaceful voice to these words: '…And notice the male. While completely relaxed and enjoying his meal, he cranes his neck every now and then to check on his child. Ah, yes, there he does it. And if we are lucky, the carer might move just out of sight. While not being overly concerned, after a few minutes the male species unfailingly rises from his eating place to glance his protective eye over his offspring. Making sure the carer does not stray too far'.

I find this such a contrast to back home in New Zealand. With her at about 8 months old I flew back home with just the wee one, leaving me lady back in Hanoi. When in transit at Christchurch International I had all my bags and a baby to handle, so my hands were somewhat full. At one stage I asked a ground attendant if she could hold the wee one while I got some things out of my bag. Thankfully, she kindly helped me, and I was most grateful to her. But it was her passing comment of 'We are not really supposed to do this' which took me by surprise. Sigh, the 'developed' world is becoming too serious, politically correct, morally dull and legislated I thought! Having said this, the gentleman from Ag and Fisheries was a delight as he held my wee one while I uncovered the hidden treasures of my bags for him.

There is much that I could continue writing about on this topic, but I shall leave that for subsequent musings. It has been a great joy bringing our wee one into the world and Hanoi is providing us with wonderful experiences that we are all sharing. And with the birth of her here, our memories of this town will be that much more special.

If I might just add one more comment before I end, it would be this. Before our wee one came along we used to spend our spare cash on paintings, music, art, food, drink and culture (or probably more like 'kulcha'). Now we spend it on nappies, milk, and botty cream. Oh how life has changed.

Please send your comments and questions to: tom@eyeonhanoi.com