Of Vietnam and Twin Babies

"The monsoons came daily. Everyday, like clockwork, at three in the afternoon, they came and poured on us like a wall of water. My husband, being in the Company, would come and get me, we would watch the boats swim by us. We were on the 'other' side of the river, where the Company said it was cheaper and safer for us to live. As a young woman, newlywed, my twin girls were but six weeks old. Once, when the house girls were watching the children, my husband took me to the flower market. They were inexpensive and smelled sweet. After every monsoon, everything smelled so sweet. He took me to see the workers, we traveled on the back of a man who carried a bike, and ran into John Wayne. He was waiting for the rain to stop, though it seemed like we were always waiting for the rain to stop. It was hot, to the point that makeup would just fall off of your face. The humidity completely outdid the heat. My husband bought me traditional Vietnamese clothing, which was much lighter and easier to wear then that of the American clothing I had brought from the States. An American doctor lived a few miles from us, just outside of the city. The night my husband took us to meet him, I met the largest baby I had ever seen. He must have been 20 pounds at two-and-a-half months old. It was the grandest experience, like being outside of myself. I almost didn't want to come back home to the States, but I knew the country was not at it's safest peak, that we were in danger every second of life there, no matter how well the company treated us. I could not see past the beauty, however. The tradition and all of life, how it was so sacred. All three years were like Heaven on Earth. Bangkok. Hong Kong. Siagon, Vietnam. Like Heaven on Earth."

-Lois M. Barber, age 72