I woke up and found the morning of December 24th exceptionally hot and bright. After one o'clock, only one guy and I remained in the office. I had appointments with students until 4pm, and my colleague was finishing his Christmas gifts for family and friends. I left the university at 4:20pm, felt weird and excited at the same time for the night ahead of me. First a small party for Ian and his friends, then a full adventurous night with my students and others for a gift giving mission to the homeless of Saigon City.
Traffic was horrible at 10pm. It seemed like all Saigon residents who were under thirty got out of their houses to raid the city streets. I felt as if I could physically sense the air, which was a combination of heat, bike and taxi's emission, cigarette smokes, and human body's scent. And God, the noise was almost unbearable!
Eighty young people left the meeting place at 12am, with bags of gifts, used clothes, and some cash for special cases. We went in team of eight motorbikes that carry sixteen people, stopped together whenever spotted a homeless person on the sidewalk, distributed the gift silently if he/she was sleeping, or held a small conversation with them if they were awake. Several incidents marked my memory for the night.
1. A woman with a small child wrapped in blanket sat on the sidewalk as if she was waiting for us. The moment the group leader jumped off her motorbike, the woman wept. Just one look at the scene, the woman, and the child, my theatre experience screamed out, 'fake, something's wrong, don't give the cash to her.' Yet I waited silently with others. Pain stabbed my heart as I saw that the baby was awake yet very quiet; my anger rose up as I speculated, 'A woman who paid the baby's mom some cash to borrow her for the night's act. How many more hours would this baby suffer in that blanket in this heat? How many more people would stop to help her and felt so happy with themselves afterward. This is ridiculous!'
2. A middle-age woman hysterically cried the moment she saw me approaching her, pulling her pants down to show an imaginary surgery's scar on her stomach. My head quickly diagnosed, 'mental health, probably schizophrenia, not dangerous, but no cash or long attention should be given.' I politely put the gifts next to her, smiled and listened for two minutes, then waved the others off when they became worried and started to assist because of the noise. As I left, she had a small crowd of audience including several other youth in Santa Clause custom, who were probably doing the same thing as we did, and some local neighbors who went out to make sure the woman was not harmed. A question remained with me until now, 'What happened to her? How come she was not hospitalized? What other thing I could do beside walking away? Where could I refer her to for further help?''
3. An elder woman sweeping the sidewalk, cleaning up what looked like a food stall in the big yet dark alley. My student and I came to offer the gift and was angrily refused by her. We later figured out she must be the owner of the big house where she stepped into after sweeping us away. My novel brain immediately imagined, 'old grandmother who did lots of house chores to feel useful by their wealthy son and daughter in law; she must feel embarrassed by our offer; I wonder why such a elder lady got out of her house at this time of the night.' My student laughed the incident away, yet somehow the small, unhappy elder woman could not escape my mind.
4. A young man jumped from his sleep and screamed angry words at me when I tried to put the gift bag next to his bundle of clothes. He was a very light sleeper, and I must scare him to death. I took several steps back and gave him time to see my face, then bowed deeply to apologize and handed him the gifts. A shy smile pull his mouth's corner up, and I genuinely felt content for the first time in the night.
5. A middle-age man sat in front of a house's locked door with his head bowed between his knees. Hearing my foot steps he turned up to look at me. His eyes bright with intelligence and fierceness, which softened when I ask for permission to give him the gift bag. He nodded with dignity as I bowed to say good bye and wish him a peaceful time. I could feel his look as I turned to walk away, yet it was a safe feeling, and I turned to smile one more time. Then that was when I suddenly discovered who he looked like - Jesus. My heart leaped, and all the sad, irritating questions were swept away. Everything suddenly made sense when I thought about the Person because of Him I did this mission.
Our group went out of gifts at 3am. We returned to the meeting place to meet the other group members for the closure ceremony. I was disappointed to see the lack of spirit among the members as well as leaders of this youth's group. Comments here and there showed egocentric and disrespectful attitude. Sharing showed that many did the trip to collect a 'strange' ornament for their non-academic experience. The emotions were shallow, and the atmosphere was insecure. There was not harmony, inner peace, or love present in the room full of eighty bodies. I was simply sad. These young friends need to learn a lot from their international peers for servant leadership skills.
Despite all the hard feelings, I was happy that I spent my Christmas Eve this way.
Maybe it is time to start caring and giving more than once a year.
December 25th, 2009.
Saigon, Vietnam.
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