I am very glad I've come to Vietnam as a volunteer and not a tourist. We call her Co Ba , because she is the third child in her family. She and my parents used to teach at the same school in Tram Chim, where I was born. We have Co Ba's address, but it doesn't mean much here in Vietnam. By asking a succession of people if they know where Co Ba's home is, we are pointed further and further into a winding complex of unpaved alleys that connected small homes with the main road.
Roosters crow even though it is ten-thirty in the morning.
Women squat over fire pits, roasting corn, banana cakes, and other delicacies. We finally arrive at the open door of Co Ba's home. I clasp my hands and bow to her in the traditional Vietnamese greeting, and I introduce myself and UyenThi. I tell her my parents' name, and watch her eyes light up in amazement as she comprehends who we are. She takes my hands firmly in hers, and leads us into her tiny house.