BEDFORD, Mass. ― Dave Nugent saw the grenade flashes the night in 1967 and knew he needed to get help for his wounded comrades. He grabbed for his rifle but didn’t realize the grenade had blown the fingers off of his land hand. He shot at the enemy with his right hand, then ran to summon assistance. Just this week and now 72, he received his Bronze Star for heroism.

Read the story by Hiroko Sato of the Lowell Sun.

David Nugent. Photo from the Lowell Sun.

She told everyone to “go back to China” and sprayed customers with soy sauce.

What the hell? Last weekend in Seattle’s International District, a woman was arrested after she walked into a Chinese restaurant, told everyone to “go back to China,” and assaulted customers — including a baby — with soy sauce and chocolate milk: Woman arrested after restaurant guests covered in soy sauce.

According to witnesses dining at Dim Sum King on Saturday afternoon, a 52-year-old woman burst into the restaurant, told everyone to “go back to China,” started tossing over guests’ plates, spit on a man and then squirted him and his baby with soy sauce. What did that baby ever do to you, lady?

Naturally, they called the cops on her:

Just before 1 pm, officers were called to the Dim Sum King at 6th and Jackson after a 52-year-old woman walked into the restaurant, told everyone to “go back to China,” began flipping over guests’ plates, spit on a man and then squirted him and his baby with soy sauce.

One of the victims called 911, and officers pulled up to the restaurant to find several people standing outside, covered in food.

When officers contacted the suspect—who was carrying a container of chocolate milk – she became very animated and slapped an officer in the arm.

The suspect was arrested and booked on harassment and assault of an officer. Damn, between the racist dog walker and this unruly soy sauce lady, “go back to China” seems to be phrase of the week. From Calgary to Seattle, thanks for making us Asians feel welcome on our own damn continent.

From WIRE REPORT

The new generations born abroad are not bound by the idea that Vietnam is their destiny. Rather, it’s one of their many destinations.

Ed. Note: April 30 marks 38 years since the United States withdrew from Vietnam. In that time, says author and NAM editor Andrew Lam, connections to the homeland for Vietnamese Americans have evolved, even as their roots in the U.S. deepen. A longer version of this essay originally appeard in the Cairo Review.

Photo Credit: Shutterstock.com/spirit of america

Mẹ Việt Nam ơi, Chúng Con Vẫn Còn đây (Oh Mother Vietnam, We Are Still Here)

The lyrics from this sentimental song come back to me once in a while, especially when I think of the Vietnamese Diaspora and its complicated relationship with its homeland. One bitter evening on April 30, 1976, in an auditorium in downtown San Francisco, my family and I sang it to mark our first anniversary in exile.

Nearly four decades have passed since then. If I were to sing it now, not that I remember the lyrics entirely, I would sing it with a tone full of irony. So removed from that emotional juncture, I wonder to what extent is the song’s declaration still true? Vietnam is accessible now to the Diaspora, but to what extent are we still here for her? Who, in fact, are we?

More than four million Vietnamese have fled or migrated abroad since the end of the Fall of Saigon in 1975. They have re-established themselves elsewhere, scattered on five continents. These days you can find restaurants selling pho, banh mi, and other Vietnamese favorites in South Africa, Brazil, Dubai, and beyond. I myself have relatives living in six different countries on three continents. But the largest numbers of the Diaspora ended up in North America, and the largest portion of that population resettled in California, where my family and I, and most of my relatives, now live.

Ours is an epic filled with irony: traumatized by wars and bound by old ways of life where land and ancestors are worshipped, where babies’ umbilical cords are traditionally buried in the earth as a way to bind them to the ancient land, we relocated to a country known for its fabulous fantasies, high-tech wizardry, and individualistic ambition.

Take, for example, this bus trip I am on. A comfortable bus going south, with the nostalgic music of Trinh Cong Son, sung by the smoky-voiced Khanh Ly, echoing from the overhead speaker. Son was the most famous Vietnamese composer during the Vietnam War, the master of love and antiwar songs, and Khanh Ly the most famous singer. The two old Vietnamese ladies next to me are bragging about their children and their grandchildren, and how well they’re doing, and so on. Behind me, a couple of middle-aged men are humming along with this song of their youth. And up front two kids are playing handheld computer games while their mother talks endlessly on her cell to someone about her restaurant business.

Vietnamese voices rise and fall; I close my eyes and listen. I swear I could be in Hue heading south to Saigon or Dalat.

Except, I am not. I am on the other side of the Pacific, on my way from San José to Orange County, going down Interstate 5 in a Vietnamese-owned bus. It is owned by one of three competing Vietnamese companies, which speaks to the infrastructure of our ethnic community in America.

The reason I am on this bus is this: to see for myself the Vietnam War Memorial in Orange County that I’ve heard so much about from my parents. My father, once a high-ranking South Vietnamese officer, was on the advisory committee of this memorial-building endeavor. On one evening a decade or so ago, the Vietnamese in Orange County raised more than $200,000 for the memorial. Well-known Vietnamese singers sang for free and ticket receipts all went into the memorial fund. The result was two larger-than-life statues, one depicting a South Vietnamese, the other an American GI, standing side by side in combat fatigues adjacent to the city hall in Westminster, the heart of Orange County’s Little Saigon.

Standing in front of it, I am of two minds. I feel something akin to patriotism for my long lost homeland stir in my blood as well as a deep sadness for the men who fought and died—and for those who survived but were broken by the experience; I feel, at the same time, a dire need for distance. While I stand there on a Saturday evening, a couple of older women light incense and pray and several older Vietnamese men in army uniforms stand guard nearby. Something somber and heavy in their stance suggests a collective sorrow that causes me to shudder; their eyes—eyes that no doubt saw the worst of the old war—convey anger, hatred, and bitterness. Their faces remind me of my father’s.

It occurred to me then that while one strand of history still defines those men in army uniforms and, of course, my father, another strand of history was redefining me. My father considers himself an exile living in America, part of an increasingly small population; I see myself as an American journalist who happens to make many journeys to Vietnam without much emotional fanfare. For me, Vietnam, my country of birth, and its tumultuous history have become a point of departure, a concern, but no longer home.

The irony is that because he holds Vietnam so dear to his heart, my father cannot return to the country to which he owes allegiance, so long as the current regime remains in power. His is a rage left over from the Cold War that has no end in sight. History, for my father and for those men who still wear their army uniforms at every communal event, has a tendency to run backward, to memories of the war, to a bitter and bloody struggle whose end spelled their defeat and exile. And it holds them static in a lonely nationalist stance. They live in America but their souls are still fighting an unfinished war in Vietnam.

The old passion lives on, but it must now contend with the new integration: the Vietnamese Diaspora, no longer in exile, is steadily finding itself in Vietnam’s orbit. Lan Nguyen, writing for Nguoi Viet, the largest Vietnamese paper in Orange County, noted that “While the younger generation of Vietnamese Americans shares with elders a general concern regarding human rights, democracy, and freedom in Vietnam, they are not as invested in the cause.” Nguyen, who lives in San José, cites language barriers and lack of experience under communism as the factors that help widen the generation gap. “The Vietnamese American youth…often are disillusioned as it seems their every effort to help Vietnam is met with criticism by those older than them. The elders in turn are horrified to see young people organize philanthropic missions to Vietnam.”

The question remains whether the Vietnamese Diaspora can be an effective agent of change and find new ways to influence the future of the country. To do so, it needs to ask tough questions. Is there real freedom for those who give in to their hatred and are ruled by it? Is democracy for Vietnam possible when those who live in America often fail to understand and practice it with their own communities, and the majority of those in Vietnam barely show any interest? And what does it take to move beyond anger and lust for revenge, and create space for constructive discussion and dialogue and spur new political thoughts?

It is true: once the hate is gone, in its place is pain. Those who cling so strongly to hatred, I suspect, are often those who fear what comes after it. But it is true also that many of us have moved on beyond the old rancor, beyond that us-versus-them mentality. We have learned to absorb our pain and grief and are negotiating our positions between East and West, memories and modernity, traditions and individual ambitions, old loyalties and new alliances, such that we are in the process of recreating a whole notion of what it means to be Vietnamese, a definition that is both open-ended and inclusive.

So, Mother Vietnam, in a sense we are still here, but we aren’t who we used to be. The new generations born abroad may still behold that sense of common origin, may still take pride in their heritage, but they are not bound by the idea that Vietnam is their destiny. Rather, it’s one of their many destinations.

A new song is needed, one that describes an individual with multiple affiliations, with additional homelands, someone who shares a sense of common origin but is not bound by collective nationalism. The old umbilical cord, unearthed at last, is transmuted into a new trans-pacific verse, and is an epic in the making.

From WIRE REPORT

Born in Phu My District, Binh Dinh Province, the boy Dao Ngoc Xung (Dao Tien Dat) grew up with fields and did many jobs to earn his living.

In 1980, Dat decided to leave his home to go to the city of Quy Nhon. Then consecutive misfortunes struck Dat while his parents passed away one by one, leaving him in the terrible mood. He realized that the human existence is too fragile.

But during that frustrating time, he accidentally read an article about the life imbued with humanistic aspects of photographer Lewis W. Hine, an American photographer – who broke into factories to reflect the exploitation of child labor. “That article motivated me and urged me to come to photography at the age of 42. I decided to buy an old camera and started shooting,” he said.

In July 1998, he traveled to Kon Tum in the Central Highlands to take his first photos. In that 3-day trip, he grasped many photos of the life of local people.

In 2002, in his first visit to Hoa Thang in Binh Thuan province, the curves of sand on the vast sand dunes in morning light enchanted him. Incidentally, he discovered two women walking up the sand dunes with bamboo frames on their shoulders. So the “Turning Point” was born in a moment of emotion. Two years later, this picture won the gold medal at an international photo contest held in Manila (the Philippines). In the consecutive years, this picture has earned 33 international awards.

In 2005, during a visit to Cho Lau Town, Bac Binh District, Binh Thuan Province, he bumped into Mrs. Tam, an elderly woman with white hair falling to the ankles. He named the photo of Mrs. Tam as “Time”, which ten won the grand prize in an international photography competition in Italy. In 2006, he returned to Cho Lau to take the photo “Dream of Lifetime.”

This work won many international awards, including the first prize of the Pictorial Print of the Year of the American Photography Association, Photo of the Year medal in Germany, two gold medals, etc.

“Through this picture, I wish to share the greatest dream of human – the wish of immortality. Yet the law of nature is harsh so it is only a dream,” said Dat.

Once he saw a funeral on the sand dunes, silently followed by a dog. The work “Return to Dust” was made and brought him 13 awards including the Gold Medal of the Best of Asia contest in 2006.

In the past 15 years with photography, Dat has won over 700 awards, including 667 international awards. He was appointed many prestigious titles, such as E.VAPA, E.FIAP / b, SAWIEP, Hon EPSM, RISF2, Hon.FtGM…

In 2010, he was honored by the American Photography Association as the No. 1 for black and white photos and small-sized color photos in the Top Overseas PSA Who’s Who in Photography.

Dat is now a member of the Executive Committee of the Vietnam Photographic Artists, Head of the Photographic Artists Branch of the Vietnam Photographic Artists in Binh Dinh province. He was invited as jury member of many local and international photography competitions.

Noting Dat’s dedication throughout many years, Binh Dinh authorities have awarded the A prize of the Dao Tan – Xuan Dieu Arts & Literature Prize for Dat.

The international award-winning photographs by Dao Tien Dat:

“Return to Dust”

“SOS 2” wins the Best Creative Print of the American Photography Association in 2010.

“In Cold Dew” wins the Best Award for Scenery Photos in the US in 2011.

“Dream of Lifetime”

“Mandarin Faces”.

“Two in One”.

Hundreds of national and international medals and awards of artist Dao Tien Dat.

From WIRE REPORT

 After fast food, it is the ice cream market now which heats up every day.

ice cream market, Trang Tien. Photo from VietnamNet Bridge.

Ice cream market – the new destination for investors

In 2012, Nguyen Hieu Liem, Vice President of Anova, specializing in farm produce and real estate, decided to jump into a quite unfamiliar business field to him – making ice cream.

Liem became the President of Ngoi Sao Xanh Company and immediately opened three Baskin Robbins ice cream shops in Sai Gon under a franchise agreement with the US brand. The volume of ice cream sold in the first two months of 2013 was unexpectedly high, equal to the volume of cream planned for the whole year’s sale.

Especially, on Tet days (in February), the sale went so well that Ngoi Sao Xanh had to carry ice cream to Sai Gon by air.

Baskin Robbins ice cream hit the Hanoi market in mid-2013, kicking off the company’s plan to expand its business. The next destinations would be Binh Duong, Dong Nai, Da Nang and Can Tho.

Liem has stated that he would open 50 shops nationwide in the next five years. If the plan is implemented, Vietnam would have one more Baskin Robbins shop a month.

While the fast food market has become noisy with the presence of a lot of the world’s well-known brands in Vietnam, thus creating a “red ocean” battle, the ice cream remains very attractive with fewer competitors.

While more and more Baskin Robbins shops have been opened in Vietnam just within a short time, Haagen-Dazs, developed in Vietnam by International Lifestyles JSC, has been taking cautious steps in the domestic market.

The company has just opened the second shop after the success with the first one on Han Thuyen Street in Sai Gon.

Other ice creams, such as Fanny, Swensen or Bud’s have also taken the first steps to conquer the Vietnamese market.

Fanny, Swensen, Bud’s cũng bắt đầu có những bước đi táo bạo như Baskin Robbins.

High profits expected

Liem believes that Ngoi Sao Xanh would begin making profit by the end of 2013, though he did not expect profits within the first three years of operation. Baskin Robbins, the franchiser, also thinks that should only expect to reap fruits after three years of investment.

Meanwhile, the business in Vietnam was thought to be less optimistic because of the low income per capita. However, the rapid expansion of Baskin Robbins shops has proved that the theory of making profits after three years of investment is not true in Vietnam.

According to Liem, Vietnam’s income per capital remains low, but Vietnamese population is young, while Vietnamese always like new discoveries. The only thing he needs to do is to provide the products fitting Vietnamese taste.

Even Haagen-Dazs which sets up very high price of about VND100,000 per product, also believes that Vietnam is a potential market for it.

In Vietnam, a person with the monthly income of VND10 million is considered a high income earner.

Since its very first days in Vietnam, the ice cream brand has not been targeting the majority of clients, but only the high income earners who always demand high quality products.

Analysts believe that the ice cream market would be heating up more, as the import tariff on ice cream, after reducing from 75 percent to 30 percent, is expected to decrease further.

From WIRE REPORT

 Viet Nam’s automobile industry had failed to reach its objective of selling cars at prices to suit Vietnamese pockets.

Workers assemble a five-seat car at the Ford Viet Nam Company’s factory in Cam Giang District in the northern province of Hai Duong. According to the Ministry of Industry and Trade, Viet Nam’s automobile industry has failed to sell cars at prices to suit the budgets of domestic consumers.

The remark was made by the Director of the Industry and Trade Ministry’s Heavy Industry Department, Nguyen Manh Quan.

Prices were still high compared with those in other regional countries, Quan said at an online seminar held by Cong Thuong (Industry and Trade) newspaper on Thursday.

“The cost of cars in Viet Nam is about 20 per cent higher than in other ASEAN countries because domestic output is low and most assembly lines are operating at about 50 per cent of capacity,” said Quan.

Viet Nam’s automobile industry involves Toyota, Ford, Nissan and Mercedes.

There are 18 FDI and 38 domestic businesses making and assembling cars. They have a capacity of about 460,000 vehicles a year.

The sector pays more than US$1 billion in taxes annually and creates job for about 80,000 people.

At the seminar, experts said the industry was so sluggish because of the low rate of making parts locally, taxes and fees.

Quan said the localisation rate had risen from 7 to 10 per cent for small car and 35-40 per cent for light-duty trucks, but this was still very low compared with the target.

To buy a car, Vietnamese have to pay eight types of taxes and fees, including import tax, special consumption tax, VAT, vehicle owner registration fee, car registration fee, car number granting fee and road transport fee.

Experts are worried that by 2018, when Viet Nam completely joins in the ASEAN Free Trade Area, the tax on imported cars will be zero.

This means that if the Government does not change its policies, the domestic industry will fail to compete with others in the region.

CEO of Ford Viet Nam and chairman of the Viet Nam Automobile Manufacturers Association Jesus Arias said his members wanted a concrete itinerary for industry development from now until 2018 so that they could set up business plans.

Arias said stable policies helped enterprises to predict outcomes so that they could set up parts suppliers who could join in the global network.

To achieve this, the industry needed to produce a specific number of cars. To make a car, thousands of parts are needed. No car maker can produce all parts by themselves, said Arias.

To develop, a sizable market is needed and proper policies to attract investors.

Head of the Industrial Policy and Strategy Institute Duong Dinh Giam said the Government was determined to develop the car industry.

“Automobile development is an indispensable trend of every nation when average incomes reach $3,000 a year or more. Therefore, we need to take advantage of this trend,” said Giam.

The average income of Vietnamese is estimated to hit $1,900 per head this year, according to a recent report from the General Department of Statistics.

Giam also said the Government had limited the sale of personal vehicles in the past because the traffic system was so inadequate.

However, the Viet Nam Transport Development Strategy approved in February plans to have about 3.2-3.5 million vehicles on the road by 2020, compared to nearly 1.65 million at present.