Happiness in a gummy bear bag

by My Linh Vuong (Germany)

I didn't expect to find Germany

Six weeks. Six weeks of a Vietnam round-trip, back to my roots for the first time since I was 6. With me my grandma, cousins, uncles and aunts. When I set foot on Vietnamese ground for the first time since 9 years my 15-year-old me was instantly overwhelmed. The air was hot and humid at the same time, making it hard to breath. People were bustling around like ants searching for food, disappearing between the countless food stalls on the streets in the blink of an eye. I had a look around, searching for a familiar face between all these other faces looking so similar but yet so foreign to me. Then we finally spotted my great aunt and we were warmly welcomed. After a brief chat, talking about how our flight was, we got on a van waiting for us. I wasn’t quite sure where we were going but from the scraps of conversation reaching my ears I figured out that our destination was a small village, hours away from Ho Chi Minh City, in a remote rural area. I was tired from the long flight so I looked out of the window and let my thoughts wander while we tried to get through the slow-moving traffic. We were passing skyscrapers, giants made of glass, so high that I couldn’t even see where they ended. But then again, just one block further there were rows of multi-storey houses, right beside them little family- owned shops and in between the typical food stalls with every Vietnamese dish you could think of. Until today I am still wondering how a city which looks so modern can have the atmosphere of a complete different world at the same time. The next thing I remembered was being awakened by astonished murmurs. I saw a cluster of people standing close beside the car. Old men and women, fathers and mothers with their kids, all of them almost looking like they were awestricken by the mere presence of us. We got out of the van and some people showed us around. It was a small village with tiny, simple constructed shacks which sometimes were a home for more than five people. Inside the shacks it looked as simple as from the outside, everything in there was probably made by the families themselves. The ones we visited had a fire place for cooking and a hole in the ground serving as toilet. I was appalled about the poverty existing not too far away from the modern and rich metropolis we just came from. Then I eventually found out what we were here for. My grandmother, who is a religious Buddhist, organized everything to bring these people goods they needed. Then things started to happen very fast. Helping hands were carrying blankets, bags of rice, oil bottles and other essential goods to pile them up in the village center. Afterwards everything was fairly divided between every family. I felt pity for these people who had nothing and needed basic things, which we take for granted, just to survive. When everything was gone, my grandmother thrusted a bag of gummy bears into my hand. I looked at her, not sure what to do with it. She smiled at me and told me: “This is the only bag we have. Go and give everyone a single gummy bear, otherwise it is not enough for everyone.” I couldn’t imagine that people would be happy about a single gummy bear while I alone could have finished the whole bag by myself. Nonetheless, I did what my grandmother told me to do. I walked around and gave everyone, no matter how old or young, a single gummy bear. Some of them didn’t even have teeth left to chew them. But no matter who I gave one to, the reaction was always the same. I got a big smile and I could see the happiness and gratitude in their eyes. Although I couldn’t really talk to them, their body language told me everything I had to know. And this is how I found happiness and kindness in a small village and a bag of gummy bears somewhere in Vietnam.