Looking Down

by Josie Arnold (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

Making a local connection Vietnam

I left the small village I was born in and took with me just a backpack and wide eager eyes, like most solo travellers I’m sure. Although wide-eyed, I didn’t have a clue what to expect and couldn’t have known it wouldn’t be my eyes alone that came alive. As I trekked through the rolling fields that towered above me, laced with rice terraces, I was always looking up. Naive and enchanted by it all and not wanting to miss those picture-perfect views, despite the rain, I forgot everything including the once silent, long-dormant voice now screaming from my calves. I climbed through the mud, jumped over rock-filled rivers, slipped down un-trodden paths, always looking up, lost in the beauty of the silent mountains that surrounded me. For a moment I then looked around and rather than seeing, I listened, listened to Chi, who was welcoming me into her family home that evening. I then forgot the picturesque path that this woman was leading me through, in awe I didn’t look up, I looked down as I listened to her story, her life. This is her story, not mine. Born in the mountains in a minute tribe, making the village I was born in suddenly seem monumental. Smaller, hidden, unbelievable to you and me. Just a small life was all I saw, what must she have thought of me? I’ve watched the likes of Planet Earth and Blue Planet on TV, noticing attributes in these animals similar to us humans, however before this day I had never seen basic, animalistic, simple nature so prominent in another being before. Listening, I was reminded of how far we have generally as a population progressed from animalistic life of simply eating, sleeping and reproducing. Before this day I took for granted the purity of living for more than that, for living knowing I will be fed, knowing I have a roof over my head, knowing I can decide whether to reproduce or not. Not having to focus and strive for these basic needs enables us to live freely, to live and feel like we are not just existing. Chi has worked near on every day of her life, now slightly more secure because she has birthed a son which is paramount to her future welfare, however still not able to focus on anything but the quantity of rice at her table. Ask, listen and learn I reminded myself as I probed this fascinating lady for more information, aware she is a woman kept out of school to assist her family in farming, cooking, cleaning, and sewing. Aware she’s unable to read and write the three languages she can speak. Aware she has never left the hillside, never read a book, never had a chance to go out and look. Aware she was kidnapped at just 15 years of age by her now-husband. She was dragged by him and his sister to his abode and forced to make it her home for the following three days, not meeting him once and ending that frightful, yet common experience by a ‘simple’ yes or no. She said yes. “It would have only happened again” she enlightened me. I continued to walk, heavy-footed now, still looking down unable to appreciate this land that I believed for a moment Chi was confined too. I wiped my face naively as I continued to listen, believing it was still raining, it wasn’t. As I glanced up again, I had to remind myself that this was all this woman knew, these hills aren’t her cage, they are her home. However cruel and unethical to you and me, reality and life for her. Listening to her story changed my outlook and my opinion. My eyes could have been closed for the duration of that conversation, missing out on the famous hills I was treading through, and it would have still been a highlight from my adventure. Taking a moment to look down and listen rather than up and blind, enlightened me to the local culture and impacted my life permanently, more than the scenery and trodden paths I left behind.