issue 54 - AsiaLIFE Magazine
issue 54 - AsiaLIFE Magazine
issue 54 - AsiaLIFE Magazine
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Dana Filek-Gibson learns to choose her words carefully.<br />
Everyone makes mistakes. If<br />
you are at all like me, this is a<br />
fact of which we do not need<br />
to be reminded, though people<br />
constantly do so as they usher<br />
me out of their house and point<br />
to where I should have left my<br />
shoes. At least once a week, I eat<br />
in public and my chopsticks fall<br />
to the plate, criss-crossing each<br />
other in some rude formation.<br />
Only after I sigh and say, “Well,<br />
fingers crossed, you know?” do<br />
I realise the gesture I'm making<br />
is lewd and inappropriate. On<br />
average, I am offensive at least<br />
four times a day.<br />
This is nothing to be proud<br />
of. While I am grateful to those<br />
who excuse my cultural faux<br />
pas, many of us expats strive<br />
to blend in as best we can. Our<br />
credibility as local residents is<br />
weakened when we present<br />
a gift unwrapped or beckon<br />
someone much older than us<br />
with an “em oi!” Getting the<br />
hang of local culture can be<br />
tedious. Just when you think<br />
you're fitting in, you accept<br />
your change one-handed and<br />
the salesperson before you rolls<br />
her eyes, unimpressed.<br />
For the most part, Annie had<br />
it figured out. In the nearly two<br />
years she lived in Vietnam, my<br />
friend and fellow teacher mastered<br />
most of the ins and outs<br />
every foreigner must learn. She<br />
drank beer with ice, had a decent<br />
knowledge of Saigon news,<br />
and use chopsticks like a local.<br />
In the end, after a few mishaps<br />
with the neighbourhood xe om<br />
drivers, she even gave in and<br />
got a motorbike. Annie had become<br />
as comfortable in Vietnam<br />
as she was in her home country<br />
— most of the time, anyway.<br />
Later, I will tell Annie,<br />
“It could have happened to<br />
anyone.” But right now, sitting<br />
across from each other on the<br />
shaded veranda of a coffee shop<br />
and nursing cups of ca phe sua<br />
da, I watch her fingers trace the<br />
edge of her glass. She looks at<br />
me, a grave expression on her<br />
face.<br />
“I did something bad.”<br />
“What?” I ask.<br />
Before she can answer, a<br />
nervous laugh escapes. It is not<br />
often that I see Annie flustered.<br />
“You know the name ...” There<br />
is a deliberate pause here. She<br />
considers the coming word: “...<br />
Hiep?”<br />
I nod. “I have a Hiep in<br />
class.”<br />
Her eyes go wide. “How do<br />
you say it?”<br />
In my best Vietnamese I<br />
repeat the word, even spell it<br />
on a serviette lying on the table.<br />
Annie exhales and fidgets in her<br />
seat, smoothing the wrinkles<br />
from her dress. “Apparently,<br />
I've been saying it wrong.”<br />
“How have you been saying<br />
it?” I ask.<br />
Several minutes and a great<br />
deal of coaxing later, an explanation<br />
arrives. For months, my<br />
friend has inadvertently been<br />
calling her student 'rape’. The<br />
pupil, too polite to correct her,<br />
only recently decided to speak<br />
up.<br />
Through a fit of giggles, I reassure<br />
her. But Annie continues,<br />
mortified, “And then there's<br />
this other student.” Turns out<br />
Ms Loan, too, had been meaning<br />
to say something. During<br />
lessons, Annie does not call<br />
Loan's name but rather a swear<br />
word, which she repeats loudly<br />
and often.<br />
Eventually, my laughter<br />
subsides and I sear this moment<br />
into my memory, so my students<br />
might be spared the same<br />
experience.<br />
88 asialife HCMC