ABOUT MY LOST FRIEND
NHIEN TAT NGUYEN
Thy Le Trang
My heart always feels regretful whenever I think about the
memories of my student days or when I hear someone mention the names of my
close friends who have passed away.
I know that Nhien
Tat Nguyen (Nguyễn Tất Nhiên) passed away a long time ago. I planned to write
about him many times, but I kept hesitating... hesitating ... then I couldn't
do it, partly because of busywork, partly because I was reluctant to hold the
pen again. I often complain to my friend Little Hong that my literature can be
as dry as my age because I haven't written for a long time.
Although Hai Hoang Nguyen (Hai Hoang Nguyen is Nhien Tat
Nguyen's actual name) and I attended the same Ngo Quyen High School, we often
met at another place: Huynh Hiep bookstore. At that time, we both were in the
Sixth Grade. I liked to write poetry during my childhood and wished to become a
poet. I tried hard to write for teen magazines such as Tuoi Xanh, Tuoi Tre,
Tuoi Hoa, La Xanh... under different pseudonyms. Therefore, every afternoon, I
often went to Huynh Hiep bookstore to buy magazines from Saigon. So did Nguyen. We quickly paid for the magazines and eagerly
opened them to read, wondering whether our articles were published or still in
the waiting section. As usual, some were published, others were not answered,
but we all were happy anyway because school-age children cherished as many
dreams and hopes as ever.
Studying while writing poetry and hanging out were my High
School days. Many people amazedly wondered how I could keep my poetic and
romantic spirit while hanging out with my boisterous friends known as “Ngu Quy”
(Five Devils, a nickname). Nguyen often asked that question. Many times when he
met me at school. As soon as Nguyen was about to boast of a newly written poem
or a short story, Little Ba pulled me away and glared at him menacingly. He chuckled, then clasped his hands to bow a
few times and left.
The Fourth Grade
(Freshman in the USA) school year was the most memorable time for me. Even
though I was busy completing a spring magazine for the Fourth Grade 3, I also
participated in submitting articles for the Spring Magazine of Ngo Quyen
School. I was pleased and proud when my writing was awarded the first prize in
literature by the teacher council, equal to an article written by a student
from the First Grade (Senior). I don't remember his name, only remember his
flowery sentence: "My kite began to grow thorns in my soul, flying with
sorrow soaked with tears in a dream." Because during that time of the
year, the bead tree flowers were blooming, but his father still did not return.
The prizes for my article: a book of poems by Thien Cong Pham and a Chinese
fountain pen.
At the end of the year, the atmosphere of Ngo Quyen School
was exhilarating. My 4th Grade class was
famous for many very studious students, but they were also as enthusiastic as
anyone outside of school hours. To
prepare for the school's performance, Nguyen went to each class to find a
female role to play with him in a comedy he wrote and directed. When he came to
my class, he was acutely embarrassed by my classmates at the first table. He
got rid of the tough questions, frowning and complaining, and went down to the
last table where I was sitting. He said, “Too bad, too bad, I can't find anyone
suitable for a role in my play. Please help me.” I asked, “What kind of role is it too
difficult to find an actor to play?” “The role of a bad-tempered woman who often
bullies her husband,” Nguyen answered. Sitting next to me, Little Ba opened her
mouth and asked, “Am I bad-tempered enough to play the role?” “Oh, very well.”
He was overjoyed with a smile on his face.
Ba and Luu forced him to accept one condition: After each
play, he had to give each of us a cup of iced green beans and cakes and a
ticket from Bien Hung Cinema. For the play to be a success, he nodded in
agreement. It was a kind of Phi Thoan’s comedy about a city dweller whose wife
was as fierce as a Ha Dong lion. He was afraid of his wife but didn’t want to
lose face in front of his brother. Once his brother from the countryside came
for a visit, he begged his wife to pretend to play the role of an obedient
wife. The wife initially agreed. But the husband's request was so ridiculous
that the wife could not accept it. In the end, the wife gave her husband a good
beating.
Of course, Nguyen played the husband, Little Ba played the
wife, and a boy classmate from Nguyen's class played the brother. I was
assigned the task of a prompter. The first week went smoothly; all went well.
Nguyen happily gave each of us a bowl of green beans and a cinema ticket. At
that time, Bien Hung Theater showed films in the morning, and a Cai Luong
musical theater troupe performed at noon.
Luu had a strong passion for performing arts, and the private lives of
artists and actors, so she knew them by heart. With her inquisitive nature, Luu
lured us all into the backstage to see the artists' faces. At first, Nguyen
refused, but then he also joined us for fun.
We chatted with the actors My Chau and Minh Phung and even
asked them for their photos and signatures. I noticed that Nguyen had a bit of a talent for drama and a sense of humor. During the rehearsal, he used to tell jokes
to make us laugh. Forty years have passed - but I still remember the image of
him and Little Ba chasing each other and running around in the classroom where
we practiced our drama, or the scene where he held his stomach while laughing
and shaking his head when making Little Luu swear.
Near the day of the
performance, Nguyen’s friend gave up, making him lament and sigh with his
distorted face. Little Ba also lost her interest because she was afraid of not
having the opportunity to perform in front of an audience such as her teachers
and her friends. I was so embarrassed that I had to make sacrifices: “Let me
play the role,” I said. My hoarse voice was good enough to play a man, but what
about my long hair? That could be resolved immediately. Because I played the
role of a man from the countryside who went to the town, I had to wear
traditional costumes with a long dress and a turban, so my hair was curled up
and hidden inside them. Playing this role was not difficult because I was a
prompter, so I already knew the play by heart. I didn’t know what Nguyen and
Ba’s feelings were, but I was so nervous that my legs were shaking. As soon as
I stepped on the stage, I heard the audience roar with laughter, perhaps
because of the beard Mr. Hai drew on my face. Fortunately, thanks to my grandfather's
glasses, I couldn't see anything below the stage. Thanks to that, I regained my
spirit and acted very naturally.
The performance was successful. All of my friends praised me.
Little Luu loudly made a positive comment, “Oh my god, you guys acted so funny.
Ms. Bich Loan Ha, who is known as a difficult teacher, also laughed to
tears.” Nguyen gave her a thumbs-up
sign, raising his eyebrows to show pride. Litle Ba patted him on the shoulder,
“Next time, will you please remember to invite me to take part in your play,
OK?” Nguyen clasped his hands in front of his chest and bowed his head, “Oh my
Buddha! I'm afraid of women.” “Why are you afraid? You have a lot of fun
hanging out with us,” Ba said. “Yes, it's fun, but it's too expensive…
Bye...bye...”
In the Third Grade
(Sophomore) school year, Nguyen and the members of White Cloud, Dinh Thien
Phuong, Hoang Thy Linh, and Da Ta – The literature and poetry clubs - met at my
home. I had read the journal Mach Tho many times, but I had never met the
editors before. It was a handwritten journal that was passed around among
literature lovers. I liked the "Debris and Quiet Days" section. The
title also sounded cute. Who of us did not have pieces of thought to share in
daily life? I was pleased to join Mach
Tho Group.
Nguyen often came to my house alone to brag about new poems
or talk about plans. Many people said that he was sometimes hot-tempered and
easy to get angry. I hadn't seen him in those situations, so I didn't know; I
only knew that sometimes he was silly as a child. At that time, the television
in South Viet Nam often showed Charlot’s silent films at noon on weekends. He
came to my house when everyone watched a movie; all the doors were closed. He
didn't call, just quietly opened a window, stood hugging the mullions and
watched the movie passionately. Whenever there were hilarious scenes, he waved his hands and laughed so loud
that he was thought to be suffocating. When the movie ended, he just went
inside the house. Since then, my younger brother nicknamed him 'Stop
Breathing'. Whenever he saw him from afar, he squealed loudly, “ “‘Stop
Breathing’ is coming, Cuc.”
Apparently, in the
First Grade school year, Mr. Hai was the head of the press department of Ngo
Quyen High School. One night he ran up to my house. “Help... help! Please help
me quickly, Cuc.”
His story was that the school magazine was about to be
printed, but the number of pages was insufficient. He asked me to write a short
story. Fortunately, I had free time, so I was ready to help him. In his view,
during that time of the year, the press criticized Spring Ngo Quyen Magazine:
The literature and poetry were sentimental, not standard. However, he happily
patted his thigh and laughed, saying that his school was still far ahead
compared to other spring magazines.
After graduating from school, I rarely saw him. He would stop by occasionally to tell me
about his poems set to music or show me the manuscript of the short stories he
had written. The last time he came to give me the piece of music “Em Hiền Như
Ma Soeur (You Are As Gentle As Ma Soeur) with his autograph. Reading this song,
I thought of my lovely friend Thu Thanh Pham. Did her gentle eyes and meek
appearance once arouse him?
After 1975, I knew
nothing about Nguyen and Mach Tho Group. The regime changed, and lives changed,
too. Everyone was busy making a living in miserable and problematic conditions.
A few years later, I heard that he and his family had crossed the border and
were safely settled in France. In March 1992, I went to America. A few months
later, Little Hong from Georgia called me at midnight. “Hey, have you heard
this bad news? Hai Hoang Nguyen passed
away.”
When I just came to
the US, and where I lived, there were not many Vietnamese people, there were no
newspapers, so I didn't get any news. Hong lived in a big city, and there were
many Vietnamese people, so if she had any information, she always let me know.
We both grieved for him - a man of many passions - who ended up taking his own
life with tranquilizers.
In 2005, during a
conversation with Ba, she asked me, “Was 'Hai Rom’ (Skinny Hai) Nhien Tat
Nguyen?” It turned out that since the day she got married, Ba had little
contact with her friends, so she didn't know anything about him. “Oh my God, I
love Nhien Tat Nguyen’s poetry but didn't expect him to be Hai Hoang Nguyen,”
said Ba. She finally let on, “I didn't expect the life of the guy who played my
husband to be so short.”
In November 2007, I
decided to return to Vietnam after nearly sixteen years of separation. This
return trip included both Hong and Sang. We planned to see Teachers and friends
again. By the way, Hong was on familiar terms with Phuong Thien Dinh, his wife,
and White Cloud Group; I also wanted to see the old Mach Tho Group members, so
I asked Hong to contact and invite them all to join the friendly meeting. In my
heart, I wanted to see my friends in Mach Tho Group again to remind me of my
lost literary friends: Da Ta, Linh Thy Hoang and Nhien Tat Nguyen. A friend of
mine in San Jose told me that Mr. Hoang had passed away. Although that news was
false, Mr. Hoang didn’t come to the meeting. It was more regrettable that I did
not have the opportunity to talk to him about the past as planned.
To keep my promise to
Mr. LS Dat, the president of the Bien Hoa Friendship Association, I write this
article about Nhien Tat Nguyen and the memories of a time we participated in
literature and theatre activities under the dear roof of Ngo Quyen Public High
School. The article is as an incense stick in the memory of the deceased. I
believe he is smiling somewhere in peace, not a scornful, arrogant smile but an
innocent, carefree smile of school age.
THY LE TRANG
Translated into English by Phuoc Khac Nguyen
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