-^-for posterity-^-

so, i went to church today. it is sunday. i met ms. hà early this morning and we headed off to worship.

we boarded a bus that was full and never quite stopped. it was in a hurry. people were packed inside all staring at nothing. some sat but most stood. the ceiling was too short and i kept banging my head. i noticed a vent that was open on the roof. i put my head through it and could stand up. just as i did, the bus swung erratically around the corner and i banged my head at least twice.

the bus slowed but didn’t stop. we hopped off. i was sweating through my shirt from the heat, being directly in the sun and the tension of being on a cramped bus as a stranger. the pagoda stood off in the distance. it’s main, for lack of a better word, steeple rose to the heavens. it reminded me of an accordion.

we strolled through the gates and my head was spinning. i was trying to observe as much as possible but was being mobbed by little kids begging or selling things. i ignored them as much as was possible. they would grab your hand and put things in it. they were all thin tired.

directly inside the gates the ground was stone and dusty. there were people selling an assortment of things. packages of incense. necklaces made from flowers. larger flowers. golden plastic things that seemed to be quite out of place. ms. hà bought a package of incense and a flower necklace.

“we will now meet ms. phýõng’s mother”, she said. she’s the lady that committed suicide because her husband lost 300,000,000 dong betting on football games. i had lots of stuff i wanted to ask her.

we walked past the main temple. it was large and stone. it seemed like it belonged there. behind this house of worship there was another rock building. two sets of stairs wound their way up the front. i felt like i was watching a movie. still, the ground under my feet was soft and the sun beating down on my back was real.

upon entering, the smoke of incense burns your eyes. the room is full of urns. shelves made of ancient wood reach to the ceiling which is at least ten feet away. the urns are dusty and ceramic. they are greenish brown with flowers and gold trim. pictures hang on the front explaining whose charred remains lie inside. shelves were thick with these six inch wide tombstones. the urns were stacked three deep also. this made it difficult to see your loved one if they were placed in the back. thousands of people’s remains were housed here. maybe tens of thousands. if only they would all talk!

people were ambling through narrow passageways. i, being very tall, exercised as much caution as possible walking around the aisles. the last thing i wanted to do was to knock an urn off a shelf with my shoulder and watch it crash to the ground and explode in an ashy puff of dead humanity. we walked up two flights of stairs.

we arrived at ms. phýõng’s temporary resting place. she happened to be in the back row on the third shelf from the bottom. this meant that we had to kneel down to see her. her picture was well hidden but i could make out a soft, smooth face with jet black hair falling perfectly on her shoulders. i could see her eyes. they were calm.

there was a flower by her picture and ms. hà placed the flower necklace on top of it. the walls of the room, as all rooms in the building, were covered with urns. each had a picture on it. some pictures were very old. some were of very young people. it created an incredibly strange atmosphere. that, along with the old wood floors, the dim light and the incense smoke that burned your eyes made the hole experience surreal. we walked up to an alter. she lit some incense and said, “you do what i do.” i complied.

we kneeled down on the wood floor. we held burning incense close to our face. the smoke passed around me thickly. i occasionally opened one eye to see what i was supposed to do. we raised the incense with both of our hands to our forehead. we then arched our hands smoothly down towards our stomachs and quickly returned them to our foreheads. it was smooth, fluid, well practiced and we did that three times. the smoke billowed around us. ms. hà sat still. i assumed she was praying so i decided to pray too. i sat there and shut my eyes and thanked god for life and diversity and peace. i thanked god for love and tolerance. i also asked god to take care of ms. phýõng’s family because her mother had killed herself and her father was as good as dead. i wondered who ms. hà was praying to. i figured it was ms. phýõng’s mother. i decided i would say something to her so i said, “dear ms. phýõng’s mother. i hope you are well.” something like that. what do you say to a dead person that you don’t even know? i mean, she probably didn’t even know english.

i guess it’s the thought that counts.

we went back to the main temple and there were many people praying to different golden statues. there was a room full of people repeating phrases over and over and there was a monk that would hit a bell every once in a while. there were also thousands upon thousands of little pictures set up everywhere. they were all attached to small pieces of square wood. about twice the size of a domino and about the same shape. they were all setting on large wooden platforms. there were row after row of pictures all setting like steps rising towards the ceiling. it reminded me of stadium seating.

the building hummed with action and the smoke of incense burned my eyes. we walked outside to sit down and both had a coconut. just cut the top off and put a straw in. the thick milk inside is wonderful.

i thanked ms. hà for taking me to her church and introducing me to ms. phýõng’s mother. i used the word “nhà thờ” for church. her face wrinkled up and she pointed at me.

“not “nhà thờ”! the french brought “nhà thờ”. it is not vietnamese. this church is “nhà chùa”. that is vietnamese.”

i had used the word for catholic church. the french brought that over here when they colonized indochina on their mission to bring civilization to this dark part of the globe. civilization and slavery.