-^-for posterity-^-

mr. quy is one of the workers at the yokohama tire dealership. i used to be a frequent guest there until our relationship soured.

tonight he took me out to buy a guitar. my life was void of music and i am a novice guitar player. i want to improve. jack also plays and it’ll be fun to sing together in our small rooms.

mr. quy is very happy to practice his english and speaks well. we drove through crowded streets to a small guitar shop about twenty minutes away. the owner was sitting on a lawn chair outside smoking a cigarette. his face was smug and his shirt was off. he had the body of a 12 year old boy but the demeanor of an old man. he wore green shorts pulled up to his bellybutton. guitars hung all over the ceiling. he picked some for me (the most expensive) and had me try them out. i found one i liked (after playing a rendition of johnny cash’s “boy named sue” to a loud applause) and bought it.

the guitar is dusty and old and seems a bit too tan.

we went to a restaurant and ate. mr. quy sat across from me and ordered for me. it was time for him to tell me his life story. he said it was sad.

mr. quy has sincere eyes. his hair is coarse and cut into a hilarious flat-top. his face is rather normal and he would be attractive if he didn’t open his mouth. his set of lower teeth appear to have a few more teeth than normal in the same space. the extra teeth are all squeezed in sideways. it looks like some are trying to crawl out of his mouth. his tooth problems were greatly exaggerated because he seemed to have a toothache. he would exhale abruptly and wince.

he wore an old polo shirt. it looked like it was from the 1985 jc crew catalogue. it felt as if i had traveled back to the mid 80’s and there wasn’t a dentist for miles.

the story started. “my parents divorced when i was 9.” he was noticeably frustrated by this. he went on to extol the virtues of solid relationships. he was raised by his grandmother until he was 18. she died and he was all alone. at 18 he had not graduated high school and now had to find a way to sustain himself.

he started selling lottery tickets. these ticket sellers are ubiquitous. they walk around every outdoor café and rudely shove tickets between your eyes and your plate. i asked how much money they made for selling a ticket. he said about 200 dong. that’s about 2 cents. he decided that he couldn’t make any money doing that so he got into construction. he did that for a little but the work was too physical for him. he is an incredibly thin man. one wonders where he keeps all of his internal organs.

so, he couldn’t live well on the lottery tickets, he had not graduated from high school and lifting bricks all day was too much for him. what does a man do when he has nothing? he moves to ho chi minh city: the land of opportunity.

he came here when he was 22. he started selling lottery tickets again but couldn’t make ends meet. he found a job in a printing factory working 14 hours a day. he said he would sleep on the table where he worked. he enrolled in english classes. his days consisted of 14 hours of work, school then returning to work to sleep on your work table.

what must it have been like? where would he shower? did he have any earthly possessions? i can only imagine him in some dirty shirt covered in holes laying on a table with a stack of old newspapers as a pillow. would you feel rage at your situation or would you be more fatalistic?

he took two years of english classes and then decided to graduate from high school. he was 24 when he graduated. he then enrolled in college and started working at the yokohama tire factory here. they moved him up to sales because he could speak english and because he relates well with customers.

now he lives with his mother in saigon. he has a girlfriend and a nice motorcycle. he said, “life is beautiful now. i love to live.”

i asked about his father and he scowled. he looked at me coldly as if to ask, “why on earth would you ask about him?” he said, “i have no relations with my father. he had another girl when i was young and my parents separated.” i don’t think i got the whole story. i could feel the hatred. everything fell silent and we both stared at our food not brave enough to say anything.

his mood cooled and he looked at me nicely. he said, “i don’t normally tell people my story.” i thanked him sincerely and am glad that i can share it with all of you. i honestly think he would be flattered but i won’t say anything.

so this man has overcome incredible barriers in his lifetime. at the age of 18 he had to fend for himself. he learned english, graduated from high school and now has a relatively nice job. at 18 i was a freshman in college. i had everyone in the world supporting me. i’ve worked my whole life but not because i had to. i worked to learn how to work. he worked to eat. he graduated from high school when he was 24. i graduated when i was 17.

i sit here now and shake my head. there’s something wonderful and terrible about his story. so much pain and so much success. it makes you think that success is possible. it also makes you think that there’s something wrong with this world. no one should have to suffer what he has suffered. i’ve done nothing in my life comparable to what he has accomplished.

oh, and he paid the bill.

so, why did i have my falling out with the yokohama tire dealership? the japanese bosses don’t like having me around for lunch. they think i interfere with the “morale of the employees.” i’ll spend less time with quy, loan and uyet but their stories will mull around in my head for a long time.