EDITOR’S LETTER
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the home issue
R
egardless of who you are and where you're from, you would have a place to call home. The word ‘place’ comes with an asterisk since a home is more than a place it is an entity existing in both the physical and metaphysical planes of our perception of the world. All of which shared one thing: it evokes a sense of safety and comfort to who we are and what we have experienced ever since the first moment we open our eyes and see ourselves in the embrace of our parents as an infant.
Since it is a part of who we are, home possesses both the ups and downs of a normal human being struggling with the world. These are more than just the typical feelings of joy and ease, but also the loss and pain that are only there to make us appreciate the good things better. Because no one is perfect and thus no entity is without flaws. A home is no different, a happy family cannot stay happy without conflicts and growing together by resolving such conflicts; a couple in love cannot go on without tolerating each other through fights and petty late night arguments; a dog cannot be its owner’s favorite without being scolded for trashing the apartment while they were away once. Thus the theme of “HOME” is chosen, not because it is a cheesy topic to make writing a 700-word essay easier but for its yin-yang complex that not many people realized or chose to acknowledge. The duality in stories of prisoners, of taken souls, of a homeward bound, of a distant loneliness, of nostalgic communes, and of intrepid sports. All of them a different view of our perception of home and how it will reflect unto others.
Home resides within us typically as a feeling of comfort and coziness. Being wrapped in a warm blanket by the fire with laughter of your family echoing next door or a simply a soft kiss on the forehead by our loved ones while cuddling on a freezing winter day. Millions of different snapshots of what is considered a home can be found in one person depending on the time and the age of that person. However, home always essentially means one thing: it is wherever that can encapsulate everything one has helped up from the past and still desire in the future. A colorful but off-focus picture if you will of who we were and who we want to be.
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COVER STORY
‘‘Everyone has a home’’, that was the premise of it all. Because no matter who you are, where you came from or what you have done, there would always be a place that we can call home.
circles to handle. It’s where we can fart, laugh our snot out, dance like no one’s watching and cry like no one’s watching as well. Home is a feeling to us and as humans, that feeling will always have another side. Not just the cozy and comfy bed or lounging carefreely on the couch while cuddling to our significant other, not just the warm cup of tea next to a window being bashed by the cold rain while you are listening to your families telling anecdotes of their generation and generations older, not just lazily getting wrapped by the soft blanket, hearing our loved ones breathing next by.
When we were born that word was confined to sputtering ‘‘Mama’’ and “Dada” as little as we were, our home was seeing the same familiar faces that brought us to life. Piggy-backing on our father’s shoulders and being held comfily within our mother’s embrace. That feeling of safety and familial warmth was to us, by every meaning of the word, our home. But I guess that is where it gets interesting. When you ask someone about their home it would usually be a location regarding where that person or their parents are living, but when you think about it, in the inception of it, home is a feeling rather than a particular physical thing, wouldn’t it?
Home is also a feeling of loss, of endless arguments with our parents regarding our plans for a career that ended in flying dishes, of the spouting insults between a troubled couple that they had no idea how it ended up like this, of sitting in our room or wandering beside the balcony, feeling nothing but fear and doubts about who we are and what we intend to do tomorrow. Home is a representation of us, of our hobbies and guilty-pleasure, of our scares and hatred dumped down after a long day of being out there. It is our parents, our lover, our best friend, our worst enemies, our cute pets, our chubby cousin, our annoying co-worker, our everything that is left when we leave the house and come back later in the day with more stories to tell it. They say ‘Carpe Diem’ to talk about seizing the day and live the world out there to the fullest, but even so, the person who did all of that, they still come back home to be held by the same familiarity and warmth because they know that no matter the crap that they put up with or the kisses they got, their home would never change and would always be there for us.
If it was just simply a location, it would just be a house or an apartment but to make it a home, we had to fill it with our own memories and feeling, the same safe and familial warmth feeling that we were trying to reciprocate from when we were kids. That word ‘home’ would always carry a personal weight for each of us because it represented who we are and where we came from and what we have done. Starting from the same feelings of safety and familial warmth that goes all the way with us starting when we first embraced in the arms of our parents. Aren’t we all have a home that regardless of where or how it’s like, it would always be a place that we can feel vulnerable, be naked to who we are, carefree of any judgment and chaos of the outer world. It’s where we can be ourselves with all the imperfections and unhinged characteristic we deemed to be ‘too much’ for our regular social
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Don’t be mistaken, my home or your home is not a place to go to like I said it is a feeling. A feeling that goes with us even when we move houses or growing up and leaving our parents, the origins of that feeling. When you close your eyes and you think back to the last time you smile, that feeling is a part of home. When you look back to the time you got your heart broken to pieces and you still somehow still be able to stand back up, that becomes
a part of your home. Our memories and our stories, us, is what makes a place into our ‘home’. As we continue to brace the world out there, our home will continue to grow, till the day you have a kid, teach them what is a home and see them make one for themselves. Home is more than a place or a feeling, it is our humanities and inhumanities wrapped up into one entity, a physical place where we found ourselves belong.
INSIDER'S STORY
Football And as usual, every corner of the country is waiting for the ball to roll. Through the race, the fans wavered from moments of joy as the team scored, despair when the opposing team were leading with only minutes till end game and back again with euphoria when the team scored 2 goals to take the dream further. Facing strong opponents like Japan and Syria, we surpassed them with sheer determination and faith of a nation behind every touch of the ball they took. After every game, people would roll out onto the streets in high fashion, with red smokes and bandwagons of hundreds of Vietnamese yelling words of unification.
Spreads between 4 latitudes, it is expected that not any part is the same on this long terrain of the nation which inversely is a unique beauty of the Vietnamese soul. Vietnam has always been a diverse country with deep specified local characteristics, from mountains, highland, coast, and sea lands. Despite this geographical and cultural boundaries, we are one, with the same ancient ancestors and moral values. Values that originated from heroes and heroines who fought monsters, terraformed the earth, and a raw perseverance that survived the nation through 4000 years of conflicts and wars. The descendants of fairy and dragon blood have built for themselves cities and mythics that reflect upon their children generations and no matter where you are from, that sense of greatness belongings would make you a Vietnamese.
Within the energetic atmosphere, students of RMIT cannot be spared. Let’s see it from the view of Hanoi students in Saigon Campus.
When the old stories are not popular now with the oblivion of time, the connection has shaped something new. Running through the vessels of this nation, one of our blood pride within peacetime, sports, now resides in the game of Football.
Q: How do you enjoy the matches there in Saigon Campus? Tran Tien An (Saigon Campus): I don’t watch football at the campus, but everyone enjoyed to full content. They brought giant screen to the walking street for the match, and went parade with flag and costume.
We love football, as much as the love for everything iconic we are proud to share with the world. In the field of worldwide competition, the national team has not once touched the cup at the finale in any tournament since the AFF Cup in 2008. It has been a long dream of any Vietnamese to see their team rise to the top, albeit failures years after years, the people can now see hope in the new generation of players that could bring the dream home once again. Football is an old sport, which limits space to be creative and effective, but human is the limitless resource of creation that brings excitement to the game. Thus, the current National team has learned from the hardships of their elders and mentors, and are now in serious competition for a top spot in the ASIAD.
Leu Gia Linh (Saigon Campus): Watching the match at the pubs, it was awesome. Q: How do students there watch the match? Does it resemble home? An: Students also book rooms to screen the match just like we did with club mates in U23 championship. I wasn’t in the crowd on street but it was still impressive, kind of fun. Linh: Doesn’t resemble home much, because I don’t have many friends to share the joy here, but it has its own charm.
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Q: What do you think about our team? Is there anything you want to tell them? An: With Park Hang-Seo the coach, this should be the golden time for the team with quality players through solid coaching since the U19 days. They can make the history of national football team as they did in the U23 Championship. Quang Hai had done a terrific job but he just lack some luck and calm for the key time. I’m waiting for their performance in the Suzuki Cup in November. Linh: Fight for it, team. It isn’t over and you can do it much better next time.
After all, either each corner of the country, Saigon or Hanoi, great sport match have always been a catalyst for the harmony of people. From both campuses, we are looking for the day we can fulfill the dream. When the team can bring home the glorious victory, it would be a great day for the nation, North and South alike.
INSIDER'S STORY
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Now a little older, I tend to open myself more to the world, learning to join in conversations instead of backing off, yet never seemed able to step out of that habit of constantly seeking a safe spot. When I entered secondary school, it was the porch that looked towards my grandpa’s garden, under the shade of his ancient lemon trees where I could spend all my summer days indulging in those teenage girls’ cheesy romantic novels. High school days, I would curl up under my window-length desk and cry my heart out any time I felt lonely and neglected, unaccomplished and dissatisfied. Any time I failed a test, got into a fight with my best friend, or overwhelmed from a long distance relationship. Somehow though, I never knew why, this always brings a sense of comfort, to be under a shelter like this, like you’re safe and shielded, and no worries or anxiety can get to you.
Writer: Beth Designer: Mel
Remember when you were little, you would build your own fortress out of pillows and teddy bears in your bedroom? You would stack them up into fortified high walls, stretching blankets from this window to the other, pretending you’re a noble lord securing your castle against those creepy monsters that were told in the children’s book. Or when you would just simply find a ‘secret spot' to hide all your so-called ‘forbidden’ toys, snacks, comics or even yourself sometimes, from your parents? When we were kids, having a secret place, a hiding spot or an imaginary fortress that shields us from midnight monsters seems so appealing, and so needed, even if none of those creeps actually exist, and those snacks and toys aren’t that valuable. What we crave, truthfully, was simply a sense of safety, of belonging, of home. Then, what happens when you outgrow those hiding spots, those tiny cupboards in the kitchen or the dressers in your mother’s bedroom, or there aren’t enough pillows in the house to build a fortress you can fit in? Most of the time, the bigger you get, the more immersed you become in your ‘adulthood’ problems that eventually, you forget that you even need one like you used to.
My safe spots, as I recall, were never a particular pattern, shape or size, yet were always based in the place that I consider my dearest, home. Home, not house, as I have been moving from place to place. And funny how it can only last for while, same with the amount of time for the different phases in my life, and not because I do not want them anymore, but because out of a sudden, you just lose it. You outgrew it mentally, you lose the connection, the feeling of consolation that you normally have, and all at once, it’s no longer your safe spot.
Unlike most, I’m the type of person full of fears and insecurities. Nothing to do with any childhood trauma, honestly, simply the way I grew up not always feeling the best about myself. I could never be the kid that showed up to a family gathering and joined in the hideous games that my cousins made up, but rather hid in my own room in those pillow fortresses.
I remember struggling from that loss, devastatingly, the time I entered college. RMIT was a brand new start for me, a leap far from my usual comfort zone. Day after day, I followed
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a meaningless routine from waking up, going to school, barely socializing and coming back, repeatedly and almost depressingly. I was so scared of the fact that in here, I had to start from scratch, with no friends or acquaintances and nothing I was familiar with. Understandably, my first semester became so stressful and overwhelming. Like a fish out of water, I found myself drifting through the first months of college, monotonous and anxious, so exposed to those I hadn’t gotten to know. And no longer having a safe place to go back to, to hide all of these obnoxious and absurd anxieties, frightened me even more.
it reminds me of the childhood fortress that I used to build, and gifts me with the sense of home I have longed for. To be surrounded by these amazing people here in RMIT and to feel so unconditionally loved and supported has been truly a blessing for me. Every day spent here is like a trip down to the good old days of childhood, like I’m a kid once again with no worries or pressure, and I’m protected, shielded from the harsh world outside. Growing up, we get tired once in a while, desiring to find a safe haven for ourselves to hide, and I’m grateful that I’ve found mine. Happy to say, I have found my new pillow fortresses.
Never would I have thought I could find it right here in RMIT, until I was introduced to Current Media. It was not like ‘love at first sight’ though, joining a club and feeling like one of them instantly, but rather a process for one to slowly immerse themselves into a group of strangers, and to grow attachment for them. It always amazes me how one troop of self-proclaimed introverts, that’s what we call each other, can bring me so much comfort when I thought at no time could I have it from anything and anyone rather than any inanimate corner that I lock myself into. And before I could realize, I have been gradually spending more and more time at school. I come onto Level 8 more often and spend more time with these new friends for whom I have started to develop so much affection. It stuns me sometimes how such simple gestures and activities like planning what to eat for lunch, asking what to do in assignments or making fun of a viral video on Facebook, can create a bond among us, a bond that I now hold so dearly, that I treasure every second of. I enjoy those afternoons after having lunch together, we would build up bean bags into pillows and gather up for a thrilling movie session, which most of the time, we didn’t have time to finish, but we maintained the tradition anyway. I love the feeling when we all lay down in front of the iMac screen, which might be huge but not really for a group of over 10 people, squeezing in any space left while fighting for who can have more of the blanket, because somehow,
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PERSPECTIVE
Maybe, summer is meant to be a season of nostalgia. We tend to recall good memories from the past, compare with the present and come to the conclusion that, the past is still more rewarding.
Every summer at “Khu tập thể” is another interesting story which is worth sitting all day to talk about. A “Khu tập thể” with its characteristic scent of times past, a close friend who stayed at the attic house that until now, I can still remember her parents’ phone numbers, and a cup of tea from the old guard, a woman who sold baluts and noodles at the entrance of the alley. Even a scorching summer day cannot stop the kids from lying to their grandparents to play with the other kids. All those years, riding a bicycle around the small “Khu tập thể” made me feel like I had traveled all around the world. All those years, I was taken to the crowded and noisy market every morning by my grandmother. All those years, I had my amazing grandfather who shared my childhood with me.
It was a summer afternoon, walking on the street covered with sunshine, I found my way back to the “Khu tập thể” on Láng Hạ street, which contains my peaceful childhood. Nothing has changed since the day I left, still the smell, still the mossy yellow wall, still the old guard, It seems that I am the only one who has changed. “Khu tập thể” has been the symbol of the Socialist. After peace was restored in 1976, Vietnam was reunified and officially became the Socialist Republic of Vietnam. Hanoi also transformed from the colonial city to the socialist one. In order to bring people better lives and solve the accommodation issue at that time, the government used the national budget to build up some very first “Khu tập thể”. There are different apartments’ sizes for different workers’ positions. Even though the area is narrowed and people have to share common cooking, clothesline or bathing spaces, as “tập thể” means sharing, they are delighted because of being distributed a house, which means that the government recognized their roles in the society. My grandmother keeps telling me that no words could describe how proud she was for staying in the first achievement of the Socialist Republic.
To some people, “Khu tập thể” is no longer suitable with the modern life as it is too old, cramped and it is considered a loss of modern urban aesthetics. But to me and to people who still call “Khu tập thể” their home, it will never be too old or cramped. Its beauty lies in the messy sharing clothesline, sunshine on the corridor which was used to dry peanuts and the rumbling laugh of children. Especially when it comes to rainy days, “Khu tập thể” suddenly turns itself into a taciturn and peaceful person. The scent of sunshine there is as warm as the love between people.
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Its beauty also lies at the contradistinction. All the “Khu tập thể” in this beautiful city have one common feature - narrow and (sometimes) dark entrance that may make people feel curious and cautious. My grandfather used to tell me that: “Even though the entrance is dark, do not be too reserved to walk in, what if you can find something beautiful there? What if behind the ugly look stays a delicate beauty?”. Just like the life of people living at “Khu tập thể”, until now, they still keep for themselves a slow pace of living. Every morning, elderly people choose to walk and recall their youth or sit down at the balcony with a newspaper and a cup of hot tea. Children wait for their friends on the 1st floor to go to school together.
Although I have no longer lived in “Khu tập thể”, whenever I come to visit my grandmother at weekends, I still call it “come back home”. How can you define “home”? To me, “home” is where you find yourself belong to, the place where no matter if it is sunny or rainy still remains a value of loving life through times. I remember whenever I climbed to the 4th floor at my grandmother’s house, I heard an old woman who has lived next to my grandmother for half of her life asked me “Are you visiting your grandma Bong (Bong is my nickname since I was born)?” with her featured warm tone of voice which has never been changed in all those years. My heart naturally felt a sense of familiarity. They do not leave because “Khu tập thể” is where they belong to.
Why people do not leave “Khu tập thể”? Why they still stick to a place with its downgrade status? Is that because they regret what they used to have? Their neighbors who shared a life with them? Or is that because they have deeply fallen in love with it that they do not mean to leave anymore?
They do not leave. And they will not. How can a person leave his or her home?
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SHORT STORY
When it comes to home, what is the first thing crossing your mind? A family with your loved ones, a country holding your heart, or just a shelter to live from day to day? Each of us, no matter how similar or contradictory our backgrounds are, has different feelings and perceptions of home. So, to me, what is home? Home, in my first thought, is the most relaxing, comfortable and peaceful station in life. At that station, I can feel free to show myself, without being judged or afraid of leaking my weakest sides. At that station, I am always welcomed back, no matter how imperfect I am. It spreads the feelings of peace inside, even when I have thousands of stormy difficulties outside. And home, for me, is somehow similar to family. However, there are some moments in life that family is not actually my home. I hate to return to my house, meet my family members and find ways to run away from everything. There are some ironic periods of time, I hate communicating with people and just want to hide myself as carefully as possible.
We kept distancing from each other until one day. When I was a tenth grader, my parents had a big argument. They did not listen, just shouting and screaming to the other one’s face. I felt really lost when the 2 most important people of mine were having such a huge conflict. Confused and worried, I suddenly realised that my home was not like home anymore. I hated it when my last moral support collapsed like this. I ended up sitting on the step, silently crying. I felt abandoned like the whole world was against me. Then, surprisingly, like in every fairy tale, someone would come to help the protagonist when they were in trouble. At that time, for me, it was Kiki. Gradually sitting down by my side, Kiki was just there, no barking, no annoyance. He glanced at me sometimes, as if he wanted to check whether I was fine or not. For the first time ever, he was that close to me. For the first time in life, I was not alone in my own pain. And for the first time, Kiki seemed much more adorable than what I had ever known or perceived of him.
All of those moments, which are supposed to be left alone, I always have a companion beside. The one that I believe the most, the one that quietly, truthfully and whole-heartedly listens to my stories. The one that gradually becomes an indispensable piece of my life. That is Kiki, my little dog. I never believe in the healing sentiment of dogs, until Kiki came into my life. My first impression about Kiki is extremely terrible. He seemed such an unapproachable dog that would not let anyone touch him, hug him and play with him. He growled when I wanted to access. I used to hope that Kiki would suddenly disappear, so that my dad could give me another better dog. A cruel idea, isn’t it?
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Kiki has entered my world in that very ordinary way. No special notifications or signals, as natural and organic as it can be. I have to admit that Kiki is exactly what I was desperately in need of at that time - a good listener. I used to put up with a sequence of tensions and constraints in life. A wave of deadlines, a bunch of disappointments about myself, a series of arguments with friends, and...an almost broken family. Each of those things standing alone can become a nightmare for anyone, let alone all, simultaneously, with a 15-year-old girl. Therefore, Kiki, in my heart, was actually the unexpected healer. We start understanding each other more and more through daily interactions. Everyday before I leave home for school, Kiki always gives me a shower of morning kisses. When I come back, he welcomes me by a custom Kiki’s dance. After a long day studying, having someone become happy and joyful because of me means the world. Since our relationship has improved, I have enjoyed myself and led a life in a very different way. I come home early, as I cannot wait to meet Kiki. I am growing to be a more mature and responsible girl, as Kiki needs my care and love. And the most important thing, I am not seeping into depression anymore. I feel more open and happier, as I have someone to share all my sadness and sorrow. For the world, Kiki can be just a very normal dog, but he is so preciously my little home!
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SHORT STORY
The journey destined for a salmon starts from its birth out of an egg, without the appearance of any parental guidance and a slight taste of salt in their mouth. From its first day of existence, it has to learn to survive on its own instincts and the herd culture of other salmons. As soon as the salmons hit a point in time when their scales are sparkling hues of grey light out from the blue streams where they first came to life and their fins are tough enough to glide the currents, their instincts then inform them that they must leave the stream and go where the herd would thrive, the place that all things are meant to end up, the deep blue ocean of seawater. There’s more food and space for them to grow and mate there, free from the restricting boundaries of a river stream. Consequently, they start to swim downstream. They follow the long and winding waters of the stream, circle past the sharp rocks where the vigorous and unforgiving currents are taking the charge, and jumping off as leaps of faith off the blinding white water right on the ledge of a waterfall. They leapt, the terrifying height barely felt on their scales as they let gravity and pure instincts, and self-admittedly a little bit of luck to take them down without dying, not to mention avoiding the predators of bears and wolves waiting to take a bite as they are
jumping off both up and down the fall. Sooner or late, after days and even weeks of trailing the muddy waters of the big rivers, they arrive at where the first half of their journey is completed, the majestic deep cerulean waters of the sea, where the salt are tasted on their tongues similar the ones when they were born. At a seemingly endless open source of food and growth that the ocean offers, the salmons matured and as any generations and biological urge that are embedded inside of them as part of natural evolution, the breeding starts. However, the ocean with its great offerings also present greater dangers that the herd are not willing to face not to mention let the vulnerable eggs to arrive amongst predators waiting at every corner. For the herd, the Ocean becomes less of an Eden but rather a Hell on a timer for their coming offspring. Thus, their instincts then tell them to get to the final half of their journey, where it all started, the gentle streams of water that have nurtured their birth. The journey starts once again.
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As hard as things were when they were going downstream, heading upstream is 10 times more treacherous. Thankfully, as if there was an ancient spirit leading the way, or just millions of years of instincts refined and evolved, they found the path with smell, through years worth of time, through the unstoppable flow that washed everything away from the first day that water ever ran on earth. Against the current, with the built muscle and the mission, they swim the entire terrific length of the river, leaving the ocean behind, up through the terrain of earth with sheer power.
ocean that binds them with the salt, and the change of environment provides no food nor travel comfort. Not a single thing matters to them; the salmon stop eating when they leave the sea. The energy inside their body is the only fuel needed for the path ahead. They leave the river, and it gets harder when the stream is smaller. Salmon face the rapids and waterfalls they been through, from the bottom of it, with perfect navigation. Salmon does not miss the right turn to track, and from the root of the herd, it was programmed, through natural evolution and selection. Despite the difficulties, none of them get lost.
While scientists busily test if the destination was true for the guiding, no one has ever explained how they can tear through the water and travel upstream with ease, when the current has icebergs, rocks and tree bodies. They believe, instinctively, and the mission has taken them through.
The salmons jump, with raw strength of muscle, and stacked energy under the skin. Bears are waiting, as are several other predators. Salmon keep doing their job. One eaten, the others move on. Their trip may end here, but the herd has their soul. The spirit of stopped ones are with the remaining herd as the water keeps flowing. They are carried to where they belong.
However, the freshwater that raised them, now makes them weaker. Growing up strong in the
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Without a moment of rest, as the water gets cleaner, the closer they get. The remaining salmons have reduced in numbers, as a tradeoff for the hardship they have completed. They have used up all their body fat, so the muscle is the only thing remains. They slightly get slimmer, lose vision, and the body turn auburn red of maple leaves falling. Their bodies now are at the limit of their suffering. Completing the journey or getting back to the sea would kill them either way, and they choose to fulfil the destiny upon them.
vain. There’s no competition or time wasted, they mate in a hurry for their only priority is procreation. They peacefully perform their beautiful dance. Their goal’s completed, and the flesh and bones return to mother of nature. The eggs which would hatch the next generation lay with the bodies of their parents. The salmon, they cannot live to protect their breed nor guide them to the sea but it all will be fine, as evolutional instincts has taken the lead before, it would do it again. Nothing there to worry anymore, the newborns can rest without fear, and await hatch with a journey written inside their DNA just like their parents did amongst the comfortable streams.
The great odyssey ends, as instincts dictates it, the remaining herd don’t let the death be in
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PERSPECTIVE
It was on a Tuesday or Wednesday or something in the middle of June. I remembered it being the middle of June because the air was breathing hot steam onto my neck the whole time. Scorching sun shining in arrays of penetrating heat making everyone to hide within the seldom shadows of the leaves above. No one opted to stay inside the waiting room, there
was no electricity there ergo no fan, just the heat from the humidity as your company. One of us had to stay inside though, as someone has to look out for the officer to go back after their lunch break. If we missed him, we might have to wait for another window of opportunity where we can gather everyone around like this. Sitting among them and waiting, I can
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feel the tension in the air, even being his best friend for so long, there was an evident sense of piercing anxiety and excitement going through him. Today, he got to see his mom for the first time since she was arrested over a year and a half ago.
our high school, visiting temples, singing on the bus, campfires, performance show, smoke some weed, all that jazz. It was good fun. So much fun that I did not even care about how the others were doing to be honest. Although looking back I do recall seeing him wandering the resort where we were staying a couple times, drifting from the group. One time around after midnight, he was walking topless in the dark. It was winter, 10 degrees cold, maybe then I should have picked up on some signs that he was off. Knowing him all my life, he would sometimes like that you know, one minute he’s out playing and being the center of attention the next you could find him walking around the school campus and sit somewhere he knows that no one can care enough to find him. Solitude was like the yang he always seemed to carry with the yin that is his joyful regular self. Much like the rest of us I guess, but for him it was always something more, it was almost like he goes into little episodes of loneliness not because he needs time alone, but because he was hiding in it from something else.
He never discussed why she was in prison almost at all, barely mentioning it about financial stuffs and that she was just a part of the scheme and was doing everything to provide for her family. Personally, I think no matter what he said, if she’s in there then that means the woman must be guilty as hell and I’m sure he knows it as well. The fact that he doesn’t want to talk about it makes the reason meaningless, it’s his mother in there, no matter the crime, she’s still the woman that gave him life after all. I heard the rumours before, about how his mom is in trouble and his family is a wreck, I just don’t know exactly what. I never really take into account those after school gossips into mind or with him, simply because he’s still smiling every morning I saw him at school or hanging out, the guy was a rock until the day.
Well, that ‘something’ came up, after our trip, he barely got off the bus before he jumped onto a cab, saying he was heading for the airport.
We were just coming back from school after a 2-day-outing with the entire class of 46 in
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The morning after, I saw the news headlines about his mom getting arrested, I didn’t know her name but did recognize the face from the throwback pictures he posted. The day I saw the news was January 1st, 2016. I couldn’t imagine a worse New Year’s Eve.
his mom suffered from asthma therefore she was owing quite a sum of money from just the meds to keep her breathing. Before we go in he even told me that her room was nothing more but a windowless cell with no light going in except a bickering little bulb every time they open the door and an abysmal air duct to let some air ventilating in. “Damped and Dark” were the exact words he said, the rest I could muster up to hear due to his grunting and a bit of tear that he was trying to hold back.
Anyhow, over 18 months later, he was finally able to visit her after a law had just been going through that lets someone held up in jail to be able to see their family for once a month. I knew a lot more things about the imprisonment system throughout all of this actually. I never realized that jails and prisons are different. His mom is in jail meaning she was there for under a year or that her case was still under investigation and from the timeline, I can tell that she was not going to get released anytime soon. I also learned that in the prison system, everything is different from out here, like they have a different sort of economy in there. Your family needs to give you money so you can buy food and toilet paper and other necessities. If you are broke, then chances are you’ll either get malnutrition or die of starvation because there’s not even an infirmary in there, like a bed with a white sheet on it and that was it. Medicines are 10 to 20 times more expensive than out here which was problematic because
Sooner or later, the officer went out, smirking after coming back almost 2 hours later then when he was supposed to show up. My friend and his family came in quickly to do the paperwork needed, as for me I was a friend to the family so he said I can come in but I have to stay outside of the room while they are meeting. The guy came back and another hour later he came out, instructing us about where to go to see her. My friend did not even react he just sprinted in, hurrying us to speed up. Walking through the penitentiary, I truly was taken aback. There were a lot of trees and spaces, there were a small pond and rice paddies inside and the prisoners that we encountered going in were either giving us friendly glimpses or
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just sweating for doing heavy work around the place. Strangely enough, a few of them even flirted with my friend’s aunt going in, the strange thing was she was flirting back. Anyway, after a couple turns, we came up on a 1-storey compartment with labelled rooms, and one warden was instructing us to wait for the prisoners to come out. We had to wait for another 30 minutes.
punished, some to die. The conflicting feel of it all was unreal and poetic all the same to me somehow. I did pick up on something, none of the other visitors that we talk to ever showed any contempt for the people suffering in there for their crime, all I can see was love and an unwavering sense of unease and fear for the wellbeing of the ‘convicts’. It seemed more to me that the people living in cells were not the only ones in prison, their families were as well. A relentless prison of worries and doubts for the people they care about having to live and treated like rats inside, where even the littlest necessity could cost the people out here more money than their rent. I couldn’t fathom about where was the justice of all this. Sure it was their fault that they are in there but the people suffering more were still out here living and breathing an endless air of social prejudice and distrust now that one of the people they love in prison.
Nonetheless, within those 30 minutes we talked to a couple other people that also came to visit their families. I talked to a policewoman whose husband was serving a couple-year-sentence, she was smiling all the while recounting stories about him to us but teared up a bit at the end. Afterwards, I heard that being in the police force, his conviction caused her a lot of troubles for her job but she was more worried about him being in there. The rest were a group of 4 people, a family with a mom visiting her husband with her sister and her 2 kids, one was a little girl of 6 and the boy was well into his teenage years. The mother was keeping herself pretty well while having to explain to her daughter why her dad was in here. The little girl was pretty clueless with the whole thing though, doing skipping-jacks in front of us the whole time. She smiled at me a couple times. I was just looking at her, imagining a little girl’s smile in the middle of all this. The cool winds were blowing off the heat somewhat but u can still feel it, hear it even: amidst the grasshopper sounds, birds chirping and leaves quivering, surrounding the talks of the free folks and the smiles of a little girl lies a stark truth. This is where the worst of societies come to be
Sooner or later, after walking back and forth in anticipation, he spotted his mom walking out and into the room. There was a fan this time but a wall of glass separating them. A wired telephone on the wall was right beside the chair, next to a timer that reads ‘30 minutes’. My friend burst in the room, dumbfounded at how his mother’s looks had changed. She was thin, seemed malnourished, her hair was cut short and her dry lips were shaking when she saw her son. He was doing a good job at keeping it together but seeing his mother like this after so long, he couldn’t hold back the tears any more. I can hear him trying to catch his own breath, gapping the telephone as soon as he could, disregarding the instructions of
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the officers that were being explained to him. The timer started, 30 minutes and counting down. From outside the room, I can still feel the pain and a sudden joy of reunion. Their hands trying to touch each other through the thick glass, his voice fighting back the tears trying to calm his mom down as she was weeping. He knows that her asthma can be activated if she gets too emotional but after almost every word of reassurance, he was sobbing again. His feet were tapping continuously onto the ground, he was worried about her, about her life but still trying to keep a smile on his face as he damn well knew that was the only thing his mom wanted to see then. The phones were exchanged through the family as he hectically walking back and forth, looking at her and then look away when he was about to cry again. The entire room was another spectrum end of being emotional.
he had of this was 30 minutes before they were gone again for at least a whole month. Then, it just hit me, these people were considered to be the scums of society whereas all I can see were a husband that never stopped thinking about the pain he must have caused to his wife; a father struggling to explain to his daughter that he had to go after the 30 minutes was up when she was crying as the officers were trying to take her away from her dad; and my best friend crazily hitting and shouting into the telephone after 30 minutes was over, barely comprehending the lost time, it was almost seeing the feeling of loss reincarnate as the looks on his and her eyes as he was telling her that everything was going to be okay while she is being apprehended back into the cell, her eyes never stop searching for him through the distance, going red from crying. I never expect what value a little timespan of 30 minutes can have on a person. The 30 minutes that they can spend what little time to fill their loved ones with daily life anecdotes to reassure that he was always there for her, waiting for her to come home to him for even a second longer than what the timer allows. The 30 minutes that entails surely that when it was over, their loved ones were to be taken away from them again and again after every month. I’ve always known that the concept of a home is different for each of us, but for them, that was their home.
For the other rooms, I can hear the policewoman talking so dearly to her husband through the glass, just recounting the things she did through the month, how she missed him, how he missed her as well. For the family of four I saw that the little girl was on the other side of the glass with her dad, playing with him, not having a clue what was going on. He, a convicted criminal, seemed nothing less but a concerning dad tearing up while asking how his little girl was doing in 1st grade and playing toys with her. He was failing to fight back the tears holding her in his embrace, knowing all
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PERSPECTIVE
Written by: Marc Dinh Designed by: Mel Dan was waiting to get his final baggage at Noi Bai airport. It was the first time he came back to his hometown after two years studying in Australia. Waiting for his luggage, his left hand swirled fiercely on his nose bridge while he wearily turned his neck back and forth. As his head was swaying, his eyes caught Ma and Pa outside of the exit gate, and unlike them, who were patiently waiting for him, Dan would trade anything to get out immediately to meet them.
lifelessly waved around while genuinely smiled towards his dearests. ‘How was the flight, darling?’ Ma asked. ‘It was alright Ma. Nice to see you guys again.’ Dan replied. There were words seemingly wanted to get out, but he restrained and strolled along with his parents while holding the belated duffle bag. The reunited family then got on to the car, with the journey back home was seemingly shortened by the chat between Dan and his parents. Soon, a large silhouette arrayed in red and ivory reflected on the side of Dan’s window, revealing the place that he grew up with.
‘God, when will the damn bag arrive?’ He mumbled begrudgingly to himself. And like a charming spell, moments later, the black duffle bag of his then steadily ambled on the conveyor belt, relieving the frowned face of Dan as he picked it up and put on the trolley. His parents finally recognized the half blondehaired son of theirs, as Dan, in his pajamas,
Helping Dan loading the luggage into the house, Pa took a look at Dan, who was busy with the phone. ‘Tomorrow morning, your mom and I are going to bike around Ho Guom. Do you want to join?’ Pa said to Dan. ‘Oh. yeah sure, Pa.’ Dan replied hastily. ‘Ok son, I will call you in the morning. Now get some rest, you must be tired.’ Ma, said with a smile full of contentment. The quiet night began to be intruded by the echoes of the bird chirpings on the trees, along with the crowing of the chickens in Dan’s nearby neighborhood. Dan had already awakened by the time Pa knocked on his door, and both came down to take the bikes as Ma began to pedal. Like any other bike trip before,
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Dan always led his parents, but something was different that day. He did not know whether because of the lashing field of trees of Phan Dinh Phung Street, or the clear and reflective road ahead of him. Dan just felt different. He felt close, as if everything surrounded him had formed a tight hug, holding him from the worries that he had always wanted to say to his parents when he returned. Finally, the family arrived at the coffee shop, a tight-knitted and crowded, yet personal place where seemingly everything could be confided. His parents sat comfortably onto the blue plastic chairs, while Dan struggling to pull down his big frame onto the wooden stool next to them.
‘Nothing much, I’m still doing the chores, Beanie, your sister-in-law and your brother are also doing fine-’
‘Two iced coffee and a coffee yogurt! -
Ma answered, putting the already half-filled yogurt onto the tray. Pa began to pick up the pink lighter he and Dan bought during a stop at a convenience store, turned its gear and the fire began to burn the brand new Marlboro cigarette on his mouth.
- Oh and for the yogurt, don’t put much coffee in it, yeah?’ Pa yelled out the order to the young server, who nodded his head. Dan’s mom was never a coffee lover. She believed in the effectiveness of it, and asked nothing more than a sounding sleep. Pa, on the other hand, loved the bittersweet taste of that creamy brown drink, and he was fine with Dan not loving alcohol, knowing that his son at least enjoyed coffee as much as he was. Pa began to sip down the icy and rich texture of the coffee, with Dan began to light up his cigarettes he brought in Sydney.
‘Damn, I burned the wrong side of the cigarette.’ His annoyed face amused Dan. ‘- Grandpa came here to stay for a while because uncle’s house is loud. The construction is still going on right now there’ Ma continued, her expression unbothered towards Pa.
‘Smoking again. It’s bad for your health, son.’ Ma lamented.
‘How are things right now there son? How are the scores?’
‘We are having coffees together, and a cup of coffee fits well with a cigarette. Let him smoke.’ Pa intervened.
Ma asked hurriedly, as if she just reminded herself that Dan had lived in Sydney for almost 2 years now.
Ma reluctantly put down her hands onto Dan’s lap, still very dearly, as Dan fixed his eyes upon them. All the while, the smoke from the cigarettes began to glide over other customers.
‘Uhm’. Dan paused. His hand swirled the cigarette onto his mouth, inhaled a long shot of smoke. The long drift of the smoke seemingly prevented what Dan wanted to express.
‘How’s everything at home? Ma.’ Dan curiously asked.
‘It was still all right. Scores are… alright as well. But-’
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‘- Ma, what if, now what if, hear me out, if I want to change my course?’ Ma startled. Her head turned to look at Dan, bewildered, but calmed herself as the icy yogurt cup began to melt. ‘Why would you think that? You have only two more years before you graduate? Why would you think of such a thing? Dan’s scrupled face began to show. This was, to Dan, the reason why he wanted to tell his parents about his decision, but could not bear to do it. During his time at university in Australia, he had never felt truly happy. He knew the course was not meant for him, he had no real friends there, and he was failing at Sydney. He was stuck. And he knew telling this to his family would mean that he was failing them as well. Pa, not saying a word since, began to squish the cigarette butt onto the ashtray, putting aside the newspaper he got.
eyes fixed at the broken down Dan. They had never seen their son like this before. ‘I thought you were happy there? You didn’t tell me anything when we called you?’ Ma sighed and looked at Dan, she touched her cheeks, her eyes seemed watery.
‘Then what would you want to do?’ he asked Dan. ‘I…I don’t know. I just want to get out. I thought the course would fit me, but…’
‘I have always wanted to tell you guys. I just don’t know how. I thought I gotta man up and say I’m okay in order for you to not get worried about me’.
Dan’s voice trembled, his eyes looking downwards, as if he was being sentenced to a heinous crime, which in Vietnam, it was. Trying to abandon university would be as if you were the gangbangers hanging out across the street, with no purposes for the future. He feared the outcome, but to him, this was the closest his family had ever got. A simple conversation that was full of vulnerability.
Dan expressed himself, his hand tapped gently onto the cigarette, after inhaling a smoke, seemingly to take courage. ‘We are always worried about you son, but that’s us. We are your parents, and from the moment you were born, we were worried about you. It was our gut feelings. And we will hear everything that you wanna say to us. No matter what’.
‘I have anxiety for some time now.’ Dan said. ‘I came to doctors for prescriptions, but still… it doesn’t help. Every time I ride the train back to my apartment, I just want everything to be over. I’m falling behind and no one seems to notice or even care.’
Ma gave out a long speech, her hands shakingly held Dan’s.
The words seemingly pierced Ma and Pa, whose
Dan suddenly felt a sea of warmth from his
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mother, who he had always thought to be a person by the book. She was, to him, a figure that never wanted to hear excuses, especially in study, as she was, and similarly to Pa, a very well educated person who worked very hard to get to what she now got.
‘If you want to change your course, your mom and I will always be by your side. You will have to think carefully this time. But know that we will be here and get through it with you.’ Pa added. Ma was silent at first, but finally, she spoke out.
‘Well, as I said, I don’t want you to get worried. But…it feels better now to have someone that I can talk to about this. Especially towards you guys.’
‘Ok.’ Just one word came out of Ma’s tiny lips frame. Dan, however, knew that word was the immense support she would give to him. He knew it, as he sure Ma would always be talked about behind her back, saying how her son dropped out of university. But she took all courage to say that word to him. It was enough to make him happy.
Pa looked at Ma and cleared his throat, his muttered tone became clearer. ‘You remember I talked about how grateful I was to your mother in Japan?’ Pa continued. ‘As I said, I have never been a person who expresses a lot of emotions towards people. Especially sometimes to your Ma even if I wanted to. But she was the person who endured with me during my hard times teaching in Hanoi University of Science and Tech. During the time when I had no money. That’s what family is for. To stand beside each other.’
As the conversation ended and the family began to check out and ride back, he now knew that his family was not what he thought. They were the stoics who were careful in their expressions, but nevertheless, affectionate to him when he was at his lowest. His face loosened in relief, yarning out a breathful sigh and smile that was of joy, as he biked down the evergreen trees of Phan Dinh Phung street along with his parents. Dan then pedaled through a shiny but flickered light, where he came to realize that he could have hundreds, or even thousands of favorite places in the world, but his place of comfort was right here, in Hanoi with his family, a place that he once would give his life to get out.
Pa turned his head at Ma, looking dearly at Ma’s wrinkled eyes before smiled at Dan. Dan remembered the story Pa just said, but deep inside, he thought that showing this side of him would make him look weak. Especially when he had almost to none of the incredible experience of overseas study his peers had had, something he yearned for.
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contents 6
22
EDITOR’S LETTER
SHORT STORY
The Home Issue
Home in me
8
24
COVER STORY
SHORT STORY
Nhà
Salmon
10
27
INSIDER'S STORY
PERSPECTIVE
Football
Home in 30'
15
32
INSIDER'S STORY
PERSPECTIVE
We all need a place to hide
Eureka!
18
PERSPECTIVE Will they leave?
credit PROJECT LEADER
CREATIVE DIRECTOR
Nguyễn Thảo My
Trương Quỳnh Trang
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
DESIGNERS
Phí Dương Hoàng
Nguyễn Phương Anh Phan Thảo Linh
WRITERS
Nhữ Hương Trà
Phí Dương Hoàng
Trương Quỳnh Trang
Trần Hà Linh
Nguyễn Thu Anh
Trịnh Trường Giang
Nguyễn Công Minh Quang
Nguyễn Hà Lê
Trần Hà Linh
Đinh Quang Minh Đỗ Thu Trang
Current Media is a free, student-run publication for the RMIT Hanoi community. Please note that the views expressed in these pages are the personal views of the writers, and do not necessarily reflect the views of RMIT management.
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