Monsoon (24 page)

‘I go look for my buffalo.' The farmer got up and rolled his rain cape. ‘You come to my house.'

Sandy's inclination was not to impose but the girls got to their feet. ‘We would be grateful if your house is not too damaged.'

‘It will be mud. But my wife can cook something.'

‘Anything hot would be wonderful,' said Anna.

They got up and filed out after the farmer who pointed across the soggy paddy. ‘We go that way, near dyke. In middle is all water.'

‘Lead on. At least it's stopped raining.' Sandy suddenly stopped and made the introductions and shook hands with the farmer, who introduced himself as Mr Nguyen.

‘Would you be related to Madame Nguyen who owns a silk shop in Hoi An?' asked Anna.

‘No. Nguyen very common name in my country. Name from emperor dynasty,' he added with some pride.

Holding hands with the girls who tucked their skirts and long pants up as high as they could, Sandy and Anna sloshed behind Farmer Nguyen as he set out across his land. There was a lot of damage but he assured them everything would recover quickly. The land was used to being flooded and water drained away quickly. They reached the road which was knee-deep in water, and the farmer in the lead stopped and pointed.

There was their car, washed off the road into a stand of bamboo but upright and undamaged. Standing next to it was the farmer's water buffalo.

‘Want anything from the car?' asked Sandy. ‘A swimsuit perhaps?'

‘I'm not going near that beast,' said Anna firmly.

The farmer hurried to his animal and, talking calmly to it, nudged its head and the old buffalo trudged behind him, its weighty feet sinking into the soft ground as it waded through the water urged on by Farmer Nguyen. Once the buffalo felt the firmer surface of the road beneath its feet, it stepped along more quickly.

It was still early but other people began to appear on the road, wading through the water to see what damage had been done as well as seeking fresh supplies.

Farmer Nguyen turned off and pointed to where terraced fields had been neatly laid out. His house stood on the high side of the slope. It was a solid structure with a thatched roof but the yards around it were in a sea of water which had obviously flowed through the ground floor. As they got closer they could see his wife and daughter-in-law pushing large brooms to clear the mud from inside.

The family welcomed the girls warmly and after hearing how they'd spent the night, offered them hot tea and a bowl of noodle soup that was warming in a large pot on the stove.

Sandy thanked them profusely as they stood around tucking into the very welcome food. When they'd finished, the girls asked for brooms and rags and offered to help with the clean-up.

The chickens were handed down from the coop in the roof and the pig was released. By mid morning the sun had come out and the countryside looked a lot more welcoming.

‘It's still going to be days before we can use the road though,' said Anna. ‘Where do we go from here? Ask if we can sleep in the vacated chicken coop?'

‘I'm going to walk back down the road. I know there is a small town further inland and I should be able to get some help to pull out the car,' said Sandy.

‘Do you want me to come with you? It's a bit of a hike.'

‘No, you stay here with the girls and the Nguyens. It'll probably take me a couple of hours. I just wish I could buy some food for them from somewhere,' said Sandy.

‘There might be hawkers on foot. People are very enterprising,' said Anna. ‘Anyway, there's plenty of rice here.'

Sandy went back the way they'd come, noticing the water had gone down in the few hours they'd been at the Nguyen's farm. She reached the car and carefully unlocked the driver's door. She was worried about the angle of the car but it was firmly wedged against a wall of muddy soil. She looked at the swimsuits, kites and remnants of their day at the beach and wondered how hard it was going to be to get back to the orphanage, let alone get their flight back to Hanoi.

She trudged along the road feeling hot and uncomfortable in the steamy humidity as the temperature rose when there was a noise behind her. She turned, wondering what kind of vehicle or motor was running. A boat?

A motorbike was pushing through the water over the road, sending out a yellow bow wave. It was a big old bike with wide handle bars and fat heavy tyres and it rode high and easy, making steady progress. Sandy waved madly to attract the rider's attention. It was a hundred metres away when the driver saw her and sped towards her.

For safety she stepped off the road, sinking into the mud, which threw her off balance. As she staggered to her feet, gluey red dirt smeared up to her armpits, the motorbike slowed and stopped. The rider, a man in equally muddied jacket and goggles, stopped, propped the bike, and pulled off his helmet.

Jean-Claude beamed down at her. ‘You're looking particularly elegant this morning.'

Sandy simply stared at him, the realisation taking a moment or two to sink in. ‘How did you get here?'

‘On my bike. Your directions were very good.' He held out his hand. ‘May I help you out of there?'

Sandy suddenly realised how she must look. ‘Yes, please. I must look a mess. I didn't know if you were going to stop and I didn't want to get hit by that wave of water.'

He reached over, grasped her hand and helped her back onto the road. They stood grinning at each other.

‘If I wasn't so filthy I'd hug you,' Sandy said. ‘How did you get here so quickly?'

‘I was only a little way up the coast at a fisheries conference. Lucky, eh? How was your night in the mausoleum?'

‘Actually, not that bad.' She took the towel he pulled from under his seat and tried as best she could to wipe off the mud. ‘A farmer took us to his house this morning. I was walking back to see if I could find someone to pull our car out.'

‘Hop on and I'll take you back to the farmer's place. How far from here is the orphanage?'

‘Inland about an hour's drive. I hope they didn't get hit as badly as we did.'

He kicked over the motor, which had a strong, throaty roar. ‘The typhoon skimmed the coast and headed back out to sea. It was a pretty narrow corridor of damage. You were lucky to find shelter.'

Sandy swung onto the broad seat behind him and grasped his jacket as the bike slewed slightly and took off. It was too noisy to speak, so she nudged him and pointed as the Nguyen's farm came into view. There were more people moving about, on oxen, by horses, pushing bicycles and trying to start a few stalled motor scooters. Life was getting back to normal, but there had been a lot of wind damage.

Anna was stunned to see Sandy walk in with Jean-Claude. ‘If it wasn't for the mud on that black jacket I'd say you were our white knight coming to the rescue,' she joked.

It was decided that Jean-Claude would make two runs with three at a time on the bike back to the orphanage. The orphanage's phone line was out, but Kim had sent word via HOPE to the villagers nearby, who had passed on the news that the girls were all safe. The hire car company was contacted and arrangements made for the car to be retrieved and taken back to Danang for repairs. Jean-Claude had collected their possessions from the car and they gave the kites to the Nguyens for their grandchildren.

The smallest of the girls sat in front of Jean-Claude, another behind him, with Anna at the rear holding onto his jacket. They waved as the bike took off, ploughing along the waterlogged road.

Jean-Claude returned after lunch to collect Sandy, Phuong and Hong.

‘How're things at the orphanage?' asked Sandy.

‘Bit of the main roof is gone, windows broken, the classroom flooded. Nothing money and manpower can't fix.'

‘Oh dear. Money is a problem.'

‘I'm sure there'll be a way.' He smiled. ‘Ready to hit the road?'

Sandy turned to the simple farm couple who'd been so generous and welcoming. She thanked them, but when she proffered money they shook their heads. Sandy knew the money would be welcome and useful. She turned to Jean-Claude. ‘What good people they are.'

He shook Farmer Nguyen's hand and in fluent Vietnamese thanked him profusely.

‘Farmer Nguyen's ancestors are very important. One worked for Emperor Tu Doc,' said Sandy, knowing how highly the old farmer regarded his ancestor's claim to fame.

Jean-Claude gave a slight bow towards the old man. ‘Thank you for being so kind to my friends and the young girls. You have made your ancestors proud.'

As Jean-Claude negotiated the road back to the orphanage with Phuong balanced in front of him and Hon behind, Sandy held tightly to his leather jacket. She wished she could find a way to raise funds to help the orphanage as she knew how stretched HOPE's budget was. Once they headed inland, apart from a few broken trees, scattered palm fronds, rubbish, discarded plastic sheets and damage to flimsy stalls and shops, the impact of the typhoon was less obvious. People were busy repairing and cleaning up and picking up the threads of their lives.

In the village near the orphanage there wasn't the same water build-up so there was little flooding, but the wind had taken its toll. Nevertheless Sandy was still upset to see the damage.

As Jean-Claude pulled up everyone came running and the two girls were welcomed back as heroines returning from a big adventure.

‘I'm sorry we didn't get back for the celebrations,' said Sandy to the staff.

The woman in charge smiled. ‘The girls have coped very well with a difficult situation. I think they have showed great maturity, don't you?'

‘I'll say. They weren't as scared as I was,' said Anna.

‘That's because they understand respect for ancestors.'

‘I know HOPE will try to get some help with repairs as soon as possible,' said Sandy.

‘We will manage. The children have lived in far worse conditions.'

‘I've got a working bee going,' said Anna. ‘What are the plans – once you clean up?' she said, looking at Sandy's mud-caked clothes.

‘Stay and help, I guess. What about you, Jean-Claude? How can we thank you?' began Sandy.

‘It was lucky I was close by. I'm heading off to see some farms and investors before going back to Danang.'

‘Investors?' Sandy's interest was aroused. ‘Do you think they might be willing to make a donation to the orphanage? For repairs?'

Jean-Claude smiled. ‘Come with me and ask them. I'll bring you back this afternoon.'

‘I'll wash and change clothes. Is that all right with you, Anna?'

‘I've plenty to do here. I can't get as excited about shrimp farms as you. Thanks again, Jean-Claude. By the way, whose bike is it?' asked Anna. She knew it was the sort of bike Carlo would adore.

Jean-Claude looked at Sandy. ‘It's mine. A slight indulgence but it has proved useful in getting around in a country where the majority are on two wheels.'

Sandy laughed. She wouldn't have picked the suave Frenchman as a bike fan. ‘Well, we're glad you have it. Can I buy you lunch as a thank you?'

‘Au contraire. I will take you for being so brave. I'll wait for your transformation.'

‘I hope it's not upmarket – best I can do will be a clean dress.' She was suddenly glad she'd thrown a sun-dress in her backpack.

Jean-Claude was familiar with the district, taking detours, weaving through villages until they came to an area outside Danang which was being developed with several multi-storeyed apartments, a huge shoe factory and a shopping complex. He parked outside a building with yet to be occupied shops on the ground floor and offices above. Sandy glanced around at the glass, chrome and mirror fittings trying to imagine the clutter of merchandise typical of Vietnamese shops in these cold and modern surroundings.

‘I'll wait outside while you conduct your business,' said Sandy. But Jean-Claude propelled her forward.

‘No, please, I'd like you to observe and give me feedback on these characters,' he said. ‘They want me to encourage overseas companies to invest with them in a deal for a large shrimp farm and processing plant here. The shrimp will be frozen and exported.'

‘That sounds an expensive investment.'

‘It's been the product of choice for a high return. While small operators have gone bust, these guys see farming on a bigger scale will overcome the problems that family farms run into.'

‘You mean they'll be able to pour expensive chemicals and antibiotics in to treat any disease?' said Sandy.

‘Their plan is to make money,' said Jean-Claude. ‘And they think I can help them make this project happen so they're being very nice to me. This is why I thought they might be inclined to make a donation to your orphanage.'

Sandy nodded. ‘Let me be the judge.'

Jean-Claude gave her a quick nudge as they went into the reception area, which smelled of fresh paint. ‘Money for a worthy cause does good, no matter where it comes from.'

By the time the meeting was over, Sandy was not inclined to want to be in debt to the men Jean-Claude had introduced her to. He had spoken of her work with HOPE and, while they had nodded their heads politely, Sandy could tell philanthropy was not on their agenda. They were among the new breed of Vietnamese businessmen out to make a killing no matter what they left in their wake.

As they walked outside, Jean-Claude said calmly, ‘You're not impressed.'

‘I don't know enough about their plans, but it was obvious to me that on several key points – environmental issues, displacement of family rice farms, the deal they're offering workers – they're inevitably slanted in the factory's favour. What's in it for you?' she asked.

‘Personally? Nothing. It's just part of my job to be supportive of these enterprises and try to guide them towards doing things more equitably and sustainably. My family's business is seafood, but times have changed and some new businesses want quick money with no responsibility. My job is to try to strike a balance.'