Ho Chi Mihn City, formerly Saigon, shares Hanoi's endless stream of loud, confusing motorbike traffic, but has many more charms. Streets are wider, trees and parks abound and even the scammers seem more tame. The frenetic, chaotic traffic from the Northern capital remains unchanged in the Southern city.
When I arrive, nearly all the hostels are full and I can't find where Amit, Louise, and Elaine are staying. Thus, I quickly grab a private room -- spacious although on the sixth floor of a narrow walkup building above a tailor. I found this hostel after the owner sprinted up to me on the street, certainly noticing my sweat-filled brow and look of exhaustion, and insisted, "you stay with me!" Typically I do not go for these solicitations but I only had a limited time in Ho Chi Minh. There are oddly two beds in my room, each of which is compressed in the center due to wear, and the sheets are bedecked with teddy bears and flowers. One would think that owning a tailor shop below would grant thew owners accessing to finer bed fabrics, such as those with warthogs or lemurs, but I guess times were tough this year.
I immediately head to the War Remnants Museum which is like Hanoi's Prison Museum in its overwhelming biased, propagandist feel, yet about 5,000 times more horrific. The first floor is a cake walk, depicting all the countries around the world that protesting the war, illuminating some of the key demonstrations, and showing notable war planes and tanks. Ironically, the museum gets considerably more hellish as one ascends. The next exhibits are all the weapons that Americans used in the war -- grenade, rocket launchers, bazookas, automatic firearms, plan artillery. The weapons are paired with quotes from high-ranking American officers calling for the destruction of Vietnam and all its inhabitants. Move along on the second floor to an exhibit highlighting particularly catastrophic events, such as when American soldiers and planes wiped out entire towns of mostly innocent children, elderly, and pregnant women. The photos are even worse, showing American soldiers laughing as they kill or torture innocent Vietnamese. Other images depict soldiers dragging mutated bodies behind them or their cars like lumber. Another section shows vivid aerial pictures of towns pre- and post-war, illustrating the losses of major temples, hospitals, schools, and nurseries. Head outside and there is an entire wing devoted to American torture methods listing out every one in excruciating detail with photos and memoirs from Vietnamese POWs. Prison cells are recreated and the museum houses actual "tiger cages", a series of small barbed wire covered cages, not much bigger than coffins, which were used to hold anywhere from three to seven live Vietnamese prisoners.
After nearly two months of travel through countries that have experienced relentless colonization, war, genocide, and natural devastation, I do not think I witnessed anything even remotely as horrific as the War Remnant Museum's Agent Orange wing. The display starts by explaining the poison in detail, including its toxicity level and production. The exhibit continues by explaining how much Agent Orange was sprayed during the Vietnam War, which key areas were hit worst, and how many lives were affected. There are hundreds of photos with in-depth stories of the victims, each with different combinations of horrendous amputations, mutations, boils, congenital diseases. There are graphic photos of damaged fetuses. Most of the victims in the photos have been exposed to such high toxicity levels that they do not even look human. And these photos are not from the 1960s and 1970s. They are modern. From the past 5 years. Showing the reverberating ripple effects of Agent Orange and the Vietnam War even decades later. Next to each photo are heartwrenching stories about how these victims attempt to function in modern society despite their handicaps and how they cling to the fabric of life -- writing with their toes, communicating through blinking. There are letters to Obama, Bush, Dow Chemical, and Monsanto asking for aid for victims' families which have yet to be read or written back.
I implore anyone to visit the Agent Orange exhibit and not leave nauseous, crying, or both. It's even worse when I see Agent Orange victims on the street asking for money, bringing an already graphic exhibit into an even more vivid prism of reality.
The War Museum does little to describe the atrocities committed by the Viet Cong, but it doesn't need to. Even in its extreme bias, the whole center shines a bright light on the calamities of war that are objectively wrong, no matter what side one is on. Although we don't talk about it any more in the states, and have turned our attention to other regions, the Vietnam War has left its namesake country with a current of side effects that continues to grow for decades to come. With poor health care, contraception, and sanitation throughout the country, the implications of Agent Orange only continue to grow for the people of Vietnam. Meaning the disturbing wing of the museum is not such much of a portrait of a dark past but actually a horrific, bleak image of modern reality. And as an American, I leave the exhibit haunted, sick, and distraught.
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