SUMMERS WITH DZUNG

by Thi Thu Hoa Le

My cousin, Dzung, is three years older than me; she is like the sister that I never had. We grew up together and as early as I could remember she was there with me. We used to live together as one big family, her family, mine , my dad’s  younger brother and his youngest sister for a few years on the first floor of an old two storey town house in Hanoi. The room that we all shared was rather old, dark but large and roomy in my memory. We moved out of our shared home together when the lease expired. I was about three years old then, we moved in with my mother’s family  in the old quarter of Hanoi near Hoan Kiem Lake, and Dzung’s family moved to a residential compound not too far away from the central Hanoi. I don’t remember much about our young days together except we used to share a doll  and played with it so much that eventually the doll had no hair left and was left with no clothes on. We still have a good laugh about that poor doll,  whenever we see each other now, almost 40 years later.

Dzung and I spent a lot of time together while we were in our primary and secondary school years. We  went to the same secondary school for a couple of years before she moved on to  high school. I spent most of my summer holidays which was usually from late May to the end of August at her house and it only stopped when Dzung started high school. I used to follow Dzung everywhere in the afternoon after we had finished our math, reading, writing, music and drawing. We loved to play with other kids from the same neighbourhood where Dzung and her family lived. We skipped and played hopscotch, but what we most enjoyed was trying to catch the bright red dragonflies which danced through the air beautifully and coloured butterflies that fluttered like leaves in the wind. There was a big lake right in front of Dzung’s home where  we loved to play; there were plenty of dragonflies and butterflies around all the time especially after the rain. They were so fast and we hardly caught any, but we didn’t care; we were free from study and enjoying our break together. We loved the intense summer heat at its peak around noon. We loved the breeze in the afternoon when the sun was softer and we were allowed to be out and playing with the neighbours’ kids. We loved the rain, the storms, the smell of grass after the rain but mostly the freedom which was our delight during that time in our lives. I can still feel the excitement and happiness of those summer holidays.

The residential compound where my cousin and her family later lived, was typical government housing for its officers in early 80’s in Vietnam. The residential compound strangely located in a mixed area of agricultural land and residential homes , and just a ten or fifteen minute walk from the busy streets of central Hanoi. Every time we visited Dzung’s, we had to go down a narrow dirt path with tall bamboo bushes on one side and bed after bed full of morning glory vegetables on the other side. The residents in the compound shared the showers and bathrooms; there were about twenty young families with children living there. Most of them were employees of the Hanoi pharmacy college where Dzung’s mother worked as an accountant. Everyone that lived in the compound seemed very close and enjoyed their close knit community.

Dzung acted like my big sister. She bossed me around a lot, but also was the person who first taught me many things: she taught me how to draw; how to brush my teeth properly and how to wash clothes by hand. Every summer was a new and exciting adventure to me. I still remember my first lesson from Dzung about how our body first reacted when we cut ourselves and how our body healed itself from cuts and injuries. I was so impressed with her explanation of how thousands and thousands of soldier cells would try to get to the cut as quick as they could and protect our body, standing next to each other to stop the bleeding  then heal the cut. Dzung once also attempted to teach me how to swim after we had walked for kilometers in the hot sun to get to the swimming pool. We spent nearly the whole day there, but I could not even float by the end of that swimming lesson with Dzung. After that I was so ill with a high temperature, sore throat and a stomach ache which lasted for weeks; I became rather reluctant to enter the water after that day and still am.

Dzung enjoyed teaching me new things and found it quite amusing when my answers didn’t relate to questions she asked me. We enjoyed our time together but we fought a lot, too. Dzung often told me off when she found me playing with her books, her sheet music and her drawings, but  I could not keep away from her books. That was when I first discovered books about the Renaissance era covering arts, paintings, buildings and Michelangelo’s famous sculpture David; Leonardo da Vinci’s Last Supper; Veronese’s The Wedding at Cana. I spent weeks and weeks going through the books and fell in love with the voluptuous Sleeping Venus of Giorgione, got lost in a totally different  world when I read the story about young Michelangelo who went to the  local morgue to conduct illegal autopsies on corpses to learn about the human anatomy, focusing on thigh and arm muscles in the process of creating the David sculpture. I admired Michelangelo’s commitment spending so many years of his life to complete and perfect his famous Creation of Adam on the Sistine Chapel ceiling in Rome. I still remember the smell of musty old books at Dzung’s home. Those old book smell gifted me an amazing gateway into the world of arts and culture that I would have never known existed unless I spent that time with my cousin in our summer holidays together.

Dzung’s mother and father laid down some strict study rules for us in the summer holidays. I was not sure that those rules only applied to us when I was visiting or that they were there for Dzung in general, however every day we had to each solve at least 10 math’s solutions which I found extremely confusing and difficult. We also had to do a writing exercise of at least one page, and the tasks increased in intensity each year as we graduated through our school lives. On top of that, we had to learn music and art. We were expected to finish three bowls of rice, mixed with meat and vegetables for dinner each day  which was a big meal even for an adult, then  finish off with a banana. Dzung’s mother insisted that we would be smarter and stronger if we finished the whole three bowls of rice. I always tried my best but only managed to finish one bowl of rice and the banana. My mother could never work out why I stopped eating bananas altogether after the very first summer I spent at Dzung’s house when I was about seven or eight years old.

Occasionally Dzung and I spent sometime of our summer holiday in the countryside, where Aunty Hai, my dad and Dzung’s dad’s eldest sister lived. The village is about forty kilometers south of Hanoi. These days it only takes thirty minutes or so to get there, but then it usually took us a good couple of hours on the crowded bus; people were even sitting on the bus floor along with vegetables, chickens and ducks.  The combination of heat, dust, sweat and a rusty old bus stayed with me for days after each trip and I often promised  myself not to follow Dzung back to Aunty Hai’s village any more, then totally forgot about it until the next trip.  Aunty Hai’s son was the one who usually accompanied us on those trips; he seemed to be quite comfortable while Dzung and I were often exhausted when we got to the countryside. Aunty Hai’s beautiful village was situated right next to Nhue river and surrounded by massive rice fields. We used to love the walk along Nhue river ’s levee bank from the bus stop to her house and soaked up beautiful fresh air and views of the countryside.

Dzung developed a special connection with countryside and especially Aunty Hai’s village. This passion is what inspired her to paint and preserve the memories of village life.  She went back there many times to paint while she was studying at the National Arts College and after she became a full time artist.

These days I still think about those summer holidays with Dzung,  her neighbours, friends and our trips back to Aunty Hai’s village;  we still laugh about the doll that we  played with and its steady deterioration over the years.

Dzung still lives in the same residence with her husband and children, the same place  her family moved into forty years ago. I have visited her a few times since she got married and although the house is not the same anymore as Dzung’s family have renovated  throughout the years, it still brings back so many warm memories every time I visit. The old living compound has been remodeled and built into a town house; Dzung and her husband have made it into their studio. Dzung’s husband Thanh is also an artist, while her eldest son, Thuan, is studying at the National Creative Arts College and following in his mother‘s and father‘s footsteps. The house is now filled with colourful paintings, it is like their own family art gallery. I love Dzung’s paintings because they transport me back to a time in my childhood that I will never forget. I will always love Vietnam, but what I really treasure were those summers with my cousin Dzung.

ARTISTIC STATEMENT

“Summer with Dzung ” is a short story memoir about my childhood summers with my cousin Dzung. Dzung is the main character in this narrative who I had very close relationship with when we were young. As we grew up,  our lives travelled to different paths, however we still keep in contact and feel the connection until these days because of the experiences we shared in those summers together. I hope the readers can join me and share those colourful summer moments , and feel the happiness  my cousin and I experienced.

While I took our class’s suggestions at the workshop about telling my story from third party’s voice, nevertheless I decided to tell the story from my own voice which I hope enabled the reader to build a connection and gain a more personal perspective about my story.