Hundreds of thousands of people in Vietnam continue to be affected by the long-term impact of Agent Orange. In 2010, Thuy Vu of CBS5 News traveled to Vietnam, her homeland, to investigate this tragic legacy of a war that ended nearly four decades ago.
[Editor’s Note: The following is a guest post by Tramy Evelyn Huyn. Tramy is a graduate of Seton Hall University who organized a discussion amongst members of the New York City Vietnamese Meetup Group and Ambassador Ngo Quang Xuan.]
For about a month, I worked on organizing a discussion on Agent Orange that occurred on the 5th of November 2011. Little did I know how much I would learn from this discussion and the people who attended.
We had the pleasure of having Ambassador Ngo Quang Xuan as our guest speaker along with his daughter, Lan. Ambassador Xuan and his daughter are passionate about helping those that have been affected by Agent Orange and discussed the U.S.-Vietnam Dialogue Group Plan of Action. I was glad to hear that there is a dialogue between the U.S. and Vietnam and a well thought out plan developed by both sides.
I think about Agent Orange and at times it seems so big, where does one start? I am glad the Dialogue Group has been working on a Plan of Action and the attendees were great in terms of contributing their experiences related to Agent Orange.
One attendee shared that he is sponsoring a child in Vietnam who is living with the affects of Agent Orange. He receives updates on how the child is doing. I was as moved by his story as everyone who attended the discussion.
Another person recounted visiting an orphanage for children living with the effects of Agent Orange. The more people participated in the discussion, the more I felt the love in the room for those that are living with the effects of Agent Orange.
I had no idea how much generosity; kindness and love would be expressed for the children, parents and families living with the effects of Agent Orange. I now have a deep desire to build public awareness of Agent Orange and the people living with its effects. It is the least I can do.
We cannot underestimate how much love others will give to those living with the effects of Agent Orange. It is love that will help us clean up Agent Orange.
The “Leaves Keep Falling,” a short film by Vietnam Reporting Project fellows Ed Kashi and Catherine Karnow, has been selected as one of twelve short films featured in the Media That Matters Film Festival, a premier showcase for short films on the most important topics of the day, local and global. The film received the Human Rights Award at the festival.
“The Leaves Keep Falling” is an intimate portrait of two Vietnamese families whose children’s disabilities are believed to be associated with their parents’ exposure to Agent Orange. Watch below:
Agent Orange super champion Charles Bailey has been awarded the highest honor given by the government of Vietnam to non-citizens, the Vietnam Order of Friendship medal.
The citation from the President of Vietnam reads: “(presented) to Dr. Charles R. Bailey, an American citizen, Director, Program on Agent Orange/Dioxin, Ford Foundation, who has made many contributions to cooperation in Vietnam’s education, training and humanitarian areas, contributing to strengthening the friendly cooperative relations between the Socialist Republic of Vietnam and international organizations.”
Bailey has done more than perhaps any other individual to address the harmful legacy of Agent Orange in Vietnam. Beginning in 1997, Bailey spent more than a decade in Hanoi as director of the Ford Foundation’s Vietnam office. During this time he learned a great deal about this issue and funded scientific research to determine the extent of the problem. In 2007 Bailey helped establish Ford’s Special Initiative on Agent Orange/dioxin, a philanthropic initiative to transform dioxin-contaminated “hotspots” into clean, safe environments and to serve families facing related health issues. In May 2011 Bailey joined the Aspen Institute as director of the Agent Orange in Vietnam Program.
Happy Veterans Day! Hundreds of thousands of U.S. veterans know well the continuing impact of Agent Orange. They were exposed during their service in Vietnam and many of these brave men and women — and their families — continue to suffer from conditions associated with Agent Orange. It’s tragic, but there is help.
There are many places veterans can turn for information on Agent Orange. The U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs has information on conditions presumed to be associated with exposure to Agent Orange, as well as general information on Agent Orange benefits and compensation online. Agent Orange Record has some good background information on the impact of Agent Orange on U.S. veterans, and Vietnam Veterans of America has put together an excellent resource for veterans seeking to understand their options for benefits and compensation.
As many veterans will attest, knowing what benefits you might qualify for and actually receiving those benefits are two different things. Fortunately there are several veterans’ service organizations that can help. Vietnam Veterans of America, Veterans of Foreign Wars, American Legion and Disabled American Veterans all provide services free of charge to help veterans navigate the sometimes complicated process of applying for benefits and compensation for conditions associated with Agent Orange.
Finally, there are many support groups and organizations veterans and their families can turn to, and there are a few communities specifically for those who are dealing with problems associated with Agent Orange. These include Agent Orange Legacy, Children of Vietnam Veterans, Daughters of Vietnam Veterans and Faces of Agent Orange.
The legacy of Agent Orange in both the United States and Vietnam is grim, but together we can make a difference. Thank you to all who served.
Thank you to everyone who came out for the Agent Orange and Addressing the Legacy of the War in Vietnam Conference at the University of California, Berkeley. It was a dynamic gathering of 154 Vietnamese-Americans, college students, Rotarians and advocates – all working together to brainstorm solutions to the long-term impact of Agent Orange in Vietnam.
Participants learned about Agent Orange from a range of perspectives, including filmmakers, journalists, scientists, policy makers and NGO leaders. Dr. Nguyen Thi Ngoc Phuong explained how dioxin continues to impact the land and people of Vietnam. Japanese filmmaker Masako Sakata showed her moving documentary Agent Orange: A Personal Requiem and joined a discussion on social impact through film. There was even a panel featuring two U.C. Berkeley alumni from different generations who drew connections between the anti-war movement of the 1960s and 70s and the Occupy Wall Street movement.
In her closing remarks, Susan Berresford, Convener of the U.S.-Vietnam Dialogue Group on Agent Orange/dioxin said it was the largest conference on Agent Orange to date. Conference organizer Susan Lieu brought it home with an energizing chant: “Make,” the left side of the room shouted, “Agent Orange” came the center, “History!”
[Editor's Note: Heather Bowser is an American woman affected by her father's exposure to Agent Orange during the war in Vietnam. She recently traveled to Vietnam and discovered a world she never knew—Vietnamese children who share her same birth defects and disabilities. In this moving and deeply personal narrative, Heather weaves together her story with the plight of Vietnamese children affected by Agent Orange. This post originally appeared on Heather's blog. It is also part of the limited series "Why I care about Agent Orange."]
I woke up this morning thinking of those in Vietnam again. This occurrence has been common since I have come home from my trip to Vietnam last October. This morning, it was one of the young girls I met at Tu Du hospital on my mind. When I first saw her that October afternoon, she had a smile a mile wide. Her eyes were full of light. She was missing one leg below the knee. I believe her other leg was malformed. She crossed it behind her while she walked on her knees along the hospital hallway floor. She seemed to be friends with a little boy who had a malformed face. She looked up at me smiling. I waved at her. She waved at me, and I took her picture. I was immediately, emotionally connected to her. It’s one of my favorite shots of my afternoon there. I refer to it often when I feel lonely in this fight for the acknowledgment of all children affected by Agent Orange.
Tu Du Hospital is a large women’s hospital in Ho Chi Minh City. In this bustling hospital is a floor devoted to caring for the Vietnamese child victims of Agent Orange. Most children here are Orphans but some children have parents that come and visit them. The parents cannot afford to care for them at home. Children live on this hospital floor, A.K.A. Peace Village, for their childhood. The day I was there, there were children here as young as a few months to as old as twenty six years old. When we arrived on the floor, we were asked to don white lab jackets and to cover our shoes with disposable booties. I was very excited to visit here because I knew I would see children like me.
Looking at the children in the hospital, there were a variety of physical deformities. What struck me was example after example of children with various limb loss due to birth defects. It seemed on this floor having both hands, all fingers, both arms, legs, feet and toes would place one in the minority. In the lower extremities, it was mostly below the knee like my own birth defect. Most of them had a part of their tibia which is the small bone in the back of the leg. It does not extend all the way for a full leg swing. I too have only a small “nub” of my tibia. These children’s limbs looked just like my own “Little Leg.” I accepted this easily when I saw the children on a hospital wing in Old Saigon, but now that I am home it cuts me like a knife.
My father told me that when he first saw me when I was born, my left leg was longer than it is now. He said it looked different when he saw me the second time after my birth. My mother didn’t see me directly after my birth because they sedated her with strong medication. He had questioned if they had done surgery to remove part of my tibia. The doctors would not confirm they had done anything to me. When I was young, I was angry that there was a chance that doctors violated me and took more of my body away without permission, but now as an adult I understand why they did, if they did.
The tibia does not extend all the way so there is not a complete knee swing. A below the knee prosthetic will not work if there is a long tibia. An above the knee prosthesis will not work either because there is no room for the tibia. If doctors removed a long tibia from my leg they did me a favor. I am able to wear an above the knee prosthesis and still have my deformed knee. The children in Vietnam without surgery will have extreme difficulty walking with prosthetics. The chances they will have corrective surgery are low. Most likely, they will be wheelchair bound their whole life. This saddens me. I know the freedom I have is because of proper prosthetic care.
My parents were told that when I was 18 and done growing I should have a procedure to remove my malformed knee. The doctors thought I could have a better cosmetically fitting and more comfortable prosthetic. My parents left it up to me to decide. I decided not to have the surgery, mostly because I was uneducated as to how it would actually help me plus I was eighteen. At the edge of starting adulthood there was no time for a recovery period. Thankfully, today, I am able to be mobile despite my malformed knee. As for the children in Tu Du Hospital, they have many challenges.
I dream about bringing proper, current, prosthetic care to all the children without lower limbs who live in Tu Du, as well as in the country side. Care that could help children learn to be stable on their feet, walk, and then run. With proper care they could run away from being confined to a wheelchair, away from crawling on the floor, and away from yearning for the full life they deserve. I know the empowerment that comes from proper prosthetic care. There is not a day that goes by I do not depend on my artificial leg to enable me the freedom many take for granted. When my leg is not working correctly I am basically down for the count.
During my afternoon at Tu Du Hospital, I met Hoan, 24, and Loi, 26, both double lower extremity victims of limb loss. They are both young adults who have grown up in the hospital. Hoan wears two prosthetic limbs. Loi chooses not to wear artificial legs. Hoan’s prosthetics are very primitive. She is wearing the same style artificial leg that I wore as a young child. When I was little, my prosthesis was cast out of fiberglass. It had a single hinge knee with a foam foot and a strap that wrapped around my waist. It was cumbersome, painful and limiting.
Hoan is a very impressive young woman who has traveled to the United States to testify to the U.S. Congress on behalf of herself and her peers living with the devastation of our government’s choice to spray 20 million gallons of Agent Orange in Southeast Asia. She is intelligent and determined to succeed in her university studies. She speaks English and has shown by traveling to the U.S. and speaking out for the offspring victims of Agent Orange that she wants the world to know what has happened to the children of Vietnam.
When I think about Hoan as a young, Vietnamese woman, navigating the streets of Ho Chi Minh City it makes me cringe. The streets in Vietnam require getting on and off motorbikes, walking around on uneven, crowded sidewalks, and navigating the extremely busy intersections. She told me it is very difficult for her to get around and that she has fallen several times. She says it’s very hard to get up when she falls. I empathize with her. Imagine for a minute that you had two door hinges for knees. Wildly unpredictable stability is what she must contend with as well as the emotional difficulty that comes with having a disability in her culture.
Watching the younger children on the hospital floor walk on their knees up and down the hallway made me think back to my own childhood. When I didn’t have my leg on, I would walk in the same manner. In my mind, I noted how dirty their knees were because often times that’s how mine looked before getting in the bathtub. Seeing them move around this way shot me back to a time that I myself was in the hospital having tests on my kidneys.
It was the middle of the night, and I had gotten up out of bed to go to the restroom. I crawled to the restroom because my leg was out of reach and it would be faster to get there without it. On my way back, a nurse had come into my room to check on me. She saw me crawling on my knees out of the bathroom.
“Get off that floor now!” She yelled.
She startled me. I didn’t know she was there.
I stood up on my good leg and hopped towards my hospital bed.
Pissed off, I yelled.”I don’t have a leg!
She was as startled as me, and stammered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
I was thinking “Well maybe you should read your charts, lady!” I was around 12 years old.
It was surreal the way I felt jealous of the children on this hospital wing in Ho Chi Minh City. Even with all their challenges, the children at least had each other. They appeared, for the most part, to be happy. They didn’t have to explain over and over what has happened to their bodies. There were others who looked physically similar to them. They didn’t feel like an outcast to their peers. All these things I did not have growing up. I was overwhelmed with emotion watching the younger children interact with each other. When God gave me the greatest gift, my gift came in the form of a twelve year old Vietnamese boy.
I had noticed his picture while we were in a meeting with the Doctors of the floor. His left hand looked very similar to mine. Little did I know, his limb loss looked identical to mine. When I saw him, he was a smiling little boy in a wheelchair. He was missing his leg just like me and was pulling himself along in his wheelchair with his good leg. His fellow peers were helping him along. His hand looked almost identical to mine. We were both missing the same fingers. Our birth defects were so similar. It was actually comforting. I asked through our translator if I could take his picture. He agreed. I showed him my left hand and he showed me his.
I asked Hoan if this little boy wore an artificial leg. She translated to him and he nodded yes. I noticed the boy’s friend, who had lobster claw shaped hands and no legs, scurry off quickly. Moments later, he returned, this time holding his friend’s artificial leg for me to see! I laughed at the sight of this little boy’s enthusiasm to show me his friend’s leg.
A part of me healed in that moment. A wound that was left over from early childhood was relieved. Acceptance, companionship, and friendship surrounded me. I let my twelve year old self feel those very things the children gave easily to each other on this warm fall day in Vietnam. I was granted peace.
Today I understand deeply that I not only share birth defects with my American peers, but together we belong to a group of children who live on a hospital ward in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. Agent Orange is a humankind problem, not a single group’s issue. Of course, when I came home, the angrier I became. I am close to forty years old and have turned my challenges into a successful life, but these were young children who have been born with birth defects within the last several years. This has happened because dioxin is still in their environment. My father was a war veteran. He left Vietnam after his tour. These children’s families were just living in their environment when tragedy struck them. There are twenty eight hot spots in Vietnam where dioxin levels are still very high. I have read that there are over 2 million acres in Vietnam where vegetation still does not grow as a result of the use of herbicide. Like myself, my family, my American peers, and their families and others around the world, the Vietnamese innocent children do not deserve to carry the burden of the few who made the decision to spray Agent Orange. When will it stop?
When I came home, I learned more about the twelve year old boy who shared my same birth defects. He was orphaned at the hospital and his parents moved out of the country. No one knows where they are. What a striking difference from my own life in America. His peers are all he has.
Since my trip, I have had the opportunity to meet other American children of male Vietnam vets affected by birth defects of the hands, arms, and fingers. In America, we are fortunate not to be defined by our birth defects unless we allow it. We are victims of the decision to use Agent Orange in Southeast Asia, but we have not allowed our birth defects to define our lives. The children of Vietnam deserve the same.
The Vietnam Reporting Project (VRP) has just released a fantastic resource for those looking to learn more about the continuing impact of Agent Orange in Vietnam – a DVD featuring award-winning news and multimedia content. Among the many moving videos and multimedia available on this DVD are Thuy Vu’s “Vietnam Revisited” and Ed Kashi and Catherine Karnow’s “The Leaves Keep Falling.”
VRP has kindly given us copies of this DVD to distribute to our community so we’re giving away free copies to individuals or groups who come up with a good idea on how they can use it. Are you a college professor looking for ways to put a human face on the legacy of Agent Orange? Are you a Rotarian who wants to spark conversation at your next Rotary Club meeting? Have you been personally affected by Agent Orange and want to host an event to fundraise for Agent Orange relief efforts? Simply let us know your idea and we’ll send you a copy.
We’re accepting ideas through October 28, 2011. The most interesting submissions will be featured on our website, and we may even acknowledge you as an Agent Orange Champion!
[Editor's Note: Natalia Duong is a Vietnamese-American dancer, choreographer and recent graduate of Stanford University. What follows is her story of why she cares about Agent Orange, as expressed through Project Agent Orange, an effort to raise awareness of the impact of Agent Orange through dance and movement. Project Agent Orange is based in New York City and has performed across New York and New Jersey. The world premiere of a new evening length work will take place in May 2012 in New York. Email Natalia at firstname.lastname@example.org. This post is part of the limited series "Why I care about Agent Orange."]
I never crawled when I was learning how to locomote: I sat, I waddled and I danced. From birth, I relied on a kinesthetic awareness to communicate. At age three, I changed the landscape of my surroundings by carving my way through the kitchen in tap shoes. From then on, I developed a keen interest in using movement to engage communities, across borders and generations, particularly when the limits of linguistics were present.
As a first generation Vietnamese American, I grew up with stories of war woven into the air of my household. These stories were the ones that would eventually shape my body’s architecture. These stories would skew the lens through which I saw all war.
After visiting a peace village in Vietnam in 2007 and using song and movement to connect with the members of the community, my curiosity about Agent Orange bloomed. I was simultaneously inspired by the brave stories of individuals living with disabilities and greatly disheartened by the inertia towards making the environmental and social changes needed to support a growing community of people who are affected by Agent Orange. The movement towards healing a community hadn’t yet begun.
Consequently, I began Project Agent Orange in 2011. It is a movement collective that investigates the lingering effects of Agent Orange through the use of movement and dance. Together, we use our performances to bring awareness to the lingering effects of the herbicide while educating a broad range of audiences — from art enthusiasts to social activists — about the environmental and humanitarian concerns associated with chemical warfare. The artistic format of the work provides a forum to discuss the complicated questions with people who might not otherwise know about Agent Orange. Our goal is to connect with people on a somatic level so that individuals not only know about the effects of Agent Orange, but also empathize with the issues at play.
As a choreographer, I am interested in using movement to examine how war is inherited through the body. As dioxin has become concentrated in the groundwater and bloodlines of communities, the number of people being affected by the chemical is increasing rather than decreasing. Children are literally — physically — inheriting a war they never lived; living with an injury they never incurred. Project Agent Orange tells a story about the physical embodiment of the proliferation of war. As such, it is a story that is best told through movement, as it is through the bodies of survivors that trauma due to chemical warfare continues to thrive. Agent Orange is a microcosmic example of a human’s ability to alter life for years beyond any one person’s lifetime.
|Natalia speaks to her interest in solving the legacy of Agent Orange in Vietnam.||Natalia and Project Agent Orange perform a preview of their new evening length work.|
“Other children know how to read but they can’t,” says a young, teary-eyed Vietnamese girl about her two brothers who have been affected by Agent Orange. “They would have to be normal to attend school.”
It is a film that puts a human face on the long-term impact of Agent Orange, revealing a nightmare and an opportunity to help. Heart-wrenching and heart-warming, the film helps viewers understand that this is a humanitarian concern that we can do something about.