Factory Trip

Last Saturday the UC students and a few Hanu UCHANU students took a surprise day-long trip to two different factories. The first factory that we went to was a garment factory called Hanosimex. The second was a Yamaha motorbike production plant. Naturally, we weren’t going to be shown factories that “beat their workers”, as Gerard put it. These factories had made sweatshop labor extraction easier on our tender First Worlder eyes.

The Hanosimex factory tour began with a talk around a large executive table about the achievements of the corporation. Ho Chi Minh’s bust cast its gaze downwards on us as we were told about the profits gained by this factory’s exploitative practices. If he could see what had become of his country, I’m sure his disgust and scorn would be as great as mine every time I think about it. The situation was so ironic that I couldn’t take the spokeswoman seriously. I kept imagining if Bac Ho’s bust came to life and started attacking the bourgeois factory owners and their lackeys. After that we went to the massive production line that took pure cotton and polyester and, through a long and capital-intensive process, spun the cotton into spools of thread. This part was interesting because there were only a few workers in the entire complex. Rather than workers laboring, we only heard the mind-numbingly-loud hum of the machines at work. We saw looms that apparently turned the threat into fabric, but we were unable to see that or the color dying part of the process. Next we went to the labor-intensive part of the process, the sewing room. I was blank-faced the entire time as nothing came as surprise to me. I also didn’t feel any worse than I normally do for these people. The fact that the vulgar Liberal hedonist First Worlder shop-a-holics felt “bad” for the workers angered me. Their lifestyle and existence is only made possible by this process. I’m just disappointed that the workers were friendly to us and waved and smiled, rather than trying to kill us as a slave kills his master.

Later in the day we went to a Yamaha production plant. It was interesting to see the assembly line in person, but again I didn’t learn much. It was interesting, however, to see the difference between a Japanese factory and a domestic factory. Everything was highly modernized and the production line was streamlined and efficient. They claimed that the entire process is synchronized so that the precise amount of needed parts for each bike is made simultaneously.

One of the most distasteful parts of the experience was having to hear the thoughts of the First Worlders that were with me. All of them without a doubt go through each day not even considering the fact that their environmentally-unsustainable standard of living exists, not because of their labor, but because of the stolen labor of Third Worlders. They rarely, if ever, think about how 25,000 children die a day from starvation and preventable diseases and that this situation was caused by the same system that affords them their decadent lifestyle. For them, the trip was like visiting a zoo or a museum- it is detached from their everyday lives. They refuse to see the connection between their parasitic existences as First Worlders and the exploitation and oppression of the majority of humanity in the Third World. As beneficiaries of the capitalist-imperialist system, it is not in their material interest to oppose the system as a whole, even if they outwardly express “sympathy” for the victims of ruthless exploitation. It makes more sense that First Worlders would support the system, regardless of how distasteful it seems at times to them. After all, where would they be without their consumer goods, vulgar media, crude worldviews, and Liberal hedonism? They’ll find out when the JDPEN disburses them throughout the Third World, puts them to work, and watches them very closely.

Sa Pa Trip

Last weekend I went to Sa Pa with a group of UC students. Originally, I hadn’t intended on going because the pictures I had seen on google images weren’t that impressive and because I had heard that it was a tourist trap. Though my second assumption was true, the natural beauty of Sa Pa surpassed all my highest hopes. The town, built by the French colonialists, was reminiscent of a European mountain château town. The older buildings, stone walls, and cobblestone paths were covered in ivy. The small lake in the center of town and the heavy fog set a romantic atmosphere. In all directions, the outlines of spiring mountains wrapped in clouds could be traced. While many Hanu students may feel Sa Pa is too cold, I think during Autumn it is the perfect temperature for me (though during this particular trip I was wearing sandals, shorts, and a t-shirt and was sick the whole time, so the cold wasn’t very pleasant). The café sua da in Sa Pa had a distinctly different taste than in Hanoi. I’m not sure which I prefer, but it was nice to experience the variety. The tourist industry has totally corrupted and commodified the local culture. I had no illusions when dealing with that reality. I was sad to see peddlers masquerading around in ethnic minority clothes selling their “authentic” bags to tourists. But while I was sad to see yet another tragic effect of global capitalism-imperialism, I was not surprised. Like what I wrote earlier, I wouldn’t have expected anything else. The major reason why I could never live in this seemingly perfect town was the people- both the locals and the tourists. Nothing is genuine or honest in a tourist town.

The trip to Heaven’s Gate was spectacular. The view of the town and the surrounding areas was majestic. Besides the leeches that left bleeding holes in my and a few other UC students’ feet, the climb to Heaven’s Gate was very fun and we took a lot of pictures. The next day we trekked for 5-7 hours to Ban Ho village. This village was not the Hmong ethnicity that Sa Pa town is riddled with. I’m not sure what we were supposed to learn from our overnight stay in Ban Ho, but it was nevertheless a great hike for me. Unfortunately, other students didn’t have as great a time as I did. From Carol’s accident to Kristine’s betrayal, the trek was clearly laced with deceptions at every turn.

Before we got on the train in Lao Cai to head back to Hanoi, Anh Thai took us to the border between Vietnam and the People’s Republic of China. Despite the dismantlement of socialism in China, I was still mesmerized to see the mightiest nation on the planet today.

I don’t know why I changed my mind and decided to go on the trip at the last minute, but it was a great choice. While I would love to go back to Sa Pa again before the end of the EAP program, I think if I have the chance to travel that far North again I will try to find a less-touristy region or town.

Freewrite

The 1000 years celebration of the founding of Hanoi was an interesting time for me as a political science and history student. The rabid Vietnamese nationalism that the UC students and others aligned with imperialism expected to see was not nearly as prevalent as predicted. This did not surprise me because the WWII-era Asian nationalism and anti-Western imperialism that served to combat the spread of the capitalist-imperialist system has been largely sidelined as Asia integrates into the global capitalist-imperialist system. What remains is not a cultural pride and hatred for vulgar uncultured philistine Western Liberal hedonism; rather the nationalism that I see is a crude form of racial chauvinism. It makes sense to me that this would be the case among Vietnamese who want to emulate Western culture, politics, economy, etc. So to conclude, my experience with the 1000 years celebration was in part a lesson in (or more accurately a confirmation of what I already knew about) Western cultural imperialism.

My unapproachable political-philosophical musing aside, I had a great time during the 10 day celebration. Walking around Ho Hoan Kiem at night was a remarkable experience. The lights, people, and music contributed to an atmosphere of positive energy and good will. The food festival at the Ho Tay waterpark was equally enjoyable for me, despite the fact that there was very little vegetarian food for me to eat. I went to the festival two days in a row because I enjoyed it so much. I was really happy when a grizzled American War veteran grabbed my shoulder, pointed, and said in a low, powerful voice “get out”. After he repeated himself a couple times and I began to understand what he was feeling, I smiled and said I agreed with his sentiment. It’s so sad for me to see all the revolutionary ideals that his generation fought and died to protect sold out by the comprador and national bourgeoisie. This old man’s generation may have sent the imperialists home in body bags, but the imperialist system eventually won out. I feel like crying when think about this great comrade’s life. He was a true patriot and genuine human being. The generations that followed and sold Vietnam out to the West are traitors to the spirit of anti-imperialism and national liberation. They are traitors to their culture and to their ancestors. While I was happy to see a comrade in person, the reality of the global situation caused it to be a moment underscored by sorrow for me.

Lastly, I want to say that I was really annoyed by the negative attitudes that the UC students displayed toward the celebration, granted I wouldn’t expect them to behave any other way. For imperialist citizens to say such things on Vietnamese soil really ticks me off.

Rice Harvest

Last Sunday the UC class and several Hanu students traveled to a nearby village to harvest a rice field. We left early in the morning and worked for several hours until we has cut, transported, and threshed the whole field. Though the field was not very large, it was somewhat difficult because the ground had not dried by that time and every step taken found us sunk almost a foot into the wet earth. I was happy to “experience” the daily labor of peasants, though I was naturally aware that the village we were at was not the typical poverty- stricken Third World village.






After lunch we talked to several villagers about the socioeconomic status of various jobs.

Many of us were surprised that the villagers did not consider jobs like construction worker as a very low-class job. In fact, I heard that people from other villages travel to this village to work as construction workers because the pay is better. I was confident that it was no ordinary village; it was clearly a lower-middle class community. In addition, I heard that some of the villagers were paying to have their houses remodeled for absurdly-high prices. There was no way average Vietnamese people could afford the kind of decadence I saw in this village. My prediction is that this village is going to be absorbed into the larger consumerist culture and economy of Vietnamese cities and become a suburb of Hanoi. While this may disappoint many, I'm just sad that still have yet to see a real Third World village.