here's a story a stranger told me on the train ride to berlin.
"the war in vietnam ended in 1973, but saigon fell in 1975. i was 5 years old and we lived in saigon, so our family were considered 'traitors' by the communists. when the communist army was approaching saigon, my parents decided to get out. everything was very secret, even my grandparents didn't know we were taking off. we left home in the middle of the night, dressed like clochards to avoid being noticed. my mom had paid a fortune to get us on a ship. we were lucky - there were thousands of people fleeing and many could afford no more than a seat on a dinghy. most of those people died at sea. our ship sailed across the south china sea seeking refuge at one harbor after another, but none of the countries would take us. i remember that the adults tried to damage the ship, so we wouldn't be sent away; once our own people even set fire to the vessel to force the country we had reached to receive us. sometimes they would make the women and children jump overboard... i remember being held by my mom as she jumped into the deep sea. we were fished out by the local coast guard (which was the point), but they soon returned us to our ship. we tried at singapore, brunei, and many other places. we were at sea for about a month, i think. i was little, so to me it was a great adventure, though i was often hungry or annoyed by the monotonous diet (we usually had to settle for a scoop of some indescript gray pulp made of rice.) my best memories are from brunei. the ship was damaged (again), and while the local government was having it repaired for us, we spent a week at the beach. we were dry, had fresh air, lots of space, and great food every day. it was like vacation! we were at last offered temporary asylum in indonesia. we stayed in a refugee camp there for about 6 months. there were lots of other kids and we passed our time playing games and sharing our exciting stories. germany was the first country to offer to receive us and my parents decided to take this first opportunity, though we hadn't been taught a lot of great things about that country. when we arrived, though, we found everyone very helpful, and the community did a lot for us. back in saigon, we had been rich - my grandfather owned a tire factory, and the whole family was well off. now my parents had to work in a factory and it was hard to make a living, but they said freedom was worth the sacrifice."
me: " do you think that experience still somehow affects your life?"
stranger: "yes. i often wonder what kind of life i would have now, had we stayed in saigon back then, or what kind of person i would be. it's almost like there are two of us, in two different worlds - this one and the one who might have been. that definitely affects my life."
people get it all backwards. repetitively and continually. all serious about this life, they take That One for a joke. no wonder they are stressed, depressed, and confused. i am, too, when i lose touch with reality: That Life is the one to be taken for real, and in this one only those things matter which reach through to That One. everything else may well be a joke.
