Dream Deffered in Vietnam

by Ben August, reporting from Vietnam

This past year I met someone who has truly lived the American Dream. She grew up sharing a bed with her three siblings, going to the toilet in an outhouse until she was 15 and helping her parents with their family business, literally run out of their garage. With hard work she excelled in her studies and was admitted to the best university in the country. She now has a high paying job, a toilet of her own, and a bright future ahead. Her name is Nguyen Thu Huyen and she lives in Hanoi, Vietnam.

Since I left Santa Monica to teach English in Vietnam, Huyen and her family — from her 96-year-old great grandmother all the way down to her 3-year-old nephew — have welcomed me into their lives with open arms. I’m the first foreigner any of them have ever met, yet they’ve treated me like one of their own. You would never know that Huyen’s 20-year-old uncle was killed, and his body never found, during the Vietnam War.

In six weeks I’m going home to visit my family. Huyen has met my parents and my sister and is always inquiring about the rest of my family. When I invited Huyen to join me on my trip to meet them, she lit up from ear to ear. Huyen never dreamed of visiting America; but like everything else in her life, she knows anything is possible.

After three months of collecting all the necessary documents, Huyen had her visa interview. I walked Huyen to the front door of the embassy, wished her luck, and then went and sat in a café around the corner. Two hours later, my phone rang. It was Huyen’s number. I picked it up and said, "Hello." There was silence on the other end. After a moment I heard through a choked up voice, "I’m done now."

Huyen didn’t get her visa. She was handed a formulated rejection letter with one word written in a blank: "ties." The interviewer told Huyen she doesn’t have enough money in her bank account or property in her name to visit America.

I could go on about how Huyen has all her "ties" to Vietnam (her family, her job, her bank accounts, etc.). But I won’t. I could go on about how America has become a country that favors the rich — words literally said to Huyen by a U.S. State Department employee. But I won’t. I could go on about how in tough economic times the USA just lost a lot of tourist dollars. But I won’t. I could go on about how America was once a nation of immigrants but now we’re the hardest nation in the world to even just visit. But I won’t. I could go on about the criminality of charging $131 for a five-minute interview in a country where the average yearly income is $832. (It’s like saving two months salary to buy a girl a diamond ring just to be able to ask her out on a date even though she knows you’re not her type.) But I won’t.

All I will say is this: After hanging up the phone with Huyen, I quickly jogged over to the embassy. Huyen was standing in front of the building, tears forming in her eyes. As I hugged her she said, "I really wanted to meet your grandmas."

Huyen has lived the American dream, although her dreams of America will now never be the same.