12/09/2025
September month usually announces Christmas season, which brings back memories about my first feelings of love, at age seventeen. Here is an extract from my book « Coming Home » by author Anh Tho Andres
3.3 The First Feelings of Love
At age seventeen, my vision of the world was still a wild emptiness that housed contradictory life experiences through the characters of my readings. Reality struck when I discovered my feelings deep down inside.
On Christmas Day, I began to discover the conflicting emotions that accompanied my first awareness of Love. Strangely, it started with a young American missionary lady, who was also my English teacher. By then, there was a trend among Vietnamese to adopt some forms of the Christian faith preached by American missionaries in South Vietnam through organisations like the Baptist Church, the Good News Church, and the Presbyterian Church. Food was always served during the Sunday gatherings, along with free piano lessons, English lessons, Christmas parties and other learning activities to attract young and old. Many joined, some out of greed, others out of ambition, and the rest mainly because they found a faith that gave them more confidence in life, especially when the War was coming nearer to an end. As for me, it was because I was destined to be part of this constituency without really knowing why.
In hindsight, I realised that at a particular stage of our lives, we are naturally inclined to do activities that our hearts dictate, without any other motivation.
I also liked the American way of life. I found American men with beards more attractive and manly than beardless Vietnamese men. At that age, however, it was out of the question for me to even think of a relationship. That chapter was simply outside my work plan. Mum always reminded me: "Remember, finish your studies because when you are smart, you do not need to fight for your place in the sun. Let the beauty of the heart outshine the beauty of the face. So please, no love, no boyfriend until you finish university".
By then, apart from French, I already spoke English quite well and learned German and Japanese through evening courses. Going to church on Sundays for extra English learning came quite naturally. That's where I met the person who broke my heart without even knowing it.
Zee was a young missionary with a cute smile and a face full of freckles. She was only twenty-five years old by then, but to my eyes, she was the most mature lady I had ever looked upon and wanted to follow as a role model. Zee enjoyed playing the guitar and singing. She frequently attended our church activities, including picnics, English-speaking clubs, cultural events, and concerts. She would spend time talking to each of us in one-on-one meetings. I naturally wanted to seek her company as I loved interacting with people to practice my language skills. I noticed that she paid particular attention to me, and that flattered my ego. However, I was unaware that she also paid equal attention to other young profiles like mine. Through her amicable ways, kind attention and genuine concern for the youth group she led, she made me discover the soft part of my heart. Her primary role, I suppose, was to recruit and convert young people to the Church. Most of them would join the Church and finally get baptised.
Although I sometimes felt very strongly about the words of the Bible, I couldn't decide to confess my faith in front of so many people at Church. I was born a Buddhist, and even if I had a Christian-based education at the French Catholic school, I still identified as a good Buddhist. I did not want to betray my faith. Nevertheless, I attended Church regularly every Sunday, participated in all the music lessons, conducted lessons, even tried the piano, and attended afternoon church sessions on the other side of the town.
As my feelings for Zee grew stronger with time, I wanted to be nearer to her and be part of her activities. In the hope of spending more time with her, I would spend hours waiting to see her riding by my parents' shop, feeling happy when she waved "Hello" to me. I used to come to my parents' store after class and wait for them to ride home in our family car or have dinner outside.
In my free time, I wandered for days around where I knew I would find her, but I never overcame my shyness to come and greet her. Instead, I would walk long distances in the direction of her place, hoping my path would cross hers by chance. Did she know all that? I recall my intense obsession with being in Zee's company. I spent my days at the Head missionary's home playing with their children.
My English improved tremendously, as did my knowledge of American culture. I secretly hoped to bump into Zee, but apparently, she was busy with appointments with other recruits and hardly had time for me. In appearance, I pretended to be indifferent to her, as our Asian upbringing did not favour expressing our feelings.
So, although I was burning for her attention, I always maintained a seemingly indifferent attitude towards her when we met alone or in groups. Hanh, one of my classmates in the Baptist Sunday group, shared my secret. She, too, fell victim to the same ailment. We later became good friends. But she finally got baptised to gain the favours of the American missionary team, while I resisted. That day, when Hanh and I were invited to the Christmas party by the Head of the Mission at his house, I somehow came with a reluctant heart. I had hoped we would be accepted for this event, which is for Americans only. I was unsure whether we would be welcomed there, but my mind and heart only focused on one point: my object of desire, Zee. I had hoped she would come and greet me, saying some sweet things as she always did. To my great disappointment, she was busy talking to and entertaining the colleagues of other missionaries. I left the place with a heavy heart and decided to take myself off her usual fan list. I avoided all the places I might risk bumping into her. I was torn between my craving for her attention, the pride to keep up my face, and the shame about my true feelings.
For the first time, I discovered the sensitive parts that I later learned about in my Buddhist studies, known as the fifty-one states of mind, better known as the three toxic feelings: greed, Hatred, and delusion, and their declinations. But at that time, I was in a state of zombie-like confusion. My heart was full of contradictory emotions, half joyful, half sad, but most of the time, miserable and lonely.
As my world vanished in the air without warning after the events of 1975, all the civilian Americans left in a panic, including the Baptist missionary team, and I never heard from Zee again. I often dreamt of this period associated with my first awakening of my sensitivity. I was very hurt as she never tried to contact me during this troubled period. I felt betrayed and forgotten as she never said goodbye to me. I spent endless nights fighting in my dreams, trying to erase the good memories associated with her from my mind.
Curiously, I also dreamt of Hanh, who shared my secret and became my ally and best friend. She, too, left the country without saying goodbye to me. In my dreams, I kept visiting her family home, trying to get news from her. I often saw her from a distance, but could not reach out to her. Our abrupt separation in the last days of the War left a hole in my heart that was hard to fill after many years.
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