| VACET Spring
Magazine - One Man's Thought
by Jeffrey Doan < jdoan@octel.com >
I guess after all the talks about which languages will be used for the
Vacets magazine, everyone felt happy about it and went home, got a tight
sleep, and forgot about everything.
I had a chat with a former Vacets member, who is no longer a subscriber
due to the workload at a new company -- whom I still forward goodies collected
from vacets-gen, she was excited with the idea of such a magazine by Vacets
and asked if she could contribute an article -- so I said "of course".
I had exchanged emails with several other members whom I know don't
write poetry (or stories) stuff but promised to write something for the
magazine. I guess they agreed to write for the magazine because they know
me "personally" through my email channel.
It seems if the person knows me, then he/she will pitch in an effort
to help make the magazine a meaningful piece of work. And if people don't
know me, then they can't care less about the magazine business or most
of the Vacets activities, eventhough some of them mention it in their resume
-- I do for a fact.
How sad (for me) :-) , somes of us may say. But wait ...
I do know that most of the VNese people I know, or don't know, always
say on the tips of their lips, "we should try to maintain and enrich
the VNese culture and language". But when asked of what we can do,
or to do something to achieve that goal, people tend to come up with excuses
(job pressure, family matters, I can't do that, blah, blah, blah, ...).
How sad (for us) :-), I may say. But wait ...
May be one of the ways we can achieve that goal is to keep using the
language, to teach the younger generation of how wonderful our language
is, to show others (including ourselves) what we can do with the VNese
language, etc,..
Knowing a language without using or practicing it is, in my opinions,
the equivalence of not knowing it. Having a tool in your hand but not knowing
what to do with it is the equivalence of not having it. May be we should
hand the tool over to someone else who can make better use of it. Or may
be we should at least make an attempt to use it for something.
I 
invited and am again inviting us all to write something for this Vacets
Spring magazine. So that we can distribute it to other people just to show
them the language is not obsolete, so that we can enhance it through adapting
it to the Ha?i Ngoa.i environment, so that others can learn from us, so
that ... you name it.
Please don't just consider this email as something I write just to make
myself known in the Vacets community. But please consider contributing
at least an article to the magazine, just to show you care about the language,
our own VNese language. If you're not comfortable with VNese, you can write
it in English or any other language. I don't at all mind to help you correct
your VNese grammar, or spelling. As a matter of facts, I love doing that!
Anytime when you want to contribute, you can either send the work to
me, or to < vacets-local-ba-head@bga.com > . The email-box is open
24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Thanks for your reading and re-consideration.
Speed
Up the Wagon! Block the Horse's Path
by: Phan Ky-Anh < kyanh@szebra.vacets.org
>
Ever since the age of 5, when I learned its rules, I have remained an
avid player of Chinese chess. So much so that, around 1977, I started the
bizzare habit of brining the paper board and the pieces to the place simply
known to me as "Xe.t." Not much of its description is now in
my memory except that it was the place across from the National Music Conservatory
where Dad used to play tennis in the good old days.
I'd hop on its walls, arrange the board and play against myself, all
the while hoping for someone to start a pick-up game or two. In the meantime,
the next best thing, though admittedly the worst thing in chess, was to
exercise with deathly boredom the power of deciding which side to win.
Then one day, a decent looking young gentleman approached and asked
if I'd like an opponent!! He must have been decent-looking because he wore
a dress shirt. A gentleman because this guy certainly looked more mature
than the neighborhood bullies, not to mention possessing gentler mannerism.
Well, despite many an inherent distortions and fallacies, reminiscent imporession
of a kid remains uncontested for the significance it has borne upon a life.
It was a close series. At least I remember having winning a game or
two. He was much much older, you know. It is indeed a sort of pride to
be able to hold one's own against an elder :-} Then came the last game.
According to an unspoken protocol, the winner is implicitly the winner
of the whole series. This game is like the Olympic, and the rest was mere
World Championship. Compiling a worthy record against your opponent is
one thing. To win when you *want* to win is a sure sign of domination.
Sure! You can win every game, but you *know*, by virtue of this single
game, who the real winner is.
Needless to say, I lost badly. I was naturally peeved while putting
back the pieces and the torn paper board into the tattered box. There's
a funny thing about Chinese chess. You can be peeved about losing, but
never against you opponent. There's something about fair play that inspire
respect. Before departing, he remarked, "you have lots of promise,
just remember to get the wagons out as quickly as you can, and your game
will naturally improve."
Hundreds of game later, with a fervent focus on speeding up the wagon
to open and favorable position, I managed to become a better play. A much
better player, I may add, but there's one opening that I always have problem
with. Known as Attacking Canon with Buffered Horses, it can be devastating
when played right.
There is a pool hall where the game is played in downtown San Jose,
California, where I met Dung, a brilliant and highly talented player. We
became simple friends over good coffee, silly chats and general goofiness.
As I wateched him play against the much feared opening, there was movement
made with the wagons that weren't at all clear to me. "Why is it there,
one step back of the river?" It is usual that the wagon stands _by_
the river to guard against enemy invasion. "Because," he replied
matter-of-fact-ly as he made his move, "this is what you want to do
-- block the horse's path."
Lo and behold. It then all made sense, and I manage to burry anyone with
that opening every time. I have more than become a good player. I have
become competent. All because of two simple phrases.
In the game of life, in the hustle and bustle of it all, I'm afraid
we have forgotten about simple phrases. They don't require much but they
do mean a lot to those in need, to the young and the ignoratn. They amount
little in the overall appearance of things, but they remain the most memorable
and beautiful details about human existence and of humanity. There is something
about meaningful and good-willed human interactions by individuals that
propelled the collective whole forward.
Interestingly enough, my presence in the Vietnamese electronic communities
has been and continues to be driven by a yearning for simple phrases. I
have always known of their abundance out there, in the knowledge and kindness
of others. But somehow, as it stands, I find myself playing the game of
life and ofl knowledge the same old way -- not very well. In a reality
of interaction so very ugly and seemingly meaningless, it has been 20 years
and an unheard generation silently suffers in need of simple phrases.
The gift, when you decide on your kindness and good will, will be yours
to give to our collective whole, your children and our future. It is one
gift of great expense against traditional mode of cultural behavior, but
one urgently needed in the process of highlighting what is most beautiful
about us.
If cultural detachment is what we have to fight against, there's no
more effective weapon than that of kindness and guidance. If cultural disenchant-
ment is the source of cultural decay, then none better than insisting on
what is best of us.
If cultural pride and integrity are the contributing forces that will
transform possibilities into a foundation we may be rightly proud of, and
the basis of a future that fulfills rather than disappoints our hopes,
dreams, desires and aspirations, then orientation of our actions toward
mutual teaching and guidance, listening and understanding, caring and compassion
is no longer a cultural luxury but a pragmatic necessity.
Somehow we must learn to addres the weakness within us, to heal and
not to hurt. To successfully defend against the enemy without, the enemy
within must be denied.
Simple phrases of kind and good-willed guidance can be such miracles.
Miracles still happen, do they not?
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