Graham Reid | | 2 min read
It happened in the coastal town of Nga Trang in southern Vietnam. It happened at a time before the place became awash with monied tourists and big hotels.
And it happened the same night I had spent with Mama Thiu whose sad story I have told here.
After I left her, I walked to the beach and in the absence of much ground light the sky was heavily dusted with stars and the moon shone across the ocean which was a radiant turquoise by day.
I went and sat cross-legged on the sand to consider what had just happened, thinking of tearful Mama Thiu asleep in her small cot.
As I sat there I was aware of a presence and looked up to see a young man standing next to me. He had a pleasant face but was otherwise undistinguished, the same clean white shirt, baggy pants and worn leather thongs that most young men wore.
We exchanged hellos and I nodded, so he sat next to me. Quite close.
After a few minutes he put his hand on my knee but I thought nothing of it. Young men here often held hands on the street or wrapped their arms around each other's shoulders in affection and without any sexual motive.
After a few minutes however his hand moved up my inner thigh and so I turned to him and said firmly but not loudly, “No”.
He looked fearful and so I said more gently, “No, not me”.
His hand withdrew but settled again on my knee.
And so we sat there together in the night looking at the reflection of the moon on the water.
After some short time – I cannot remember if it was three minutes or 10 – I felt his head rest on my shoulder. And again we sat in silence.
Then I heard a sound, he was quietly sobbing.
After a short while he stopped and I guessed he perhaps might have fallen asleep, so I sat motionless for a while longer in the warm night.
But then it was time for me to go so I moved gently and we pulled apart, I stood up and said good night.
“Good night, sir”, he whispered and I walked off along the sand, back to my small room.
I had somewhere to go the following day, and indeed the days after that before I would be back home with my family and children.
But for Mama Thiu and the young man, who wanted little more than love and affection, the days ahead must have seemed an endless expanse of loneliness. Like the sea which glowed turquoise by day but by night was black and silent.
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These entries are of little consequence to anyone other than me Graham Reid, the author of this site, and maybe my family, researchers and those with too much time on their hands.
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