poems from prison : phan chu trinh - -- hồ chí minh -- thảo giang -- kiến nam -- thép xanh -- củu long ( we promise one another/ poems from an asian war/ washington d.c., 1971)

we promise one another / poems fr...
  indochina mobile education project,
  washington d.c., 1971

         

                                                                p. 94   WE PROMISE ONE ANOTHER

                                                        poems from  prison 

                                                                                In temporary set back, those mend the sky
                                                                                Do not let minor things get them down !
                                                                                             PHAN CHU TRINH


Most of Viêtnam's greatest hereos greatest heroes have spent time in prison and there is an impressive tradition of prison poetry in Việtnam.  Phan chu Trinh, a leader of the anti-colonial struggles at the turn of the century, spent time on the prison island of Côn sơn.  Phan bội Châu, another leader of the resistance to the French policy in Indochina, was imprisoned in Kwangtung China.  Both wrote articles and poems while behind prison walls.  Hồ Chí Minh was a prisoner of Chiang Kai-Shek's  police in China in August, 1942 to September, 1943, and wrote poems he was in captivity.

Today many of the 100,000 political prisoners in the jails of South Việtnam compose poems and songs to help pass the time and to kep themselves from going mad.  Since they are afraid to write them down, many prisoners carefully memorize long poems, and then commit them to paper if they are released.

The Thiệu regime uses many of the prisons built by the French colonialists to repress those who oppose its policies.   From all reports officials of the Thiệu regime treat their prisoners as inhumanely as the French authorities  treated their prisoners astheirs in colonial days.  Prisoners are shackled for months, and many become paralyzed.   They suffer from chronic dysentery and other stomach disosders.  Beatings and torture are common.  Former prisoners have described water torture, the use of electrodes on sensitive parts of the body, and other tortures.  The laws of South Việtnam make it possible  for a prisoner to be arrested and held for up to two years without trial,  which is renewable, agauin without trial.  This means that a person can spend decades in jail and never be tried.  

PACIFICATION

p. 96   WE PROMISE ONE ANOTHER

One of the most feared of all South Việtnam's prisons is on Côn sơn Island.  It is located in the South China Sea, approximately 140 miles southeast of Saigon.  The prison was established in 1862 by the French.  Although Hồ Chí Minh was never imprisoned there, it was also called 'University of Hồ Chí Minh' because so many its 'graduates' changed from a strong anti- communist position when they entered to joining the Việtminh upon their relaese.  Now it is the Government of the Republic of South Việtnam 's largest civilian prison, having 9,916 prisoners as of June, 1970, according to the U.S. Public Safety Director in Việtnam. 

In June, 1970, Don Luce escorted Congressman  Auhusttus Hawkins of the Los Angeles Watts area, Congressman Anderson of Tennessee and Thomas Harkin, a congressional aide, to the prison on Côn sơn. Frank E. Walton, Director of the U.S. Public Safety program in Việtnam, Colonel Nguyễn văn Vệ, Chief Warden of Côn sơn Prison, accompanied them and were responsible for showing them around.  At the beginning of the trip Mr. Walton said, " This (place) is like a Boy Scout Recreationl Camp," .  Both he and Colonel Vệ wanted the visitors to spend a lot of their time in the prisoner souvenir shop.  When Mr. Harkin showed Colonel Vệ a list of prisons they would like to see, he became angry and said that it was not possible to see individual prisons, without special permission from the Ministry of Interior.

Finally, however, with the help of a map given to him by a former prisoner, Don Luce was able to locate the tiger cages.  He saw a path between two walls which has some vegetables growing along it and remembered that this was where a former prisoner said there was a door leading into the tiger cages.  Before Colonel  Vệ could stop them, the Congressman, Don Luce and Thomas Harkin, pounded on the door which was opened by a confused guard.   They went into the the area of the tiger cages.  

What they saw was later well published in newspapers around the world.  The prisoners showed scars where they had been shackled to an iron bar at the base of their small cells.  Many of them were paralyzed from the waist down and could not stand.  Don Luce spoke to them in Vietnamese and they complained of being beaten. of not having enough to eat, and of having lime thrown on them when they talked.   The lime stung their eyes and was causing blindness in some.

After the existence of the tiger cages was made public, the American Mission and the Thiệu Government announced that steps were being taken to improve the conditions at Côn sơn.  Later, because it was disclosed that the  American construction company of Raymond and Jones was building new 'isolation cells'  under the contract with the U.S. Government.  These new cells are costing the Smerican tacpayres $400,000. 




                                                          BREAKING ROCKS ON CÔN SƠN
                                                                        by   Phan chu Trinh


Phan chu Trinh was a key figure in Vietnamese anti-colonialist struggles at the turn of the century.  He attempted to liberate Vietnamese from the feudalism of the Mandarin system and prepare the way for a new nationalism.  Heavily influenced by European Enlightenment thinking, he argued against a violent confrontation with France and hopeful that an acceptable agreement could be worked out with the France without bloodshed. Nevertheless, he was accused of inciting rebellion and sent to the prison island of Côn sơn in 1908, where he remained until 1911.  Although due to his notoriety he received some special privileges while at Côn sơn, he had to break rocks for building roads with all the others prisoners.  He also supposedly ruffled French authorities by refusing to talk to the French prison director unless he was invited to sit down .*

---
* Information on Phan chu Trinh was taken from 'Vietnamese Anti-Colonialism', by David G. Marr, University of California Press, Berkeley, Calif., 1971. 
(Don Luce's note)


                       As a man standing upright on Côn sơn ,
                                                 I can bring mountains crashing down in pieces ,
                                                 With my hammer I shatter heap after heap ,
                                                 All my strength producing hundreds more stones,
                                                 Day in, day out I make light of my exhausted body ,
                                                 In rain or shine my heart never fails .
                                                 In temporary setback, these who mend the sky
                                                 Do not let minor things get them down !



                                                              POEMS FROM HỒ CHÍ MINH



                                                                      Tung Chun Prison


                                                 Tung Chin prison, Ping Ma prison; the same thing.
                                                 Rice thin in tiny bowls, the stomach shrinks.
                                                 But at least there's water and light
                                                 And twice a day they open the bars and let the air in.


                                                                           
                                                                      On the way to Nanning

                                                 The supple rope has now been replaced with iron fetters.
                                                  At every step they jingle like jade rings.
                                                 Though a prisoner, accused of being a spy,
                                             I move with all the dignity of an ancient government official.



                                                                        Pastoral scene


                                                    When I came the rice was pale green.
                                                    Now it's cut in the barns.
                                                    Peasants laugh,
                                                    I hear them, here, across the rice fields.



                                                                  POEM FROM PRISON
                                                                          by Thảo Giang



                                                    On a cold evening, mourning clouds hang at the prison door,
                                                    My mother came to visit, her hair whitened by time.
                                                    Mother, I weep and stay awake through the night
                                                    My body blackened with bruises


                                                     Here is the bottle of oil that you sneaked to the guard;
                                                     Here is the handful of rice I opened at midnight
                                                     Which you brought after  a day's wait in the sun
                                                     To visit your child in the dark prison.


                                                     The night is almost over, pink clouds are rising ;
                                                     In my heart I felt the flag of the nation
                                                     And now interrogation time, the most cruel time
                                                     More beatings, and more blood.

 a drawing of a former prisoner

                                                      'Testify!' the beats stare at me
                                                      Coaxing and forcing surrender ,
                                                      My body is blackened by beatings
                                                      My flesh is slashed by the whips.


                                                       Mother, my blood is the ink to write you
                                                       This letter in a night of rain
                                                       Hoping to see my brother and sister at the doorstep
                                                       The day I escape from the traitorous bars. 
                                                       The clink of the shackles breaks the silence of night ;
                                                       The frightened shouts, the cry of a man in agony,
                                                       The burning-red iron, the bloody wounds on the flesh ,
                                                       'Testify!  Quickly!' the lashes tear at my heart. 


                                                        Uncooked rice, dry salt, and water
                                                        I swallow my tears.  My stomach aches at night ,
                                                        Mosquitoes and insects attack my fleshless body ,
                                                        Under my pale skin, blackened bruises stares out .

                                                           
                                                         On  cold evening , mourning clouds hang at the door ,
                                                         From the the cells come the echoes :
                                                         Mother, I ma struggling with my faithful friends 
                                                         Preserving our pride and courage to the last breath.,
                          
                                                    

                                                                           a drawing of bửu chí



  
                                                             THE SWEET RED BLOOD IN THE EARTH
                                                                                          by    Lê Giang



                                                              My brother died in a heroic death --
                                            At birth he was of yellow skin
                                            His blood like a vermilion paint
                                            Conserving the traces of tyranny.


                                            My mother died a miserable dead
                                            She mourns her children in mutual destruction
                                            Her blood feeds the grass
                                            And the palm trees become greener under the golden sun .


                                            My brother died in the areas of ideologies
                                            Killed by the enemy's guns
                                            His blood runs through the land
                                            The moan of regret tolling high on the hill .


                                            Our enemy died
                                            While the wheels of the funeral carriage turns on
                                            His blood remains in the stone statues
                                            In infinite darkness it remains .


                                            I am dying of slavery
                                            My dreams cannot cross the prison bounds
                                            When I died my my blood become sweet honey ,
                                            Drop by drop covering the traces of inhumanity .



                                                            OUR UNITY
                                                              by   Kiến Nam 



                                             One morning, chained in the Tiger Cages
                                             We met, and understood each others' heart .
                                             I saw the blood still red on your shoulder
                                             And the scars of terrible lashes on your back ;
                                             As I lay there
                                             My bones and skin crying out in hunger and thirst ,
                                             We understood each other through simple looks .
                                             Full of faith,  looking to the eternal future of our country
                                             And yet before the enemy, our spirit hardened
                                             As our eyes met
                                             And smiles flourished on our lips comforting one another ;
                                             We shall fight to death, though they beat us ,
                                             We shall hold our hands, and live or die together .
                                             A deep love exists in our hearts
                                             As though we have known each other since long ago ,
                                             Long ago when the earth began to turn .


                                              We met one another at Côn sơn
                                              Living together, sharing our food and drink ,
                                              Sharing our spirit to struggle
                                              So that our country may live in Peace
                                              Independence and Justice .


                                              On the cold days of rain
                                              You told me the story of a Southern girl
                                              We chose to die in her youth rather than surrender ;
                                              She heard the gun, yet her eyes were still bright ,
                                              Blood stained her white dress
                                              And now the flag flies in the cemetery of Hàm dương .
                                              She died at seventeen
                                              Yet will always live in our hearts .
                                              You told me the story of the hero of the Tiger Cages
                                              While outside the rain fell .
                                              Warming our souls, giving us hope
                                              Someone sang a song of love
                                              His voice from the next room
                                              Joining our hearts in harmony .


                                              We struggle for one another
                                              For a brighter day of spring .
                                              We thank those who took the first steps
                                              So that we may never stop fighting in our life ,
                                              So that we may never regret our sacrifices
                                              Not for ourselves do we sacrifice our youth
                                              But for Independence and Peace
                                              We offer ourselves without hesitation or regret .


                                              The weakness and pain
                                              And the worries of loneliness have gone
                                              With the coming of love ,
                                              Love which destroys the cruelty of man ,
                                              The days of hunger and thirst
                                              When we saved drops of water and spoonfuls of rice 
                                                                                                         for each other
                                              Have gone and now
                                              The country's nourishment coming from the bosom
                                                                                                      of our mother
                                              Feeds us, raises us to carry out the revolution .
                                            

a drawing of võ đình

THE PRISON ISLAND OF CÔN SƠN

  by Thép Xanh

You ask me where on earth

People cannot live as human beings ,

 Live like beasts ,

 And I remembered the days of Côn sơn .

The days of my youth

The beautiful blossoming days of my manhood

Still engraved in my heart with hate ;

I engrave in this burning heart

The days of starvation at Côn sơn

 Meals of eight spoonfuls of rice 

Burning my stomach ,

One cup of water for live people

Burning my throat .

Do you know the nauseous smell of rotten shrimp paste ?

Despite my empty stomach. the bile flows bitter

And I spit out 'Human Rights' to the Second Republic !

Yet listen to them 

'Eat and lie flat on your back for twenty four hours  ,

Remember, son , Raise your head and we'll break your ribs ;

Unbutton your shirt and you' ll eat lime dust. ' 

You ask me where is Hell

Deep in my heart I remember night at Côn sơn --

The echo of a creaking door

The beatings

The crying out at migtnight

The shouting of guards

'Damn it!'   Ask for medicine

And we'll send you to the cemetery of Hàm dương .' 

The beating of clubs on my back .

Oh, my heart, how it aches

Yet  I still have the heart to ask 

Whether they are human beings .

I ask ll of you ,

I ask the regime of the Republic

Who are they ?  Those whom the regime has trained

To 'reform' the prisoners at Côn sơn .

You are responsible Regime of the Second Republic ,

Responsible to all of the people ,

To each of us Today In this Twentieth Century

The century of human progress .

THE CRY OF JUSTICE

This refers to a line in a famous poem by Nguyễn Du:

"The first crying for justice would pierce Heaven itself."

( a drawing of võ đình)

WALTON 'S  RECREATION CAMP

by Cửu Long

Below are excerpts from a poem entitled 'Walton's Recreation Camp'  which was written by a Vietnamese from Vũng tàu who uses the pen name Cửu Long.  The writer sent it to the newspaper 'Tin sáng' which printed the poem in its entirely.  The poet said this poem was written on the first anniversary of the day the two American astronauts landed on the moon.  the editor'Tin sáng', in his introduction to the poem, laments that the great scientific advancements of modern times have not been followed by a refinement of man's conscience .

Hawkins, Anderson, Don Luce , *

You have seen with your  own eyes

many cruel sights ;

And you have heard with your own ears

The soft voices in prison 

of youthful girls ,

of old white- haired women ,

of ' Communist' monks ,

of the lamb of peace .

Sixteen years of our allies have been hare ,

A hundred and fifty months of suffering terrible disgraces :

'Movies' ** of Chí hòa ,

The graveyard of  Tân hiệp ;

Dachau,  Auschwitz ?

Bachenwald, Mauthausen ?

Hawkins, Anderson, Don Luce ,

Here are the tiger cages ,

The agonies ,

 The paralyzed ,

Those standing on their knees ,

Those creeping on their hands ;

Hair hanging to the shoulders ,

Nine square feet for habitation ,

 To sleep and eat and relieve themselves ,

A shower once in three months ,

Rotten rice full of sand to eat ,

Not a blade of grass to comfort them ,

And lizards are the only  medicine ;

Roots of trees are saved for one another ,

A leaf saved for four

A grain of salt for two , 

Tattered clothes from summer through winter ;

It is forbidden to talk, to laugh, or to look ,

Rattan whips and lime dust ,

The shackles paralyze the legs ,

When dead, a mat to cover the corpse ...

Not only tiger cages ,

There are cattle cages, tunnel cells, lime ovens ;

These remain as long as this regime remains

And the bloody struggles continue ;

Because of increased hatred and injustice ,

History continues to write its sad pages .

Hawkins, Anderson, Don Luce ,

Behind the water ditches

With the green lettuce ,

The flowers and leaves ,

Lie the tiger cages ,

My friends!  The land still lie there ,

The paralyzed still rot there .

The prisoners stand on their knees ,

They walk on their hands ;

Dry throats and empty stomachs ,

Hair hanging to the shoulders ;

Yet you have heard this morning 

The words of advisor Walton ;

'this is like a Recreation Camp'.   

[] 

ĐÁNH TRONG CÒNG

(a drawwing of a former prisoner)

* see introduction to this section

** a room called the movie room at Chí hòa Prison is famous for being the place where prisoners are tortured.

(Don Luce' s note ) 

(p. 94  to 110     WE PROMISE ONE ANOTHER / poems from an Asian war).