“We would be pleased if you would teach English to our classes.” The principal of the middle school said through the interpreter, Minh – my former street food guide in Hanoi, 100 kms to the west. Then as an afterthought, he added, “But please do not speak of religion or politics.”

Ahn Lao is between a Hanoi and Haiphong, the industrial city near Halong Bay. It has 1500 citizens scattered in handful of streets that all ended in small holdings of rice fields – some barely an acre. Minh was born in the village. It was to those fields that his family trudged for generations, while the males intermittently went to war – the French war, the American war, the Cambodia War, the Chinese war, and regional battles long forgotten. Here they eked out a living as massive industrial complexes moved into the area after the government invited foreign investment in 1986. Assembly plants edge within a few kilometers of this bucolic village – surrounded by condominiums for foreign executives. The youth are abandoning the rice fields and the narrow main street to the highway is jammed with motorbikes at all hours of the day.

This is “Red” Minh’s (“Red” is his TikTok persona) family home – two bedrooms, the altar to ancestors, both kitchen and bathrooms outside, surrounded by trees- Jackfruit, Dragon fruit, Grapefruit, Peach, Persimmon, and Bananas, bordered with flowers – Roses, Chrysanthemum, and Orchid. Mrs. Minh – widowed when her husband could not be saved during a cardiac event – invited me graciously, her dog and two puppies by her side. I entered the home, leaving my shoes at the door and bent in prayer to acknowledge the ancestors. Over green tea Mrs. Minh told me that she was not an influential person in the village but has managed to arrange to meet the village head and the woman who looked after the Buddhist shrine at the edge of the village, and the man who maintains the Nyugen Val family mausoleum.

“Unfortunately,” she continued in Vietnamese, “The district manager will not see you. They are afraid you may be a spy.” and added with a soft imperceptible smile, “I think it is because they are all corrupt and afraid of strangers.” Minh interjected that his old teacher would like me to teach English to Grade 6 and Grade 9 students. “You will be a celebrity here.” He said, “the first foreigner to come to the village.” Just as he said these words, I looked out of the door to be greeted by several elderly women in the courtyard smiling and waving.

The most noticeable aspect of the kids in the middle school – a large, clean compound surrounded on three sides by rice field, and party flags prominently at the entrance – is that they are remarkably attentive and respectful to their elders. There is an air of acceptance of authority and willingness to comply with teachers. Minh and I had agreed that we would use global geography and sports – the least controversial of subjects – as vehicles to teach English and brought along bagful of treats to be given as rewards for participation – the excitement was boundless. Except for one or two eager students, the level of knowledge of English and geography was poor but there was great enthusiasm to learn.

It was not until evening descended with orange and purple clouds reflecting vividly on the rice fields the village erupted with vibrant life. Volleyball players rising from the ground and spiking balls and betting with each serve, the pragmatic yet striking woman in her bright red dress dipping her ladle into one of the row of local rice toady barrels to fill another order and the loud men in the only bar by the side of the road.

The owner of the bar – and also loudest most incoherent patron – erupted in glee when Minh and I walked in the door and immediately announced, “I could not meet you at the office, but now, we will drink together and I will answer every question you have.” And turned to Minh and said in Vietnamese, “you understand I could not talk to him at the office when you mother asked me.

Minh had warned me that this group and in particular, the district manager would be loud and say things they don’t mean. The district manger pointed to the female server and said, “this is the girl you want. She is soft. She is a catholic.” I laughed and said, “I am sure she is soft and she is beautiful but I am married.” She smiled broadly and shook my hand and scolded the owner. “I can tell by looking at you that you are an intelligent man.” He said, “so what can I tell you about our humble village.”

“I am curious how the village is managed. I just came from an Indian village. How do you resolve disputes? Crimes? I asked. “We have no crime here.” He said, before he handed me a hookah that they were sharing and held a long soliloquy to the others about the great work of the district committee.

That night Minh and I walked home to find his mother distort. One of the puppies had been stolen. Minh noticed my shock and said, “it’s okay. They will not eat it. It’s too young. They probably just raise it as pet.”