La tradición profesional era usualmente pasada de una generación a otra, pero la historia cambio para mi generación, una de las razones del cambio fue la llegada de los estadounidenses a Vietnam, que trajeron con ellos la "cultura occidental", que por su novedad fue preferida a las tradiciones nativas. Esta nueva cultura marco su influencia en nuestra forma de vida. Por lo tanto mi generación tuvo que adaptarse a una cultura mas "civilizada", lo que significo que nos inscribiéramos en escuelas con planes de estudios occidentales.
En 1978, después de pasar dos años en campos de concentración comunistas, me escape del país y me convertí en un refugiado sin nada más que lo que tenia puesto. Cuando llegué a los Estados Unidos de América, continué mi "educación occidental" Estudie mi licenciatura en la universidad de Bennington, mi maestria en Arte en la universidad Brown y mi doctorado en Escritura Creativa y Crítica en la Universidad de Cardiff. Me convertí en profesor de literatura y también publique algunos escritos. Enseñe en la universidad durante más de nueve años y lo disfrute mucho. Pero a pesar de que ganaba un buen salario anhelaba algo más. Quería ser de más útil a la sociedad, “escuche” la voz de mi tío “Nueve hojas de té” diciéndome que mi destino era curar a la gente. Decidí que no podía seguir ignorando este llamando, y puse mi intención en seguir su designio.
A finales de 2006, mi hija cayó enferma, la medicina occidental no fue capaz de ayudarla. Entonces la llevé con un amigo que practicaba medicina tradicional china (yo no la pude tratar porque no podía comprar agujas sin haber obtenido una licencia de acupuntura) quien la curó. Me di cuenta de que no importaba que tan "civilizado" me había vuelto, ni cuantos títulos de Arte o de Literatura Inglesa había obtenido. Estaba conectado a mis tradiciones - la tradición de la medicina natural, que mi tío Chin - "Nueve Hojas de Té"- había sembrado con sus buenas obras durante tantos años. Este incidente con la salud de mi hija justificó mi llamado. Debía volver a mis tradiciones y seguir con los valores de mi familia.
I grew up in a rural village in South Vietnam before the collapse of Saigon on April 30, 1975. It was “rural” in every sense of the word and that included all healthcare services. If there were a medical emergency like a broken bone or a pregnancy gone wrong, we’d have to travel to a major city like Saigon to consult with a western trained physician. Otherwise, we used home remedies such as herbs and grandmother’s recipes for all sorts of illnesses. Fortunately, my mother’s uncle, Chin, was a practitioner of Traditional Chinese Medicine and acupuncture. He earned his nickname, “Nine Tea Leaves” since he cured his patients as if doing magic. He was very good at diagnosing illnesses. He had a keen sense of intuition which astounded all the villagers who came to consult with him. And for me as a young boy, I had a chance to help him inserting needles on patients and prepared the herbs whenever I was not in school.
This professional tradition was usually passed down to other generations but history prevented that from happening for my generation. One of the reasons was because when Americans arrived in Vietnam, they brought with them a “western culture" which was privileged over local native traditions. This newly found culture had influenced our way of life. Therefore, my generation had to adapt to a “civilized” culture and it meant that we enrolled at regular schools with western curriculums.
In 1978, after spending two years in communist concentration camps, I escaped out of the country and became a refugee and a boat person. When I arrived in the United States of America, I continued my “western education” and I went to Bennington College to earn my B.A., Brown for my MFA and a Ph.D. in Creative and Critical Writing from Cardiff University. I became a professor of literature and a published writer. I have been teaching at the university level for more than nine years and I enjoyed it very much. Although I earned a decent salary I yearned for something else. I wanted to be of more use to my society, I heard the voice of my uncle saying my fate is to cure people. I decided that I could no longer ignore this calling and I must purse the words inside the tea leaves.
Late in 2006, my daughter fell ill, but no western medicine was able to help her. I took her to a friend who practiced Traditional Chinese Medicine (since I could not buy needles without an acupuncture license) and her ailment was cured. For me, a realization had finally arrived. It didn’t matter how “civilized” I had become and how many English degrees I had attained. I was connected to our fundamental traditions—the tradition of natural medicine, which Uncle Chin, “Nine Tea Leaves” had sowed with his good deeds for many years. My daughter's incident further substantiated my calling. I must get back to my traditions and carry on my family values.
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