In Memory of a Beloved
Teacher
Editor's note: Professor
Nguyen-Dinh Hoa, a noted Vietnamese linguist and language educator, passed
away last December in the USA. The following obituary in his honour was
written by one of his disciples living in Australia, as a tribute to his
memory.
Frank
Trinh
"Professor Hoa is
in a coma!" They are words spoken to me by Do Van, a BBC colleague, on
a late Autumn evening when the streets of London were still wet from the
drizzling rain of that afternoon and the fallen leaves of the trees were
being scattered by the intermittent Autumnal winds.
Having heard the news
that my teacher was in a coma, I still found it hard to believe. I thought
that Do Van was joking, spreading sensational news! I still recall that
Friday evening of the 28th October 2000, the last year of the second
millennium. We had been invited to attend a dinner at Do Van's home about 30
km, Southwest of central London. The dinner, hosted by Do Van, was to both
welcome us from Amsterdam and to say goodbye, as we were leaving London the
following day. Whilst having dinner, I suddenly recalled my old teacher and
mentor, so I asked Do Van to make a phone call to America, to enquire about
him. Unfortunately, the voice on the other end was from the answering
machine so we gave up. What else could we do?
I had earlier been
informed by Professor Hoa that he was to undergo heart surgery on 19th
October, so my thoughts were focused on him and wondering about his state of
health. When I was in Holland, I tried a couple of times to telephone his
home in Mountain View, California. Once again I heard only his
American-accented voice on the answering machine. Using email to enquire
about his health proved no better, because, from the day he knew he had
heart failure, he realised that he had to look after himself by cutting down
his workload. He rarely exchanged correspondence with other people, even
though he was the Director of the newly formed Institute of Vietnamese
Studies in Garden Grove, Southern California. In order to avoid receiving
email from his old address <wingdinh@ix.netcom.com> he changed
it to <dinhwangwien@earthlink.net> from which I only once received an
email of 19th August 2000 reporting on his health. He wrote this email to
his wife, his children and his grandchildren, when they were having a few
weeks holiday in Thailand. I still retain and cherish this message, namely:
"Dear Wife,
Children and Grandchildren: I have received David's Email and My-Khue's
also. Look forward to welcoming back Pat, Antonio and My-Khue from Bangkok
on August 16, and Ba Ngoai, and the rest of the gang on August 21. Friday
phone calls received: HoangThi Trang (Houston, TX), Chi Nga, Co Trong.
Saturday calls from: DuongDucNhu, VienLinh (Khoi-hanh monthly), Thim Dinh-The,
Cu TranTrongPhuc, Viet-Hang, Dinh-Hung, and TrinhNhat from Sydney. Sunday
calls from: Chi Mai (she and anh Van back from China trip), Annette (from
Honolulu) and Bac Ai (from Virginia). I eat OK, plenty of fruit and vegs,
with sa-siu, gio lua, cha gio from our freezer) as well as the wild rice +
broccoli dish and the two huge chicken pieces that Sharon had given me.
Drink a lot of juice, too. I take slow walks twice a day as usual. Monday
Aug 14, 2:30 pm, I have dental appointment with Dr. Peter T. Yoshida in
downtown Mountain View (650-968-3820). Debbie Viet-Hang, who is in Florida
with Tim Fish and the 2 boys for a week, will call Dr. Yoshida to tell him
that I have a heart condition and will need antibiotics before teeth
cleaning. Of course, I'll remind him, too. Until next time, Love, Dinh-Hoa
Nguyen."
His wife and himself had
three daughters, Patricia, Cynthia and Deborah, who are married with
children. Only their son Gregory, who is nearly 40 years of age, is enjoying
the single life. Professor Hoa liked to socialise and had a wide circle of
friends. When he was Director of Center for Vietnamese Studies and Programs
at the Southern Illinois University in Carbondale, he was fond of hosting
dinner parties, partially because of his wife's culinary skills. He loved
travelling extensively without any worry about long distances, always jovial
and hearty, and relating his many stories. He was quick to answer any
correspondence from friends and colleagues, or students, both old and new.
Whoever wanted referenced material which he knew, he was more than willing
to help find the information required. He did not mind the time spent doing
this.
Before he underwent an
ultrasound to determine the seriousness of his illness, he still thought
that he would only have to have a heart catheterisation, a less serious
procedure than by-pass surgery. During our seemingly frequent telephone
conversations he confessed to me that he was taking a minute dose of
aspirin, on doctor's advice, to thin the blood and stop blood clots. He took
slow walks twice a day, and read two detective stories every day. He loved
reading this type of novel and he was a very fast reader. The mobile library
came to his front door and he could borrow them and return them in this way.
When he was informed
that he had to undergo open-heart surgery, where they would be taking four
veins from his leg and using them as grafts to carry the blood from his
heart in case his main artery was blocked, he tried to reassure himself by
remembering a veteran musician and composer, about the same age as himself,
who had undergone the same surgery, but who had needed seven grafts instead
of four. This man was still living and enjoying good health.
Upon my return to
Sydney, in the early part of November, after my European trip, I finally had
the luck to talk to his wife on the telephone, who informed me that he had
been in intensive care for 23 days. The operation had gone well, as his
heart surgeon had the reputation of being the best in the world! However,
there had been subsequent complications, and he had been in a state of
unconsciousness since the surgery. The oxygen content in his bloodstream had
fallen to a critical level, he was running a fever and his limbs were
swollen... His wife said that, a few days before, his daughter Cynthia, who
is a psychiatrist, and his other children were visiting him, and Cynthia
remarked that his eyes seemed to indicate that he may have recognised her,
and he could bend his thumb, showing that he was becoming conscious.
From that day onwards,
until Mr. Pham Phu Minh, the publisher of the 21st Century magazine,
forwarded an email dated 29th November 2000 from his nephew, I was not aware
of the following news:
"Up until to day,
nothing has proved satisfactory. Heart is beating; kidneys are not causing
concern. Lungs still need help from respirator, limbs are lifeless, eyes
unable to focus. Still in a comatose state!"
From 19th October to
29th November, my teacher was considered to have been in a coma for one
month and 10 days, but according to Do Van's email of 16th December, a few
days before he died he regained consciousness, and recognised family members
and other relatives. After that, complications again set in, and he suffered
extreme pain and, at a later stage, he was thought to have died for at least
12 minutes. On that occasion, the doctors revived him, using emergency
resuscitation methods, but unfortunately the chest sutures started bleeding,
and he fell into a coma. Finally, his family decided to turn off life
support. It was pointless to continue! He officially passed away at 2 pm,
Sunday, 10th December, 2000 at the age of 76. He was laid to rest at the Los
Gatos Memorial Park, southwest of San Jose, on Saturday 16th December 2000.
For quite some time, I
had been thinking that 'Death' is a state of falling into a long, deep
sleep. Who is there among us, who will not experience, at least once in
their lifetime, the perpetual sleep? Due to the country's situation, the day
my mother departed the world, I was not by her side. The day my father
suddenly passed away, I was also not present. The day my teacher permanently
took leave, again, I did not have the chance to say farewell. The last time
I met him was five years ago at a dinner party in his home in San Francisco,
the occasion being when I gave a lecture at a San Francisco State University
on the teaching of Vietnamese studies and language in Australia. However,
the first time I met him was in 1957, when as still a high school student, I
attended the ceremony marking the appointment of the new Dean and the
teaching staff of the Faculty of Letters at the Saigon University. He, at
the time, had just returned from the United States, and was newly appointed
Faculty Dean.
I met up with him again
when I officially enrolled as a student in the Faculty in the early 1960s.
At that time he was the Head of the English Department which had a high
number of enrolments. During my preparatory year of English Studies, I chose
'Introduction to Linguistics' as one of my optional subjects, which was also
one of his 'pet' subjects. The lecture hall was often packed with students,
numbering as many as 200, who were there to take notes on the course.
Sometimes his students had to stand in the outside courtyard to listen or
take notes. I still recall that every time he came into class, he always had
an English-language newspaper in his hand, which was published in Saigon, be
it the Saigon Post to the Saigon Daily News. He would
occasionally use these to engender further discussion about Vietnamese, or
to point to 'the real' versus 'the unreal', as it appeared in these
newspapers. With his poise, his confident manner and his leisurely way of
speaking, be blew away the cobwebs regarding language learning in Vietnam.
He guided his students in the way of greater insight into linguistics, a
science which, at the time, was relatively new in Vietnam. He passed on his
knowledge and experience, which he acquired, from studying over 10 years in
the United States to his many disciples. As if it were destined, I followed
in his footsteps from that memorable time onwards.
I met with him again
many times after that, in class as well as in oral examinations, when I was
attempting various certificates, such as Practical English Studies,
Vietnamese Linguistics, English Linguistics, English Literature and
Civilisation, American Literature and Civilization. After that, he went back
to the United States in 1966; having been appointed Counsellor for Cultural
Affairs at the Republic of Vietnam Embassy in Washington D.C. Later he took
up a teaching position, and was also Deputy Director of the Center for
Vietnamese Studies and Programs at the Southern Illinois University
(1969-1972). During this period I only had contact with him by mail in my
capacity as Editor of the monthly magazine of the Vietnamese Association of
High School Teachers of English (VAHSTE). He helped found this association
and served as its advisor.
I started exchanging
correspondence with him more frequently in early 1974 when I came to
Australia to further my studies. When Vietnam underwent its 'metamorphosis',
I had the opportunity to visit him in Carbondale in the United States in the
winter of 1975. There were several other occasions I visited him after this.
Perhaps during my six or seven visits to the United States, be it from
England or from Australia, I always tried to stop by to see him for a couple
of days. After having been awarded my Master's Honours Degree in Linguistics
I was recruited by the BBC to work in London. Instead of flying directly to
the United Kingdom, I made the trip via the United States, partly to visit
him, but also partly to ask his advice. He had introduced me to one of his
nieces as a prospective marriage partner: a niece who was youthful, and the
daughter of one of his female cousins. They had lost contact with each
other, and had only just met up again in Washington D.C.
The day he saw me off to
go to the capital D.C., it was Winter and the day after Thanksgiving 1979.
The driveway in front of his house was fully covered in snow. From inside
the house he was enthusiastically helping me carry the luggage to his car.
He did not realise that my suitcase was too heavy, and his knees buckled to
the floor under the weight. 'Thump'. He grimaced and drew in his breath,
obviously hurt, but pretending that it was nothing at all.
My prospective marriage
did not eventuate. Our teacher-student relationship however was not affected
as a result of this. Perhaps, my stars relating to marriage were unlucky, or
at least, that is what my father, an amateur astrologer, always said. It was
safer to think about marriage later in life to avoid bad omens. My Dad had
somewhat similar star patterns, and he had to remarry at only 27 years of
age, because of his first wife's death. During the French-Vietminh War, the
family was evacuated from Haiphong to his home village in Phu Ly, Ha Nam,
but after a while my Dad went back to Haiphong in 1946, prior to my mother
and us children coming back. During that time however he picked up with
another woman.
Unlike my father, my
teacher was always faithful to his wife. They lived all their lives for each
other till his death. To the best of my knowledge, he would never have
thought of being a 'womaniser'. He loved reading far more than he liked
chasing women. According to his wife, the year he was assigned to teach
English at Rabat in Morocco, he was so immersed in reading that every time
you saw him he had a book in his hand. His eyes were never far from the
pages whilst walking without paying any attention to the traffic.
Consequently, he was hit by a bike and the newspaper he had been reading was
thrown to the ground.
Not only did he love
reading, but he also wrote almost non-stop over a period of 45 years, from
1955 just about to the day he departed this world. Suffice it to say that he
either had a book or an article published, on average, at least every year.
His publications ranged from books on teaching English and Vietnamese, to
articles on culture, syntax and grammar, as well as book reviews on
languages and literary works. His two latest books are Vietnamese,
which has the Vietnamese title glossed as 'Vietnamese without the Veneer'
and published in 1997, and the other, From the City Inside the Red River published
in 1999, a book written about his own life in the city on the Red River as
it was in the mid-20th Century. He started re-writing the two volumes into
Vietnamese. Of course, they now lie dormant.
In 1987, he came to
Australia to give a speech about Vietnamese lexicography at the 10th World
Congress on Linguistics, held at the University of Sydney. Meeting him at
Mascot Airport on the winter of that year was myself and Dao Dung, who was
also one of his disciples. Dao Dung was, then, Publisher/Editor of
Sydney-based The Vietnamese Herald weekly. Professor Hoa stayed with
my wife and myself at Bankstown. At the time we lived in a two-bedroomed
flat on the fourth floor of an eight-storey building. From then onwards I
accompanied him to various venues whenever he gave talks in Australia.
In Sydney, he visited
Vietnamese classes at the Saturday Schools of Community Languages, and also
gave a lecture at the Macarthur Institute of Higher Education, later known
as the University of Western Sydney Macarthur. I had taught Vietnamese and
Interpreting/Translation classes at this institution for some years. He also
talked about the teaching of English to Vietnamese speakers to teachers of
English at Adult Migrant Education Service (AMES) in North Sydney, in the
presence of Monique Hoa Lockhart, a long-time teacher at this institution.
He gave a talk to his fellow countrymen at the office of the Vietnamese
Community Association in Bansktown. There was a dinner held in his honour by
his friends and his former students at Quoc Khanh Restaurant in Cabramatta,
and I noticed the presence of the late Professor Nguyen Hoang Cuong, the
then Chairperson of the Vietnamese Community of NSW's Educational and
Cultural Council, as well as Mr. Luu Tuong Quang, the then Federal Director
of Immigration and Ethnic Affairs in NSW. Professor Hoa could not contain
his pride when I informed him that one of his disciples, a teacher of
English 'proper' (graduate of the Faculty of Pedagogy, English Section, BA
degree in English as a Foreign Language at the Saigon University's Faculty
of Letters), was now Lawyer Quang Luu, Head of SBS Radio, and who was also
the highest Federal official in Australia of Vietnamese background.
During a trip to
Melbourne, a distance of nearly 1000 kilometres, my wife Anh Thu helped in
the driving, and we stayed overnight in Gundegai, a country town on the
Sydney to Melbourne inland highway, about five hours drive from Sydney. In
Melbourne he was invited to give a series of lectures on Vietnamese culture
and language in a tightly packed schedule of two to three days, organised by
Dr. Nguyen Xuan Thu. There were workshops for the students and the lecturers
at the Phillip Institute of Technology. He also talked with the Vietnamese
community in Victoria in a hall that was tightly packed with his many
admirers. We also took him to visit the new headquarters of Radio Australia,
where a close friend of his, whom he had not met for many years, worked.
Radio Australia was the equivalent of BBC or VOA, the short-wave radio
station in Australia, which broadcast in Vietnamese to Vietnam. During this
visit, we were shown around by Mr. Nguyen Ngoc Phach, a long-time employee
of the station. Phach was the brother of Mr. Nguyen Ngoc Linh and Mr. Linh
was Professor Hoa's close friend during the 1950s in the United States.
I heard the official
news: 'He's no more!' via SBS Radio, broadcast in Vietnamese on Tuesday 12th
December, 2000. A feeling of dazed bewilderment overcame me. I felt heavy of
heart as well as a profound sense of loss. There was a complete emptiness in
my whole being ... Teacher, have we really said farewell? Is the promise to
meet together in April, the springtime over there, never to be, Teacher?
If this is so, let it
be! When the Gods call, one must heed the message. What more is there to
say? My teacher, Professor Dr. Nguyen-Dinh Hoa--offspring of a mandarin,
handsome, intellectual and born of wealth--has indeed fallen into a long,
deep and never-ending sleep...
Frank Trinh
Everlasting memories
Sydney, the final month
of the second millennium
Last updated: 24/12/2005
