It was around the end of 1972.

That morning, as he was in line with other prisoners to go to work, the "re-education supervisor" called him by his name - he heard his name and those of some other prisoners.

He left the line-up, surprised and wondering what to expect. Seven other prisoners also left the line-up. Each had in their hands a plastic bag or a square sheet of plastic. When everyone had left the courtyard, he and the other seven went up to the checkpoint at the camp's entrance. Puzzled, Tuan watched the other seven prisoners head for the visit room. Supervisor Chat asked him: "Your wife has been here since yesterday for a visit. Didn't you know?"

Tuan walked up to the cadre and asked politely:

"Sir, I request permission to go to my cell to get my plastic bag." Mr. Thanh Van was the re-educator who had come to his cell to search through his belongings : "Hurry up!"

He ran across the courtyard as fast as he could, grabbed the square of plastic and returned to the office. Out of breath, he stood before the "re-educator" and said in a mixture of respect and regret:

- Sir, please let me go to the visit room.

- Go back to your cell!

He almost fainted at the order.

- But sir ...

- Go back to your cell right now!

Baffled, he realized his mistake: he had taken too long compared to the other prisoners.

- Sir, you had given me permission to go to my cell to get this piece of plastic.
- Why did you not have it with you as everyone else?
- Sir, I didn't know I was getting a visit.
- And the other prisoners knew about it?

He was unable to explain why he was the only one not knowing of his wife's arrival yesterday evening. Although he was now in his fifth year of detention in a concentration camp, he had remained shy, and did not dare establish friendship ties with other prisoners.

- Sir, no one had told me about it. The re-educator seemed to take pity on him.

- Go back to your cell! You are exempted from work today.

For the educator, a day of rest, with no work in the forest, was a favour. He understood and did not insist. His prison experience had taught him that it was impossible and even risky to try to change the wardens' minds, because these cadres wanted to prove they exerted absolute power on you,that you were a zero or even a negative number. You had no basic rights, and were at the authorities' mercy. You could only obey.

He made his way back to his cell, with his plastic square in his hand. The door had been left open because all the inmates had left for work. The personal belongings were neatly arranged in line, each set taking up a small square space. Each such square represented a life.

He sat down, poured a little water from Old Do's bottle and drank the water while thinking about his wife. His wife so close yet so inaccessible. She ad come all the way from the coastal region to this camp in the thick of the forest to see him.

He could not believe that his wife had been able to make this journey to visit him. It was dangerous to travel because of the bombing. He had seen pilots coming down in their parachutes from their bombers on fire; sometimes they fell in this very camp and were captured to be taken to the city. His wife! In his letter, he had tried to make his wife understand that she should not wait for him, that he did not know when he would be released from jail. He accepted his fate, but as far as she was concerned, she should not ruin her life waiting for him.

Yet, his wife did not abandon him. And she had come to see him! How he loved her, how he adored her. And now, he felt sorry for her because of this punishment, this ban from seeing him. They would surely tell his wife:

"Your husband has not made good progress in his reforms, has not re-educated himself well."

His wife, such a frail little woman. From her student life in Hanoi, overflowing with love, happiness and confidence, she had been plunged into this life as into the centre of a tornado. She had arrived last night after a long journey from a city by the sea. She had travelled by train up to the Hang Co terminal where she had waited for long hours. Coming off the train, she must have covered 30 kilometers of forest trail by bicycle, finding strength in the certainty of seeing her spouse again.

He saw in his imagination his wife travelling the same route back with the burden of all the supplies she had brought her husband. Under the threat of bombing! And the 30 kilometers by bicycle! And the train!
He felt like crying, but could not cry. He felt crushed to the core thinking about his wife. She was there in his mind: a small person, slightly bent when she walked. Did she still have curly hair?

He had not seen her for so long. He had been transferred for about one year, and today was the first time she had come to the camp to see him. This camp was too far. It took 3 days to make the trip. And the bombing. And to think that he had been in prison for 5 years. That was nothing compared to Nhu Cau who
was now in his 20th year, Nguyen Van Pho his 18 th year. And what to say of the prisoners who had arrived in 1956.

Compared to his "companions", he was but a newcomer. Starting from the 9th year, one could talk of seniority. There are "degrees" of seniority, with 3 years counting for one degree. Hui San and Xiu Cam could be considered "seniors", because they had got their third degree. Five years were not enough to talk of seniority, but they were enough to exhaust the energies and efforts on his wife's part.

He calmly expected this exhaustion as did all other "re-education" prisoners. He did not want to cause his wife any suffering. His wife and children had to have a normal life. When his wife did not come to see him, he had peace of mind when thinking that she was not exerting herself for him. His absence had made his wife's life sufficiently difficult.

He decided to endure his prisoner's life on his own. He did not hope to be set free. He learned to put up with hunger: hunger due to an empty stomach, and hunger due to a lack of nutrients. To survive, he ate anything he could find: tree frogs, manioc leaves, the roots of wild plants. He tried to eat other things he had not dared eat up to now. He had to take care of himself rather than rely on his wife's supplies. Long time prisoners had to adapt to the circumstances.

He imagined that his wife had not changed since he had last seen her at camp QN. In his wife's eyes, he could see pity and suffering, as if she was herself living through the torture. The smile had vanished for good from this face, the kind of face displayed by people who endured catastrophes without giving in. The kind of face that belonged to people who forgot themselves and were ready to sacrifice themselves for those they loved.

From looking at her during those meetings, he realized the burden she had on her shoulders. He drank another gulp of water to alleviate the burning sensation growing in his chest. He lay down. At least he had a day of rest today. He tried to comfort himself.

A moment later, somebody came up to his cot. He hid his face and kept that position. No matter who was standing there. He wished he could die. "Is there anyone in this room?" It was Chat's voice who was about to lock up the cell.

Tuan sat up on his cot.

- I am here.

Chat left the door and came into the cell.

- So? The re-educator didn't let you see your wife?

A hint of compassion was perceptible in Chat's voice. Tuan stayed in his spot, shrugged and said:

- When I came back with my plastic square, everyone else was gone and the re-educator kept me in the camp.

- Your wife has been here since last night, accompanied by another person.

Yet more new information! Who else could be coming to see him? He wondered.

- Old or young, the other person?

- Around 30 years old, it's a man. Chat spoke in a neutral, indifferent tone. He waved his keys, his cheeks
hollow, his voice hoarse.

- So, nobody told you the news?

- No! Have you seen my wife?

- Yes, she arrived here pretty early yesterday. People came in great numbers, almost twenty.

Chat then said on his way out:

- You are here, so I am not going to lock the door.

- Tell the kitchen to keep my ration.

A while later, prisoners filled up the tanks with hot water. He filled the boxes, the mess-tins, the bottles, the bowls with water then put them away around the cots. He used up the water from one mess-tin to
wash his face. Another mess-tin to wash his small towel. He was pleased to have such an abundance of water. Usually, they argued during the distribution of water, and those who arrived late could only get
a few cups. Around 10 o'clock, he went to the kitchen looking for his ration which today was more generous than usual. That smelled so good, that rice mixed with manioc. But he had no appetite. He was sad and was always thinking about his wife.

How could one be so mean? He could no longer understand this Mr. Thanh Van. Every day, after the prisoners had been locked away in their cells, Mr. Thanh Van would walk around in the courtyard, his hands holding a book against his chest, walking slowly, looking thoughtful and sometimes smiling,
with a philosopher's smile.

Once from his window, Tuan was able to see the cover of the book, "Chemistry textbook, grade 10". He was giving himself an intellectual look. He wanted to come across as full of experience and power, and wanted others to submit completely to his authority.

Tuan submitted to Mr. Thanh Van's authority. But he had no respect for him. Tuan had pity for his mediocrity. Tuan hated him because of his meanness. Later on, after his release, Tuan would think of Mr. Thanh Van with more sympathy: This man was only a victim, a creature of the regime who had to
adapt to survive in the face of changing conditions.

Later in the afternoon, as he was still preoccupied with thoughts about his wife, and about all she would have to endure to make the trip back, Chat called him:

- Come, come report to the cadres.

Filled with hope, he stuck his plastic square under his belt. Another cadre, instead of Mr. Thanh Van, was sitting in the duty office, an old man, with a tanned complexion, and tall. No prisoner had seen him smile. It was Mr. Quan.

- Sir, may I present myself, I am Tuan.

Mr. Quan, in an indifferent tone, told him:

- Go meet your family.

Happiness appeared, out of nowhere!

- Thank you sir, allow me to go on.

Mr. Quan looked in another direction, Tuan no longer existed for him. The barrack reserved for meetings between the prisoners and their families lay on a hill, some 200 meters from the main gate of the concentration camp. The barrack was hidden behind trees. Many visitors had to spend the night there after the visit with the prisoners. They would only leave for home the next day.

As he got closer, he tried to see if his wife was among those people. There she was! It was her! In the flesh, not in his imagination. He was able to spot her even if she was in a crowd of 10,000, 100,000 people.
He was stumbling. His heartbeat quickened. A man was standing next to his wife. He waved to Tuan. It was Binh, his best friend.

Then he slowed down. He wanted to prolong this wait in happiness. His fellow prisoners working in the potato field were watching him and envied his happiness, their outfits worn out and grey.

Just as Tuan arrived at the foot of the hill, his wife and Binh went inside the barrack, on somebody's order from the inside. As he went up the steps, the first person he saw was Mr. Thanh Van. He was sitting at one end of an rectangular table, his wife and Binh at the other end.

- Sir, I am reporting to you.

Mr. Thanh Van showed him a chair and told him:

- Sit down. The camp authorities have allowed you to meet your wife, but prohibit that you accept any gifts they have brought along. More nonsense!

Didn't matter! We would not negotiate or beg, we could do without supplies. What mattered was to see each other, to talk to each other, to look at eachother, to see Binh, a friend who had never abandoned him.
The conversation was difficult to start and the people involved were always haunted by the time limit on the meeting.

A conversation in the presence of a "re-education supervisor" was only an exchange of lies. But we had to
accept this exchange of lies while guessing the truth beneath. Mr. Thanh Van pretended to be absorbed in his book, a Physics manual for grade 10. His wife spoke first.

- Are you doing well?

He looked at his wife. He stared at his wife. His wife looked at him in the eye. Each read in the other's eyes, love, sadness, pain, confidence, revolt, despair, immense pity for each other, the desire to be together and anger at the helplessness, the inability to blow up the whole universe.

The silence lasted a long time. He felt Mr. Thanh Van's look on his back. At last, he said:

- Are things all right with you?

- Yes, everyone is fine, myself, our parents, our children.

He could not believe that all was well with everybody.

- It's going to get cold, make sure the children wear their scarfs, or they will get sore throats.

- Baby Duong is often sick.

Duong was the youngest of their children; his wife gave birth to him after his arrest. He never knew him.

- Do you wear yourself out a lot?

- Yes. I have to do extra work to make 15 dong a month. Every night, after the children are gone to bed, I do the dishes and the laundry. Then I iron clothes made by the state firms. I got this work thanks to our brother Than.

He didn't know what to say to encourage her. He felt helpless, the helplessness of a head of family who could no longer fulfill his role. He sighed. He did not like to sigh in front of supervisors, because sighs make supervisors happy. He did not want to look weak in front of others but in this case, his sigh helped him vent. Otherwise he would have exploded. His whole body was like a volcano. He had trouble holding himself back.

Then he and his wife talked about their parents, about the children's studies. Oh! His parents had to take care of his family. He was not a good son, a wretch. And his children, almost orphans. Would he see them some day?

"I have sent requests everywhere..."

Bind added: "Ngoc has written all these requests for your release, but never got a reply..."

After a pause, Tuan continued:

- I am doing my work here as usual. It's getting better here. Don't come see me. You have so much to do.
Ngoc, his wife, cried silently. As he watched her cry, Tuan wanted to tell her:

"Don't cry, nobody has pity on us. I can't give you back your tears."

Mr. Thanh Van stood up and said:

- The visiting hour is over. Tuan, you will go back to your cell.

At that moment, Binh place on the table a large bag which had been left on a chair.

- Comrade...

Tuan was startled. That term "comrade" seemed misplaced, almost impolite in a penitentiary centre. Then Tuan reassured himself: Binh was not a prisoner, he was an acquaintance to a prisoner. Binh was a journalist working for an official newspaper of the Party, he had the right to call Mr. Thanh Van by the word "comrade". But he was still scared to see Binh being illtreated by Mr. Thanh Van, who might persecute him one way or another.

- Comrade, I request your permission to let Tuan accept some of the supplies we have brought him.

- No, it was already a favour to let him meet you.

His wife pleaded. Binh insisted. He had never seen his wife and his friend beg. They had always kept their dignity.

- You will go home, and take all those presents back with you. Next time, I will let him accept.

Such hypocrisy. He clenched his teeth, his body was shaking, so difficult it was to remain silent. Binh stood up. He was afraid that Binh would lose control. Tuan looked at Binh as if to implore him. Binh understood.

- Comrade, we have made this long trip in spite of these dangers of the war. The whole family has contributed to the preparation of these supplies items in the hope to give Tuan better health. He needs it to follow his re-education program. Items such as caramel, biscuits, sesame, and dried meat cannot be kept until the next visit. Besides, we do not know if we will be able to visit again.

Tuan winced. Because of the word "re-education". He had committed no crime. No security official could say what his crime was. In the arrest warrant, one could see the words "counter-revolutionary propaganda". He had denied that accusation and no one could accuse him. He had received the sentence: "re-education in a concentration camp", reserved for elements dangerous to the Revolution: such a magic transformation of the truth!

My friend Binh! You did not understand anything. Even if I had committed a crime, this place would not be able to re-educate me. It was a hell conceived to terrorize people. Tuan said to Binh:

- It's no use insisting, Binh. I know the discipline here well, it's very strict. Once the cadres have decided, we can only obey. Don't try to propose a modification to their decision.

Mr. Thanh Van seemed satisfied to hear Tuan's words. One could see a smile on his round and tanned face.
Ngoc touched the large bag and kept quiet. Tuan looked at his wife and his friend. Never had he been so far from his wife, with just 2 meters separating them. This table was too big. Honestly, at that moment, this
large bag of presents didn't interest him. He did not want his wife and Binh to bow to anyone on his behalf. All four remained seated.

Mr. Thanh Van was leaning over his physics book. Tuan looked at his wife's cheeks where the tears had dried.

- The trip was tough, wasn't it?
- It was not so bad thanks to Binh's company.

He looked at Binh.

- I only have you.

Binh replied:

- You know it, I only have you myself.

Memories came up all of a sudden from a past forever buried. Suddenly, Mr. Thanh Van said to Ngoc:

- OK. You can leave Tuan a few items, a third of what you have brought.

All three stood up. Quickly, Ngoc took the items from the bag, one by one, and placed them on the table, as if she was afraid the supervisor might change his mind.

Tuan walked up to his wife with his plastic square in his hand. He looked at his wife's hands with blue veins. He stole a glance at his wife's hair, looking at every hair, even at the roots in contrast to the white scalp.

Five buns, one bag of sticky rice she had just cooked this very morning in a pot borrowed from the camp kitchen, dried pork, sesame seeds sent by the parents, sugar from his brother Chau, beef broth from his brother Than, biscuits stuffed with cream from his nephew Con, a toothbrush and toothpaste.

"That's too much!"

Mr. Thanh Van pointed to 2 packs. "This one, that one, that's it." His wife continued to take other items out of the bag. The last items were the most important: pipe tobacco, cigarettes, 4 packs of tea. His eyes lit up. Only long-time detainees knew the value of these packs of tobacco and tea. This pack of tobacco could last 6 months, even if he shared it with Old Do. Cigarettes and tea were as valuable as dollars; they made possible exchanges and had a commercial value, the magic power to allow him to acquire what he needed.

He set them apart. Tea, tobacco, cigarettes, sesame, dried meat, sugar ... Commodities that were not cumbersome, but precious, allowing one to "hold on" a long time. The bag of sticky rice, was it ever appetizing. That rice would allow him to skip the prison's ration for several days. He could dry the sticky rice to keep it. For a long time, almost 10 months, he had not tasted sticky rice. The last time, it was the New Year. His wife spoke to the re-education supervisor without daring to look at him.

"This pack of sticky rice too, right sir?"

Mr. Thanh Van said nothing. The bag of sticky rice stayed on the plastic square.

"This pack of biscuits too, please let him have it" Binh added, delighted at Mr. Thanh Van's silence:

"There are only 2 packs of caramel left, they will melt on the way if we keep them."

They were 2 packs of caramel peanuts. Then, it was Ngoc's turn to take out more caramel from the bag while saying: "These are our own rations for the trip back, but allow me to leave them to him too. Thank you sir."

It was not over yet. Ngoc took from her purse a 5 piastre bill.

"Please let my husband keep this amount for his expenses."

Mr. Thanh Van smiled. An innocent smile of a sympathetic peasant, without ulterior motives.

"Do you have your "account booklet"?"

"Yes" Tuan showed a piece of paper. There was only one piastre remaining in his account. He had bought tea and cigarettes last month, he had paid for his ration and that of Old Do because the latter had no credit in "hell's account".

Mr. Thanh Van handed him a receipt after receiving his money. Thus, as it turned out, Tuan was able to see his wife and receive all the supplies, but the story had started with a punishment that cancelled the
visit and the ban on receiving presents, then this change that came about as a result of the magic sentence: "In this camp, once the cadres have decided, we can only obey. The discipline is very strict, do not try to
propose any modification to their decision."

"Tuan, go back to the camp."

The tone was not too harsh.

Tuan gathered the four corners of his plastic square and stood up. His wife got up. Binh got up. His wife stared at him as if she wanted to swallow him. He carried the bag of presents over one shoulder and stepped out the door. He went down the steps. It seemed Ngoc had forgotten something important.
She ran after him and said:

"Take care of yourself. I will only be going back tomorrow morning, because it's too late to leave now. I won't be coming for the New Year."

He looked at his wife one more time and walked away.