HO CHI MINH CITY, Vietnam — Some wounds never heal.
At age 15 in 1968, Do Van Du lost a leg and part of an arm while serving as a combat interpreter for the U.S. Special Forces near the Cambodian border. He moved to the United States in 1971 and became a successful software engineer and systems analyst. Then, seven years ago, Du returned to his homeland to help found a college-level program run by Catholic Relief Services to train disabled young people to be software engineers and tech workers — a first for Vietnam.
"People with disabilities don't have a voice in Vietnam," said the veteran, whose fashionable black slacks and sports coat fail to disguise a perpetual sadness in his eyes.
You are basically thrown away. You are not 'normal.' You can't work. You are a leech on society," the former Bay Area resident said before walking with a slight limp into a classroom full of eager students on crutches and in wheelchairs. "In Asia, because of the belief in reincarnation, people think you have done something in a prior life and now you are paying for it."
Grim evidence of the harsh treatment of Vietnam's disabled citizens is easy to find among the students in Du's program.
Duong Anh My was peppered by rocks because his leg was deformed.
When Ha Mau Xuyen applied for work at a telecom company, her field of study, she knew as soon as human resources representatives saw her crippled leg the job interview had effectively
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ended. "I knew by their look they rejected me," said the 27-year-old polio victim.
Tay Duong Thi Ngoc Hoa is confined to a wheelchair in a country in which access to buildings, buses and schools for the disabled is rarely provided. "I had nothing to hope for," the 25-year-old said, her thin legs dangling from her wheelchair.
An estimated 5.6 million people of Vietnam's 90 million citizens are disabled, according to the government, though the World Health Organization places that figure at nearly 9 million. Vietnam has its own version of the Americans with Disabilities Act, but enforcement is rare. "There is no penal code to punish those who violate it," Du said.
For a small number of disabled young people enrolled in the tech training programs Du founded in Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh City, that is changing.
"IT allows them to connect to the outside world in a way they haven't before," said Andrew Wells-Dang, deputy country director for Catholic Relief Services. "It also demonstrates that people with disabilities can do all kinds of jobs, including high-tech ones."
In all, 175 students have received tech training over the past two years, including 75 as software engineers who earn international software engineering certificates. The others get six months' training in business process outsourcing — which includes image processing, data entry and general office IT work that companies outsource to countries like Vietnam.
Du's Information Technology Training Center, which receives funding from the U.S. Agency for International Development, just expanded to Ho Chi Minh City, where more than 50 students are now attending daily classes at Van Lang University. They have been provided with brand-new PCs. Subsidized housing is available to those who need it. The program, which has a budget of about $200,000 a year, is free to the students.
"Some of these people had never touched a mouse before," said Du, who has also started a for-profit company, Hanoi-based PWD Soft, which employees engineers with disabilities.
Many in the program suffer from the continuing consequences from the war with the United States, even though the conflict ended more than 30 years ago. Some struggle with injuries from stepping on land mines. Others have ailments linked to Agent Orange, the highly toxic defoliant used by the U.S. military, said Van Lang University Chancellor Nguyen Dung. Some have been afflicted with illnesses, such as polio, that no longer threaten those in the West.
All too often, Vietnamese with disabilities are confined to home or work in low-skill jobs, such as making toothpicks or chopsticks. Some spend their lives begging.
"The IT industry is one of the few professional fields in Vietnam that are well-suited for people with disabilities," Chancellor Nguyen said. "They may have trouble getting around, but their minds are fine for IT."
The training, though, involves more than learning the intricacies of programming languages like C++ and Java. The students look after each other — pushing wheelchairs, carrying one another's crutches, helping to ease fellow students into a taxi. For some, it's the first time in their lives they feel accepted.
"It's not a class anymore. It's a family," said 30-year-old Nguyen Thi Xuan Thao, who is learning outsourcing tech skills.
Du said the program is modeled after one he attended in Seattle in 1987, dubbed Resources Center for the Handicapped. Sponsors included Boeing Computer Services, Microsoft and IBM. "There was probably nothing like that anywhere except in the U.S.," he recalled.
Du went on to enjoy a successful career as an engineer, pulling down a six-figure salary. He lived in Oakland during the late 1990s when he was an IT consultant for health-care services company McKesson in San Francisco.
Now 56, Du is a man haunted by the events that reshaped his life four decades ago. He was recruited to help the Americans because of his strong English-speaking abilities. "I was a kid," Du said. "The U.S. had child soldiers."
While on patrol one day in Loc Ninh, his unit found itself surrounded. The soldiers called in artillery support. The shells, though, landed on the Americans, killing a lieutenant.
"It blew up my left arm and right leg. It was very difficult for a kid at that age to go through that. I had three choices — kill myself, start begging, or not select one or two," Du grimly jokes.
Du, who moves stiffly and remains self-conscious of his artificial limbs after all these years, is a hero in the eyes of the students. He embodies all they hope for — independence.
"We've learned how to believe in ourselves," said Nguyen Thi Xuan Thao, whose left arm and leg were partially paralyzed after she contracted meningitis as a child.
"I have a heart and a mind just like everybody else," she said. "The only thing that is different about me is the way I walk."
Mercury News
At age 15 in 1968, Do Van Du lost a leg and part of an arm while serving as a combat interpreter for the U.S. Special Forces near the Cambodian border. He moved to the United States in 1971 and became a successful software engineer and systems analyst. Then, seven years ago, Du returned to his homeland to help found a college-level program run by Catholic Relief Services to train disabled young people to be software engineers and tech workers — a first for Vietnam.
"People with disabilities don't have a voice in Vietnam," said the veteran, whose fashionable black slacks and sports coat fail to disguise a perpetual sadness in his eyes.
You are basically thrown away. You are not 'normal.' You can't work. You are a leech on society," the former Bay Area resident said before walking with a slight limp into a classroom full of eager students on crutches and in wheelchairs. "In Asia, because of the belief in reincarnation, people think you have done something in a prior life and now you are paying for it."
Grim evidence of the harsh treatment of Vietnam's disabled citizens is easy to find among the students in Du's program.
Duong Anh My was peppered by rocks because his leg was deformed.
When Ha Mau Xuyen applied for work at a telecom company, her field of study, she knew as soon as human resources representatives saw her crippled leg the job interview had effectively
Advertisement
ended. "I knew by their look they rejected me," said the 27-year-old polio victim.
Tay Duong Thi Ngoc Hoa is confined to a wheelchair in a country in which access to buildings, buses and schools for the disabled is rarely provided. "I had nothing to hope for," the 25-year-old said, her thin legs dangling from her wheelchair.
An estimated 5.6 million people of Vietnam's 90 million citizens are disabled, according to the government, though the World Health Organization places that figure at nearly 9 million. Vietnam has its own version of the Americans with Disabilities Act, but enforcement is rare. "There is no penal code to punish those who violate it," Du said.
For a small number of disabled young people enrolled in the tech training programs Du founded in Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh City, that is changing.
"IT allows them to connect to the outside world in a way they haven't before," said Andrew Wells-Dang, deputy country director for Catholic Relief Services. "It also demonstrates that people with disabilities can do all kinds of jobs, including high-tech ones."
In all, 175 students have received tech training over the past two years, including 75 as software engineers who earn international software engineering certificates. The others get six months' training in business process outsourcing — which includes image processing, data entry and general office IT work that companies outsource to countries like Vietnam.
Du's Information Technology Training Center, which receives funding from the U.S. Agency for International Development, just expanded to Ho Chi Minh City, where more than 50 students are now attending daily classes at Van Lang University. They have been provided with brand-new PCs. Subsidized housing is available to those who need it. The program, which has a budget of about $200,000 a year, is free to the students.
"Some of these people had never touched a mouse before," said Du, who has also started a for-profit company, Hanoi-based PWD Soft, which employees engineers with disabilities.
Many in the program suffer from the continuing consequences from the war with the United States, even though the conflict ended more than 30 years ago. Some struggle with injuries from stepping on land mines. Others have ailments linked to Agent Orange, the highly toxic defoliant used by the U.S. military, said Van Lang University Chancellor Nguyen Dung. Some have been afflicted with illnesses, such as polio, that no longer threaten those in the West.
All too often, Vietnamese with disabilities are confined to home or work in low-skill jobs, such as making toothpicks or chopsticks. Some spend their lives begging.
"The IT industry is one of the few professional fields in Vietnam that are well-suited for people with disabilities," Chancellor Nguyen said. "They may have trouble getting around, but their minds are fine for IT."
The training, though, involves more than learning the intricacies of programming languages like C++ and Java. The students look after each other — pushing wheelchairs, carrying one another's crutches, helping to ease fellow students into a taxi. For some, it's the first time in their lives they feel accepted.
"It's not a class anymore. It's a family," said 30-year-old Nguyen Thi Xuan Thao, who is learning outsourcing tech skills.
Du said the program is modeled after one he attended in Seattle in 1987, dubbed Resources Center for the Handicapped. Sponsors included Boeing Computer Services, Microsoft and IBM. "There was probably nothing like that anywhere except in the U.S.," he recalled.
Du went on to enjoy a successful career as an engineer, pulling down a six-figure salary. He lived in Oakland during the late 1990s when he was an IT consultant for health-care services company McKesson in San Francisco.
Now 56, Du is a man haunted by the events that reshaped his life four decades ago. He was recruited to help the Americans because of his strong English-speaking abilities. "I was a kid," Du said. "The U.S. had child soldiers."
While on patrol one day in Loc Ninh, his unit found itself surrounded. The soldiers called in artillery support. The shells, though, landed on the Americans, killing a lieutenant.
"It blew up my left arm and right leg. It was very difficult for a kid at that age to go through that. I had three choices — kill myself, start begging, or not select one or two," Du grimly jokes.
Du, who moves stiffly and remains self-conscious of his artificial limbs after all these years, is a hero in the eyes of the students. He embodies all they hope for — independence.
"We've learned how to believe in ourselves," said Nguyen Thi Xuan Thao, whose left arm and leg were partially paralyzed after she contracted meningitis as a child.
"I have a heart and a mind just like everybody else," she said. "The only thing that is different about me is the way I walk."
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