-CHAPTER SIX-
From Singapore to Saigon

A few days later I sailed on the French ship "Camboge " for Saigon; the trip only lasted two days. On the way we passed the notorious Con Son Island, which housed the infamous Vietnamese concentration camp. The conditions here were inhuman, to say the least. The prisoners, both Viet Cong and political prisoners, existed under the most inhuman conditions imaginable. They were tortured, starved, and even summarily executed in the most cruel ways. Some, the lucky ones, were merely shot in the head and left to rot in the hot sun. Others were made to live in so-called "Tiger Cages", small pens made of interlaced barbed wire, with not enough room to either stand or lie down. The cages were open to the fierce sun and inclement weather, and provided no protection from the swarms of mosquitoes and flies that infest the island. As we passed the island I offered a silent prayer for the poor unfortunates incarcerated there. We finally reached the Saigon river, a branch of the mighty Mekong. We could see the bare masts of sunken ships rising out of the water. Along the shore were the ruined shells of former Japanese and French fortifications. When I arrived in Saigon, Mr. Mai Thu Truyen and the Venerable Thich Duc Nhiep were waiting on the pier. We were very glad to see one another, and also very happy to find all still alive. Since my last visit the Dictator (Diem) had been overthrown and assassinated along with his brother, the Chief of Police. Madame Nhu, much to her good fortune, was abroad. On the way to the Xa-loi Pagoda my friends told me that a few weeks after I had left, all of the monks and nuns had been arrested by the Government. Soldiers and National Police had stormed the Pagoda, and dragged the monks and nuns from the cloister and temple. Many were beaten, and even bayoneted. After our arrival, they showed me bloodstains on the wall of the first floor, that were still visible even though they had been painted over. One could also see bullet holes in the walls. After the overthrow of the Diem Government, all traces of the incident were removed by the government, and the international press was invited to inspect the Pagoda. Still, one could see the damage. My Disciple Taranatha visited the temple in 1973, and still found evidence of the tragedy. The damage to the large Buddha statue was, in spite of the restoration, clearly visible. Diem had used non-Buddhist troops for this outrageous operation, and they had clearly overreached their authority. I found out later that many of the officers and men that had taken part in the raid had since been arrested and shot. The new Government under General "Big" Minh was sympathetic to the Buddhist religion. The war, however, went on and on. My return to the Xa-Loi Pagoda was celebrated. Hundreds of Lay-Buddhists, monks and nuns, including the old Sangharaja of Vietnam, and other prominent monks, even Thich Tri Quang, who had been the leader of the passive resistance to the Diem Government, honored me for my mission. Thich Tam Giac was an intelligent Vietnamese monk who had lived and studied in Japan for ten years. He spoke fluent Japanese, and had an intense interest in Japanese Buddhism. In addition, he had a keen interest in Judo, earning the black belt in the discipline. After his return to Saigon, he founded the first Judo school in South Vietnam, which was very successful. He attracted a wide range of people, from young girls to older men and women; all were eager to learn the sport, and to perfect a defense against Saigon's street bandits and Viet Cong marauders. I finally settled in the famous An-Quang Pagoda in Cholon (the Chinese section of Saigon), and stayed there for one month. I had a private cell on the top floor, but, sadly, no peace. I had to receive guests from early morning until late at night; many of them spoke French or English, and some even German. In Saigon there was the Goethe Institute which arranged German classes for those interested, and also arranged for Vietnamese to study in German Universities. Even here, in this Buddhist center, there was no dearth of beautiful women. Many students, clad in their sparkling white Ao-Dais, came to visit me every day, always accompanied by another family member, as the Vietnamese consider it improper for a young girl to be alone with a man not related to her. I especially remember Mai Lan, a seventeen year old girl of striking beauty. She had long, glossy black hair, and was always dressed in a white silk Ao-Dai, with high spike heeled shoes on her tiny feet, and a pearl choker around her neck. She spoke fluent French, and now wanted to practice her English. She wanted me to teach her, as the only other alternative was to seek out an American teacher, which her family forbad. She always came accompanied by her fourteen year old sister, who always had a lovely smile on her face, and a roguish twinkle in her lotus eyes. Sadly, I later heard that the lovely Mai Lan and her entire family were murdered by the Viet Cong in the Tet offensive of 1968. Such a tragedy! Neighbors brought me the sad news. In all, over ten thousand people lost their lives during the offensive: but more on that later.

-CHAPTER SEVEN-
A Visit to Japan

The Buddhists of Saigon, especially the supporters of the An Quang Pagoda, made possible my long deferred visit to Japan. At the end of November I sailed on the French ship "Laos" to Kobe, in the south of Japan. The peaceful trip was by way of Manila, with a brief stop over in that city. I went together with a group of young Englishmen to visit the Santo Thomas University, which was, however, closed for some unknown reason. The red buildings stood far out from the city, in a lonely location; in all probability placed thusly in order to facilitate control of an eventual student rebellion. In the city itself, we could still see ruins from the war, especially around the harbor. We visited a church that had been built by the Japanese after the war, and saw a gate that was built in Spanish Colonial times. Everything in the city looked gray and drab, and the people were poorly dressed. Overall, Manila made a poor impression, and we were not a bit disappointed when the ship left the harbor. The passage to Hong Kong was miserable. The seas were stormy, and most of the passengers were seasick. We arrived there safely, however, and landed in Kowloon. It was Sunday, and most of the businesses were closed, the British having imposed a strict Sunday closing law. Only the bars, restaurants and theaters were open. I went to a Chinese movie, and was very impressed by its quality. It was a story set in China's mythological past, and very well produced; not at all boring. The colors were very well done. Later I visited a Pagoda that was located in the suburbs of the city. From there one could look across the border into Communist China. So near, and yet so far. How I wanted to cross that border, wander all through China, and eventually arrive in Tibet! In 1959 I had crossed the Tibetan border near Almora in India, with the intent of reaching Lhasa and studying there. Unfortunately, We met the "People's Liberation Army" coming the other way, and had to flee for our lives back to India. As I stood looking across the border and reflecting on what might have been, a beautiful sunset caught my attention; seldom have I seen such an exquisite display. The golden sun, bedecked with red-purple streamers disappeared behind the steep facade of the jagged mountains and wrapped the entire heaven in fire. Only the mountains and limestone spires raised their deep black silhouettes against the heavens, the spires looking like pointing fingers. On to Japan. The trip from Saigon to Kobe lasted twelve days; a slow and leisurely trip in this time of rapid travel. The ship reached Kobe in the evening; the harbor was ablaze with neon lights, but I could just make out a group of people standing on the pier holding a large green and white Esperanto banner, our prearranged recognition signal. My Pen pal, Mr. Nishiyama, and other Esperantists and Buddhists were there to welcome me to Japan. This was my first visit to that Island Nation, the fulfillment of a childhood dream. I was elated; from my earliest childhood I had been keenly interested in all things Japanese. This was a spontaneous awakening of interest, as no one in my family, or any of my friends, had even the slightest interest in things Japanese. I drew and painted many Chinese and Japanese style scrolls, and wove an entire story around some thirty scrolls. I had received acclaim from a famous art teacher for my efforts. I had lined the walls of my room with many paintings of beautiful Geishas, all painted from my imagination. I found later that I had painted all of the figures in the Japanese costume of very ancient times. What did this mean? Was it another proof of the theory of rebirth? For me this "theory" is not a mere theory, but absolute fact, and a law of nature. Buddhists accept rebirth as a necessary evil, necessary in order to work out our unskillful deeds that we have performed in the past. It would be impossible for one to atone for all of the misdeeds performed in past lives in only one life. The doctrine of rebirth is now slowly being accepted by westerners. It is no longer a rarity to encounter people who remember past lives, and believe in the doctrine. The original Bible contained many references to rebirth, but these were all expunged by the so-called "Church Elders". Most such references were labeled as heresy by the First Council of Constantinople in 533, and expunged from the Bible. My new found friends all spoke fluent Esperanto, the Universal World Language, so there were no difficulties, and no interpreters were needed. We traveled by auto to a temple of the Jodo sect, which embraced the Doctrine of the "Pure Land" of Amitabha Buddha. They are one of the largest Buddhist sects in Japan. They believe, as taught by the medieval Japanese monk Honen, that one need only to repeat the name of Amitabha Buddha, and do good works, in order to be reborn in his Western Paradise, and there to reach Nirvana. They credit the Buddha Gautama with this teaching: he was supposed to have taught that the majority of the people were not able to follow his teachings as he originally formatted them, as they were too difficult to understand. The Pure Land Doctrine was formed on this ground; one only had to repeat the name of the Buddha, or even think of Him, and one could do no evil. One also had protection against evil, and purified his mind at the same time. Their temple was constructed solely of wood, and was painted red. Inside was a standing statue of Amida Buddha (Amida is the Japanese name for the Buddha Amitabha: the Buddha of Eternal Light). Before the shrine lay a "Moki", that is a wooden drum in the shape of a carp, painted red. Next to it was a wooden mallet which was used to strike the drum. The Priest knelt on a pillow, struck the Moki, and chanted monotonously : "Namu Amida Butsu " over and over, striking the Moki in time with his chant. Clouds of incense filled the shrine room. The Buddha statue seemed to be laughing at the Priest through the smoke. The entire room was covered with soft tatamis (woven straw mats), and one was required to remove one's shoes before entering. I showed my respect to the Buddha upon entering, although I didn't belong to the Jodo sect. The director of the temple watched with good will, as I bowed in the Indian fashion before the Buddha statue. My friend, Reverend Sakato followed my example. I was the only one wearing the Vietnamese robe of dark red. All the other Priests wore western civilian clothing. They informed me that this was the custom now in Japan; only very few Priests wore their robes outside of the temple. One also saw no monks living around the temple, only women and children. I wondered about this, thinking that things had changed; Japan had become westernized. I continued to wear my robe during my visit to Japan. In all, I made three journeys to Japan, and had many contacts with Buddhists and Esperantists. I lived exclusively in Buddhist temples, where I taught English and Esperanto. I taught German for a while in the Kita Sato University in Towada, northern Japan. Later I once again moved to the south, and lived in a large temple in Kyoto.

-CHAPTER EIGHT-
Return To Saigon

I returned to Saigon in 1964, and lived in a Vietnamese Zen temple for a few months, and then with my good friend, Nguyen Van Xinh, who lived off the Pham Ngu Lao Street. Xinh had the rank of Captain in the Customs Service. His wife was Vietnamese and Chinese, and was quite beautiful for her age. They also had two daughters, who were very intelligent. They attended the French School, therefore they spoke fluent French, and were learning English. The family is now living either in France or America, having escaped from Vietnam after the fall. During this time my friends built a small hermitage for me. It was constructed entirely from wood, and was located on the main thoroughfare that led from Saigon to Bien Hoa. The hermitage was finished in June of 1965, and I moved in. It was near the Phan Than Gian bridge, in a poorer quarter through which the Saigon River flowed. Many officials, however, lived there in regular stone and concrete houses, but thousands of refugees had settled there illegally. My hermitage, not much larger than a large living room, actually consisted of three rooms; the largest being reserved for the Buddha statue, on the right was my "cell", furnished with a military cot, table and bookcase. When I first moved in , the building was unpainted, and I had no Buddha statue. I received many visitors, even some from the German Embassy, the Press, and from French and German Television. Mr. Peter Scholl-Latour made a short film of my hermitage, including an interview with me. I believe it was shown in France and Germany. The Editor of a local publishing house, the former Governor of Tonkin in French Colonial times, came twice a week for German lessons, later becoming fluent in the language. Students from Gia Long School visited me frequently to learn English, or better said, to improve their knowledge. I taught some so well that they came out first in their exams. Unfortunately my hermitage, which I had named the "Arya Maitreya Vihara", was infested with rats and mice. Being a monk and Priest, I naturally did not set out traps or poison; rather, I let the animals have their freedom. The mice soon became so tame that they didn't even run when I entered the room; they just sat there and watched me, to see if I was going to drop anything edible. I even started to feed them, which made them even bolder. One pair took to climbing the table legs and sitting on the end of my table when I ate, or running around putting their twitching noses into everything. I would lay a piece of bread down, and it would be gone before I could reach the butter. The mice were taking over! What could I do? I could not simply use violence against them, as Buddhism teaches that the harming or killing of any sentient being is wrong, and I would not even think of doing so. Eventually the problem solved itself. One morning I missed my "company" at breakfast; there wasn't a mouse in sight. I looked all over, finally peering under the kitchen cabinet where I found no mice, but a coal black mother cat with a litter of kittens, also coal black. The mother commenced to purr at me, and stretched for a scratch. The animals had no fear, but felt at home on the cement floor under the cabinet. I fetched a pillow from my chair, and placed the mother cat on it. She understood, and purred even louder. After that, I didn't see one mouse or rat in the hermitage. The problem was solved without resorting to violence. One day I witnessed a demonstration on the bridge. A group of militant Catholics were marching on the Capitol, armed with clubs and chains. They were evidently disturbed about certain laws that had been rescinded after the Buddhist rebellion. As their convoy of trucks attempted to cross the bridge, several truck loads of National Police arrived, all dressed in riot gear, and the dissidents turned around and disappeared in the direction of Bien Hoa. An acquaintance of mine, a Mr. Van who was a member of the Honorable Citizens, who functioned as advisors to the Government, was assassinated by the Viet Cong. As Mr. Van was returning from a meeting, two men on a motorcycle pulled along side and shot him in the head. In their haste to escape, the two men crashed, and one was apprehended by the National Police; the other escaped. A few weeks later the murderer, a young man, was executed publicly in the marketplace. He was simply stood in front of a wall of sandbags and shot. I have heard that many criminals were executed in this manner, especially when Nguyen Kao Ky, the Vice President and Commander of the Air Force was in power. Later, when he was President, he had five convicts hauled from prison, lined up on the sand bags, and shot as an example to other criminals. A Chinese millionaire from Cholon was also executed in this manner.....for corruption! If this was the standard, then the entire Government should have been executed... corruption, indeed! Sadly, my hermitage was becoming untenable. There were many intolerant non-Buddhists living around me. They took to pelting the Vihara with stones day and night, and even slaughtered pigs in full sight of the temple. So, I had to give it up. I once again went to Japan, and accepted a post as Professor of Philosophy. I had never intended to return to Vietnam. In April of 1967 I boarded the French ship bound for Kobe. This time it was the "Vietnam", which, with the "Camboge" and "Laos belonged to the Messageries Maritimes. I stayed in Japan for another year, until spring of 1968, and then flew to Singapore where I lived in the Chinese Temple.