Catfish and Mandala: A Two-Wheeled Voyage through the Landscape and Memory of Vietnam

After cycling to Mexico, Pham meets an American man named Tyle while visiting a hot spring. Tyle asks where he is from, and Pham tells him the Bay Area in California. Tyle then asks where he’s “really” from. The author notes this is a question he has always hated, so he beats around the bush before telling Tyle he was born in Vietnam.

The two meet again that evening when Tyle visits Pham at his campsite. They share a bottle of tequila, and Tyle asks him if he’s been back to Vietnam. Pham replies that he hasn’t but will visit someday. He writes that many Vietnamese-Americans have returned, some to taunt their former enemies with their newfound wealth, but he thinks most “return because we are lost” (8).

Tyle’s service during the Vietnam War affected him psychologically to the point that he left his wife and family; he has been living alone in the Mexican desert for the past nine years. Tyle adds, “Forgive me for what I have done to your people” (8). He apologizes repeatedly and begins to cry. Pham wonders who his people are. America is where he grew up but where he never felt truly accepted; Vietnam is his ancestral homeland, but he has not been back since he left as a child. Tyle then recites a litany of horrors he was involved in while the author remains silent.

This chapter describes the experiences that Pham’s father had as a prisoner of the North Vietnamese when the war ended. He tells the story of the months following the fall of Saigon in April 1975. His family joined others in going south to look for a way out of the country, but the North Vietnamese captured them. The North Vietnamese soon released the women and children, but not the men. They sent his father, Thong, to a labor camp, while Pham and his mother lived nearby so they could visit him. Pham describes his father’s last days there, living with 50 or so other prisoners in a hut. They were all fearful of the executions that took place twice a week. Their captors read a list of names from the camp’s loudspeakers, and those named would have to line up and await their fate.

One day in mid-December, Thong spoke with Tuan, his closest friend in the camp. Tuan wanted him to promise he would pass a message to Tuan’s wife and son. Tuan was afraid he’d be killed because he had been a helicopter pilot in the war, but he thought Thong, who was just a teacher, was safe. Thong, however, was hiding the secret that before becoming a teacher, he had been in charge of propaganda in Phan Thiet Province. The Viet Cong hated propagandists because they had turned the peasants against them. Thong knew if this secret got out, he would be in serious trouble. That night, 13 names issued from the loudspeaker, six from Thong’s hut. Tuan’s name was among them.

The next morning, Thong and the others went into the countryside to work. They cleared land for farming, burning the brush and trees. As rain started to fall, Thong watched a boy from the surrounding country fish by using a pointed bamboo stick as a spear. It reminded him of his own childhood, causing him to reflect on how the war had changed everything and nothing since he was a boy. The prisoners received a little rice and broth for lunch, then went to clear minefields in the afternoon. When a mine suddenly exploded and injured some of the prisoners, work simply continued with replacements. That night, back at camp, Thong heard his name over the loudspeaker. Instead of being executed, he was taken and dropped off at a crossroads in the jungle.

This chapter presents a brief vignette of Thong’s life with his wife Anh in 1961, before the war escalated. They were living in a one-room hut in Phan Thiet with their infant daughter who was not yet a year old. That winter was damp and cold, and the baby became ill. Pham writes that his parents had eloped and neither family approved of the marriage. According to folklore, this left them vulnerable, as those who eloped did not have the spirits of their ancestors to guard them. Their daughter became feverish, then very cold, and would not eat. They had no money for medical treatment, and soon their baby died. 

After his cycling trip to Mexico, Pham returns to the Bay Area and moves into his parent’s house, where he hasn’t lived in some years. He explains that it was the natural thing to do in Vietnamese culture (live with one’s parents until marriage), though it’s much less common in American culture. Some think he’s taking time to heal after his girlfriend left him, but he’s really planning another bicycle trip. He works at odd jobs—mostly freelance writing—to save money for it. He tells people he’s riding north to Seattle, but he’s actually planning to ride to Vietnam.

Pham next fills in some background about his life. He studied aerospace engineering at UCLA and received a good job after graduation with an airline. The manager who hired him condescendingly told him, “I like you people. Orientals are good workers” (25). When he later quit, Pham’s father, who had been proud of his son’s career until that point, expressed disappointment, telling him he should have kept his head down, done good work, and moved on to a new job. He said, “You say, ‘Thank you very much, sir’ and you go. Think about future. You are Asian man in America. All your bosses will be white. Learn to work” (25). Pham’s mother is good-natured and has given her life for the family. His younger sister Kay is now the family’s hope for the future. She is the only one born in America and the only one who speaks perfect English. Pham has quit a good job to search for something vague, he writes. One of his brothers can’t settle on a career either, two other brothers are gay, and his older sibling has committed suicide.

The day of Pham’s departure for his cycling trip finally arrives—he’d postponed it two days because his mother said his first choice was inauspicious according to the calendar. Pham says goodbye to Kay and his mother; the latter gives him an awkward hug, as hugging is not something that comes naturally to her. His father left early for work and is not there to see him off. Pham’s brother Tien drives him to the Golden Gate Bridge, where he gets out with his bike and gear. Tien takes his picture, and they say their goodbyes before Pham rides across the bridge to begin his journey. The cliffs of Highway 1 are steep, so he takes what he thinks will be an easier inland route that actually takes him up a mountain. At the end of the first day, after slightly more than 18 miles, he settles into a campground for the night while thinking of the many cities and thousands of miles ahead. 

This chapter returns to the story of Pham’s parents back in Vietnam before the war. As a wedding gift, Anh’s aunt had given her two family secrets as advice for her marriage. The first was how to cook well on a meager budget, and Anh made tasty dishes from the scraps she bought at the market. Meanwhile, Thong worked hard as a teacher, taking on extra classes and other jobs. Though his wife’s dishes were delicious, it wasn’t enough to sustain him, and he began losing weight. The second piece of advice from Anh’s aunt was taking in the landlord’s laundry to reduce the rent. Soon Anh also took in some neighbors’ laundry for a little extra money. She worked hard year round to help support the family. Soon she was pregnant again and, when the war began escalating, the Nationalists drafted Thong. He was confident he could rise quickly in the ranks due to his education, and they were both optimistic about the opportunities the war presented.