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Published: June 10th 2009
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Going to see Uncle Ho's preserved body was probably one of the creepiest things I've done in a long time. I guess I went out of macabre curiosity and a sort of side-show interest, which I realize is not the most respectful of attitudes, but I can assure you that I had second thoughts about the whole thing once I got there.
Ho Chi Minh was born in 1890 and led the Viet Minh Independence movement against the French colonialists starting in 1941. He continued to be a major power in Vietnam until his death in 1969 and even (or especially?) now maintains a strong cult of personality, much like Evita, Che, and Fidel, among others. After its fall, Saigon was renamed Ho Chi Minh City (quite a mouthful, but it seems that it is still kosher to refer to it as Saigon from what I can tell) in honor of Uncle Ho.
I was in a bit of a rush when I got to the mauseoleum complex, later in the morning than I intended, because the mausoleum portion is only open until 11 AM or so. But I need not have feared, because they really have the system
down and everything there moves like a well-oiled machine. The first step is the bag and camera check and then briskly on to a looooonnnng line to get into the massive mausoleum where the embalmed body is enshrined. It seemed that tons of school groups were there for what I imagine to be an obligatory right of passage and must-see for Vietnamese school children.
Despite the length of the line, it moved very quickly and before I knew it I was on the steps before the imposing building, awed by the fact that this person's life would be so conspicuously and opulently celebrated, especially against his wishes (he requested to be cremated). It sort of reminds me of when Che Guevara's face is emblazoned on t-shirts, hats, pens, journals, and other tchotchkes, promoting just the time of commercial consumerism that he would have opposed. Both of these things seem a betrayal of the memory of what I understand these leaders to have stood for (in the simplistic view that ignores their own contradictions and flaws).
On the steps up to the entrance, we were greeted by very serious guards in white gloves who demanded the utmost respect by
shushing the noisy, commanding others to remove their sunglasses, and generally ensuring decorum. Upon reaching the top of the steps, I felt the cold, cold blast of the cranked-up A/C from inside, which sent a shiver all the way up my spine and made it all seem suddenly very funereal (well, DUH, I guess it should feel that way since we are viewing this man's embalmed body, but up until that point it still seemed like a lighthearted fieldtrip). I suddenly felt the desire to turn and walk, no RUN, away from the place. "Why am I lining up to see this man's body?" I asked myself. "I can understand why Vietnamese people might want to see him, but he holds no special place in my heart as the liberator or "father" of my country, so why exactly am I doing this besides the fact that everyone who comes to Hanoi does it? (which is not really a good enough reason in my mind)." But then I worried about what might happen if I turned and walked away. Would the guards tackle me? Would I offend an entire nation?
As I was thinking these things, the line continued to
move swiftly ahead and I was swept along with it before I could make the decision to walk away. The line shuffled into the room where the body is kept- a huge, cold, squareish room, with the Snow White-like glass box holding Uncle Ho in the middle. Uncle Ho appears to be sleeping serenely in a glass box, but definitely has a waxy aspect to him that conjures up images of Madame Tussauds (apparently the body is taken to Russia for three weeks every year for touch-ups). His body is flanked by two enormous flags inlaid in marble on the walls behind both of his shoulders-- the hammer and sickle on one flag and the Vietnamese single star on the other. We steadily continued the path of circumambulation around the body and then before I knew it I was back outside again in the hot, humid day. I felt relieved to be out of there and literally heaved a sigh of relief.
Unless it was false humility that caused Ho Chi Minh to proclaim his desire to be cremated as a more hygienic and less wasteful use of land, it seems that Uncle Ho would actually be rather offended
and chagrined that so many resources went into creating this huge monument to him, though it certainly is impressive.
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