Problems of Amerasians, Lack of Jobs, Inflation Remain : Ho Chi Minh City Regains Traces of Old Saigon’s Flair and Prosperity

The pedicab’s bonnet was raised to block the sun, but two passengers could be seen--a Vietnamese woman and a boy with long, sandy hair.

“American? American?” a reporter called out.

“Yes,” the woman shouted back, “his father is American.”

At a streetside cafe, she told her story, an example of what has been a lingering problem in Vietnam--the Amerasians. Now in their teens, they are the children of Americans who served here in the war--boys and girls shunned or, at best, tolerated by Vietnamese society.

Viewed as Nuisance

Despite outward appearances of a slightly improved life, the 3.5 million people of Ho Chi Minh City have concerns that are more pressing than the plight of the Amerasians: jobs, inflation and the draft, among others. To the Communist authorities, the Amerasians are a nuisance.

Early last year, American-fathered teen-agers could be seen daily crowding around hotels near the river, trying to contact foreign visitors. Last April, when Vietnam celebrated the 10th anniversary of the fall of Saigon, as this city was known then, policemen swept the youngsters from the streets, removing a reminder of another era that they did not want to mar the event.

Now, none are to be seen in the hotel district. The boy in the pedicab was from out of town.

Buy-Sell Economy

“I came here to buy clothes to sell in my home province,” his mother, Tran Chi Thoa, 39, said. “My son came with me.”

“She does buy-sell,” said her driver. “For so many people, that is the only work. Buy something here, sell it there.”

The mother, in broken English, spun out the story. She had met her son’s father in Loc Ninh, north of Saigon in Song Be province, in 1970. He worked at the American air base at Phu Loi.

“His father was blond and had blue eyes,” she said, looking at her 15-year-old son, Tran Anh Phong, whose almond eyes had a greenish tint. The boy, who had said not a word, looked uncomfortable.

‘Used to Know English’

“He used to know some English,” the mother said. “Now he’s forgotten it all. He’s a lazy boy. I tell him to go to school, but he won’t. He just plays in the streets.”

She married the American in 1971, the year the boy, their only child, was born. Two years later, she and the American moved to Saigon. “The VC (Viet Cong guerrillas) were in Loc Ninh, and they were hard on women who lived with Americans,” she said.

In 1975, her husband left with the rest of the Americans, and she and the boy returned to Loc Ninh. She has had no contact with the father since then. “I don’t have his address,” she said. “There is no way to reach him, and he doesn’t know where I am.”

‘Tell Him to Write’

She gave the reporter an address in Ho Chi Minh City where she could be contacted. “If you can find him, tell him Lory--he called me Lory--is in Loc Ninh, and tell him to write to this address,” she asked.

Through the end of February, more than 3,400 Amerasians and their immediate families had left Vietnam under the United Nations-sanctioned Orderly Departure Program. Many times that number remain, though their number can only be estimated.

A small crowd was gathering outside the cafe, and the woman’s driver was anxious to leave. “We don’t want any trouble,” he said.

Policemen, Informers

The driver, like many others, said he had served in the army of South Vietnam. If former President Nguyen Van Thieu still has divisions, they are pedaling the streets of Ho Chi Minh City. But many who drive these three-wheeled vehicles-- cyclos, they are called, bicycles with a seat for passengers in front--are said to be policemen or informers.

The watchful eye of the authorities remains constant in the capital of the south, which otherwise has made some small gains in the last year, particularly in comparison to the dreary national capital of Hanoi in the north.

The city has always had a flair, and the Communist regime has allowed certain aspects of the old days to return, trying to present at least the appearance of a better life.

High Heels, Dress Gloves

In the hotels and on the streets, more women are wearing the form-fitting ao dai, the ankle-length, side-slit tunic worn over black slacks. High-heeled sandals are worn with any outfit. Women bicyclists, sweeping around the broad, French-style avenues like great schools of fish, often don elbow-length dress gloves.

In the downtown area, several old buildings are being refurbished to house state trading companies. Work is being completed on a structure next to the old Majestic Hotel (now the Cuu Long) for the local headquarters of Seaprodex, which exports fish, shrimp, lobster and crab.

The government has prepared a slick catalogue of state trading companies, but so far many exist in name only, for the economy is still affected by poor management and lack of capital.

Modern Firm Names

The names, at least, are up to date: Agrexport for agricultural products; Artexport for handicrafts; Barotex for bamboo and rattan, and Petrovietnam for offshore oil and gas deposits, mapped and test-drilled under the old government but yet to produce for the Communists.

On a smaller scale, private traders remain active in this former bastion of Vietnamese capitalism. The government-sanctioned free market off Nguyen Hue street downtown is well stocked with foreign-made goods: Izod shirts (real and Hong Kong fakes), European and Australian beer, Japanese stereos.

A red T-shirt bearing the word Cincinnati was priced at 200 dong, about a dollar at the black market currency rate, which is four to 10 times the sliding official rate.

Price of Beer Soars

The government is charging restaurants 40 dong for a bottle of the city’s respectable “33” beer, 10 times what it cost last fall, a waitress said. “We hear the supplies are running out at the brewery,” she said.

Across town in the market of Cholon, the Chinese district, inexpensive household goods and yardage are plentiful in the stalls, along with an exotic and aromatic array of spices and any part of a pig or chicken one might want.

But along the streets, with some exceptions, the main businesses are curbside bicycle repairs, lottery-ticket sales and food stalls. There are not many restaurants, and they come and go, shut down by overtaxation and other official pressures if they become too profitable.

Hotel Spruced Up

The Cuu Long has been spruced up as the main hotel for Western visitors. The staff points with pride to the new elevator, a Nippon Electric Co. lift that replaced the hit-or-miss cage of a year ago.

Soviet Bloc visitors stay at the old Caravelle and Continental up the street, and are far more numerous.

On a cyclo ride through the city or walking in the markets, a Caucasian still draws the attention of Vietnamese. Many point their fingers and say “Lienso , Lienso” --”Russian, Russian”--and rarely can be dissuaded.

The terminal at Tan Son Nhut airport has also been refurbished, with new immigration gates and customs tables. A men’s room was spotless. A new push-button, hot-air hand dryer had been installed. It didn’t work.

Nick B. Williams Jr. reported this story while on recent assignment in Vietnam.