Vietnam Story Part 2

Hey Laowinners,

Continued from yesterday's story.

As we approached the town, we noticed that it looked like any town in Guangxi, albeit much poorer, and with strange script on the buildings and signs. 

The locals greeted us with warmth, and we looked around for a guesthouse or hotel that might let us stay. As you know, this process for a foreigner in minority areas of China is quite difficult. Thankfully, due to the fact that many Vietnamese come across the border, they pretty much scrapped the foreigner registration system, and didn't even ask for our passports.

Men on motorcycles kept asking us if we wanted to go to Vietnam, and we didn't understand how this would be possible without a visa, and no vehicular border crossing; only a simple footbridge.

We kept peering across the river into Vietnam, and we decided that we definitely wanted to head across. We went to the local consulate office (who was very confused to see us) and they told us we could get a Vietnam visa next day delivery for $100. We agreed, handed over our passports. That night we toured the small town, and hung out on the river looking into Vietnam.

As it grew dark, we noticed a small group of PLA soldiers at a watch post looking across to Vietnam, as well as similar green clad Vietnamese soldiers on the other side, looking into China. As we walked by with our beers, the PLA soldier waved us over. Our hearts sank a bit as we walked toward him.
He told us to have a seat, passed around cigarettes, and began to chat with me in Chinese. Beard and Prozzie stood at the river front chatting amongst themselves.

The PLA soldier used his radio to call 5 other soldiers, as well as their "boss". They all showed up with 2 huge cases of beer, and lit a small fire, and procured some meat to BBQ over it.
We chatted about their jobs, why they joined the army, and most interestingly, about their ethnicity.

You see, this area of Guangxi was a Zhuang minority region, and nearly half of the people in this town were Zhuang people, with their own language, customs, and culture. 

The soldiers told stories of how in school, the Han children bullied them, and made fun of them for being a poor minority. Most Han went off to bigger cities to study, or do business. The poorer Zhuang minority stayed and took low paying army jobs. 

Prozzie and Beard began motioning to me that I probably shouldn't be distracting the PLA guards, as small wooden boats began crossing the river, while at least a dozen Vietnamese people darted off the boats carrying large sacks, and off into the cover of the dilapidated buildings on the China side.

A half hour into the chat, the "boss" arrived. Pulling up in a BMW, a short, fat, gold chain wearing man popped out, slapped me on the back, and cracked open a beer.
This "boss" turned out to be the local mafia boss, who was in control of the army in the town. My laid back demeanor turned very nervous upon him telling me this, but when the gun toting soldiers continued to drink and make jokes, I quickly calmed down.

The boss, let's call him Jun, talked about his childhood, and how as a Zhuang minority, never felt like he belonged in the quickly Han dominated society.  As the Han kids picked on him and his little brother in school, he would keep his mouth shut, and stare out the window across the border to Vietnam, dreaming of one day escaping China, and going to someplace different. Some place where the people will treat him as an equal.

To him, freedom was merely 300 meters away. 

He worked as hard as he could, finding out what items he might be able to sell across the border. For years, he studied Vietnamese, and getting all of his money and paperwork in order. At the age of 23, he qualified for a business visa, and finally packed his bags, and walked across the border into Vietnam.

He stayed for 3 years, trying to integrate into society, starting a lightbulb factory with local partners, and doing his best to find success in the new land. Unfortunately, his endeavor was meant with disaster.

The local Vietnamese were even more discriminatory against him than the Han Chinese, labeling him as a Chinese dog, when in fact, he himself had no real identity as a Chinese person. His partners, and local corruption swallowed his factory, and took everything from him. He eventually went home with nothing.

Rejected by both sides of the border, his depression turned into determination, and he formed a crew of his old Zhuang classmates who had now joined the army for border patrol. Amidst all of the clashes, violence, and protests between China and Vietnam in the coming years, we created one of the biggest smuggling routes in the area. The border patrol had now formed contacts on the other side with Jun's help, and they started smuggling everything from drugs and guns, to working girls, from fruit, to electronics.

His proud demeanor showed us that his route had brought a lot of success to the local Zhuang people, and it showed in his belongings. When he found out we had paid for a visa to go into Vietnam, he laughed and said "I can literally take you there now on the boat. Don't waste your money."

We politely declined, and left the area. The next day, we had to see the other side.

Continued Monday.