An Oral Tradition: My Last Name

Take my hand, let me take you back and back in time, back two hundred and fifty years ago, the transition into the 18th century - Vietnam. This is a story of our origin pass down generation to generation; of our name and our home. Told first by my great-great-great grandfather whose name is lost in time, thrown into oblivion, not by choice but by mistake. Here, I'll tell it now to you:

        Once upon a time when Vietnam was still ruled by emperors and empresses, there was a rule. The government's 2nd highest position was the general of the army, and only one person ruled the general – the emperor. If the general attempts to murder the king to take the crown, he would be severely punished. All with his last name, family or not, would be obliterated, along with the next three generations with the same last name. 

          My great-great-great grandfather was not a general but he served the government. He was no traitor, but the traitor and him shared the same name. Were we family? Maybe. Maybe not. Four common surnames existed in the government; Le, Trinh, Tranh, and Nguyen - which of these names were ours? No clue. All that is for sure is that the general betrayed his king, was unsuccessful, and that our family was destined to perish; condemned to death. 

If Fate had its way, we would have never existed; our name erased from history. Fortunately, we got away. My great-great-great grandfather and his family fled Hanoi (the capitol) and sought safety in the mountains. They changed their last names to Nong, leaving their other name to rot and die. Still today, our real last name is still buried somewhere in the mountains in the 17th or 18th century. It’s rather unnerving, knowing that you'll never know what your real name is.

The general was wrong but this was not justice. Why punish all those innocent people for one person’s fault? But these were the rules, and rules were meant to be followed. 

The thing with oral traditions: words can be twisted with each passing generation. There's always that chance that this story was twisted by my ancestors because of something bad my great-great-great-grandfather did. He might have been that general or maybe not. It can't be proven. Besides, what if I didn't like the truth?

The story could be true or false. But either way, there’s always a message behind a story, usually more than one. The one I see - the solution to a problem isn't always a good solution. Methods on serving justice, running from fate, changing stories to preserve honor - are these solutions wrong or right?

        Regardless, this story'll stay alive. It's important to know your history, your ancestry. Thank you for listening to my story of my people and my homeland. I hope you can understand the feelings of duty and honor of my culture.