25/11/2025
8 years ago, I set off on an unforgettable adventure – bikepacking from Vietnam to India, immersing myself in new cultures, while also volunteering my time to people living with disabilities, particularly treating children who experienced motor delays. The journey wasn’t just about exploring new places; it was about learning and sharing the stories of people and families whose voices are often unheard.
Today, I want to share the second of these stories.
*Pham, Haiphong, Northern Vietnam*
I met Pham on an afternoon at his mother’s humble home after finishing up at the small neurorehabilitation hospital I was volunteering at (after working with Binh and other children - first story).
Pham was located a 45 minute scooter ride away from Haiphong, and with Hoa’s help, an absolute legend who helped me translate over the two weeks, eagerly gave me a lift.
We soon left the developing city scape and construction rubble and arrived into a landscape that was hilly and neatly occupied by rice paddies and small white concrete paths, just wide enough to ride 2 scooters abreath. In the hot and humid climate, after a days work, the breeze and fresh air was welcome.
We arrived to a small flat opening that was concreted and contained a U shaped structure made out of concrete and sheeted metal with a small concrete courtyard in the middle to park scooters.
I was welcomed into the home by an elderly lady in her 70’s, who then introduced me to her 51 year old son, Pham, who was lying on a very thin cotton mattress on top of his hard wooden bed. In that room I got to learn about their life.
Pham was born during the Vietnam war. A very turbulent time when only uncertainty existed. Very early on, Pham’s mother knew that Pham needed more help. He spent lots of time crying and was unable to roll or sit even after the age of 1. Years after the war had ended, Pham was diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy. From what was described it seemed to be Class GMFCS 4. Pham could complete a sit to stand and pivot transfer with assistance but for most of the time he was carried on his mothers back.
Pham’s father was working to help distribute oil. Pham’s mother told me locals in the village assumed Pham had been poisoned as a result of the dad working in that field of work. Due to this, Pham’s mother reported no one wanted to come near Pham or their family as they thought it might ‘spread’. Thus, Pham and his family were isolated from their community.
Pham’s father passed when Pham was 10 years old. Since then, solely, his mother has looked after him. Not having disability supports within the country means Pham’s mother, even at this age works an extremely laborious, 8 hour day in the rice field, 6 days a week, earning roughly 1US dollar per day. Her only question for me was; who will look after Pham once she is no longer here?
I didn’t know the answer, and Hoa told me he would get sent to a care facility that is run on donations/ volunteers/ receives some government assistance.
Even still, when I look at this portrait, Pham’s mothers’ grasp on Pham is so strong, so supportive but filled with concern and fatigue. In her time with him, like many other parents, even with her tired eyes at the age of 70, she continues to give and give and give.
From meeting Pham and his mother, I had many thoughts and emotions that I experienced. The take away for me was if I am in a position to give, I will.
