Cover Tatler recently sat down with Ms Ha Chi Nhan, daughter of revolutionary Hoang Quoc Viet (Ha Ba Cang)
Tatler recently sat down with Ms Ha Chi Nhan, daughter of revolutionary Hoang Quoc Viet (Ha Ba Cang)
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In conversation with Ms. Ha Chi Nhan, daughter of the revolutionary figure Hoang Quoc Viet (Ha Ba Cang).
Marking the 50th anniversary of the Liberation of the South—National Reunification Day, Tatler Vietnam spoke with Ms Ha Chi Nhan, daughter of revolutionary Hoang Quoc Viet (Ha Ba Cang). A singular witness to history, she belongs to the first generation of children born in the Dinh Hoa Safe Zone, raised amidst the care of fellow compatriots, President Ho Chi Minh, and the early revolutionaries who shaped modern Vietnam.
Read more: Legacy 50: Memories from the heart of artist Ha Huy Chuong through propaganda paintings
Madam Ha Chi Nhan, having grown up in a household where the revolutionary spirit was lived as much as it was taught, how do you perceive the role of leadership in shaping historic decisions?
It’s a profound question, and not easily captured in one conversation. Yet, students of President Ho Chi Minh—like my father, the revolutionary Hoang Quoc Viet—lived by the principle of placing national and public interests above all else. Even if it meant sacrifice, even death. At every moment, in every action, he sought to share the burden with his comrades and remained uncompromising towards anything that could harm the revolution or the people.
I still vividly recall the days of March, 1975. My father was over 70 then, standing before the mirror, smiling, his figure small in a loose military uniform and with a modest backpack. He told us he would soon join a group of cadres heading South to take over recently liberated areas. It wasn’t the first time he walked knowingly into danger, despite our family’s concern. He never felt his duty was complete. After my mother passed, he often struggled with sleeplessness. During those nights, we would talk. He rarely spoke of personal hardship. But his eyes would light up at the mention of Ho Chi Minh: “You children are still here with me. But Uncle Ho, he was alone in the stilt house, listening to the radio night and day.”
Above April 30, 1975 may seem like yesterday, but it also breathes in our present and shapes what lies ahead (photo: NVCC)
April 30, 1975 may seem like yesterday, but it also breathes in our present and shapes what lies ahead (photo: NVCC)
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There are those who believe history must be preserved in its entirety. But for younger generations who are untouched by war, do you feel we should “refresh” the way we recount it, so April 30 continues to resonate not only as a historic milestone but as a living lesson?
History lives within us. April 30, 1975 may seem like yesterday, but it also breathes in our present and shapes what lies ahead. The moment carries through us, woven into each path we take. I believe history should be preserved in full, but perhaps not taught as a lifeless set of facts, as it sometimes is today. What endures are the stories of individuals and their journeys. That is where true understanding begins. In this regard, personal memoirs hold real significance. My children and grandchildren once dreaded history until they encountered simple, relatable accounts such as Our People Are Very Heroic, a memoir about the revolutionaries personally chosen by Ho Chi Minh, written by journalist Thep Moi. Such books offer the richness of history while reading like stories from life itself.
Read more: Legacy 50: Listening to history through every page of a book
Above We were cared for as though we were kin, surrounded by the warmth of our ethnic compatriots, Uncle Ho, and our country’s revolutionary leaders (Photo: NVCC)
We were cared for as though we were kin, surrounded by the warmth of our ethnic compatriots, Uncle Ho, and our country’s revolutionary leaders (Photo: NVCC)
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As the daughter of a great revolutionary, you once said that great values reside in life’s simplest acts: the way one speaks, the honesty in one’s living, the quiet refusal to yield to circumstances. Ha Chi Nhan, does such behaviour come from a sense of duty to uphold your family’s sacred legacy?
To say I bear the responsibility of preserving my family’s sacred values sounds too lofty. In truth, we were raised in the heart of the people. When I was just two months old, my mother, revolutionary Khuat Thi Buoi, was called to new duties by the organisation. My father too was often away on long missions. Yet we were never alone. We were cared for as though we were kin, surrounded by the warmth of our ethnic compatriots, Uncle Ho, and our country’s revolutionary leaders. Though burdened with endless responsibilities, Uncle Ho still found time to visit, always offering thoughtful guidance. His final words to me before I left for Hungary to study physics remain etched in my memory: “Ha Chi Nhan, study well. Your generation will be the soldiers at the front line of building the country.” It’s the simplicity of Uncle Ho’s teachings, the people’s affection, and the quiet sacrifices of my parents that shaped who I am today.
April 30 marks national reunification, but also invites reflection on reconciliation and a shared future for the Vietnamese people. In your view, what is the greatest task for the generation born after the war? How might young people help mend the scars, both visible and unseen, left by history?
Young people shouldn’t feel bound to the notion of national reconciliation as though it were an equation to solve. We should soften the rigid ideas and inherited assumptions around this topic. Instead, let’s choose to be receptive. I believe that, as Vietnamese with red blood and yellow skin, no matter the differences in ideology or experience, we remain connected. Even in the most complex circumstances, we instinctively return to our roots. Once we truly recognise the strength of those roots and the promise held in our homeland’s future, the past begins to release its hold, and healing can gently begin.
Above To this day, April 30 is not only a historic date but one my family chooses to mark as a moment to reflect on past sorrows and to look together towards a life of peace and contentment (Photo: NVCC)
To this day, April 30 is not only a historic date but one my family chooses to mark as a moment to reflect on past sorrows and to look together towards a life of peace and contentment (Photo: NVCC)
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On this 50th anniversary of reunification, memories live on not only through commemorative events, but in the private rituals of family life. What are your thoughts on this? How might these memories continue to be honoured through family traditions today?
I still remember vividly our first meal together as a family when the South was liberated and the country reunited. The news arrived, and everyone—secretaries, guards, even the watchmen—rushed into my father’s office, their uniforms still rumpled from their haste. My father opened a bottle of gac wine that my mother had soaked, and poured it into every available cup and glass. Everyone raised a toast. The first words spoken weren’t of victory, but of peace, of reunion for the nation. To this day, April 30 is not only a historic date but one my family, like many across Vietnam, chooses to mark as a moment to reflect on past sorrows and to look together towards a life of peace and contentment. For me, the meal we share on this day has become a kind of “new tradition”, born from our ancestral reverence and continued through the generations. It binds us as a family, and in doing so, becomes a simple but enduring way to keep history alive.
