The Sacred Land - Mysterious Grandmother
My grandmother is now over 70 years old, yet her life and the history of her family remain a profound enigma in my mind. My great-grandfather was a government official under the old regime, which earned him land and allowed the family to accumulate wealth over time. However, the life of my great-great-grandmother was marked by misfortune and a series of chilling events. She rose to prominence only to lose everything—her assets, her lineage, and ultimately, her family’s prosperity.
During a recent Tet holiday visit to my hometown, I spoke with my grandmother’s sister and finally gained some insight into the origins of the peculiarities surrounding our family. Since the time of my great-great-grandmother, a haunting legend has lingered: she gave birth to nearly a dozen children, all daughters. Her life was filled with unsettling incidents, which I will recount in greater detail another time.
Returning to my grandmother’s story, she was famed for her beauty and gentleness in her youth. She married at a very young age, giving birth to my mother before she turned 16. Despite her family’s previous wealth, the inherited misfortunes from her great-great-grandmother plunged them into poverty. My grandfather, a diligent farmer, later found a job at the Hong Ha ballpoint pen factory, which barely sustained his wife and four children.
After the terrifying incident with the headless general, a new tragedy struck. When my mother was 14, my grandmother suddenly descended into madness. This was not a mere series of erratic episodes but a complete mental breakdown. The family, unable to care for her, sent her to Trau Quy, near Route 5, where she stayed for two months. From then on, she became a wandering figure, alternating between madness and semi-lucidity, with no explanation for her condition.
One night, while my mother was asleep, she was startled awake by a strange clattering noise at the door. When she opened it, she was horrified to see my grandmother standing silently in the yard, barefoot and dressed in tattered clothes. Trembling, my mother brought her inside. As she lit a candle, she was shocked to find that my grandmother’s once jet-black, lustrous hair—her pride—had turned completely white, as if overnight.
What frightened the family even more was her voice. When she began to speak, it was not her usual tone but a cold, distant voice, as though it emanated from another realm. When my grandfather returned home, he was horrified not only by her appearance but by the sheer impossibility of what had occurred. At the time, Long Bien Bridge was the primary route into Hanoi, guarded by numerous checkpoints and patrols. Yet my grandmother—a mentally ill woman—had walked from Trau Quy to Long Bien unimpeded, a feat that defied logic.
Later that night, her voice returned to normal as she recounted the surreal events. She explained that earlier, as she lay down to sleep, her mind suddenly cleared. The door to her room opened on its own, and a figure clad in white entered. The figure asked, “Are you N.? If you wish to return to your husband and children, follow me.” Without questioning, she obeyed. The figure gave her strange instructions: to lie down when told, to crawl when commanded, and to run at other times. She complied in a trance-like state, and when she woke up, she found herself standing in front of my mother.
After that night, my grandmother’s madness inexplicably disappeared. However, she was never the same. Her hair remained white—a permanent reminder of that eerie night—and she began exhibiting strange, unexplainable behaviors that left the family in both awe and fear.
Her story is one of the many mysteries that haunt my family. It is a tale of resilience, terror, and the unyielding grip of the past on the present. And yet, it is only one fragment of the enigmatic life of my grandmother—much more remains to be told.