JarJar Nixon's Blues Kitchen

Vietnam Man Runs 'Abortion Orphanage'
By MARGIE MASON - 23 hours ago

NHA TRANG, Vietnam (AP) - Sitting cross-legged on a straw mat in the
middle of the living room, Tong Phuoc Phuc sings a soothing Vietnamese
lullaby. For a moment, his deep voice works magic, and the tiny room
crammed with 13 babies is still.
Phuc giggles like a proud papa. He's not related to any of them, but
without him, many of these children likely would have been aborted. And
to Phuc, abortion is unimaginable.

The 41-year-old Catholic from the coastal town of Nha Trang has opened
his door to unwed expectant mothers in a country that logs one of the
world's highest abortion rates. In 2006, there were more than 114,000
abortions at state hospitals in Ho Chi Minh City - outnumbering births.

Most pregnant, unmarried Vietnamese women have few options. Abortion is
a welcome choice for many who simply cannot afford to care for a baby or
are unwilling to risk being disowned by their families.

The communist government calls premarital sex a "social evil." Abortion,
however, is legal and performed at nearly every hospital. And unlike in
some Western countries where the issue is hotly contested, the practice
stirs little debate here.
But shelters for women who want to keep their babies are rare. Phuc
promises them food and a roof until they give birth, and then cares for
the children until the mothers can afford to take them. In the past four
years, he's taken in 60 kids, with about half still living in his two
houses.

"Sometimes we have 10 mothers living here ... sleeping on the floor,"
says Phuc, a thin man with dark, weathered skin and teeth stained brown
from years of smoking. "The problem is that a lot of young people live
together and have sex, but they have no knowledge about getting
pregnant. So they get abortions."

Phuc says he made a deal with God seven years ago when his wife
encountered complications while in labor with their son. He vowed that
if they were spared, he would find a way to help others. As his wife lay
recuperating after the difficult birth, he recalls seeing many pregnant
women going into the delivery room but always leaving alone.

"I was wondering, 'where are the babies?'" he says, cradling an infant
in each arm. "Then I realized they had abortions."
Phuc, a building contractor, started saving money to buy a craggy plot
of land outside town. He then began collecting unwanted fetuses from
hospitals and clinics to bury in graves on the property. At first,
doctors and neighbors thought he had gone mad. Even his wife questioned
spending their savings to build a cemetery for aborted babies.

But he kept on, and now some 7,000 tiny plots dot the shady hillside,
many marked with bright red, pink and yellow artificial roses.

"I believe these fetuses have souls," says Phuc, who has two children of
his own. "And I don't want them to be wandering souls."

Vietnam was ranked as having the world's highest abortion rate in a 1999
report by the U.S.-based Guttmacher Institute, which tracks the
statistics. More recent reliable data for both public and private
clinics are unavailable. Aid agency Pathfinder International says
abortions remain high in Vietnam but appear to be declining slightly.

Dr. Vo Thi Kim Loan has run her own clinic just outside Ho Chi Minh City
since 1991. She says the number of young, unmarried women seeking quick,
discreet abortions has increased with more teen girls having sex before
marriage. She also still sees a steady stream of married women coming in
for repeat abortions because their husbands disapprove of
contraceptives.

Preference for boys is another factor. Vietnamese women with access to
ultrasound sometimes terminate pregnancies after discovering they're
carrying girls in a country where couples are encouraged to have just
two children.

Phuc isn't sure why so many Vietnamese choose abortion and says more
women need to understand safer forms of birth control are available.

He says word of his unusual graveyard eventually spread, and women who
had undergone abortions started visiting to pray and burn incense. Phuc
urged them to tell others considering the same option to talk with him
first.

Phan Thi Hong Vu looks lovingly at her chubby 7 1/2-month-old baby boy
sucking on a pacifier surrounded by all the other babies on Phuc's
floor.

She shivers at the thought of how close she came to losing him.

"I actually went to the hospital intending to get an abortion, but I was
so scared," says Vu, who was 3 1/2 months pregnant at the time. "I
decided to go home and think about it. Two weeks later, I met with
Phuc."
She moved into the 904-square-foot house soon after and remains there
with seven other new or expectant mothers. They spend their days
washing, feeding, burping, changing and playing with the babies - all
but one are under a year old. The constant chorus of crying, coughing
and cooing fills the living room, which is lined with pink and blue
cribs and adorned with a crucifix, the Virgin Mary and a photo of the
late Pope John Paul II.

It's a full-time operation that involves Phuc's entire family. His older
sister manages the chaos, mixing vats of strained potatoes and carrots
and preparing formula for bottles, while shushing crying babies and
chasing crawlers. The entrance to the single-level cement house tells
the story: rows of bibs, booties, jumpers and spit rags hang drying in
the sun.

It costs about $1,800 a month to care for all 33 babies and the women.

Phuc gets donations from Catholic and Buddhist organizations and from
people who have heard about his work. On a recent day, a local family
dropped by with an envelope sent from their daughter in California who
had read about Phuc on a Vietnamese Web site. Two years ago, he even got
a letter from Vietnamese President Nguyen Minh Triet praising him for
caring for women and children scorned by society.

Health authorities say they support what he's doing, but also keep a
close eye on him to ensure everything is legitimate in a country where
baby selling and child trafficking are a problem. Some people accuse
Phuc of condoning premarital sex.
Phuc's operation is not a registered orphanage, which means he cannot
put any of the children up for adoption. But even if he could, he shakes
his head and says his goal is to reunite each child with its mother or
to raise them as his own. So far, 27 babies have gone home.

"I will continue this job until the last breath of my life," he says. "I
will encourage my children to take over to help other people who are
underprivileged."

Copyright ) 2008 The Associated Press. All rights reserved.