“Should we offer them food?”

“Good thinking, Guava. But I’d like our help to last a bit longer. What do you think if we have a well dug and a pump installed where the water tap is?”

I jumped up, excited at the idea. “The line for water has been ridiculous. I bet our neighbors will be overjoyed.”

“Don’t bet on it yet. I’ll need to convince them.”

SEVERAL WEEKS LATER, Grandma came home early and hurried through dinner. I clapped my hands when she said I could come along to the weekly citizen meeting.

The People’s Committee Office used to be housed in a charming French-style villa with spacious balconies and large wooden windows. Flattened by bombs, it was now a box of cement and bricks. “Rebuilt in the Soviet style,” Grandma told me.

My neighbors poured into the stuffy meeting room and sat in rows of chairs. I looked over at Grandma, and her calmness quelled the butterflies in my stomach. She looked graceful despite her sun-roasted skin and bony frame. Her face glowed with confidence. Her long hair was rolled up and pinned behind the nape of her neck, revealing her scars.

“Thank you for coming.” Mr. Phong, the head of the People’s Committee Unit cleared his voice, and the crowd grew silent. “We have many items to discuss tonight, but first, one of our neighbors has a proposal.”

Murmurs rose as Grandma stepped up to the front.

“I’d like to thank you all for your kindness during the past years.” Grandma looked around the room. “When my children and I came here, we were country bumpkins, and you opened your arms to receive us. You helped make this neighborhood our home.”

Our neighbors stopped talking. I could see that they were drawn by Grandma’s sincere words.

“As you know,” Grandma continued, “our communal water supply has been giving us problems. We spend hours each day waiting in line, and there hasn’t been enough water to go around. I’ve been thinking about an alternative supply, so I asked a technician to visit our neighborhood. He gathered samples of our underground water, especially under the communal washing area.” Grandma passed a stack of papers around. “In your hands are results of the water tests. If drawn from more than fifty meters below the ground level, the water is good, safe for us to use.” She paused to give her listeners time to scan the papers. People started whispering again, but this time they were nodding their heads.

“With these results,” said Grandma, “I’d like to make a proposal. Instead of relying on the public water supply, we should have a system to draw underground water out for us. A well and a manual pump would do the job.”

“This sounds grand, but it costs a lot of money,” a neighbor said aloud.

“We don’t have enough to eat, how can we afford it?” another one asked.

Grandma raised her hand. “As a token of my gratefulness to this community, I’d like to pay for all the costs involved.”

Voices mushroomed all around us. At first, people’s eyes seemed to light up, but as they talked among themselves, their eyes dimmed. Heads began to shake.

“We can’t accept money from a con bu?n!” Mr. Tan, an elderly neighbor sprang to his feet. “Bourgeoisie and traders are leeches that suck the life out of our economy.”

“Her money is dirty.” Mrs. Qu?nh, a middle-aged woman pointed her finger toward Grandma’s face.

“She can afford to throw her money away, money she earns without doing any real work,” said someone else.

I saw myself in the angry sneers targeted at Grandma. I’d held strong feelings about her job, only to have my eyes opened by her entrepreneurship, hard work, and determination.

I had to be Mèn the cricket who was brave and stood up for his own beliefs. I found myself on my feet. “Please, may I speak? My name is H??ng. I’m Grandma Di?u Lan’s granddaughter. My parents have gone to the battlefields, and Grandma takes care of me. I live with her, and I’m aware of what she does.” I looked at Grandma and smiled. “Grandma Di?u Lan works harder than anyone I know. She barely sleeps. Just look at the blisters on her feet and they’ll tell you that she doesn’t exploit anyone. Every cent she wants to donate to this neighborhood has been hard-earned money.”

A tear rolled down Grandma’s face. Silence enveloped the room.

“Children don’t lie.” Mrs. Nhan stood up. She was the only person here who’d remained friendly to us. “Don’t think about propaganda, please. Think about the benefits this would give your own family. Your children will have more time to play. You will have more time to relax. The water will be much safer. No more lining up from four in the morning. No more fighting about who got a fuller bucket.”

People started murmuring together again.

“All right, all right.” Mr. Phong raised his hands to silence the crowd. “Let’s have a secret ballot. There’re paper, pens, and a box on the table over there. Write down your wish, yes or no to Mrs. Di?u Lan’s offer, and put it into the box. The majority decision will be the final one.”

As the neighbors made their way to the table, Grandma found me. “I guess from today I shouldn’t call you Guava anymore. You’re a young lady now, H??ng.”

I beamed. “I love my baby name, but yes, H??ng would be nice.”

I squeezed Grandma’s shoulders as Mr. Phong read the result aloud. “Out of forty-one people present here tonight . . . thirty-six agreed to Mrs. Di?u Lan’s proposal.” He turned to Grandma. “On behalf of our neighborhood, thank you.”