In this essay, Dr. Chu, father of VRE founders Chinh and Kathy Chu, ruminates on the meaning and motivation behind charity in face of seemingly endless poverty.

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My last visit to Saigon was during the Lunar New Year in February 2007.

My wife and I, along with our friends, had come back to Vietnam to visit family members who lived there and to take in the dramatic changes of a place we once called home. But we were also looking for a way to give back to Vietnam.

So when our friends told us they wanted to buy food and medicine, and go back to their hometown -- an impoverished city in the south named Tra Vinh, south of Saigon -- to distribute these supplies, we jumped at the chance to help.

We made the trip on a humid February day. From Saigon, it took us six hours to get to Tra Vinh because of the bumpy, winding roads. The small town had a population of around 50,000. Except for the bustling central market, the countryside exuded tranquility with its thatched huts and unpaved roads. Most of the people here are very poor, walking barefoot or riding bicycles rather than zipping around in scooters or cars as they do in the big city.

About 600 people waited in the center of town to receive the food and medicine. There were more women than men. One woman carried four small children in her arms. Most of the children had no shirts, only pants. Old women and men used canes to amble slowly to their place in line, to receive the meager portion of food supplies and medicine that our group had brought with us.

Most of these people had no basic medical care. They looked old at the age of 40 or 50. Many had no teeth, which made them look even older. Their children were undernourished. I knew that many children there lacked vitamins, which resulted in swelling in their extremities. Their lack of sanitary living conditions weakened them, increasing their susceptibility to infection and parasites. One woman told me that she gave birth to eight children, but four of them died in infancy. Her husband had to go to Saigon regularly to look for a job, but often came back without one. She took care of her children and scrounged for food to feed them every day. Her children looked emaciated and sick, but all we had were a few aspirins to give them.

In the searing heat, people waited impatiently for their turn. Some of them, after receiving rice, cooking oil and canned food, could not carry them. A young boy had to help carry these loads to their bicycles, which they used to transport the merchandise. Their wrinkled faces sparkled with joy; they smiled although they knew these supplies would only last for a short time.

I felt so sorry for one woman who had three emaciated children with her. She said she had been battered by an abusive husband, which left her with a disfigured face. I ran back to the supply line and tried to get more food for her, to no avail. Someone in the group reasoned with me that if I succeeded in giving her more than other people waiting, there would be a revolt. I realized they were probably right.

After 3 hours of pushing, pulling and giving out supplies, we were exhausted. The crowd began to disperse, and we prepared to get on the bus to go back to Saigon. One thought I couldn't get out of my mind on the ride back: Whether this little bit of charity would make any difference in the lives of these people.

Would it have any lasting impact on any of them, since the food and medicine would not last longer than a few days? After all, I knew that many of these people, after these supplies were exhausted, would return to a life of hunger and unsanitary living conditions.

I thought about my motive for doing this charity work. Praise by my peers? Self gratification for doing good work? Or even a small reward in heaven? I realized that ultimately, a smile on my hungry and sick brother's or sister’s face was enough for me. I did not need any other reward.

Dennis A Chu, M.D.