April returns, Black April, a month of indelible pain in the hearts of those living far from their homeland. As the trees outside turn a lush green, memories of a bloody and tearful exodus flood back.
First Senior Center is proud to present to you, ladies and gentlemen, the true stories of those who chose to leave, abandoning their homeland in those years. A journey in search of freedom, overcoming dangers and losses, leaving an indelible mark on the heart. A story of boat people, of survival, hope, and gratitude on the path to a new life. A painful but resilient memory, of people who bravely faced adversity to build a future.
The first story is about a young girl who, in 1979, crossed the sea with her family in search of freedom. A journey fraught with dangers and losses, but also a testament to the strength of will and the desire to live of the Vietnamese people.
——————
My journey started on the 17th of April in 1979.
That morning, my dad left for work earlier than usual, I knew he couldn’t bear the goodbye, no father can bear that! To let go of his oldest daughter and his oldest son; I didn’t blame him, I have never blamed my dad for his decision. I knew he didn’t have any other option. Nine years later, when we were once again reunited in Winnipeg, Canada. I learned from my sister that it was the hardest thing he had to do in his life. The decision of sending his two teenage kids on a very dangerous journey so they can find freedom and a better life for themself.
We left early by bus, about a one-hour ride to a small town from our house to meet with other passengers. There, we stayed two nights due to the delay in the departure schedule.
Like many other Boat People, my faith was at the mercy of whatever would come. Five days on a small fishing boat with my eighteen months younger brother along with one hundred and ninety-five other people, the purpose of the journey was to leave our country in peace to get to the other side of Thailand Bay and land somewhere in Thailand or Malaysia, where hopefully we would get help from the UN.
The captain of our boat had a general idea of where he should steer our boat to but then he has never had done that in his career, no fisherman wants to cross the international water border to go into another country and so all his crews. They had no control of what would happen if the engine breakdown, no control of exactly where we could land, we all hoped for the best but also prepared for the worst.
Deep down we knew that we should pray more than we should plan for our trip. News and messages from the people who left before us told us that it would be a tough, and dangerous journey, we should plan, but most of all, we should have faith.
April, 19th 1979 our boat left the small dock on the Rach-Gia canal after all the passengers were legally checked-in. We said it was legal, but truth to be told, it was named ‘haft-legal’ among our people. The police called for the name and one by one we stepped onto the wooden board to go into the boat. I can’t remember how the seating was arranged, only found out that all younger passengers, mostly young couples or singles were placed in the very front compartment where there was less room due to the shape of the boat and of course the most unstable part of the boat.
Five days on the small boat with a total of one hundred and ninety seven people, we laid half straight up with our back to the boarded wall and legs stretched out, like sardines in the can, we took turns to laid flat when the other bend their knees up to their chests since there wasn’t enough room in the small compartment for the number of people in it.
On day one, it was nice and sunny; on day two it was raining cats and dogs, even though we were very wet from the rain but that was ok because we still had some food and water and the weather there was very warm. We officially left Vietnam at five pm on that second day.
On the early morning of day three, we spotted a bigger fishing boat, at first glimpse, we thought that it was the ship of France since the flag was red, white, and blue, but when it came nearer, we knew it was the Thai pirate ship. Our captain and the crews screamed for all the girls to go down into the compartments, hide all the money and jewelry but leave out some for them to take when those Thai fishermen, or rather greed had turned them into pirates jumped over to our boat, they carried guns and batons, and big knives with them, not the small pocket knives but the knives that people use to chop the fresh coconuts. All the women and children were down in the fish storage compartments by then, the pirates screamed for us to sit still, and they put their knives to some of the men’s necks, I was in the open space of the compartment so I could see some of the actions above since we basically didn’t have much space. When two men jumped down to my compartment, I gave one of them my second-handed Rado watch, my brother gave him his watch as well, they left our boat after twenty minutes of robbing us. By then my motion sickness was so bad that the open deck passengers made room for me to stay up with them, I couldn’t believe what I saw; the surface of the boat was like a ‘trash dump’ clothes were scattered everywhere, old pictures, black and white pictures, color pictures were everywhere, foods were trashed, stepped on. Here and there, I saw bottles of precious medicines that people desperately depended on, some rolling with the motions of our small boat. It was a terrible, horrible picture. Many people were crying, we all were so afraid, so shaken up by the attack.
From there, things got from bad to worse when more and more pirate boats came to rob us, we ran out of food, not that we ate any of the food supplies we brought along for the journey, but rather, our food was trashed into the ocean to make room for them, the pirates, to find what they came looking for.
Each time they stopped our boat to rob us, they wanted our gold, money, jewels, watches, and more gold. Without hesitation, they threw our food, our clothes, and our belongings everywhere inside the compartments, on the open deck, they threw our things into the water, they did what they want to do. It never crossed their mind that after they leave, without food and water, without medications that so many passengers had to depend on for their ongoing treatments, we would starve and thirst and get sicker and sicker.
The 2nd time was very much the same, the 3rd Time then the fourth… they kept coming, each time was worse than the previous one because there was not much left for them to take. The worst part of all was that they removed the compass of the boat and took that too, without the compass, our faiths were then dependent on the captain and his crews to look for the right stars, I had heard of how captains were able to tell and follow the stars. We prayed that he was right when he spotted the stars, we prayed that our gods would guide him so we could land safely. Our lives were like a thin thread, our boat was too small to be spotted by planes or nearby passing boats. Only the pirates, the ones who hunted us can find us.
It was on the 4th day, the 7th time of being robbed, that our lives were spared. It was a much bigger fishing boat with around ten fishermen or were they, full-time pirates??? they hurled children over to their boat, I walked over the narrow wooden board with the waves crashing under my feet, with the boat churning, with my legs numbing, wobbling, which wouldn’t listen to my brains that tell them to move, to walk. We were thirsty, we were hungry, we were dirty, I knew for sure that we smelled worse than dead fish. Whether because of that or whether because our god had heard our prayers, they didn’t try to rob us, instead, they gave us food.
They gave our elders and children crackers and milk (made by mixing condensed milk with boiling water). Then they pointed to many young women, telling them to go to the back, behind the captain’s cabin, to cook congee (white rice cooked in a lot of water until it looks like soup or thin pudding) with some fresh fish.
It was dusk by the time we all ate the congee, they kept us on their boat because ours was in no shape for us to move back. The next morning they fed us again with the same thing, this time, our ladies were not too scared of them and the congee had more fish in it. They continued to tow our boat with their men fixing it while we stayed at theirs. By around four o’clock that afternoon, they let us know that we should be on our own now, they couldn’t help any further since we were near the Malaysia international water. They said it is not safe for us to go into Thailand. With that, they removed the rope and we weaved goodbye.
On our own boat now moving toward Malaysia, the 8th time robbing happened at midnight, I didn’t think anyone knew if those pirates were Thai or Malaysian. It was the same to us, they dug into our broken luggage, our bags, they padded our bodies to find treasure, only thing was, they didn’t know that they had found treasures; our minds, our souls, our bodies were treasures they found but they would never know.
I couldn’t sleep much that night and come up to the open at around six am the next morning, everyone on the opened deck was too tired and disoriented to bother to tell me to stay down in my compartment. I heard people say we definitely were in Malaysia’s water. Our boat passed many small islands, thanks to the research and knowledge of the captain, they kept our boat going. The sun was getting brighter and the heat was getting stronger then, I guessed it was around nine or ten am that I started to see more islands. We passed smaller, bigger islands, then we all cheered when we spotted a very big and very green island. The captain turned the boat a little and started heading toward it, the nearer we got, the more movements I spotted, they looked like monkeys moving around, but no, to our relief they were people, they weaved like crazy, they ran down to the beach, they swam toward our boat. I knew, we all knew then that they were our people, I was numbed, just sat there and looked at them and remembered that I can’t swim. When people on the boat started grabbing whatever that they could grab, I heard my brother screaming for me to move, so I did the same, I grabbed my bags which had a blouse and a pair of pants and two under-clothes which I had tucked on the bottom the night before. To be honest, those weren’t mine, but what could I do? I hoped someone had mine to survive the tough time we expected to face ahead. By then, the screaming was very loud, I was still trying to look around for my brother’s bags but couldn’t find them, looking up, I saw him a few feet away signaling for me to follow the swimmers, more screaming, lots of screaming, the swimmers instructed the men on the boat to break the boat, and as fast as they could, they did, they already knew ahead of time that if the boat is in good condition, the Malaysia police will tow the boat out to the international waters.
Those swimmers, those refugee swimmers, they were our life savers, a middle-aged man screaming at me, he signaled for me to jump down, I saw many girls around me jump and the swimmers caught them. I didn’t wait for my brother, instead, I jumped, the middle-aged man caught me and told me to hold on tight to his shoulders, and just like that he swam us onto the beach.
The police already set up a round circle with yellow color tape for the newcomers, I went in and sat down on the warm sand, saw my brother staying with his friend not too far from me, I knew he could swim, I knew he was relieved to see me in that circle.
After sitting down, when things were a little clearer for me to see, I saw some of my friends and friends of my parents standing outside the circle ring waiting for their friends or relatives to join them, I didn’t know what I was thinking, I only remember that I was so very very thirsty and hungry, none of us had anything to eat since yesterday when the pirates fed us again with some congee and crackers before noon.
Later on, after the registration process was done, my brother and some of his friends swam out to the ruined boat to try to gather a couple more usable items, he was even lucky enough to bring back two pieces of smooth board which he used to build me a bed a few days later. Meanwhile, in those first days, I boarded with my pretty and kind eighth grader teacher at night, my brother slept on the beach along with many other men who were also in the process of finding or building a place to live.
My refugee life began from there, it was a very good one compared to others. Yes, it was hard, it was everything that ‘Boat Peoples had experienced. Whenever I think about that trip, I always remind myself that mine and my brothers weren’t too bad at all. Twice or three times a week, we lined up for hours on the sandy beach under the sun for food supplies which included rice, sugar, salt, and three different kinds of canned food; sardines, beans, and chicken which had more broth in the can then meat that we so badly needed for proteins. Every day, we walked far up into the mountain for our private businesses. When it rained we stayed up the whole night because our temporary living area and bed made from wood branches and broken tarps were soaked with rain water, our blood was food for the mosquitoes and bedbugs. Once or twice a week, my brother and his friends went up to the mountain very early in the morning to cut woods and came back with only their eyes that were not blacken by dust and sweat, me and our teacher, actually, our school former vice principal, also a friend of my father, together, we sawed and then split the woods into smaller pieces and sold them for a bit money. We used wood for our outdoor cookstoves, we didn’t even have a kerosene cookstove. If you are wondering! Yes, we had wood everywhere on the island, but not all households had strong men to go up the mountain nor did they have the tools to cut the woods.
During the five months we lived on Bidong Island, I learned to cook with the outdoor dug-up hole, like a campsite, but since it was outdoor and had no cover, It was difficult to cook anything especially when it rained non-stop for three, four days. I also learned to mend clothes by hand-stitch, when our friends left the island for Kuala Lumpur to wait for their flights, they would leave us their clothes, we all learned to mend them, fix them, handed them down to people who would need them, but most of all I learned to write letters for my parents without crying.
Later on, after we were interviewed and accepted by Canadian UN high commissioners, my life turned around. Since my teacher whom I had lived with qualified for the work, I could tag along, and we signed up to volunteer to work at the new hospital building site. Instead of transporting sick people to the big French cruise ship anchored far out from the beach, United-Nation gave the funding to build a hospital, today it is still there on the island of Pulau Bidong, our jobs were to register the daily workers, give out lists of job descriptions, recorded incidents… from just a high school student a few months ago, now to be able to have a rare opportunity of work that was only available to a hand full of refugees, I was so happy, so thrilled and so proud of myself.
Living on the island, some people who were lucky enough to still have their jewelry to sell, needed money to buy necessary items that didn’t include in the food supply. Some were able to hang on to their new clothes, like shirts and khaki pants for men, nice blouses and dress pants for ladies, they sold them to people who needed decent clothes to wear when they leave the island to start the journey to their new permanent country by plane. Somehow, my brother was able to hide the ring that our dad gave him, and my third cousin was able to hide a gold bracelet. We sold both items, using the money very stingily to buy things like pens, papers, candles, cooking oil, fresh veggies, toiletries…
Since my teacher and I were working, we got a little bonus package once in a while from the clinic which included vitamin pills, Tang’s orange powder drink mix, powder milk, and one time some creamy crackers. For those items, they don’t sound important, they don’t sound like they are a big deal but they were a big deal to us then. My skin had turned a bit yellow, many of us were but we took it as we had tanned. The lack of proteins, vitamins, and minerals, when our diets were mostly canned foods, little fresh green veggies, and fresh fruits now and then did many funny tricks to our bodies, adding to the anxieties of not knowing where and what and how and when things would improve for us. I knew that we were lucky to have clean springs water, We bought two plastic buckets to carry water home from the springs, poured the water into DIY buckets made from four smoothed-out poles that were partly hammered down into the ground on four corners and a thicker plastic bag placed inside to make a square-shaped bucket. The survival skills of the Boat People were incredible, we needed to come up with many weird ideas to make it work, to survive with nothing!
Things got better and better every day for me and my brother in the island.
Luckily, my brother, Kien, and I didn’t have to live on the island for too long. We were interviewed and accepted for immigration by the Canadian UN High commissioner in July and left the island two months later for Convent Transition Camp in Kuala Lumpur to wait for our flight to Canada.
Looking back, I missed the time I had lived there, with my teacher, who had so many of her students stopping by to visit her, we had visitors in the morning, in the afternoon, and even more in the evening. I didn’t interact much since her students were older than I was, but with the distractions, I missed home less and less and was very thankful for those distractions, they also helped me to look forward to an evening of listening to friends talking, laughing, singing or sometimes when they were so sad, I listened and shared their sadness through their news, their stories or even their sobbing.
Recently, I read a book that my Book Club friends had chosen for discussion, I compared my journey with Elsa, one of the main characters in the book ‘The Four Winds’ by Kristin Hannah, talking about ‘the drought of the bowl’ in the Midwest around nineteen thirty’s. Compare to the book, I feel that my journey was sealed with a much more dangerous situation, it was life and death that we gambled with. I am sad to say that many had lost their lives. But once we got to the island, once we received help from the RedCross and the UN, the hardship, the difficulty that we faced was nothing compared to what Elsa and her children had endured.
For us, I knew that we were in good hands, wherever we go, whatever we do, as long as we work hard, we will survive, and we will be in a safe place. And sooner or later, we will be able to see our parents and siblings again. Those were the things that Elsa didn’t have.
I know without those, there would be no dreams, no hope, no future.
My brother and I were very lucky then and we are very lucky now, he is married and has two adult children, a girl, and a boy. When we talk, I can feel that he is happy and appreciative of what he has tried to achieve. For me, I have never dared to take things for granted, I treasure what I have, and will be in debt to the people who have helped me to get here. My husband who is still working hard every day was also a ‘Boat People’ then. Although he arrived in a different place, Indonesia to be precise, spent the time and lived a very different life there, but pretty much we were the same, we were Boat People awaiting to live a new chapter of a new life.
My husband and I, we still talk a lot about our past, we remind each other of the good, and the bad. We talk about our three children who mean the world to us, we talk about our extended family members, about friends and everything else, and most of all we talk about our future, we hope it will hold much love, health, peace, and happiness for us for many years to come.
Author: Ai Ninh Chau
