Small Bamboo (11 page)

The crew hurried back to try to start the engine—the longer they stayed, the more likely they would be caught—and Uncle Five and Mum went searching for their family. With more than a hundred passengers on board, it was very crowded. It was also dark and everyone was silent. Mum and Uncle Five threaded their way through the passengers, scanning what they could see of their faces, until suddenly she heard a familiar voice, quiet but clear.

‘Brother! Lien! You finally made it,’ Dad said as he hugged them both. ‘We were so worried about you both. Where were you?’

‘We were waiting at the park to be called, but no one came to get us.’ Uncle Five explained how they had walked from the park to the docks then finally found the boat. Then he asked Dad, ‘But why hasn’t the boat left? It should have been gone by now.’

‘We were going to leave without you, because it was getting too late,’ Dad said. ‘But the boat wouldn’t start for some reason.’

‘I hope it starts soon,’ Uncle Five said, frowning. ‘If we’re still here at daylight, we’ll be caught for sure.’

Dad led Uncle Five and Mum to a corner of the boat where the rest of the family were huddled. Their celebrations were silent but heartfelt. They all hugged each other. They were all together now.

Mum and Dad stood together, a little away from the others. ‘Lien, I’ve decided to wear this,’ Dad said to Mum, showing her the ring on his finger.

Mum smiled. ‘I don’t want to wear mine yet because I’m scared I’ll lose it,’ she said, ‘but I have it here.’ She pointed to her left arm, where she had hidden her ring in the sleeve of her shirt.

And that was it—the moment my parents were ‘married’.

When I was young I was always told that my parents exchanged their marriage vows during their boat journey. But, in truth, there were no vows or celebrations or ceremony. It was simply an understanding between two people who knew they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together, whatever those lives would be. It was a commitment in the truest way.

The roar of the boat engine was startling in the silence. The crew looked at each other, amazed. These were experienced boatmen; they’d checked the entire engine, unable to find out why it wouldn’t start. There was no logical reason why it was suddenly working now. Mum and Dad believe ‘someone from above was looking out for them’, delaying the boat until Uncle Five and Mum arrived, so they could all leave together.

There were 121 people on this small fishing boat. They were forced below deck where it was so crowded everyone was forced to stand. There was no room to move. No one slept. They just kept staring into the darkness.

The boat headed towards the meeting point between the towns of Cao Lanh and My Tho, about 80 kilometres away. It was a long distance for a very small, very slow-moving fishing boat overloaded with passengers. They left Long Xuyen just after midnight and arrived at their next destination by midday. Everyone was tired and hungry, but even if there had been food and water, they were too anxious to eat. At the meeting point the boat stopped, rocking on the water, while they waited for a signal.

The boat was hot and dirty, and water was seeping through holes in the wood. Below deck one tiny window admitted a trickle of sunlight. There was no fresh air. Most of the escapees suffered severe seasickness; many fainted and would lie unconscious on the floor.

Time passed and Uncle Five took Dad aside. The last time his family had eaten any food was almost twenty-four hours before. They were anchored only about 50 metres from the shore so Uncle Five suggested that Dad swim over to see if he could find any food. Dad was a very strong swimmer, and he made the short distance easily, but he was worried about what the locals might think when they saw him. It was obvious he wasn’t from the area, and on top of that he was fully clothed and soaking wet! But the locals went on with their business and didn’t seem to think anything of it, which seemed to Dad suspicious in itself. He walked around some of the street markets, trying to buy food for the family, but most of it was too difficult to carry back to the boat. So after about an hour on land, he swam back empty-handed. At least he was able to get off the boat for a short time and have a break from the other passengers, whose anxiety levels were becoming unbearable.

There was still no sign of the other boat. Uncle Five had asked the crew but they had no idea what was going on. They had expected a tugboat, bigger and much stronger than the fishing boat, to have arrived by now. It was obvious that they too were getting very concerned but they couldn’t tell Uncle Five anything more.

And so they waited, and waited. Hour after hour passed. Then night fell. Most of the passengers had been standing up the entire time, and they were all exhausted. They just watched the crew, hoping to see some change of expression that meant the tugboat was in sight, but their faces remained frozen with worry as they looked out over the water.

At this point, Dad thought it was all over. They would never escape Vietnam. All that effort to get this far and now they’d most likely be captured. It was getting too dangerous for them out on the water; they’d been hanging around in the same spot for too long and it was now blatantly obvious their fishing boat was full of refugees. And if they did get caught, there was nowhere to run or hide. Dad tried not to think about what would happen if they were caught. What would he return to? Would he have to hustle in the black market for the rest of his life? Would his family still have a home in Ho Chi Minh City? Would Mum and he ever have their own children? How would he support them? All these questions came flooding in and for the first time Dad nearly broke down with tension and fear. He wanted to scream his frustration.

Dad stared out the tiny window; he thought he could see something in the distance but didn’t want to get his hopes up. It could be anything, or anyone. It could be sheer exhaustion, or hope. He shut his eyes tight, took a few breaths, opened his eyes again and focused out the window. There was definitely something out there, miniscule and fleeting, but he didn’t imagine it. Then the something became tiny lights. Dad knew they were boat lights as they started to edge closer, but he couldn’t tell what kind of vessel it was. It could be their next boat, a passing fisherman or the police.

One of the crew turned around, made eye contact with Uncle Five and gave him a reassuring nod. It was the tugboat they’d been waiting for! Everyone on the fishing boat watched in hopeful silence as it sailed closer to them. Then, at around 7.30 p.m., the other boat slowed and eventually stopped, still a fair distance away. The passengers had no idea what was happening—no one dared to ask questions and the only time the crew spoke to them was to give them instructions—though Uncle Five seemed to know more than most. He watched the crew whisper among themselves and immediately suspected that something was wrong. It was clearly their boat, but why had it stopped? Uncle Five quietly shared his thoughts with Dad but no one else—he didn’t want to raise anyone’s hopes in case it wasn’t the right boat, nor did he want to frighten the others with his fears.

Another two silent, agonising hours went by. Still, the other boat had not moved. But suddenly there was commotion at the back of their own boat. People were pointing and the crew frantically pushed their way through the passengers. Then Uncle Five and Dad saw what was causing all the fuss—the rear of the boat was filling up with water. The wood had deteriorated during their journey from Long Xuyen, and being overloaded with passengers, the boat was going under.

Everyone started to panic; most of the passengers didn’t know how to swim. Uncle Five tried to reassure his family, but even he could not hide his fear. He later told me that it was at this point that he almost broke down. He couldn’t believe this was happening. They had come so far, and their next move was so close.
Freedom
was so close. He didn’t want his family to go this way, drowning in a shabby fishing boat in the middle of nowhere.

Uncle Five, Dad and their brothers joined the other passengers who were desperately trying to scoop water out of the boat with anything they could. Buckets, rice bowls, bare hands. But more water flowed in, and the second boat was still stationary and far away. For more than an hour the escapees scooped water out of the fishing boat, trying to keep it afloat, but it was slowly sinking. Then, finally, at about 10.30 p.m, the crew members must have received a signal because they told the passengers to get ready; they would all leave the fishing boat very soon.

By the time the tugboat pulled up alongside them, the need for silence had long been forgotten and many passengers were screaming and crying with desperation and fear. The crew tied the two boats together but, despite the sinking fishing boat, did not let anyone move. Some of the crew tried to calm the passengers down, while others boarded the tugboat. Uncle Five was later told that there were two Communist officers on the tugboat who had been drugged with sleeping tablets during dinner, and the crew had been forced to wait for them to fall asleep before they could meet the fishing boat. The officers were tied up and locked in a separate part of the boat, where they would remain for the journey.

At last it was safe for the refugees to leave the fishing boat. One by one, urged on by the crew, they boarded the tugboat quickly and quietly. They were then ushered below deck, where they would remain hidden until the boat reached the safety of Malaysian waters.

Dad and Uncle Five helped the other passengers onto the tugboat. By the time they got to the last few passengers, Dad was knee-deep in water and the fishing boat was almost under. He finally jumped on himself, the last person to embark. Before he went below deck Dad stopped just once to look in the direction of Vietnam for the last time.

Dad says it felt like they spent days below deck—it was pitch-black, they couldn’t hear anything outside and it was terribly crowded—though apparently it was just a few hours. This boat was in much better condition than the fishing boat. It was newer, sturdier and much cleaner. The confinement gave Dad time to catch his breath, and think about what they’d experienced. Most of all, Dad thought about Uncle Five, who had organised and paid for these seventeen people in his family to escape. It had cost Uncle Five everything he had, and most of the group weren’t even his own relatives but those of his wife, the Vo family. Yet he treated every one of them like they were his own blood. Uncle Five’s love for his family would spread over decades and continue to the next generations. Most of us would not be alive today if it wasn’t for this incredible man and the sacrifices he made.

7
RISING SUN

Sunlight suddenly flooded the hold, forcing Dad to shield his eyes. He awoke from a deep sleep, the first real rest he’d had since the last night at his brother’s house in Ho Chi Minh City, and for a moment he forgot where he was.

The crew had come below deck with good news. ‘We have crossed the border! We are now in Malaysian waters!’

For the first time there was no fear, no tension, just relief. They were finally safe. Or so they thought. Then the crew called Uncle Five to follow them above deck, and the brothers and sisters looked at each other. Aunt Five urged her husband to stay with them; she had a bad feeling.

‘It’ll be all right. I’ll be back in a moment,’ said Uncle Five, who followed the crew up the companionway. But just a few minutes later one of the crew members came back down and pointed at Mum.

‘You, come with me.’

Dad tried to hold her back. ‘Why do you need her?’ he asked.

‘She needs to come with me now. Brother Five needs her help.’

Dad could see his brother’s face through the open door. He gave Dad a reassuring look, as if to say,
Don’t worry. I’ll look after her
. As Mum followed the man up the companionway, the door shut behind her.

Dad had heard stories of other boat journeys where women were strip searched and even raped, but he knew Uncle Five would protect her. The crew regarded Mum as an important member of the group, and knew that Uncle Five relied on her for a lot of things. What they didn’t know was that most of the family valuables were hidden on her body.

The crew looked grimly at Uncle Five. ‘We need more money,’ one of the men said. ‘The journey has cost more than we expected and now you must pay us everything you have.’

Uncle Five shook his head in stunned disbelief. ‘That’s impossible. I’ve given you more than enough already.’

Mum silently admired his bravery.

Then the crew pointed at her. ‘You, you give us more money,’ one of them said.

Mum was confused; she couldn’t understand why they suddenly needed more money, but if her brother-in-law wasn’t going to give in, she certainly wouldn’t either. He had paid an enormous amount of money to secure their freedom. The crew only wanted more because they hadn’t split his payment evenly among themselves.

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I didn’t pay for any of this,’ she said. ‘Brother Five paid for it all. So if he doesn’t have any money, why would I?’

‘What else do you have then?’ one of the crewmen asked, his eyes scanning Mum’s jacket and long pants.