Small Bamboo (9 page)

Dad didn’t need to think about that! Of course he wanted to ask Mum to go with them, and he knew she’d want to go too. He was so thankful to Uncle Five for his generosity and for including her as part of the family. But Uncle Five had one condition: she had to have her parents’ permission to go.

At the time Dad was twenty-three years old and Mum was twenty-four. They had their whole lives ahead of them—a whole new future they could build in another country. It was time for them to make a commitment and escape Vietnam together. Dad left straight away to speak to Mum, who was at her parents’ home. He told her about Uncle Five’s plans. Mum was very happy for them, though a little sad they were leaving as she’d grown so close to Dad’s family, not to mention Dad himself. Then Dad explained Uncle Five’s offer to include Mum, and she was completely surprised. And ecstatic.

‘Of course, I want to come with you!’ she said.

Mum was astounded by Uncle Five’s generosity but she also felt guilty for taking the last spot. Dad reassured her that Uncle Five would not have asked if he didn’t want her to go, and that she was very much part of their family. They chatted excitedly about the plans, about their futures, both of them grinning from ear to ear—it was hard to believe they were going to escape Vietnam
together
—but first they had to fulfil Uncle Five’s condition and get Mum’s parents’ permission.

My mum’s parents had no intention of escaping Vietnam. They weren’t as well off as Dad’s family so they couldn’t afford to pay their way onto a boat. My maternal grandparents were resilient people. They could cope with anything life threw at them. Mum was really the only member of her family who had considered escaping. Working on the black market gave her an insight into how the future would be for her; she didn’t want that. Every moment she spent with her friends and with Dad, the main topic of conversation was always escaping. Mum knew she would not stay in Vietnam for the rest of her life.

Nervously, Mum and Dad went into the lounge room and sat down with her parents. Dad took a deep breath and began: ‘My brother has organised a very big boat for my family to leave Vietnam. He has taken care of all the organisation himself, and is confident that it will work. He has asked Lien to come with us. He will pay for all the costs and promises that we will take care of her . . .’

Mum’s parents looked at each other but said nothing. Dad continued: ‘I would like to ask your permission for Lien to come with us.’

He took another deep breath but before he could speak again, Mum’s mother said, ‘Of course. Please, take her away from here and give her a better life. We are very grateful for your brother’s offer.’

‘This is a great opportunity, Lien,’ her father said. ‘And it may be your only chance. If you wish to go, we are happy for you.’

Mum was so relieved, though deep down she always knew her parents would want her to escape if she could. She was also saddened by the fact she was leaving her own family behind. But her father was right—it was her only chance to escape—and then perhaps she could help her family get out in the future. Mum says she will be forever grateful for Uncle Five’s generosity.

Mum and Dad rushed back to Uncle Five’s house to tell him the news. Even though the date had not yet been confirmed, they knew they only had a few days to prepare and there was much to do. Uncle Five had sacrificed so much for this escape: he’d sold his cars, scooters, business, everything. It was an enormous risk and if they were caught, the family would come back to nothing.

By dawn on 20 April 1978 Uncle Five’s house was filled with nervous energy. The entire household hadn’t slept and for some of the family members the anticipation was overwhelming. The day had come—they were leaving Vietnam.

Like most escape plans, everything was done in secret. The Communists were taking over every aspect of South Vietnamese life, and they had patrols on the streets and spies everywhere. It was common for potential escapees to be given only a meeting place and time, with no further information until they arrived. Uncle Five’s family only knew that they were going to the city of Long Xuyen, which is about 190 kilometres west of Ho Chi Minh City. There, a boat would be waiting to take them to, hopefully, freedom.

At around eight that morning most of Uncle Five’s family piled into a van driven by a family friend. Uncle Five and my dad stayed behind to lock up the house and finalise Uncle Five’s business; they would leave together a little later in the morning. Mum, though, had to make her own way.

My mother would meet up with the others at a big bus station in Phu Lam, an inner city suburb of Ho Chi Minh City. It was only about 8 kilometres from downtown but the roads were so atrocious that the journey would take a while. Mum woke up at five that morning; she was too anxious to sleep. Her father drove her into the city. He wanted to take her straight to Phu Lam but Mum thought it was too risky, so they stopped at the busy Ba Chieu Markets instead, about 2 kilometres north of the main city. It was busy even at that time of the morning. Mum and her father’s farewell was typical of the times—rather than sadness or despair at parting, it was a feeling of relief and happiness as loved ones left in search of a better life, mixed with a lot of worry. My mother and her father knew that it would be a long time before they saw each other again, if they ever did, but neither of them cried. The South Vietnamese had seen so much tragedy during the war that the prospect of getting on a crowded and ill-equipped boat and taking to the wild seas with no known destination didn’t even compare to what they had experienced at the hands of the Communists. The war had made them tough. They hugged, and that was the last time Mum would see her father in more than a decade.

Mum walked through the markets, trying to look like she had some purpose other than escaping Vietnam. She found a
xe lam
(similar to a tuk tuk) which took her to the bus station in downtown Ho Chi Minh City. From there she caught a bus south to another big busy station at Phu Lam, where Dad’s family would be waiting for her in the van. When Mum arrived at Phu Lam at about nine o’clock, she was immensely relieved to find the van already there. She climbed in the van and hugged Aunt Five and the others.

The van left immediately, as it would take them most of the day to drive to Long Xuyen. It was a dangerous journey too. The roads in Vietnam were (and still are) notoriously busy with scooters weaving in and out of the traffic, speeding trucks and potholes. The government had positioned road patrols and checks all over the country, so they also had to be careful they weren’t stopped and detained.

It was around two in the afternoon when they finally arrived in Long Xuyen, a district in the An Giang Province, in the Mekong Delta region, 198 kilometres south-west of Ho Chi Minh City. It’s a fertile area where rice, fish and vegetables are farmed. One of Mum’s aunties ran a small café or eating house there, so she knew the area well. The group stopped there for a meal. After they’d eaten, Mum, Aunt Five and her children went to her aunty’s home to bathe. They returned to the café to rest while they waited. There was still no word about Uncle Five or Dad.

After they closed up the house and finalised the business, Uncle Five and Dad left Ho Chi Minh City on a scooter at around eleven o’clock in the morning. With Dad driving and Uncle Five on the back, it was a very slow and challenging 190 kilometres on the treacherous roads to Long Xuyen. When they finally arrived at about six o’clock that evening, they rode around the town, looking for the van until they spotted it parked in front of the eating house. Dad knew that it was owned by Mum’s aunty and they would find the family inside.

When Uncle Five and my dad walked through the front door, everyone hid their excitement and pretended they didn’t know each other: there were other people in the eating house and the family didn’t want to attract attention to themselves. Uncle Five and Dad sat down at a separate table. By now the atmosphere was tense and everyone was nervous.

Dad whispered to Uncle Five, ‘Brother, I have a bad feeling we’re being watched.’ Uncle Five looked discreetly around the eating house. He didn’t see anyone watching them, but he had a bad feeling too. He quietly told Dad they would soon have to split up the group and move on, as well as get rid of the scooter, but first they should eat then drive around town, looking for the organisers. ‘We don’t know when we will be able to eat again,’ Uncle Five added.

The meeting place was at a nearby park, directly in front of a movie theatre. The organisers had told Uncle Five that if anyone was questioned by police, they could simply reply they were there to see a movie. It was also a regular gathering spot for locals who would sit together, eat and talk, so it was crowded and public—the perfect meeting place, Mum thought.

Dad and Uncle Five left the eating house first. Dad quickly scoured the road to see if he could spot any organisers in the area. He couldn’t see them anywhere. He did, however, see the Cong An, the local police force, watching him. Now he was really nervous. Uncle Five had seen them too, and as they got back on the scooter, he spoke quietly to Dad about their next moves. He and Dad would ride around for a while looking for the organisers, then Dad would leave Uncle Five at the park, check the eating house to make sure all the family had left, get rid of the scooter and make his way back to the park as quickly as possible.

For the others, it was only a short walk from the eating house to the park. They split up into three groups and Mum left with Aunt Five and her three children, Aunt Sixteen and Aunt Twelve. At the park the family sat in their groups on different benches. Mum spotted Dad and Uncle Five riding around the park a couple of times, then she saw Dad drop off Uncle Five and ride away. Mum told the aunties that she was going to walk over and see Uncle Five, but before she stood up Aunt Five stopped her.

‘Lien, I have to give you something,’ Aunt Five said and pulled a small bag from her trouser pocket. ‘I have some valuables. Things we may need later to sell or exchange for food. I’m too scared to carry them. I won’t be able to lie if I’m searched and caught with them. You’re much stronger than me. Can you please keep them safe with you?’

Aunt Five gave my mother a bag containing some jade stones, pearls and gold jewellery. She also handed her three small gold sheets which Uncle Five had asked her to give to Mum for safekeeping.

‘Don’t worry, Sister,’ Mum said. ‘I will look after them. We will all look after each other.’

Mum slipped the bag and gold sheets into her jacket pocket then walked casually to a public toilet. She knew there was only one place she would not be searched and that was her underwear. She tucked the gold inside her undergarments, but left the small bag of jewels in her jacket pocket. She couldn’t fit it all in her underwear. The gold was worth much more to them than the jewels. She walked back to the park and when she saw Uncle Five, she wanted to rush over to him and find out what was happening, but instead she approached him cautiously.

Uncle Five greeted her normally, but whispered, ‘We have to be very careful. Police were watching me and Tai. He’s getting rid of the scooter.’