Small Bamboo (15 page)

The next morning Mum and Dad woke up early. In Vietnam, as soon as they walked out their front door, they were confronted by dozens of people, honking scooters and riding so close together they’d brush toes, as well as street food stall keepers clanging pots and knives while chickens and roosters ran around amid the dirt and pollution. But at Graylands, Mum and Dad looked out onto a quiet street, lined with homes with beautifully landscaped front yards. Clean new cars were parked in the driveways. Graylands is in a quiet, well-to-do area mainly consisting of housing estates. This modern suburb of Perth was a far cry from the streets of Ho Chi Minh City.

On their way to the dining room for breakfast, Mum and Dad bumped into Hammer.

‘I see you’ve put on warmer clothing!’ he said with a big smile.

Dad laughed. ‘Thank you very much for taking us to our room last night.’

‘No problems, mate. Did you guys have a good rest?’

‘Yes, thank you, we slept very well.’

‘What are your names?’

This time Dad was able to shake Hammer’s hand. ‘My name is Tai,’ he said, ‘and this is my wife Lien.’

‘Well, you know mine,’ Hammer replied warmly. ‘Make yourselves at home. Let me know if you need anything.’

Hammer lived in a house on the hostel grounds with his wife and children so he could take care of things at any time of the day. Their children played with the younger refugees when they had a chance. With the constant influx of Vietnamese refugees it was certainly a very busy period for Hammer. Mum and Dad became very fond of this larrikin who reminded my father of the friendly and open Australian soldiers he had met and trained with during his air force service.

When Mum and Dad walked through the dining room doors they could see some older Australian ladies serving food from bain maries in the kitchen. These permanent hostel workers were very kind and warm to the refugees. There was so much food, food they had never eaten before, such as bacon and eggs, and cereal, an entirely new concept to them—the ladies had to explain what it was and tell them to pour milk over it. In Vietnam, breakfast was just fried eggs, never bacon, or sticky rice or noodles. Of course they always had a baguette for breakfast as well. Due to the French influence, bread-making became an art for the Vietnamese.

My parents accepted everything on offer, eager to try it all, then sat with some other refugees who had arrived a few weeks before them.

Dad became instantly close to a man named Sang, who had been living at Graylands with his younger brother for a few months. Dad found him to be a gentle man, and they were both like-minded. They spent most days together inside the camp.

My parents made plenty of friends straight away. In Vietnamese culture it wasn’t difficult to bond with other people. Dad would meet plenty of people on the streets of Ho Chi Minh City and they would hit it off. At the hostel, everyone living there already had something in common—they had escaped Vietnam by boat—so their shared experience helped them to form a bond. And many people had left their families behind in Vietnam and they wanted to build a new family in Australia. Dad befriended many of the single men who were living at the hostel. Many would become my parents’ life-long friends.

Mum and Dad were very keen to learn everything they could about Australia and its lifestyle as soon as possible. They also wanted to fit in, as a show of respect to the country that was so willing to open its doors and build them a safe new home. At the camp they tried to get into a routine as quickly as possible. For the first few days the immigration officials left the refugees alone so they could familiarise themselves with their surroundings then, after about a week, they were given appointments with Social Security (now known as Centrelink), which had an office onsite. Each refugee was interviewed about their skills and told they would be given an allowance so they could set themselves up in Perth.

The refugees also had to be tested on their level of English by the Education Department. If your level was not up to standard, you were assigned to an appropriate class and required to attend about 300 hours of English lessons over a period of six months. Dad’s English was pretty good after years of lessons with the South Vietnamese Army and also spending time with US and Australian soldiers in Vietnam. He didn’t have to study as much as Mum, who had only learned French in Cambodia and Vietnam. She would have to complete the entire 300 hours over half a year.

After a couple of weeks, the new refugees were taken out of the hostel for a tour of the city. First stop was the iconic Kings Park, perched high on a cliff, with stunning panoramic views of Perth’s city skyline and the Swan River. Mum and Dad stopped at one of the lookouts and took in the views; they couldn’t believe how beautiful, green and open it was. The next stop was a St Vincent De Paul’s store on Hay Street in the city where they bought some new clothes. With money Mum had borrowed from friends in the hostel, they stocked up on pieces of clothing at $1 and $2 each.

The refugees were encouraged to get out of the hostel and explore, all day if they wanted to, so they wouldn’t get bored. The Australian way of life is very different to that of Vietnam, which is very busy and hectic. There was always somewhere to go, people to see or something to do, but in Australia, life was very laid back, particularly in Perth. Some Vietnamese refugees were too afraid to leave the hostel grounds so they would just stay inside their unit complaining that there was nothing to do. They weren’t as proactive as my father in exploring this new way of life. Dad says most people just didn’t know where to start. It was all very overwhelming for them.

If you had money to buy meals outside the camp, you didn’t have to eat at the hostel. However, many of the refugees, anxious about getting lost, were too scared to leave the grounds. Many also lacked confidence in their English skills. It was perhaps too much of a challenge for some, but not for my father.

Dad didn’t waste any time getting out of the camp and exploring the city for himself. About six weeks after they arrived at Graylands, he got a bus timetable from the main office and walked to the bus stop, which was right outside the hostel. He and Mum had received their first Social Security cheque of about $50 for the fortnight so he had money for the bus trip. He was a little nervous but also excited to be venturing out on his own.

When he saw a bus approaching the stop, Dad checked the number to make sure it was going to the city, then put out his hand.

‘Where you headed, mate?’ asked the driver.

‘I would like to go to the city, please.’ Dad held out the money, and the driver gave him the change.

‘Righto, take a seat.’

Dad was thrilled that he had achieved his first milestone—paying for a bus ride. Completing such a simple task gave him so much joy.

In the city he wandered around the streets and malls all day, observing people as they scurried about their business. They were all dressed in clean, well-cut suits and polished shoes. The women, in classy dresses or skirts with a blouse, wore makeup and beautiful hairstyles. Dad said he was the only Asian walking around in the city. But he didn’t feel intimidated or uncomfortable. It was all so exhilarating, and he was learning with every step he took.

In those early weeks at the hostel Dad decided to get his driver’s licence, and his friend Sang lent him $25 for it. One day Dad saw a driving instructor giving lessons to another refugee on the grounds. He waited until they had finished, then he approached the instructor.

‘Excuse me, sir. Can you help me get a driver’s licence, please?’

The instructor looked at Dad. ‘Have you driven before?’

‘Yes, I had a driver’s licence in Vietnam.’

‘All right, mate. It will be $5 a lesson. I can come back tomorrow if you like?’

‘Okay, thank you very much!’ Dad shook his hand.

The next day the one-hour lesson went smoothly. Dad was taken through all the usual procedures—reverse parking, parallel parking, road rules. The instructor was impressed.

‘Okay, good job, Tai. We can have another lesson tomorrow if you want.’

‘Actually, I would like to take the test now if I can.’

The instructor shook his head in amazement and laughed at Dad, though not unkindly. He was just surprised. ‘No, mate. It’s too soon. You’ve only had one lesson.’

‘Please, sir. I don’t have enough money for more lessons and to pay for the licence,’ Dad explained. ‘Please, can you test me now and see if I’m good enough?’

The instructor continued to shake his head, but he must have felt sorry for Dad because he agreed to take him through a mock test. He made sure Dad understood all the road rules in Australia, explaining the terms used for different driving techniques, such as a three-point turn.

‘Okay, Tai, I’ll book you in for the test at the end of the week.’

Dad passed his test, in a Datsun 120Y, with ease.

10
THE NEW LIFE

While Dad adjusted quite easily to life in Australia, Mum found it difficult and her initial confidence and excitement evaporated as the days rolled on. After about a month in Perth she missed her family and her homeland terribly. Becoming accustomed to a new culture and a new way of life was made even tougher by the fact that Mum couldn’t speak much English. In those early days, Dad would head out by himself or with some friends he had made in the camp, but Mum would stay in their room for most of the day and cry, sleep, then cry some more.

I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for my mother. Like Dad, she had been forced to leave a life she knew for a better one, thousands of kilometres away. My father tried to comfort her but she wanted to be left alone most of the time—Mum always was an independent woman, tough and resilient. She was glad Dad understood this and gave her some space. But even when she was feeling down she never wanted to burden him with her problems. She didn’t want to stop Dad from exploring their new country—at least he could learn for both of them—which was why she encouraged him to go away on a road trip across the Nullarbor a few months after they arrived in Perth.

One of Dad’s mates in the camp had already bought a car, a Kingswood. He was planning a trip across the country to see the eastern states with a few other friends. ‘You should come with us!’ he said to Dad.

Dad didn’t want to leave Mum but he really wanted to explore Australia, see what it was like in the east, and also visit his brothers and sisters in Melbourne, especially Brother Five and his family. He talked to Mum about it.

‘Lien, I really want to go with them, it’s a great opportunity, but I won’t go if you don’t want me to,’ Dad said.

‘You should go,’ Mum replied without hesitation. ‘I’ll be fine. I’m feeling much better now. In fact, it might be good for me to start doing things on my own and get into a routine.’

Mum knew he was desperate to see more of Australia; she was glad he would be going with friends and she wanted him to enjoy himself.

‘Just make sure you drive safe!’ she added with a smile.

Before Dad left on his adventure, he and his mates needed money for the trip. Dad was attending English classes and one afternoon he asked his teacher for some help.

‘Excuse me, Miss?’

‘Yes, Tai?’

‘I don’t know if you can help me, but I’m in need of some money. My friends and I are planning to drive to the eastern states. We want to explore the other side of the country.’

‘Oh, that will be an exciting trip for you all,’ the teacher said with an encouraging smile. ‘There’s a lot to see, you know.’

‘I only need $100. Are there any jobs I can do in the next week to earn that money?’

‘Well, I need to consider your safety first, Tai. Do you have a driver’s licence?’

Dad pulled out his new licence and showed it to her.

‘Great, and do you have a car?’

‘Yes. My friend bought a secondhand car.’

The teacher, satisfied that Dad and his friends were prepared for the trip, said she knew someone who might have some work but added that it was quite far away.

‘How far?’ Dad asked.

‘Fremantle. You won’t be able to walk there, that’s for sure.’