Small Bamboo (8 page)

On the day Dad and Uncle Ut left Ho Chi Minh City, Mum went with them to the meeting place. It was a short distance out of the city to a small farm. Here, the group would gather and hide before being taken to another secret spot where they would be picked up by the boat. There were dozens of people at the big house on the farm; some, like my mum, were only there to say goodbye to their loved ones. It was a sad farewell when Mum was told she had to leave. My mother rarely cries, but she admits she was a little teary at that moment.

‘You take care, Tai,’ she told my father. ‘Let’s try and remember each other. I want to tell you again that I am happy to let you go. Please don’t feel upset that I can’t come with you.’

My father thanked her again for understanding; having her support had made this difficult task a little easier. ‘I promise I will find you and we will meet again,’ he said.

They hugged for a while longer then Dad walked back to the house and Mum returned to the main road. She was crying as she waved down a
xic lo
, a rickshaw, and went back to her parents’ house.

Dad revealed one regret when he recalled this story. ‘I was so sad about leaving your mum because I didn’t kiss her goodbye,’ he said with a cheeky smile.

While both Mum and Dad were very sad, and we might view their parting as romantic, they were in fact among the fortunate ones. They point out that they were lucky to be alive, they hadn’t personally suffered the atrocities of the re-education camps, and their families had food and a roof over their heads. This was, quite simply, life in Vietnam at the time. Families were separated, forced apart, out of desperation. Those able to attempt an escape had no guarantee they would survive the journey out of Vietnam and no idea where they would end up. Against all the odds, if the refugees found that better life and were one day reunited with their loved ones, that would be worth the risk and suffering, but many families would never see each other again. Some escapees would be caught and thrown in jail, or die on the journey, perhaps lost at sea. And even those who made it weren’t always able to contact their family in Vietnam, let alone attempt to get them out. Even though the refugees ended up in another country, they were still worried about being caught. They didn’t want to be hunted down nor did they want their family members remaining in Vietnam to be punished. There was a lot of paranoia. Soon after the Communist takeover, most South Vietnamese—including most of my relatives, particularly my uncles—burned all their photos, identification cards—anything that would confirm where they were from or if they were part of the South Vietnamese armed forces. The South Vietnamese censored themselves.

The situation at the farmhouse was tense. Dad says there were about thirty or forty people packed into the building. Everyone had to be quiet so people were too scared to move around. They just sat in the stillness and waited. The organisers had explained that during the night they would be given a signal, normally a flashing light, to move to the next location. At around nine o’clock, having waited most of the day, some of the others started to get worried but Dad, knowing it would be safer to move in the middle of the night, wasn’t concerned.

A few more hours passed. Uncle Ut turned to Dad and said, ‘Brother, why are they taking so long? The longer I sit here, the more I think something’s wrong.’

‘It’s only midnight. Maybe they are waiting another hour or so until it’s completely safe,’ Dad tried to reassure Uncle Ut.
But the signal better come soon
, he thought to himself,
otherwise we could be in trouble
.

Everyone in the house became increasingly anxious. Not only were their hopes of escape fading fast but the longer it took the more chance something could go wrong—if it hadn’t already. By three in the morning there was still no signal. One of the men whom Dad and Uncle Ut had been talking to earlier suddenly stood up.

‘We have to leave,’ he said. ‘Staying here with all these people is just too dangerous. We haven’t heard anything for hours now. It’s not happening. Let’s go before we’re discovered and captured.’

It was about a kilometre from the house to the main road. Luckily it was a full moon so there was enough light for them to see where they were going, though it also increased the danger because patrols could easily spot them. About ten of them left together and walked fast to get to the road. But at four o’clock in the morning, there were no buses going past. Dad spotted some
xic los
up the road and he grabbed Uncle Ut and the man they’d befriended. He felt bad about leaving the rest of the group, but it was too dangerous to stay together—and, in truth, it was a case of every man for himself.

Dad and Uncle Ut were so disappointed, even though they knew that these escape plans rarely succeeded. Dad thought about Uncle Thirteen and his several attempts to escape, and Uncle Eleven who had tried to escape after being released from the re-education camps, only to be caught and re-incarcerated. He felt bad for Uncle Five who had gone to so much effort to organise this, and would never see his money again. Any number of things could have gone wrong. They had heard of fake deals, with innocent people paying huge amounts of money to conmen. Sometimes it was just too dangerous for the boat to get to the meeting place, or the organisers were caught and captured. Being caught was Dad’s worse nightmare. He was glad they were on their way home and not in the hands of Communist officers.

It was around six in the morning when they got back to Uncle Five’s house. At first Uncle Five was just relieved that his brothers were unharmed but then, as they explained what had happened or, more to the point, what had not happened, he was disappointed. Then Uncle Five wasn’t just disappointed, he was frustrated. And furious. He had been organising this escape plan with his friend for months, not to mention the many other plans he had considered in the past year. He was sick of wasting time, and money, and relying on other people. He just wanted to look after his family as best he could. So at that moment, Uncle Five decided that if they were ever going to get out of Vietnam, he would have to organise it himself.

‘Brothers, the time has come to leave,’ he said to my dad and Uncle Ut. ‘The new regime wants to take away everything that every South Vietnamese person owns. We have suffered enough and we will suffer even more. We all have to leave—
now
!’

Dad rarely heard this kind of talk from Uncle Five, who was normally so calm and controlled and stoic. But now he heard the desperation in his brother’s voice. It was time for the family to leave Vietnam, even if it meant they had to risk their lives to do it.

As soon as he could, Dad left Uncle Five’s home to look for Mum, who he knew would be out working even though it was early in the morning. As he searched for her, he thought about the escape plan. Perhaps it was never meant to happen? Maybe he was meant to stay in Vietnam with Mum? Deep down, he hadn’t wanted to leave her; he wanted them to be together and, when the time came, to go together.

After walking around the neighbourhood for about an hour, asking people if they had seen her, he spotted her at the end of the road, with her bags of medicine, ready to sell to her customers. He started walking faster and then she saw him. Mum was shocked, she couldn’t believe that it was Dad; she thought she’d never see him again, and she was so happy. But then she realised the plan had failed and she was disappointed for him.

They hugged—and even kissed—and from then on they spent every spare moment together.

Mum would be at Uncle Five’s house most nights, cooking and eating with them; she was truly part of the Vo family now. Even though times were difficult, the family would try and enjoy life as much as they could, and that meant huge family feasts full of eating, drinking, talking and laughing. The Vos knew, and still know, how to have a good time together.

Mum also spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ house in Gia Dinh. My grandpa was a quiet and gentle man. He let Grandma do all the talking—she was always the talker—but when he did speak, everyone listened because his words would be full of wisdom and warmth. When it came to my grandmother’s business—caring for their children and grandchildren, and in this case finding a wife for their son—he just let her do whatever she thought best, and kept out of the way! But he sure did love my mother too and he would tell Mum whenever he got the chance.

By now Grandma was even more convinced that Mum was the right woman for her son. So one day she decided to visit my mum’s mother and have the talk. The mothers held hands.

‘Your daughter is so wonderful,’ my grandmother said. ‘She is perfect for Tai. And she’s so good with the rest of the family. She’s an excellent cook as well. I love her very much and I feel like she is already part of our family. Are you happy with my son?’

‘We are very happy with Tai,’ my Ba Ngoai (the Vietnamese term for maternal grandmother) replied. ‘He is a kind and gentle man. He always helps us when we need it. He has been very good with Lien and towards our family. Lien also loves spending time with your family. She’s very happy every time she comes home from being with them.’

‘If the opportunity comes, we would love for our son to marry your daughter,’ my grandma said.

‘We would be very happy for that to happen too,’ Ba Ngoai said.

And so it was agreed that Mum and Dad would marry. But that didn’t mean there was going to be a wedding straight away. My grandparents weren’t completely old-fashioned. They wanted to leave it up to Mum and Dad to make the decision for themselves. They only hoped it would be done soon so the two families could celebrate their union while they were still all together. But with the way things were in South Vietnam, with the new Communist regime taking control of their lives, time was fast running out. The mood for celebrating was fading.

6
THE ESCAPE

Uncle Five spent months planning the family’s escape from Vietnam. He spoke to several different people and considered many plans and offers. After all the different scenarios my Uncle Thirteen experienced and also Dad’s failed attempt, it was tough for Uncle Five to work out which one would be the best. There were so many options. People could hide in a house in the country, then be picked up by cars and driven to a waiting boat. Or they could go to the docks in South Vietnam and board a vessel that would take them straight out to sea. Uncle Five didn’t mind where they would board a boat. What made his plan quite difficult was the number of people he had to consider. He needed a big boat and an escape route that wouldn’t draw the attention of the authorities.

After discussions with the family, which in itself took a while, there were sixteen names on the list: Uncle Five, Aunt Five and their three children, Chi To Oanh, Anh Hien and Anh Hung; Aunt Twelve; Aunt Sixteen; Uncle Tinh (my Uncle Seventeen); Uncle Ut (my Uncle Twenty); a son of Uncle Five’s close friend Anh Tuan; Uncle Five’s brother, his wife and daughter, and his wife’s two brothers; and my dad.

The only Vo sibling left out was my Aunt Fifteen. She chose not to leave because her husband’s family were still in Vietnam. She also wanted to look after the members of Dad’s family who were staying, including my grandparents and my uncles who were still in the re-education camps.

One day Uncle Five sat down with my dad to talk. He explained he was very close to making a deal to get the family on a boat out of Vietnam. Dad was excited that their escape might actually happen, because Uncle Five had organised it himself, and that they were going together as a family. Even though Uncle Five himself didn’t know all the details—with these escape attempts, no one ever did—they talked about it for a while, how difficult it was to get a large enough boat, and how this time Uncle Five felt confident that the plan would work. Then Uncle Five said there was one spare place on the boat for another person.

‘Do you want to think about inviting Lien to come with us?’ Uncle Five asked Dad. ‘You don’t have to worry about the money. I will pay all the costs for her to leave. But you do need to make a decision in the next day or two.’