Small Bamboo

by Tracy Vo

  Uncle Five looked at Dad and the rest of the family. They were a little startled, unsure whether to believe it or not; they were still paranoid about being captured and taken back to Vietnam. Other refugees had waited for years for approval, yet here they were, able to go to Australia straight away. It didn’t make sense.

  The man continued: ‘Please listen carefully. Yesterday a boat, similar to yours, decided to go straight to Australia. Please, do not do the same thing, we beg you. It is far too dangerous. They may arrive there safely but you may not. If all 121 of you want to go to Australia, we will take you. Please do not try to sail there on your own.’

  The group couldn’t believe their luck.

  ‘But you must remain on this boat for one more night. We cannot take you now. Please stay here, and we will come and get you tomorrow.’

  With that, the UN officials and the Australian Committee members disembarked and sailed back to the island. By this stage Australia had opened its doors to Vietnamese refugees. On 26 April 1976, the first boat carrying Vietnamese refugees arrived in Darwin harbour. Malcolm Fraser’s Coalition government argued that Australia had a moral responsibility to take refugees because of its involvement in the Vietnam War. Most were processed offshore in Malaysia, Thailand and Indonesia before being flown to Australia. The Fraser government accepted almost 250,000 Vietnamese as refugees and immigrants.

  At the time Dad’s family arrived at Pulau Tengah, the Australian Committee was rejecting a lot of people. That’s why some groups of refugees decided to sail straight to Australia. They didn’t want to wait on an island for years. The Australian government, unhappy with how things were playing out, decided to automatically take in the next boat of refugees who arrived, so Mum and Dad’s group were very lucky. As it turned out, the other boat did arrive safely in Darwin a couple of weeks later, and some of those refugees are still friends with my parents. However, many boats failed in similar attempts, and still do. Many boat people had to face deadly storms, diseases, starvation and pirates. According to the United Nations, in the years after the war up to 400,000 Vietnamese civilians died at sea.

  So they spent another night on the tugboat, an extra night that dragged on forever, Dad says. By that stage some refugees, dehydrated and hungry, couldn’t control their frustration—they were so close to land, so close to a new life. Although they had started their journey with a whole tank of fresh water, they hadn’t been using it properly—when they showered, the dirty water would somehow get into the fresh water supply. Not only did they have no fresh, clean water to drink and only rice to eat, but they also had no choice but to use the dirty water to cook the rice. On top of that they had to ration the rice in case they ran out—after all, there were 121 mouths to feed.

  Uncle Five was angry because the crew had agreed to supply food, not just rice, and he had paid them for it. He looked across the water to the island, where he could see a few food stalls along the shore.

  ‘Tai, maybe you should swim to shore and buy some food. The family really needs something decent to eat. Here’s some gold to change for money.’

  Careful that he wasn’t seen, Dad took the gold from Uncle Five and assured him that he would take care of things. ‘But what about the rest of the group?’ Dad asked. ‘I won’t be able to carry back enough for them.’

  ‘They’ll just have to wait until tomorrow, I suppose,’ Uncle Five replied regretfully. ‘We can’t feed everyone, unfortunately.’

  Dad gave him a look as if to say, There is nothing to feel bad about. He ended up giving the gold back to Uncle Five because he didn’t want to take any more from his brother-in-law. The least he could do, he thought, was to buy some bread rolls for his family out of his own pocket. Then he dived into the water and swam to shore.

  It felt good to be on land. At this point it hadn’t really sunk in that they had all escaped Vietnam. They didn’t know what was in store for them. Everything was fresh, new and exciting. Dad stood on the beach for a moment and stared at civilisation on a tropical island. For the first time in years Dad felt free. He walked along the shore to the food stalls without fear, all the tension and paranoia gone, searching for something to take back to his family. But first he needed some money. He looked down at the ring on his left hand. He decided to use it to buy food. He knew my mother would understand. Dad successfully negotiated with a man near some food stalls who bought the gold ring from him for a good price, then Dad bought some bread and apples for the family. He put the food in a plastic bag and tied it up tight so water wouldn’t get inside, then he swam back to the tugboat. He tried to hide the food from the rest of the group but it was difficult. They just stared at the family while they ate. Dad says perhaps everyone was too exhausted to fight for the food.

  8

  ISLAND HOME

  That night was a relatively calm one on the tugboat. With their passage to Australia assured, and food in their stomachs, the family were able to relax for the first time since they’d left their homeland. Dad started thinking again about how Uncle Five had pulled off their escape, never once asking any of them for money. So many attempts had failed but theirs had worked. Dad thought Uncle Five felt rewarded by the fact that he was able to give his brothers and sisters the opportunity for a better life.

  The next morning, after a reasonably good sleep, they were all excited, even impatient, to be finally getting off the tugboat. At mid-morning the United Nations boat pulled up alongside them and gestured for the refugees to follow them to shore.

  On 1 May 1978 Mum, Dad and all my aunties, uncles and cousins stepped onto the Malaysian island of Pulau Tengah. The journey had taken almost a week. They were thrilled. One by one the passengers were escorted off the tugboat. Locals and other Vietnamese refugees gathered to see the new arrivals. Even the Communist officers who were drugged and tied up at the beginning of the tugboat journey made it onto the island, only to be immediately arrested by Malaysian police. One of the officers was a true Communist from the North; the other, from the South, had joined Ho Chi Minh’s Communist Revolution to defeat the French Union in 1954. The Malaysian police gave them a choice—they could become refugees or be sent back to Vietnam. The officer from the North, who chose to go back to Vietnam, was kept under tight security while on the island, as there were fears he would be killed by angry South Vietnamese refugees. The officer from the South, who chose to become a refugee and stay on the island, was eventually resettled in France. While my family had no ill feelings towards these officers, some of the other refugees yelled abuse at them as they were being led off the tugboat, saying they hoped they would suffer in jail. Many Vietnamese still harbour anger towards the Communists. But for my family that was not the case. Dad even spent some time with the officer who chose to stay on the island; he said it was about forgiveness.

  Dad wondered how many refugees were on Pulau Tengah and how long they’d been there. He hoped that people weren’t stranded on the island for too long. Once the group was on shore, they were met by the United Nations officials again. Dad said they were lovely people who treated them well; he liked the very gentle way they spoke to them. One of the officials explained that they could meet with the members of four committees—the United States, Canada, France and Australia—and that although they had already been accepted by Australia they could apply for another country if they wished. Uncle Five knew straight away he wanted to take his family to Australia. It was the same for Dad’s other brothers too. But my parents were still trying to work out where they wanted to go.

  ‘I really want to go to America. Your brother is there and I know a few friends as well. Let’s try for America,’ Mum urged Dad.

  He hesitated because getting accepted for a country straight away was like winning the lottery. And if they applied for another country, they might be rejected and then have to remain on the island until they were accepted somewhere else. However, he didn’t want to upset Mum; he thought about it for a few moments and agreed. Uncle Three, the Vo Godfather, was
living in Virginia by this stage, and Dad thought it would be nice to be reunited with him.

  One by one the refugees from the tugboat were processed by the United Nations officials, and when it was their turn, Mum and Dad said they wished to apply for the United States. They were told they would have to wait until the next day to have an interview with an official from the American Committee, which wasn’t based on the island. Meanwhile Uncle Five and his family met immediately with an Australian official who told them they would most likely be flown to Australia within a couple of months.

  Uncle Five walked around the island and found the refugee camp. It wasn’t as crowded as some of the camps on other islands in the area but it was still cramped and there was no privacy. Everyone slept in one big hall, with only a small partition between each family. Considering there were seventeen people in his family, he thought it would be better to find alternative accommodation. Refugees were allowed to live outside the camp if they could afford it. They had the freedom to live a normal life on the island. Uncle Five had enough money to buy a house close to the refugee camp. It was simple, very much an island home, but luxury for Uncle Five and his family. He paid one piece of gold for the house, which was worth about US$350 in those days.

  Every week, the United Nations supplied each refugee family with a fairly generous food pack filled with the basics—rice, flour, sugar, salt and some meat and vegetables—even if they weren’t living inside the camp. The only thing missing, as far as Dad’s family was concerned, were packet noodles! But even these they were able to buy in bulk from local food stalls. The family had a little money left over from buying the house, and they were able to sell some extra food they didn’t need. Dad and his younger brother Uncle Ut would also chop wood and sell it to the locals to use for cooking and heating.

  While they waited to be resettled, Dad had a lot of spare time. He would go for long walks, play basketball with other refugees and swim in the ocean. During one of his walks, Dad met a South Vietnamese fellow who operated a boat between the island and the town of Mersing, about an hour away.

  ‘Can you speak any English?’ the man asked Dad desperately.

  ‘Yes, I can,’ Dad replied. ‘What do you need?’

  ‘I need your help. We have a group from the United Nations who need to travel to Mersing and I can’t speak much English. Can you come along and just chat with them during the ride, please?’

  Dad didn’t mind a good chat so he was happy to help out.

  On the boat he sat next to a Dutch official. They discovered they had a common interest in soccer and got along like a house on fire. At Mersing the crew were so appreciative of Dad’s help that they took him out for dinner and drinks. Dad was able to explore Mersing and enjoy a bit of time away from the refugee camp. In fact he enjoyed himself so much he didn’t return to Pulau Tengah until close to midnight.

  Two weeks after arriving on the island, Mum and Dad met with an American official, a gentle but burly-looking man who, to their surprise, spoke fluent Vietnamese.

  Dad started to plead their case. ‘Please, sir. My eldest brother lives in Virginia. We would really like to be reunited with him. We have been separated from him for years now. I miss him very much.’

  The official looked into Mum and Dad’s eyes. ‘I am going to be honest with you,’ he said. ‘Your life will be completely different in America. You probably think you will all live together and share everything but once you get there, your lives will be separate. Everybody in America lives their own lives. You don’t necessarily live in one house all together as you do in Vietnam. Is that why you want to go there, because you think you will live in a house with your brother?’

  ‘I just really want to see my brother, and my wife has many friends there,’ Dad replied.

  ‘It’s difficult to get approval for refugees requesting to go to America,’ the official explained. ‘So many people have resettled there, and processing new refugees can take a very long time. People on this island have been waiting months, even years, inside the camp.’

  Mum and Dad knew there was no point in continuing to plead their case. They didn’t want to be stuck on the island for years.

  ‘I see you’re already accepted for Australia,’ the official said. ‘It would be better for you to go there. You won’t have to wait long to be processed and leave this island. This is my advice and I suggest you take it.’

  Mum and Dad talked about it briefly. In Australia, they would be with Uncle Five and his family and Dad’s other brother and sisters so they wouldn’t be completely alone. They didn’t know much about Australia: they had heard about kangaroos and the vast areas of bushland but that was about it. But they knew they were guaranteed a better life than the one they’d left behind. At that moment my parents decided to start their new life together in Australia.

  The family spent two months on Pulau Tengah before Uncle Five and his family, Uncle Five’s brother and his family, Aunt Sixteen, Uncle Tinh and Uncle Ut were transported by boat to Mersing. From there, it was a four-hour bus ride to Kuala Lumpur for medical checks and further processing and then, on 1 July, they were flown to their new home—Melbourne, Australia. They only learned of their destination three days before they were scheduled to depart the island, and they left behind Mum, Dad and my Aunt Twelve.

  Aunt Twelve was waiting for approval to go to America to be reunited with her husband, my Uncle Twelve, who had been in the air force and had fled Vietnam in the Hercules with Uncle Three after the Fall of Saigon. Despite her husband already being in the United States, Aunt Twelve had to wait another six months before she could leave the island and get into the US. Mum and Dad, however, were still waiting to find out when they were leaving, and where they were going.

  Before he left, Uncle Five sat down with Mum and Dad.

  ‘Tai,’ he said to my father, ‘take care of yourself, Lien and Sister Twelve while you are here. I hope you are not here for too much longer, and we can be together again soon.’

  Saying goodbye was difficult for all of them. They were each so close to building a new life; it was overwhelming and exciting but frightening too. As they hugged for the last time, Uncle Five, with a huge smile, said, ‘We will see you in Australia.’

  Mum and Dad had to wait about a week before they could leave. Three days before their scheduled flight, they checked the noticeboard at the immigration offices to find out their destination. They scanned the lists of names. They were hoping for Melbourne, to be with Uncle Five and his family, but then Mum pointed at one spot on the board:

  PERTH

  TAI ANH VO

  LIEN KIM CHAU

  Perth? They had no idea where Perth was. They had never even heard of it. They wondered what it would be like.

  ‘How do you feel about this?’ Dad asked my mother.

  Despite knowing nothing about their new home, Mum knew that it would be a much nicer place than the homeland they had left behind. ‘I’m feeling very, very happy,’ Mum said with a big smile.

  Their last days on the island were spent cleaning the house and gathering their scant belongings together, packing a small suitcase with decent clothes donated by the Red Cross. They didn’t have much, but it was enough.

  Mum and Dad both worried about leaving Aunt Twelve on her own, but she assured them that she would be fine; under the watch of the United Nations, the camp and island were safe places and the family had settled in well and made friends among the other refugees. ‘You two take care over there,’ she said to them as they left the house.

  Dad hugged his sister. ‘We hope you don’t have to wait too long. Please give my love to Brother Twelve. I miss him so much. I hope he is healthy and happy.’

  About midnight on 6 July 1978, my parents boarded a boat for Mersing, where they were bussed to Kuala Lumpur. Their group was housed in an old Red Cross building in the city, and they spent the first day undergoing medical checks at the local hospital. For the few days they were in KL they weren’t allowed outside the
building. Every time the food suppliers made a delivery, Dad would strike up a conversation with them. He liked their company and asked them for a favour. He wanted to leave the Red Cross building and explore the town. They agreed and managed to smuggle him out of the building by pretending he was one of them. They took him to the supermarkets and seafood and vegetable markets. They even took him out for meals.

  Some of the other refugees tried to sneak out but they were always caught. Somehow Dad got away with it.

  The World Cup was being held in Argentina. Some nights Dad managed to sneak out to the supermarket to watch matches on replay, even the final between Argentina and the Netherlands. He remembers those times fondly, as if it were yesterday—the freedom of wandering around, sitting in a supermarket to watch the World Cup . . . He was ecstatic, and felt so free. He even went shopping. With some money he had left over he went down to a ladies clothing store in the city one day and bought Mum a beautiful white cardigan. She loved it.

  In the days leading up to their departure, the refugees were asked to watch a video about Perth. My parents’ first impressions were of suburban brick homes with landscaped gardens on big blocks of land; a lot of bush; paved and clean roads; tall buildings; and native animals such as kangaroos and koalas. Immigration officials described what their life would be like in Australia, a very different life to the one they had lived in Vietnam. It would be tough to adjust to a Western lifestyle and they were advised to take it day by day.

  Mum and Dad were excited by the prospect of their new life in Perth. Before the war, Uncle Three had travelled all over Europe and other parts of the world, bringing home different foods and souvenirs and teaching them a lot about Western culture. And they had been able to communicate with many US soldiers in Vietnam. Mum and Dad stared at the television screen watching this short film about Australia. They were looking at their new home. It was so foreign to them. Vietnam seemed like an entire lifetime ago.