In March 1980, my parents fled Vietnam, their homeland. I was only 16 months old and a tiny baby girl that used to ride in the front basket of my grandfather's bicycle. I have no memory of it all, the suffering, the boat escape. Yet, I can play it in my mind like it was an old movie I've seen long ago. There was not a day that my Dad failed to remind my siblings and I to thank God that my Phamily was so blessed to have survived the War, the boat escape, and for everything that we have today. I almost feel like I lived it with all the stories my Dad told and repeated throughout my childhood (and to this very day). But I’m also glad I don’t remember. When I think of my parents today, I simply cannot imagine what it must have been like for them to escape by boat, leave their loved ones, and risk their own lives for freedom. This is the story of my Phamily's escape and of thousands of Vietnamese boat people.
We were a young family of 6, my Dad, 40 years, my Mom, 29 years, my sister, 9 years, my brother, 6 years, myself, and my younger sister, 6 months cozy in my Mom's belly. My Dad was a lieutenant in the South Vietnamese Army and a history and geography teacher before that. He had just spent 2 years in "re-education camp" where he invented a mousetrap with his bowl of rice just to have protein to survive. My Dad was anxious and desperate to get on the first boat out of the country. After multiple failed attempts and losing all their life savings to scammers, my grandmother was able to borrow enough money, around 6k USD in 1980, for my Dad and brother to try again, to leave on an organized boat escape. My Dad did not want to leave my Mom and I behind, but he had no choice. We didn't have enough money. This time, my parents' luck turned around. The organizer was a very honest and good-hearted man. He let my sister go for free and got all three of them safely to a refugee camp near Bangkok, Thailand. They sailed for 2 days 2 nights. They were so thirsty that when it rained, my Dad caught drops of rainwater in his palms for my sister, just barely enough to wet the tongue. Stubborn and determined (and rightfully so), my Dad pleaded to the organizer to get my Mom on the next boat escape even though it was not in the plans to do so. The man promised he would go back and get my Mom. He told my grandmother he would take no one else except my Mom on the next trip. My grandmother had only from 1PM to 7PM to beg and scramble another 4k USD. This was A LOT of money back then, probably more than all the life savings of a whole village. The next morning, my Mom and I left for the coast. I was so small, I went free. With God protecting us, my Mom's boat was safe from the Thai pirates who attacked the boats and raped and killed the women and men. This was another miracle. My Dad said my Mom and I survived the 3 day boat trip only because of a lemon juice and sugar solution he had made but had forgotten. This was a huge blessing, 3 lives saved for the cost of 1. After weeks of seeing boat after boat unload and no wife and daughter, my Dad had lost hope. On April 30, 1980, which happened to be the 5th year anniversary of the Fall of Saigon, his friend said that his wife had arrived on a boat. My Dad didn't believe him and thought he was joking but when he saw my Mom and I, he couldn't be a happier man. When my Dad tried to hold me, I wouldn't let him, but I'm sure I was happy to see him too. The months at the refugee camp were harsh. We had lost all our jewelry that was sewn in our clothes. My sister did not want my Dad to sell the gold necklace because it was a souvenir that my Mom had given her. In the end, it fell out of my Dad's shirt pocket where he had pinned it, so they had nothing. My Mom was pregnant and we kept crying for food. We survived only on a bottle cap of water and an egg a day, for the whole Phamily. My brother and sister split the egg and my Dad ate just rice and soy sauce.
Only a short 5 months later, my Phamily was sponsored to Michigan by my uncle and a few loving families from a Detroit Catholic Church. Sponsoring Vietnamese refugees was a very controversial issue at the time. And we were sponsored because we met the condition that we were a "complete" family, which was very rare. On October 15, 1980, we arrived in Detroit, Michigan, where my Mom saw snow for the first time and thought it was cotton balls falling from the sky! It is amazing that in a short span of 6 months, my Phamily had split, escaped, survived, reunited, had a baby, and started a new life, pursuing the "American Dream." This is why my Dad named my sister "Freedom." Some say the “American Dream” is dead. It’s not. My parents' dream started on a boat and they were blessed by God, miracle after miracle. They found life where there was death all around. Now, their journey continues with me, the pursuit of love, peace, freedom, and happiness - the "American Dream" with my own little twist.
