CHAPTER 20
Kim Trang tentatively entered Tess’s hospital room.
“Oh, Kim, thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for asking me. I’ve brought you a few things to enjoy with your tea.” Kim placed a small packet on Tess’s bedside table.
Tess told Kim how moved she had been by her story. “That feeling of abandonment when the Australians didn’t return for you… For so many years I have felt abandoned as well. But I wasn’t. Because some things just aren’t as they seem.”
Tess looked in the small packet that Kim had given her then pressed the bedside buzzer. When the nurse came in Tess asked for tea for two.
“Kim, what happened after they took your mother away?”
April 29th 1975 - Saigon, Vietnam
There was little sign of civilian life on the streets as the two children tentatively made their way back to their small apartment. Any vehicles were mostly military and what few people were out and about were mostly soldiers. Cafes were open but almost entirely patronised by men in North Vietnamese uniforms.
As they arrived at their apartment building they were greeted by their neighbour, Mr Ngoc.
"Ah, Van, you are safe. Oh, poor little Kim. I heard that your mother has been arrested. Come inside, you can stay with me for a short while."
"Thank you, Mr Ngoc," said Van, "we would prefer to go upstairs to our own place. We will be safe there until aunty comes back."
"But, children, you do not have a place anymore. The army has taken it for their own use. See for yourself if you must ... but be careful," he warned.
At that moment two soldiers entered the building, laughing and smelling of tobacco and too much rice wine. They pushed their way past Kim and Van who watched as they disappeared up the staircase. They listened as the soldiers’ footsteps stopped at the first door and entered the apartment. Mr Ngoc was right – they didn't have a home anymore.
For two months the children stayed with Mr Ngoc. Each morning they would go to the prison and ask to see Linh. Each day they were told that she was busy taking re-education classes. One day the guard said that if the children were prepared to pay some money then the commanding officer might be persuaded to let them see Linh. So they would give him a few coins and he would promise to do his best. But always the news he gave was the same.
“The commander says you need to pay more.”
They would then go about their daily routine of begging and offering to do small jobs for shopkeepers and neighbours. At night they would return to Mr Ngoc’s apartment and offer him a share of what they had earned as thanks for his kindness.
On the night they left Mr Ngoc’s never to return they had found him drunk. He had been like a caring grandfather up until that point but he had suddenly changed.
He looked at the paltry amount of money they handed to him and dropped it on the floor with a look of disdain. “You are out from sunrise to sunset and this is all you bring home. Have I not looked after you well enough? Is this how you repay me, with little coins that are barely enough to buy a small fish?”
“We are sorry, Mr Ngoc,” explained Van, “but we are saving our money to visit aunty Linh. Maybe we will be able to pay for her release from prison and buy our home back from the army.”
“Hah!” Mr Ngoc laughed. “Put those silly ideas out of your head. There is only here and there is only now. You have no home but mine and it will cost you a lot more than what you are giving me at present.”
Kim was sobbing to hear the man she saw as their friend and protector speak to them so harshly.
“Please, Mr Ngoc,” pleaded Van, “we are already sharing what we have. We work all day to earn these few coins. What more can we give you?”
With that Mr Ngoc broke into a broad smile and like a magician triumphantly pulling a rabbit out of a hat, he reached into the children’s bag and pulled out Cam’s wallet.
“This,” he said taking out a thick wad of cash, “would be a very suitable start.”
The children looked wide-eyed at the money he held in his hand.
“That is Aunty Linh’s money,” insisted Van. “You can’t have that!”
“Aunty Linh’s money? It does not have Aunty Linh’s name on this purse. Unless she changed her name.”
“It was a gift. You can’t have it!” Van was shouting now, angry that Mr Ngoc would try to steal from them.
Suddenly Mr Ngoc’s expression seemed more understanding and for a moment the children though he had changed his mind. “Of course, Van, you are right. I cannot keep this money. What if the soldiers find me with it? They will think I was a traitor … just like I told them your aunty was!”
The children stared in disbelief. All this time they had been staying under the roof of the man who had betrayed Linh. Had he ever felt pity for them, or had he only ever regarded them as a source of income, trifling as it was?
They would never know the answer to this question because before Kim’s thin body could jerk with another sob Van had rushed forward and shoved the old man with all his might into the wall. Mr Ngoc fell to the floor and lay there moaning and bleeding from a small wound to the back of his head.
“Run, Kim!” shouted Van as he picked up the money and the wallet and pushed it all back into the bag. He turned to see the young girl riveted to the spot, eyes fixed on the trickle of blood that was slowly beginning to pool on the tiles. Van threw the bag over his shoulder, swooped his young cousin up in his arms and ran from the building into the darkness.
“Is Mr Ngoc dead?” Kim asked when they finally stopped in an alley some distance from the apartment.
“No, Kim, he is not dead,” replied Van, not knowing whether or not his answer was true. “As soon as he is able, he will surely report us to the soldiers. We have to leave Saigon as soon as possible.”
“Without my mother? No, we cannot leave her here…” Kim sobbed. “She would never leave us and we can never leave her.”
“Kim, when it is safe, we can come back.”
“Come back? Just like my father came back? Just like your parents came back? Just like Cam came back?” Kim rolled herself into a small, weeping ball. “There is no coming back to Saigon.”
And the cold rain poured down.
During the months that followed the children lived in the backstreets afraid to stay too long in one place lest they be recognised as criminals wanted for an assault on, or maybe even the murder of, an old man. At night they slept in whatever dry place they could find. Sometimes a kind family would offer them shelter but by morning they had gone. Van did not trust anybody for very long. During the day they would beg for money and food. Sometimes they would do some small jobs like cleaning garbage cans and emptying toilets. Often they would be cheated out of their promised earnings if the shopkeeper decided that there work was not worth paying for. Not once did they use any of the money from Cam's wallet.
It was late September, when they made their final visit to the re-education camp, to make another payment for a visit with Linh. As the new guard, one they had never seen before, told them that Linh had died many weeks earlier the children collapsed in silent surrender. Kim cursed herself for being unable to cry for her own mother, but they were both beyond tears. For hours they sat silently and pathetically at the prison gate. A few passers-by dropped coins at their feet but the children no longer had the will to gather them up. Although they had been alone for so long it was the dream of being reunited with Linh that had kept them alive. Now they had no dream left. Not even the guard’s threat to shoot them made them move. Only when the guard physically dragged them away from the gate and across the rough road did they stand and wander aimlessly back towards the city. It didn't matter now if they were arrested.
"I am sorry, little Kim. I have let you down. I don't know where to go from here."
"Maybe we should go to the place of Sunshine and Laughter," replied Kim.
"Sunshine and laughter? Is that a place in your dreams?"
Kim stopped and reached in
to the bag that was slung over Van's shoulder. She took out Cam's wallet and opened a clipped compartment that Van had not previously noticed.
"No, it is a real place," she said holding up a photograph. “I think we will find Cam there.”
"It is beautiful," Van agreed. "I will get you there, I promise."
Van had heard some street talk that people were attempting to illegally escape from Vietnam by boat. To speak of escape was dangerous enough, but to make an actual attempt could be suicidal. The alternative, however, was a life of poverty and despair in this depressed and defeated country. The photo showed them a paradise across the ocean. But the ocean was vast and unforgiving. And neither of them had ever been on a boat. Still the decision was an easy one.
The sun was just beginning to rise when, two weeks later the children reached the small fishing village of Cay Lay on the southern coast. There were only a few boats moored as most had already set out for their day’s work.
Van found a secluded spot from where they could watch people coming and going. And many people did come. Some left again while others hid, like the children, in the nearby forest. Kim could not stay awake but Van watched carefully trying to make sense of everything he saw. It was mid-afternoon when he finally shook his cousin awake.
“I am going to talk to a fisherman who may be able to help us. You watch our bag. I will be back.”
Kim rubbed her eyes and nodded to show she understood. Then she watched as Van walked, warily, at first, but then with increasing confidence towards an old, tanned fisherman who sat on the sand mending his nets. At first Kim saw the old man wave Van away. But her cousin stood his ground. Again the fisherman waved him away. Kim could not hear the exchange but she knew that there was a lot of shouting. Then she saw the man stand and walk over to her cousin. Van reached into his pocket and took out some money. The man made a grab for it but Van was too quick. He put the money back into his pocket and took a few steps backwards. They spoke some more and Van finally turned and made his way back to where Kim was hiding.
“Tonight,” explained Van, “a boat will be here to take us to a safe place.”
Kim forced a small smile. “I’m hungry.”
“So am I. The old man said there are no soldiers around here so it should be safe to go and find some food.”
The lady in the small hut not far from the beach was surprised when the two children knocked on her door and asked for some food, and even more surprised when the boy held out some coins to pay for it.
As they ate, the old lady told the children some stories she had heard from people who had unsuccessfully tried to escape. While Kim did not understand much of what she said Van grew more scared and began to doubt his ability to protect his young charge.
“Do you have some scissors?” he suddenly asked the lady.
Although confused, Kim sat still while Van cut her hair short and dressed her in some of his own clothes.
It was dark when a man carrying a lamp made his way onto the deserted beach.
"Van, wake up," whispered Kim.
Van shook the sleepiness from his head. "It is time," he said.
The children abandoned their hiding place and walked towards the light. As they did they noticed others, first a few, then a dozen, then over twenty, also making their way towards the lamp.
It wasn't the fisherman that Van had spoken with earlier in the day, but a younger, fitter looking man who held up his hand to quieten the crowd.
"I am sorry to say that the price Mr Nguyen may have told you is incorrect.” The man’s eyes watched greedily as the desperate runaways dug even deeper into their purses.
October 1975 - Saigon, Vietnam
On only the first day of their journey on the Tự Do, another boat had drawn up alongside their vessel and the man who had taken so much of their money callously abandoned them. The men shared the job of steering the boat but the fuel soon ran out. With some tattered canvas and their spare clothes they were able to sew together a makeshift sail but mostly they drifted aimlessly through the South China Sea. The first thing Kim had noticed when she boarded the small fishing boat was the stink of rotten fish. Now it stank with the smell of vomit and urine.
On the fifth day they had their first encounter with Thai pirates. Upon seeing the strange boat approaching, those escapees that still had the strength waved hopefully. It was only when the pirates drew up alongside and tied the boats together that fear hit them.
The pirates forced the women and girls on to their own vessel and pushed away. From a distance the men and boys could hear the laughter of the pirates and the weeping of their helpless victims. Kim buried her face in Van’s chest and blocked her ears. Although she did not fully understand what was happening to the females, she knew now why Van had been careful to change her appearance.
On the next day another group of pirates boarded the boat and searched for money. When they could find none they lined up the men and threatened to shoot them. Van retrieved the wallet that he had secreted between some boards. The pirates took out the money and threw the wallet into the water. Once they had left Van dived in and retrieved the wallet. As he climbed back into the boat he ripped open his leg on a rusty piece of metal protruding from the side of the boat. His leg was cut through to the bone. A woman kindly bound the wound and Kim carefully dried the picture of Sunshine and Laughter.
When the third band of pirates boarded and found neither money nor jewels, they forced everyone to open their mouths and without mercy used rusted pliers to rip out any teeth that contained gold fillings.
By the end of the second week the group had been reduced through starvation, dehydration, sickness and madness to only fifteen. Van himself was wracked with fever from the untreated leg wound. Kim felt useless as she dripped cool seawater on his burning forehead and offered comforting words. Others were too weak to help. When the huge American naval ship cast a shadow over the Tự Do the sailors thought they had found a boatload of corpses.
Although an agreement with the new Vietnamese government prevented the Americans from taking the refugees on board the sailors supplied them with food, water, fuel, a map and wishes of good luck.
Two days later they spotted the Malaysian island of Pulau Bidong. Van died before they reached land. With the help of the kind lady who had bandaged Van’s leg, Kim buried her brave cousin in the forest, carved his name in a tree and offered simple prayers.
While some, too ill and weak to continue, remained on the island in the hope of better prospects, others, imbued with renewed spirit and determination, decided to push north to Hong Kong and the dream of resettlement in a new land. With the photo in hand, Kim climbed sadly back on board.
Ultimately the small boat lived up to its name, Tự Do… Freedom.