we are a burden for others.
We are not welcome.
Our lives seem so worthless
that no one in the world
can be bothered
to give us a hand.
I want to go home.
My family would
never,
never
think
I was a burden
to them.
102 | I AM BEATEN
Dee Dee is scared.
I can see only his eyes
on his whole face.
He asks,
“Are we going to die this time?”
“Yes!” the man in blue cuts in.
“We are all waiting to die!”
It makes me mad.
I snap, “You die!
We are not going to die!”
Dee Dee cries.
Uncle forces a bitter smile
as he looks at me,
“I hope you are right.”
I feel like crying.
It is not the uncle I have known
before this morning,
before the Taiwan ship turned us down.
I fear he will become like his wife—
losing all hope,
losing his struggle for survival.
I feel I have lost my baba.
I am beaten.
103 | AT DUSK ON THE SIXTH DAY
At dust on the sixth day
not many people are complaining.
Everybody knows,
even the small children, what will happen
eventually.
The paddlers have completely stopped paddling.
The men who have been taking turns
bailing out water
are exhausted
and not many people
have come to give them a hand.
There is a rumor
that the men can’t keep up with the water
that is still coming in,
for the front of the boat is tilting down
even steeper.
The boat will eventually sink,
even without the rising waves.
Dee Dee complains,
“I am very hungry.”
The old man in blue laughs.
“What’s the difference
if you die of hunger
or with a full stomach?”
I don’t feel like fighting with him.
I just hold on to Dee Dee’s hands.
That day,
a middle-aged man goes crazy.
He wails one second
and laughs the next.
No one tells him to shut up.
A baby dies.
The mother sobs without tears.
But no one forces the mother
to throw the baby into the water.
No one complains that
the dead body will contaminate the air.
Everybody knows,
sooner or later,
that he or she will become like the baby.
The captain apologizes to us sadly
for this outcome.
He says our fate is in other people’s hands
and that he is still hoping
for the best.
No one says a word.
104 | EXCEPT FOR ME!
Yes. I agree.
Our fate is in other people’s hands.
I believe that
not everybody is as heartless as the captains of
the Japanese and Taiwanese ships.
Like Uncle has said,
not every soldier is
as mean as the one who beat up our captain.
So I believe
if there is a ship out there,
there can still be
hope!
But right now,
I can’t look to see if a ship is coming.
I don’t want to talk;
I just want to sleep,
like Auntie,
like the rest of the people in the cabin.
So I fall into a deep, deep sleep and dream.
One second I am high, high up
in the sky;
the next second I am down, down
to the bottom of the valley.
Then I am being thrown up to the sky
again. . . .
Someone shakes me.
It is Dee Dee.
He cries, “They have spotted a Russian ship!”
No one moves;
no one gets up to have a look.
There is very little disturbance.
Uncle lets out a laugh.
“Huh, a Russian ship!”
They say, “The Japanese and Taiwanese ships
didn’t help us.
Do you think a Communist Russian ship will?”
They all agree.
Except for me!
I try to get up
and almost faint.
I say to Dee Dee,
“Help me!”
I hold on to him and
together,
we drag ourselves up the steps,
up to the deck.
105 | THE RUSSIAN SHIP
It is very bright and very calm.
Is it the next day already?
Of about one hundred people,
there are only the captain
and a sailor waving their torches.
While some of the strong men
keep bailing water,
some stop;
some watch;
some wait.
I try to jump up and yell, but
I see darkness in front of me and
almost fall.
I hold on to a pole next to me and say,
“You cry for help!”
Dee Dee takes off his shirt.
He jumps;
he yells;
he waves his shirt up in the air.
“I can see the ship much more clearly!”
Dee Dee reports.
“They must have seen my shirt!”
I cry, “Yes! They are coming for us!
The Russian ship is coming for us!”
The captain and the sailor tear up.
The strong men
who are bailing out the water
are weeping.
We are not a burden.
We are welcomed;
we are worth something
to someone else in the world.
They will give us a hand
because we are
human beings!
We are alive!
106 | I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!
The captain warns,
“The water!
Keep bailing out the water!”
Uncle and other people in the cabin
rush to the deck, all crying,
despite the captain warning,
“Go back down! The boat will capsize!”
It is no use.
Some raise their arms
and give thanks toward the ship,
“Thank you, thank you.
Buddha bless you!
Duc Me bless you!
Heaven God bless you!
Kwun Yum bless you!”
Some clap.
Some young men show the victory sign.
Many women kneel on the deck,
facing the bright blue sky,
facing the ship,
praying and crying in Vietnamese,
“Thank you, Duc Me,
for listening to our prayers
and saving us!”
Uncle is beaming now.
He keeps shaking his head,
“I can’t believe it!
Only the Communist Russians
would come to rescue us!”
I say to him proudly,
“I knew it in my heart!
Remember, ‘Not every soldier is mean!’”
107 | NO LONGER A PILE OF DEAD FISH
The captain of the commercial Russian ship
sends two rubber rafts
loaded with food and water to us.
We are no longer a pile of dead fish.
After drinking the water and eating the food,
some of us throw up.
People say it is a good sign:
at least we have something to throw up.
I throw up, too.
I don’t mind
this time.
Auntie turns her face away
when Uncle gives her water and food.
Nam offers it to her instead.
She drinks the water
and eats a few crackers.
We feel like a big rock is being lifted from us
after Auntie eats and drinks,
even though she is still acting
like she doesn’t want
anything to do with Uncle.
108 | HOORAY!
The Russian ship tows our boat
alongside their big ship.
Their captain asks us
if we want to go to Russia.
Some young men say,
“We don’t care where we go,
as long as there is a country
that will take us.”
They board the Russian ship.
Uncle and the others just thank the captain
They conclude:
“We have risked our lives
to get out of a communist country.
It doesn’t make sense to go back
to another communist country.”
They request the kind captain
to just put them on solid ground somewhere,
but not Malaysia.
The captain contacts
Hong Kong by radio.
They decline.
Japan declines.
Singapore declines.
Only Indonesia agrees to take us.
Hooray!
109 | GOODBYE, KINDHEARTED RUSSIAN CAPTAIN
The Russian ship
stays two whole days with us.
They begin to tow our boat
toward Indonesia by daylight.
They repair our boat at night,
for it is not safe to tow
during the high, strong winds.
The winds heave our boat
onto the peaks of the waves,
then plunge it down into the troughs
as we all scream.
After our boat is fixed,
the kindhearted captain keeps towing us.
Now it is just a two-hour journey
to reach our destination.
He draws a map for our captain,
and he gives him instructions
on how to get there.
Before the ship cruises away,
the kindhearted captain gives us
more food
and more water.
People wave at the ship with tears
and thank them
in Vietnamese and Chinese:
“Thank you! You are our saviors!”
“Thank you, captain!
You are a noble man.
I hope you have a good life!”
I do not say anything;
I just wave at them.
I have made up my mind that
someday
I will tell the world
that an unnamed Russian captain
and his crew saved us
on June 17, 1979,
in the South China Sea.
They ended our seven days
of drifting in the sea
and spent two more days with us
repairing our boat.
PART FOUR
June 19, 1979
Indonesia
110 | TOWARD INDONESIA
For a long time,
as the Russian ship sails farther away
and then disappears,
people are still talking
about how lucky we are
to be saved
by the kindhearted captain and his crew.
Then, suddenly, there are
three
loud
gunshots.
We are alert
as the captain stops navigating.
Pirates?
Until
an Indonesian patrol boat
pulls alongside to
question us.
We are already in Indonesian waters.
They let our boat in,
thanks to the kindhearted Russian captain.
We make our way to the closest island,
a remote island,
until our boat hits the sand.
“At last!”
We all are relieved.
Again,
we sleep on the sand.
We still have the rocking sensation,
like before.
But
we are
safe.
111 | SEPARATING?
The next day,
the Red Cross comes
and distributes food to everybody—
the same kind of food that we got before,
when we were in Malaysia.
Some translators help us
fill out forms in English.
We each state our name,
age,
gender,
and nationality,
as well as the names of
any siblings and parents that accompanied us.
Dee Dee and I are considered orphans.
I feel a little uneasy.
Does it mean that
Uncle, Auntie, Nam, and Dee Dee and I,
will be separated?
I choose what Uncle chooses:
America is our first choice to go to,
and Canada is the second.
I am glad that
on the third day
we all, including Uncle’s family,
are transferred to a temporary camp,
which has five thousand refugees.
We are thrilled.
We are close to being transferred
to a regular camp,
close to being interviewed,
and close to finding a new country
and settling down.
112 | THE HOUSING
The housing for the camp on Coconut Island
(that’s what we call it because of the coconut trees)
is row after row of long, simple sheds.
The roofs are made of logs
covered with palm fronds
over plastic sheets
to keep the rain out.
They are all supported by poles.
There are no walls.
Inside, the long shed
is divided into many small rooms
by three-foot-tall barriers of twigs.
There is no privacy.
We can look through the entire long shed.
But we have no complaints.
Uncle pays two taels of gold
to obtain a room.
Others, like the single young men,
who don’t want to pay or don’t have gold,
sleep on the ground outside,
facing the sky.
I am very thankful that
Uncle hasn’t excluded us
from staying in their room.
We make our own beds
by using poles and boards nailed together
about four or five inches
above the ground,
to avoid the insects.
But Auntie refuses to share a bed with Uncle.
I share a bed with her
while the others all share another one together.
We get “new” clothes from the bags of clothing
in the office shed.
They have been donated
by different countries.
Everyone just picks out clothes
that fit them.
I am very glad that
I finally have another pair of sandals
to wear.
The top of the sandals that Dao gave me
have torn.
But I do not throw them away.
I treasure them
to help me remember
Dao.
113 | MY REWARD
Auntie is staying inside all the time.
I help make a stove
by digging a hole
and placing a few rocks around it
like Auntie did in Malaysia.
Starting the fire
is quite a frustrating challenge.
I don’t mind
the smoke that stings my eyes.
I don’t mind
the charcoal
that soils my face and arms
and the heat from the fire
that makes me perspire
like rain.
I only consider that
cooking the meal
and brewing the tea and coffee
are the best ways to show my appreciation
to Uncle and Auntie.
And I am so pleased that
Auntie is willing
to eat a couple of spoonfuls of rice
and sip some coffee,
as my big reward.
Uncle is very pleased.
He quietly says to me,
“Thank you, Lam.
I hope she will gain her strength back.”
I reply confidently,
“She will. Give her some time.”
114 | THE LAST THING I WANT TO DO
The pit toilets are big holes in the ground
away from the sheds,
the same as the ones in Malaysia.
They are enclosed with palm leaves,
instead of using grass mats,
and supported by poles.
But some people don’t bother
to use the pit toilets.
They just let children urinate
or defecate on the ground
and don’t obey the rule of filling the old ones
and digging new ones
if they get caught.
So going there is the last thing
I want to do,
except to accompany Auntie,
who is barely able to walk.
And I miss Dao.
115 | WHERE ARE MY FRIENDS?
Uncle will not allow us
to go into the woods
to gather firewood.
Only he and other adults go.