In a minute,
Nam’s baba returns and says,
“Good news!
These fishermen are going to take us
to the refugee camp.”
Some teens raise up two fingers
in a V for victory
while the others’ faces beam.
“But . . . ,” Nam’s baba continues,
“they want us to give them
gold or watches in return
for the gas and their effort.”
Not a single person objects.
Someone says,
“Using our treasure to prevent a disaster!”
Another says, “They are our saviors!
I don’t mind using some of my gold
to save our whole family!”
A man says,
“Nothing is more precious than
being put onto land!”
Dee Dee whispers,
“Why do they want gold?
Why don’t they want money?”
I say,
“Our money is only good in Vietnam.
Gold can be used anywhere.”
So the whole group of passengers springs into action,
as a sailor holds out two big serving bowls,
the ones used for serving porridge,
to collect the donations.
They put in
gold rings,
a gold pendant,
a gold bracelet,
a gold necklace,
even
a heavy gold bangle.
The man who has the coffee jar puts it
into the bowl.
The sailor says,
“Give them gold, not coffee.”
The man takes a ring
hidden in the seam of his clothing
and places it into the bowl.
Nam’s ma puts in a pair of earrings and a ring
without any hesitation.
Teenagers who don’t have much gold
take off their watches to add to the bowl.
Dee Dee murmurs,
“What are we giving them?
Daigo has all the gold.”
I untie the red string and
give them the jade Kwun Yum.
I am sure Ah Mah wouldn’t mind
me giving it away
if it ends up saving our lives.
But the sailor skips me by saying,
“They only want gold and watches.”
There are two big bowls full of treasure,
which dazzle my eyes.
The fishermen are happy.
We are happy.
32 | SAILING TO THE LAND
The fishermen tie two thick ropes
to either side of our boat.
They begin to tow us
to the refugee camp.
Everyone’s spirits are high,
for our ordeal is going to be over.
The lights in our cabin are turned back on.
No more worries about pirates.
As people are relaxing,
I quietly tell my family in my mind,
I am sorry I haven’t thought of you for days.
Now we are safe.
We are going to land soon.
Don’t worry about Dee Dee and me.
The journey seems endless.
It has been almost a day and a night.
Some people are restless, complaining,
“Why does it take so long
to get to the refugee camp?
Didn’t we just see land?”
Another says,
“Don’t worry,
as long as we are being towed by the fishermen.”
It makes sense.
Some go back to sleep.
Others quietly talk about their lives back home.
On the second day before dawn,
we are awakened by a strange sound
followed by a sudden dipping of our boat.
“What’s happening?”
We are suddenly alert.
33 | THE OUTRAGE
A sailor reports angrily
at the top of the steps,
“Can you believe that?
They towed us back
into international waters,
and then they cut the ropes and sped away!
They said they changed their minds
and hope someone else will pick us up!”
The whole boat is as furious as
bubbles from boiling water
about to spill out.
They ask,
“Where are we now? We have been cheated!”
“How could they do such an inhumane thing!”
They curse,
“Those tricky fishermen will die in a terrible way!”
They wonder,
“Were they really fishermen?
Or were they pirates disguising themselves
as fishermen?”
They argue,
“We don’t even know what country they belong to!”
“That’s why I asked what country they were from,
and you all jumped on me.”
Some fight back.
“What difference does it make if they were from
Hong Kong, Japan, Malaysia, the Philippines,
or some other country?”
It is the calm captain who puts out the fire
when he says,
“I am sorry.
Maybe they were a group of pirates or rebels
from some unknown country.
But what is done is done.
We were all desperate
to get off the water onto dry land.
But we will continue to sail
until we find land.
We will land at the first place we see
before our fuel completely runs out.”
The voices die down.
I feel a chill all over
as I hear the word “pirate.”
I am so glad I didn’t give them my jade Kwun Yum
after all.
PART TWO
May 18, 1979
Somewhere in Malaysia
34 | THE MORNING OF THE EIGHTH DAY
On the morning of the eighth day
after we left our homeland,
we reach an unknown bay.
No one asks or cares what country the bay belongs to,
for we are tired and short of energy.
But we are still alive.
“At last!” everyone cheers,
and the sound of raucous clapping is as loud as
a string of firecrackers going off
at the opening of a new store.
The captain suggests,
“Since we do not know where we are,
and in case we are forced to leave the bay,
let’s disable our boat
before we leave,
so no one can send us out to sea again.”
“Yes!” everybody agrees,
and they take action right away.
The adults and teens use the axes and knives that
they took out to fight the pirates
to chop here and there
except where the corpse is located.
The captain and others crowd
into the pilot house to sabotage
the engine.
Small children like Dee Dee and Nam
jump up,
trying to break the deck,
glad to be free from their long confinement.
They are thinking that breaking
the deck could make the boat sink.
I am very weak.
Still, I join with other girls
using just one foot to stamp on the deck,
but the boards don’t break.
The boat is alive with
the excitement of destruction,
joy, and hope,
and then the captain announces,
“The engine no longer works!
The boat can’t travel anymore!”
Everybody declares,
“The ordeal is over!
No one can trick us anymore!”
The old ladies drop onto the deck
and give thanks.
35 | THE HORROR
The five sailors tie several long ropes
onto the boat
and throw them into the water
before they jump from the boat.
They grab the ropes and pull them all the way
to the shore.
Some young men can’t wait.
They jump after the sailors
and swim to the beach.
They give the sailors a hand
when they try to pull the boat
closer to the shore.
When one sailor commands, “One, two, three!”
more than thirty men,
some of them in the surf,
pull with all their might,
like in a fiercely contested tug-of-war.
They rest a few seconds and pull again.
They pull many times.
Each time is entertainment for us
until the boat can’t progress anymore.
It comes to rest on the seabed.
It is now about two hundred feet
from the shore.
The sailors secure the ropes to palm trees
that surround the beach.
The captain throws many wooden buckets
into the water.
The sailors tie the buckets onto the ropes,
about every ten feet, all the way to the shore.
When the sailors urge the people
to jump from the boat,
the old lady in black cries,
“I’ll drown for sure
if I have to go into the water!”
The pregnant woman wails,
“Jumping into the water will harm my baby,”
while her husband tries hard to convince her.
I feel like I am going to have diarrhea.
Dee Dee and I do not know how to swim.
Looking from the deck to the water below
it appears very deep.
I can’t see the bottom.
My legs feel like cooked rice noodles,
just looking at the water below.
The sailors and the young men
who are treading water
convince us to jump.
They say,
“All you have to do is jump into the water
and hold on to the ropes.
The ropes will guide you to the shore!”
I am thinking,
It is easier said than done.
But Dee Dee claps,
“Let’s jump!
I am sick of staying on this boat
for so long!”
“No! We will wait for them to help us!”
But he jumps into the water.
I am horrified. I scream.
I jump in after him.
I must save my brother.
36 | THE RESCUE
Water gushes into my nose and mouth.
I panic.
I kick.
I reach out with my arms,
but I can’t find the rope
no matter how frantically I move my arms.
Someone grabs me.
I latch on to him for dear life.
My head is suddenly out of the water.
I cough and choke in spasms.
Water comes out from my mouth and nose,
as the man drags me
all the way
onto the shore.
I hear someone curse me
for not waiting for the crew members.
I cough and start to sob at the same time,
but I am alert.
Where is my brother?
37 | MY DECISION
Nam’s baba, soaking wet, is holding Dee Dee’s hand.
When he sees me,
Dee Dee lets go of Nam’s baba’s hand
and runs to me.
I slap him in the face
and scold him, “Why didn’t you listen to me!
You almost got me drowned!”
He cries.
Nam’s baba asks me in Cantonese if I am okay.
I thank him for helping Dee Dee.
I am surprised that
he can speak Cantonese
without any accent.
Back home,
our family hardly ever mingled
with Vietnamese.
We had our own small quarter,
like an invisible wall that separated us
from the outside world.
We went to Chinese schools;
we ate Chinese food;
we spoke Chinese;
we practiced
traditional Chinese medicine and customs.
But now I have changed my mind.
I wish we could have been closer
to the Vietnamese
when I was at home.
38 | ENDING SEVEN DAYS ON THE WATER
People are still jumping off the boat.
Kids are jumping without any fear.
Many adults hold their noses
and close their eyes
before they jump.
Some say a prayer, then leap into the water.
Reluctant passengers sit on the edge of the boat
before pushing themselves off.
Others lie on their stomachs over the side of the boat
with their feet toward the water
and gradually move their legs downward,
then let go.
So
the bay resounds with the noise of
water splashing,
crying,
screaming,
and laughing for joy,
like a live orchestra performing
without a conductor.
But the elderly and young mothers,
including the pregnant woman,
are afraid to jump.
The captain secures a rope to the boat
and ties it underneath the young mothers’ arms,
while they hold their screaming babies or toddlers.
He and their husbands carefully lower the mothers
down to the water,
where the people below retrieve them
and help them hold on to the ropes
and accompany them all the way to the shore.
The pregnant woman and the older people
are assisted safely to shore,
except for the old lady in black,
who refuses to be tied underneath her arms,
no matter how much her children beg her.
So she is the last one off the boat.
Her screams and cries sound like a pig
being slaughtered.
It takes a long time
before all the people are off the boat,
including the corpse that was on the deck.
Hooray!
We have ended our eight days on the water.
Of more than two hundred people,
no one drowns;
no one gets injured getting off the boat.
The captain is pleased.
We are pleased.
39 | INVESTIGATION
We are lying on the sandy shore
like dead fish.
The earth
is still rocking
beneath us
like a boat,
up and down.
The sailors bring the cooking utensils
and the people’s belongings,
floating them to shore
on a large wooden hatch cover.
We search in the soaking wet pile.
Dee Dee finds his sandals.
I lost one of mine
when I was in the water.
Both Dee Dee and Nam are overjoyed.
Dee Dee asks if
he and Nam can play together again.
Dao a
nd I nod and smile.
The charcoal on her face is almost gone.
Only a few traces of it remain.
I think mine is probably the same.
Her mother says to me gently in Cantonese,
with a heavy Vietnamese accent,
“We will stay together.”
It touches me so much.
It is what I wanted.
Dee Dee and I will have a shoulder
to lean on
during this journey.
And I decide, from now on,
Dee Dee and I will address them as
Uncle and Auntie
for respect
and a sense of closeness.
Someone shouts from behind us.
Several soldiers suddenly appear
from nowhere
with their guns pointing at us.
We all let out a cry.
What country
are we in?
Dee Dee grabs my hand
fearfully.
I hold his hand in a tense grip.
Have we become criminals?
A tall soldier yells in English.
Uncle says, “They want us to return to our boat.”
Murmurs rise among us.
“Tell them our boat doesn’t work!”
The tall soldier is angry.
He wants to know
who sabotaged the boat.
We feel threatened.
They approach
with their guns still pointing at us.
I smell blood.
Some small children cry.
I hold my breath.
I can feel Dee Dee,
who is hiding behind me,
trembling.
He also participated in damaging the boat.
No one says a word.
Only the babies cry.
“Who is the captain?”
Uncle translates the tall soldier’s question.
Our captain comes out from the crowd,
and he replies, “I am the captain.”
The soldier asks him,
“Who participated in sabotaging the boat?”
The captain doesn’t answer.
Everybody is breathless.
All the soldiers circle around us
with watchful eyes on our faces.
I can hear my heart thumping.
I fear:
Will they question us one by one,