Journey for Freedom
Memories are sometimes
transient, such as fuzzy clouds flying across the sky, leaving little
conceptual picture. But sometimes, it is very deep. That may be considered as a
serious event which makes an important turn in your life. I put myself in the
situation of someone I interviewed to understand a story that happened over 20
years ago in South Vietnam.
That day, the
South had changed hands for 3 years; also the political situation was extremely
rigorous. Moreover, policies were not applied uniformly. Every ward and team
had its own lord and promoted initiatives to control people. For my part, I'd
just left a political penitentiary, and was jobless. I could only stay three
months in Saigon to before being moved to new economic zones. During that
period, southern people had a high fever of movement across the boundary on
boats and look forward to seeing freedom. Many polices supervised regularly and
threatened the people not to go anywhere. People including who were in jail or
outside had a main topic discussing about only one issue that crossed the
border.
Time went so fast. At a glance my temporary resident was expired.
I lived in an illegally household in the midst of city. Amid the despair of
hardships, I did not know if I would be arrested again. One day, my brother
gave me valuable information. Mr.An, an intellectual man, aged just 50, was
gentle and decent. He was the employee of the U.S. aid agency before the year
of 1975. He also contributed to the Anglo-French sound “Cosunam studio” in
Saigon. He was planning in the semi-official crossing only for the Chinese
people. However, my brother was doing business with him, my brother asked him
for help in this circumstance. It was all about money. Almost people had to pay
the boat-leader at least ten ounces of gold if they wanted to exchange freedom.
I did not have that much money. My wife could not earn any coins
because she was busy with our innocent children at the time I was in jail. The
resting bills she had could only purchase simply enough for a couple of days. Actually,
we could afford it, but after many unsuccessful trips, we almost ran out of
money. Now, the price for this trip exceeded my money, unless a miracle! Yet,
miracles seemed to happen!
When I got out jail, I was called out and interrogated about my
relationship with two priests. It could only questions about their history, but
also made me very afraid, because society had no clear laws. Once the police
suspect, sooner or later I would go to prison again. Therefore, I was more
eager to escape. One evening in early November, I brought my family to Duyen
Mai restaurant near to Chi Lang, to meet Mr.An. I was now hiding from the
control of police because my household deadline in long time. Police were doing
their arrests strictly, even innocent people. I met Mr. An on time. I was
shocked when he said he was willing to pay for my family and my brother. He
meant that he let me borrow his gold. When the trips reached to America, I had
to return to him all twenty-five ounces of gold (ten for me, ten for my wife,
and five for our son). I was like walking in clouds. Indeed, my life was
incredible to meet a good person like him. Of course, because of my brother,
Mr. An could believe that I would pay him after coming to the United States.
But anyway, he helped a stranger like me in this context considered a miracle
that I could not imagine, especially in period of poverty.
Mr.An's wife sat next to him, smiling at
us gently. She was thirty nine years old and younger than him. They had six
children who were very obedient and polite. Mr.An was actually a very gracious
person. He also lent his money to eighteen other people, totalling of three
hundred ounces of gold.
The nervous days elapsed very slowly. I impatiently feared that awful
things might occur before I leave. I kept working in community resources and
voluntarily teaching supplemental classes at night in order to divert the
attention of local police. Meanwhile, I secretly bought papers, found a fake
name, learned to speak Chinese girders, and finally left South Vietnam on a
day- the end of year when sea waves were fierce and roaring.
In the middle of the night, we caught a bus to Ba Ria-Vung Tau. To
avoid the tracking of guerrillas and police, we were careful to alight in a
place about a mile's walk to the main road. In the first night we slept in
market, and then the night after we moved to another hidden place where people over
there called “chickens locked up." In the front, this place only has a
thatched roof as many other houses, but it was a confidential cottage behind a
long wall.
Following the guide, I saw more than 50 other people were waiting
like me. At this point, I began to live among whispers, hopes and anxiety that
resulted from their discussions. One the next day, we had the opportunity to
hear and share our past experiences with spiritual livings and our
imprisonment.
We were served lunch and dinner. Right after dinner, we quickly went
across a wild field of grass and approached to the beach. Because of pitch-black
sky, we had to walk after another not to get lost. We were not afraid of the
dark but the uncertainties that the police would find us.
When I got on the boat, I slid down the hatch. The door of the hatch, a square hole located in the dark near the
bow, allowed only one person to go in and out at a time. It actually was a
container of caught fish, but now it was a container of people. Although it was
very dark outside, I could see people near me; however, when I was herded down
the tunnel, totally did not see anything except the pit box in its mouth. I did
not know what its shape or size inside looked like except the feeling of
two-hand seat only! They kept cramming people into the hatches. Someone who
came down before would moved further into the bottom hatches for other behind. All
the men had to stay inside the cellars. The women and children were up on the
boat. The sound of running engine lasted nearly an hour. Everyone was perhaps
put life-vest on. When a ship had run, the captain announced with a clear voice
“Now the Catholic brothers, let’s pray". Our journey began.
The tone of praying was in harmony with the engine's. I found my
soul a little peaceful. All of a sudden, another voice on the boat ordered
"All quiet. police station!" The sound of the running engine was softer.
It became prudent before the dangers were waiting for.... A few moments later,
I heard the sharp sound of gunshots. Ship was running full swing. The captain
tried to stay away from the gunfire... Inside the cellar, we heard distant gunfire
continuing to explode. Stressful! Our hopes were almost put into the
controlling of the driver. The other hopes we put into the ship’s engine. We
expected it to escape from danger place as possible as it could. A little
thought appearing in my mind was my wife and son. I did not know how they were
now. Finally, the gunfire was unclear in my ears. We became less anxious.
However, this was just a minor challenge. We still had many waiting for us
ahead.
In the darkness, I seemed to lose all concepts of time. My body
completely went numb. It was too dark in here that I could not see anything
around me. The only thing I could feel was stuffiness and overcrowding. The
boat kept swaying. At this time, food was seldom passed from hand to hand.
People stood near the hatch door took all the good ones. The other only received
hard-to-eat things because they were hard as stone. We were resigned to swallow
them reluctantly. Nevertheless, everyone was self-comforting that the journey
would not endure any longer to find the light of freedom.
For several days drifting out to sea, we were tired of small boat
stuffed with continuous waves. Water overflew into the cellar through the
cracks progressively. My seat got worse because water rose up to my chest.
Remaining pieces of cakes, tangerine peel, grapefruit peel and other
miscellaneous items were floating everywhere inside the hatch, but nobody bothered
to discard them away. Because of overcrowding, difficult to move, everyone
stayed stationary and even urinated at seat. All of us almost spent time to
sleep.
I guessed it was the seventh day when I heard the ship-owner
speaking in a low voice to his sailor. I was suddenly startled when I felt
somebody trying to have a word with me . I recognized it was my wife despite of
the darkness. Fortunately, everyone around me was sleeping, so I could move my
body . If they had woken up, it would have been difficult because they would
push me back to my seat. My wife said with a weak voice: “There was a big storm
last night.... Our son’s shirt was totally ripped . He was very cold all night.
Could you go up a bit?”
Immediately, I stood up and walked through the sleeping people. I
climbed up through a small hole. Both my shoulders were scratched, but I almost
did not have any feelings. I bent down and embraced my little boy tightly. He was shivering with cold. I looked around
after several nights in the dark basement. Within a few seconds, I realized
immediately what we were facing was life and death. If I had been in the basement, I would have
assumed the ship was running. In fact, it was floating by the waves. Now, the
sky was raining cats and dogs.
Nobody in the hatch was notified of this terrible issue because it
would cause fear and flurry scenes. I actually knew how horrible it could go.
My wife told me the sailors and captain left the ship last night. As our boat was about a half mile to the coast
of Malaysia, the Malaysia police tried to catch and attack our ship. They told
that they would come back after conversing with Malaysia police, but nobody
returned. They were so afraid that they escaped by the buoys. Meanwhile, people
on that boat kept waiting offshore in vain.
I looked at the engine room.
It was a horrific and dreary scene with no captain, and no sailor. A unmanned
ship was rocking back and forth along with huge coming waves. I was sure that
the ship was sooner or later immersed in the deep sea. Women and children, with
fear in their souls, forgetting the damp cold and praying in despair. Around
me, a few plastic pots containing fresh water was lying on the floor. My son
was wet from head to toe, silently looking at me. I held my wife’s cold hands
and said: "Take the plastic bottles and jump into the sea. Maybe the waves
shove you to the shore. You should leap down first instead of waiting the ship
to be immersed because hundreds of people will cling tightly to each other to
death! ".
I just gave my wife a
plastic bottle. All of a sudden, a furious wave struck the ship. It made the ship incline horizontally. People became
powerless against the giant formidable ocean. They did not know what to do
except looking each other and waiting for death. The roar of the sea drowned out
the crying sounds. The great waves did not stop slapping against the side of
the boat. Engine room, window glass, bow, wooden roof was crashed and fell into
the sea. It brought along more than half of passengers, including women and
children. I lost my balance and tumbled down the floor. I groped for grabbing a
rope nearby for saving my life. At that moment, it was the last time I could
see my wife. The fierce blue sea brutally took my beloved wife along with
frigid waves. Then, my son finally lost my grip. I still remembered the time he
incessantly shrieked my name: "Dad, dad... Help me. Dad....dad...Help".
I was in despaired. My heart was torn in two because of his call. I really
intended to quit my life. I blamed myself for not rescuing my blood relatives
from the blade of death. I felt the traces of tears in my eyes.
The ship was only broken pieces of wood as the
subsequent waves came. I fell into the sea, struggling for survival although I
did not know how to swim. I saw big patches of wood, suitcases, clothes, boxes
of rice and dozens of other sundry items floating. I tried to emerge from the
water and grab a small wood closed to me. Hundreds of people were thrashing
about in the water. Women and children were up and down. They clung together
until die. I was so tired, but I still hold my life. I let the nature run its
course.
I was on the coast when I
woke up. I found myself lying with
hundreds of dead people. I thought I was dreaming. Mr.An's son came to me:
"Uncle Rau. Wake up!
Wake up! The ship was broken. My father and my brothers were dead. Your wife
and you son were dead, too."
I sat up and looked around.
Malaysian soldiers were harassing survivors at the coconut trees. Survivors who
were pushed by waves and had luckily escaped death were not allowed to save
dying people. If we could have helped them, dozens more would likely survived.
Malaysian soldiers were the heartless strangers. They tried to remove clothes
from the dead and scavenged for money and
jewels. When they were done, they dragged and gathered dead people at one burial
place. I found my son, who had died. I held him up and realized the ship’s
planks or rock had broken his forehead, leaving a long scratch. I looked
everywhere but did not see my wife. Her remains was still drifting out to
sea.
Far away, the sea was still roaring
with no trace of the fateful boat. The next day, from the temporary camp, we
came back to the beach, walking towards Thailand, looking for some dead bodies,
but also did not see my wife. I stopped for a while at the long beach. I sat
under coconut trees and had a flashback of those fatal moments. In my soul, the
pain was beating. I wished the waves had taken me away instead of my wife. I realized she spent her
whole life for me and our son. She accepted to do anything to maintain her
family. She did not have any happy seconds for herself. But finally, my wife
had nothing except the death... I wondered why the sea stole my wife after all...
It was only the deep blue water in front of me.It ruthlessly swept innocent
people on the journey from freedom!
http://thuchoamdhk.com/Tau%20vuot%20bien.jpg http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/c/c6/35_Vietnamese_boat_people_2.JPEG/220px-35_Vietnamese_boat_people_2.JPEG
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