Wellpark Reunion 2013 - London
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Journey to Freedom
Memories - Chi Pham - My Recollection of our Journey 30 years ago.
After the fall of Saigon in April 1975 my father was taken from our family on June 1975 to a re-education camp located the remote jungle of Northern Vietnam. He was a Captain in the Military Signal Corp for the South Vietnamese government. Our life was forever altered along with other millions of Vietnamese in the South. I was 11 years old at the time, the oldest of three girls. My sisters were 8 and 7 years old. Mom was playing the role of mother and father to us so she was very strict and protective of us. But she did such a good job that we didn't feel like our Dad was missing. Partly because we moved from Vung Tau (sometimes referred to its colonial name of Cap Saint Jacques, a beach city, 78 miles North of Saigon) to live with our maternal grand parents and aunts when Vung Tau was taken over by the communist a few months before Saigon. We received much love from grandma, grandpa and our aunts.
We missed our Dad when looking at family pictures or seeing other kids playing with their Dads but at that time so many families were separated from their loved ones that your loss was nothing compared to others who had lost their Dads forever to the war.
In October 1975, the communists started the "Communism Reform" throughout the country. Rich and middle income residents in Saigon and the urban cities were forced to migrate to forest or mountain areas that were collectively known as the "New Economic Development" zone. The intention was to force people with money to leave and forfeit all of their property without mercy. We were lucky to have the right connections to delay the process of going to the New Economic Development zone. Meanwhile, outside of the city the regime's policy of complete agricultural collectivization deprived peasants of their landholdings, except for tiny personal plots, and required them to work on collective farms.
The whole education system was reorganized to reflect communist ideology. I remembered every morning all the children from the age 6 to 18 years old were forced to be at the park at 6 am prior to school time to exercise in group and attended meeting after school learning about the life of uncle Ho or “Ho Chi Minh” and singing communist’s songs. We were trained to report our parent, relatives and neighbors to the authority if we hear them talked badly about the government or any plan of leaving the country or where the money were hired in the house because under the communist’s rule everyone is equal. They abolished all ranks and privileges based on heredity, position, wealth, or cultural standing.
By July 1976, the new communist regime banned opposition political activity and imprisoned opponents. The campaigns against private businesses in the South by forcing through our home anytime of the day to look for any suspicious activities, money or gold hidden in the house along with constant changing money to smaller denominator so our money became less value induced the flight of about 1 million Chinese and middle-class Vietnamese from their country between 1978–79 often by sea.
After three years living under the communist rules, life became more intolerable. We had no religious freedoms and no freedom to live as we had. Constantly being watched by neighbors we worried that we might be turned in to the local authorities for saying or doing the wrong thing. Our future was uncertain. We lived day by day not knowing what was going to happen to us next. Mom then decided that it was time to leave our country to find the freedom that we once had. Grandma and aunt Nghiem tried to escape a few times prior with no success. They got tricked and lost a lot of money. They were put away for months when they got caught just a few months earlier. Still they were luckier than many others. Some people were put away for years. Some died at sea because pirates killed them or they didn’t make it through stormy weather. Some didn't even make it to sea because their boat was sunk by shooting soldiers. Three of my cousins died from that a few months earlier. Knowing the risk that we may not ever return, mom was still determined to let three of her daughters escape the country with her mom and her two sisters. She took out all her savings and paid for the escape. She couldn't go with us because she wanted to stay back and wait for our father’s return someday.
Escape was very difficult, dangerous and the odds of failure were enormous. Despite the risk of ending up in prison or dying at sea, we did not give up or get weary. We kept trying until all means were exhausted. Freedom is priceless; people were ready to trade their life for it.
This time a trustworthy brother-in-law of aunt Nghiem’s good friend, who was one of the organizers, planned the escape for his entire family and friends. The process of planning the escape was very time consuming and it took years of planning. They had to sell all their valuables and raise money among the people wanting to escape in order to buy equipment. The boats would normally be only 3 by 10 meters and make out of wood. Our boat was much bigger it was double in size due to the number of people.
I remember the evening of Wednesday September 27, 1978, a day before our journey, when we left Saigon. It was raining. I tried not to think that it may be a bad sign for our trip even though our people are very superstitious. We arrived at one of the Trinhs family and spent the night there along with a few other families so we could all leave together the next day. But that night nobody could sleep; we were worried that we may get caught at any moment.
The next morning we left early on a bus to go to My Tho, a small country town about two hours away southwest of Saigon located on the banks of the Upper Mekong River. The drive was a scenic drive along the National Highway, bordered by green rice fields. A beautiful river, the Mekong was bordered by dense mangroves and palms but everyone were so nervous and anxious that no one could enjoy the beautiful view. Everyone looked very sad thinking that this was probably the last time they would see their dear country.
We arrived at our destination and waited until it got dark, about 8 pm. Each family quickly jumped into a kayak to go to our boat which was waiting about 500 yards from land. Our boat was a small wooden boat about 20 meters in length and 3 meters wide. We managed to pack 346 people comprised of Vietnamese and Vietnamese/Chinese of all ages. Everyone was taken down to the bottom of the boat. It was very dark and very hot. There was no room to move your elbows. We were packed like sardines in a can.
After two hours we couldn’t breathe anymore. It was humid and hot as people breathing on each other. We didn’t feel good. We looked at aunt Nghiem helplessly. Luckily because my aunt is a friend of a family that was one of the organizers of this escape, she asked for our family to be seated with them up in the main deck. So we moved out of the lower deck to the main deck.
On the main deck, the ceiling was packed with hanging “Bánh Tét” (a traditional rice cake most popular in South Vietnam, made primarily from glutinous rice, which is rolled in a banana leaf into a thick, log-like cylindrical shape, with a meat or mung bean filling, then steamed). There were only places to sit as we couldn’t stand because of the hundreds of rice cakes hanging over our heads to be eaten when needed. This was our food supply.
As the night got darker, about 11 pm on Thursday September 28, 1978, the boat quietly departed. In the ghostly darkness of the late September night, hoping to reach Malaysia in three nights and two days, we set off for freedom. We chose a longer route to avoid pirates from Thailand where they troll the seas in search of easy prey, and often find it. Many Vietnamese were robbed, raped and killed. After three hours of slow progress, our boat suddenly came to a complete stop. It was about 11 pm. Everybody was scared to death and didn’t know what just happened. All we heard were the adults talking loudly. Shortly later we found out that we had a low tide and our boat got stuck. Because of a previous arrangement with the local people, they helped us pull out and continue our journey with a broken steering wheel.
The next morning Friday September 29, 1978 when the sun was rising, our boat reached the open sea. We couldn’t see land anywhere. We knew that there was no going back. The morning came to begin a beautiful day. The sky was clear and sunny. The ocean was beautiful with a deep blue color. The boat rocked slightly by the waves and continued to run at full speed. I remembered it was hot, humid and it stank inside the boat. The smell of urine and vomit was everywhere. When people got sea sick, they vomited. There were no toilets so when people had to go; they went right where they were. I was sea sick too on the first day. I couldn't eat anything. I was always sick to my stomach when I traveled on the river. The open sea was ten times worse.
I went outside to the deck with others to look at the fish; I believe they were dolphins jumping up and down along our boat. The breeze was gently blowing on my face. All of the sudden, I forgot that I may die on this trip in the immense and unforgiving sea. I lost all fear of the uncertain and forgot about the lingering doubts the night before. Were we heading in the right direction? Would we survive? Would we be capsized by a big storm? Would we face the cruel and savage Thai pirates and have them steal all our supplies, or be kidnapped or raped, or left on a deserted island to die? At that moment, I thought I was on little a trip with my grandma, aunts, sisters and my little cousin Luan we used to take to “Cao Dai Temple”.
Saturday September 30, 1978. The first half of the day the trip went smoothly. We though very soon we would arrive in Malaysia not knowing that without the steering wheel we just went straight in the open sea. But that evening dark clouds came rolling in and hovered over our heads and strong winds started to blow heavily against our tiny wooden boat. The calm ocean became increasingly violent with ferocious waves drove our boat far off course. It threw our little boat up and down like a roller coaster. We could see waves 15 feet high coming down wanting to drown our boat. We didn’t know that we were in the middle of the Typhoon Lola, with winds reaching 74mph. If you saw the movie “Perfect Storm” with George Clooney you could picture what is was like except our boat was much smaller and much simpler with 346 people in it.
There was no sight of land, nothing except the rumbling sky, the quivering winds, and our fast trembling heartbeats; the people were crying for help. Our engine had broken down along with our compass and the water pump. We did not have any sails or paddles to keep the boat going, so the boat kept moving without any control or guidance.
It was raining heavily and the boat started to flood. Then I heard people screaming: “Oh no! The boat is going to sink; water is inside, we are too heavy”. All the young men took turns scooping out the water as fast as they could. I remember seeing some people in panic quickly throwing some of their belongings overboard including food and water.
TO BE CONTINUED...
After the fall of Saigon in April 1975 my father was taken from our family on June 1975 to a re-education camp located the remote jungle of Northern Vietnam. He was a Captain in the Military Signal Corp for the South Vietnamese government. Our life was forever altered along with other millions of Vietnamese in the South. I was 11 years old at the time, the oldest of three girls. My sisters were 8 and 7 years old. Mom was playing the role of mother and father to us so she was very strict and protective of us. But she did such a good job that we didn't feel like our Dad was missing. Partly because we moved from Vung Tau (sometimes referred to its colonial name of Cap Saint Jacques, a beach city, 78 miles North of Saigon) to live with our maternal grand parents and aunts when Vung Tau was taken over by the communist a few months before Saigon. We received much love from grandma, grandpa and our aunts.
We missed our Dad when looking at family pictures or seeing other kids playing with their Dads but at that time so many families were separated from their loved ones that your loss was nothing compared to others who had lost their Dads forever to the war.
In October 1975, the communists started the "Communism Reform" throughout the country. Rich and middle income residents in Saigon and the urban cities were forced to migrate to forest or mountain areas that were collectively known as the "New Economic Development" zone. The intention was to force people with money to leave and forfeit all of their property without mercy. We were lucky to have the right connections to delay the process of going to the New Economic Development zone. Meanwhile, outside of the city the regime's policy of complete agricultural collectivization deprived peasants of their landholdings, except for tiny personal plots, and required them to work on collective farms.
The whole education system was reorganized to reflect communist ideology. I remembered every morning all the children from the age 6 to 18 years old were forced to be at the park at 6 am prior to school time to exercise in group and attended meeting after school learning about the life of uncle Ho or “Ho Chi Minh” and singing communist’s songs. We were trained to report our parent, relatives and neighbors to the authority if we hear them talked badly about the government or any plan of leaving the country or where the money were hired in the house because under the communist’s rule everyone is equal. They abolished all ranks and privileges based on heredity, position, wealth, or cultural standing.
By July 1976, the new communist regime banned opposition political activity and imprisoned opponents. The campaigns against private businesses in the South by forcing through our home anytime of the day to look for any suspicious activities, money or gold hidden in the house along with constant changing money to smaller denominator so our money became less value induced the flight of about 1 million Chinese and middle-class Vietnamese from their country between 1978–79 often by sea.
After three years living under the communist rules, life became more intolerable. We had no religious freedoms and no freedom to live as we had. Constantly being watched by neighbors we worried that we might be turned in to the local authorities for saying or doing the wrong thing. Our future was uncertain. We lived day by day not knowing what was going to happen to us next. Mom then decided that it was time to leave our country to find the freedom that we once had. Grandma and aunt Nghiem tried to escape a few times prior with no success. They got tricked and lost a lot of money. They were put away for months when they got caught just a few months earlier. Still they were luckier than many others. Some people were put away for years. Some died at sea because pirates killed them or they didn’t make it through stormy weather. Some didn't even make it to sea because their boat was sunk by shooting soldiers. Three of my cousins died from that a few months earlier. Knowing the risk that we may not ever return, mom was still determined to let three of her daughters escape the country with her mom and her two sisters. She took out all her savings and paid for the escape. She couldn't go with us because she wanted to stay back and wait for our father’s return someday.
Escape was very difficult, dangerous and the odds of failure were enormous. Despite the risk of ending up in prison or dying at sea, we did not give up or get weary. We kept trying until all means were exhausted. Freedom is priceless; people were ready to trade their life for it.
This time a trustworthy brother-in-law of aunt Nghiem’s good friend, who was one of the organizers, planned the escape for his entire family and friends. The process of planning the escape was very time consuming and it took years of planning. They had to sell all their valuables and raise money among the people wanting to escape in order to buy equipment. The boats would normally be only 3 by 10 meters and make out of wood. Our boat was much bigger it was double in size due to the number of people.
I remember the evening of Wednesday September 27, 1978, a day before our journey, when we left Saigon. It was raining. I tried not to think that it may be a bad sign for our trip even though our people are very superstitious. We arrived at one of the Trinhs family and spent the night there along with a few other families so we could all leave together the next day. But that night nobody could sleep; we were worried that we may get caught at any moment.
The next morning we left early on a bus to go to My Tho, a small country town about two hours away southwest of Saigon located on the banks of the Upper Mekong River. The drive was a scenic drive along the National Highway, bordered by green rice fields. A beautiful river, the Mekong was bordered by dense mangroves and palms but everyone were so nervous and anxious that no one could enjoy the beautiful view. Everyone looked very sad thinking that this was probably the last time they would see their dear country.
We arrived at our destination and waited until it got dark, about 8 pm. Each family quickly jumped into a kayak to go to our boat which was waiting about 500 yards from land. Our boat was a small wooden boat about 20 meters in length and 3 meters wide. We managed to pack 346 people comprised of Vietnamese and Vietnamese/Chinese of all ages. Everyone was taken down to the bottom of the boat. It was very dark and very hot. There was no room to move your elbows. We were packed like sardines in a can.
After two hours we couldn’t breathe anymore. It was humid and hot as people breathing on each other. We didn’t feel good. We looked at aunt Nghiem helplessly. Luckily because my aunt is a friend of a family that was one of the organizers of this escape, she asked for our family to be seated with them up in the main deck. So we moved out of the lower deck to the main deck.
On the main deck, the ceiling was packed with hanging “Bánh Tét” (a traditional rice cake most popular in South Vietnam, made primarily from glutinous rice, which is rolled in a banana leaf into a thick, log-like cylindrical shape, with a meat or mung bean filling, then steamed). There were only places to sit as we couldn’t stand because of the hundreds of rice cakes hanging over our heads to be eaten when needed. This was our food supply.
As the night got darker, about 11 pm on Thursday September 28, 1978, the boat quietly departed. In the ghostly darkness of the late September night, hoping to reach Malaysia in three nights and two days, we set off for freedom. We chose a longer route to avoid pirates from Thailand where they troll the seas in search of easy prey, and often find it. Many Vietnamese were robbed, raped and killed. After three hours of slow progress, our boat suddenly came to a complete stop. It was about 11 pm. Everybody was scared to death and didn’t know what just happened. All we heard were the adults talking loudly. Shortly later we found out that we had a low tide and our boat got stuck. Because of a previous arrangement with the local people, they helped us pull out and continue our journey with a broken steering wheel.
The next morning Friday September 29, 1978 when the sun was rising, our boat reached the open sea. We couldn’t see land anywhere. We knew that there was no going back. The morning came to begin a beautiful day. The sky was clear and sunny. The ocean was beautiful with a deep blue color. The boat rocked slightly by the waves and continued to run at full speed. I remembered it was hot, humid and it stank inside the boat. The smell of urine and vomit was everywhere. When people got sea sick, they vomited. There were no toilets so when people had to go; they went right where they were. I was sea sick too on the first day. I couldn't eat anything. I was always sick to my stomach when I traveled on the river. The open sea was ten times worse.
I went outside to the deck with others to look at the fish; I believe they were dolphins jumping up and down along our boat. The breeze was gently blowing on my face. All of the sudden, I forgot that I may die on this trip in the immense and unforgiving sea. I lost all fear of the uncertain and forgot about the lingering doubts the night before. Were we heading in the right direction? Would we survive? Would we be capsized by a big storm? Would we face the cruel and savage Thai pirates and have them steal all our supplies, or be kidnapped or raped, or left on a deserted island to die? At that moment, I thought I was on little a trip with my grandma, aunts, sisters and my little cousin Luan we used to take to “Cao Dai Temple”.
Saturday September 30, 1978. The first half of the day the trip went smoothly. We though very soon we would arrive in Malaysia not knowing that without the steering wheel we just went straight in the open sea. But that evening dark clouds came rolling in and hovered over our heads and strong winds started to blow heavily against our tiny wooden boat. The calm ocean became increasingly violent with ferocious waves drove our boat far off course. It threw our little boat up and down like a roller coaster. We could see waves 15 feet high coming down wanting to drown our boat. We didn’t know that we were in the middle of the Typhoon Lola, with winds reaching 74mph. If you saw the movie “Perfect Storm” with George Clooney you could picture what is was like except our boat was much smaller and much simpler with 346 people in it.
There was no sight of land, nothing except the rumbling sky, the quivering winds, and our fast trembling heartbeats; the people were crying for help. Our engine had broken down along with our compass and the water pump. We did not have any sails or paddles to keep the boat going, so the boat kept moving without any control or guidance.
It was raining heavily and the boat started to flood. Then I heard people screaming: “Oh no! The boat is going to sink; water is inside, we are too heavy”. All the young men took turns scooping out the water as fast as they could. I remember seeing some people in panic quickly throwing some of their belongings overboard including food and water.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Views: 93
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Comment by Mike Newton on August 14, 2008 at 3:40am
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Hi Chi,
That is absolutely brilliant! Having written so much about the journey from the ‘Wellpark’ point of view myself, you can only guess at how much it means to us on the ‘ship’s side’ to start to have the ‘full story’ on the bit of your journey before you got to Wellpark. Your description reveals how terrifyingly frightening and risky your journey was, and helps to explain your relief at getting to Wellpark. Having some idea of what life was like for you before you left Vietnam, and the motivation for planning your escape, makes your story all the more moving. Please keep writing!
I hope this motivates others to add comments, details or memories of special moments that stick out in their minds.
Mike
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Comment by Angie Nguyen on August 14, 2008 at 8:08am
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Chi. Chi,
I agree with Mike!
I enjoyed reading this very much because;
1) The insight to the political history of Vietnam.
2) It explains clearly the causes of the boat people's exodus.
3) Your beautiful descriptions of Vietnam's scenery.
4) Vietnamese women are strong.
5) Your feelings as a child on the journey.
I'm eager to read the next chapter!
Please answer chi. Chi or anyone else;
1) Were there anybody enforcing law & order on the boat? As in moments of panic, chaos is bound to happen.
2) Explain if the Southerners were mistreated to conform to communism, were the Northerners who followed their idealogy treated better? Why then did these communist supporters escape to sea too? There were thousands stuck in Hong Kong refugee camps in the 80s and some had to return to VN when the British handed back HK to China.
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I agree! Vietnamese women are very strong!
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Comment by Bao Du on August 14, 2008 at 1:12pm
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I would suggest that the book to be delayed publishing after the reunion for more inspiring time also the emotion after many years friends apart.
I hope to see more photo of the reunion day.
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Comment by pat griffin on August 17, 2008 at 11:17am
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I loved the story so far....it made me feel as if I was one of you on the boat.....very scarey. I also liked how you show your connections to different families.... As one of a small family. Large ones are confusing.
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Comment by Thanh Quan-Nicholls on April 19, 2013 at 2:55am
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I have only just started looking at these entries. I was struck by the strength of your mother. Now I have two kids of my own, I can only imagine how desperate our parents were and frightened of the regime to take the risks that they did. I can't imagine what it would like to be away from my children and not know if they would be safe.
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Hi chi. So glad to hear you can make it to the London reunion! How is the memory book going? It would great if we could link it with the London event, maybe have copies for sale there. I would definitely buy a copy. Maybe a couple more for my kids too! I was only 3 when i was on the boat so have no memories but it's fascinating and emotional reading what others have to say.
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