by TQ Vu
(This article was originally published as part of the Duwamish Valley Youth Storytelling Project and has been reprinted by agreement.)
As part of the inauguration Duwamish Valley Youth Storytelling Project, three local high school students, Jazmine Petty-Yeates, TQ Vu, and Tommy Mac, had the opportunity to participate in a workshop and develop community-related stories while exploring the complexities of their intersecting identities. The workshop was moderated by community journalists and storytellers Bunthay Cheam and Jenna Hanchard to improve access to journalism for BIPOC and to employ young people. The project was in collaboration with the Port’s Community Action Team and sponsored by the Port of Seattle. The workshop helped students become better listeners and catchers of stories to continue to transmit and honor the stories of our communities using the medium of their choice.
TQ words
In the 16 years that I have been breathing, my father has always been there for me. Maybe not exactly when he walked into the house just before I fell off my bike and had the worst cut I could have imagined. But when I struggled to tell the time or my brand new iPad wouldn’t connect to Wi-Fi, my dad was always to the rescue. Take me home some extra Safeway donuts or buy an extra burger when he stopped by Dick’s for lunch. My father and I have always had a good relationship. But that’s because a good father-daughter relationship only requires a good dad, and not necessarily a good daughter. Because I thought I knew everything about my dad, from the way he chewed his food when it needed to shower or drive. It wasn’t like he wasn’t telling me stories either. In fact, I heard a lot from his childhood. How he once hunted a chicken on a rooftop or how he played barefoot football on the streets.
What I never considered was how difficult his experiences could have been. The experiences that put me where I am now. While I try not to take everything I have for granted, hearing about her trip here made me realize that I am continuing anyway. Because the way he described these experiences made me feel like I was a crybaby because of a boy not responding to one of my texts. Because when I finally dealt with the stories themselves, I could hardly imagine myself in her shoes and persevere through these experiences. Because when I walked into a new building the only thing you could compare to my dad entering a new country was the feeling we both had.
The voyage across the sea: fleeing Vietnam
Almost 125,000 Vietnamese refugees fled to the United States after 1975. After the North had a Vietnam War, they faced the Cambodian-Vietnamese War. But with the new government, those who were officially on the side opposed to the Vietnam War suffered unfair treatment. This mistreatment prompted many southerners to flee Vietnam. They have been to many countries such as USA, Australia and UK
My father was one of 125,000 people who wanted to escape the new government. Often the storytelling of many immigration stories is very loose. We often forget that immigrants have left behind their country of origin, their family and their childhood. The feeling my dad felt watching Vietnam grow smaller and smaller cannot be described in words, as nothing can compare to knowing that you may never see your family and friends again.
The current Vietnamese government at the time did not only have suspicions about the elders from the south. From their previous conflicts with China, they were wary of possible spies in the country. As a solution, they “allowed” these people to leave the country if they wished. After three unsuccessful attempts, my father finally left VÅ©ng TÃ u, a port city on the Vietnam peninsula. With luggage the size of a grocery bag, he boarded the ship which carried 334 passengers. A ship not intended for 334 passengers. With numbers far in excess of the ship’s capacity, the passengers and their luggage weighed so far off the ships that people on deck could reach the railings to graze the ocean surface.
Many people were forced to descend into the compartments of the ship because there was no space on the deck. Women, children and the elderly were given priority, meaning they moved men under the ship. Despite these rearrangements, it was still cramped under the bridge. The passengers were seated with their legs apart and between each other’s knees. There was no space to walk and they sat in this position for five days in a row. To lighten the ship by a certain weight, the sailors throw “useless” objects. It involved anything that was not a person or personal baggage. They threw food, water, and other necessities overboard. This meant that there were only portions the size of a cup of tea. For the remainder of the trip, the passengers were given only rice porridge and water. They were not given any more food or water until they spotted Malaysia.
The boat trip was not as smooth as its surface. A neighboring passenger threw up on my father. His cousin had bodily fluids spilled on him. In the dark of the night, they even heard a passenger jump off the ship. Two passengers died of starvation and overheating. It wasn’t hygienic, and it certainly wasn’t pleasant.
Upon arrival in Malaysia, the National Guard placed everyone on the beach and took the time to speak to the authorities. After finalizing the decisions, an empty island welcomed 10,000 immigrants to their refugee camp. Food, water and jobs made the experience on the island much better than on the ship. The United Nations distributed forms to refugees to choose the country they wanted. The most commonly chosen countries were the United States, United Kingdom, and Australia. My father wrote the United States and Australia. He met and interviewed a United Nations representative, a necessary process for each country to decide who would be allowed to immigrate to their country.
My father and his brother moved into a transfer camp to get their visa and plan their flight, and finally they left for the United States of America.
About my father
My father was born in Saigon, Vietnam. He grew up in the city until he left Vietnam and had what he described as the worst experience of his life. After his flight to his final destination, he arrived in the United States with his brother. With two outfits, a pair of shoes and $ 20 in their pocket, they stayed with their cousin in Seattle, Washington. Although he had almost nothing, arrived in this strange new country, he described his first feeling as “great”. He went to school briefly to become a mechanic. He worked in several stores and for automotive companies. He met my mom on a visit to Vietnam, and they got me in 2004.
About the Boat People
“Boat people†is a term used to describe the refugees who fled Vietnam in 1975. These refugees were citizens of southern Vietnam who wanted to escape the new government. The ships they boarded were often overcrowded and lacked food and water. The pirates were also keenly aware of the wave of immigrants crossing the ocean and keeping an eye out for these new targets. My father’s ship was miserable with the number of passengers and the food. But unlike many other ships, they lucked out in the Pirate Department and didn’t encounter any.
QT (she) is currently a junior at secondary school. She is an American of Vietnamese origin born in America, but her parents immigrated from Vietnam to the United States. In her spare time, she enjoys volunteering because she is able to meet new people and help her community.
?? Featured Image: Photo courtesy of TQ Vu.
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