Long (on the right) and several friends pause for a moment during their play
Long eyed the bike. He really did want to.
“I’ll hold it for you, so you won’t fall over.”
With a shy grin, Long got to his feet. The other kids immediately came to help out, and soon Long was riding around the playground, thrilled with his new skill. By the end of the day, he was part of the group, and within another day or two, he was one of its leaders.
* * *
Though Long did not yet understand it, Ba had placed him in the care of Holt International Children’s Services, headquartered in Eugene, Oregon. Holt was well known for helping orphaned children born in other countries find adoptive homes in America.
Somehow Long’s grandmother had heard about Holt. One day she left her work and went to the Center without Long and talked to a Vietnamese social worker. She worried that it was difficult for her to make enough money to feed her grandson. But she also worried that she was old, and if something happened to her, Long would not have family to protect him from discrimination he might suffer because he was Amerasian. Could Holt help?
The social worker had assured Ba that the Holt agency would try to find a family for Long. It might take a while, and there was little possibility it would be with a Vietnamese family. Instead, it would probably be in America. Ba wept when she agreed to this, knowing it meant she would never see her grandson again.
The social workers at Holt often heard stories like Ba’s. Holt wanted to help Vietnamese children who either had no family or whose families could not care for them. Other child assistance groups working in South Vietnam also wanted to help. The need was overwhelming. The upheaval of the war had created a country of refugees, with people constantly moving around, trying to stay out of harm’s way. Many of the refugees had come from North Vietnam, leaving their homeland because they did not want to live under Communism.
The Vietnamese have always believed that as long as you have relatives, you have a home. But the many years of war had so weakened the family structure that this was not always true. Mothers died from illness. Fathers were away in the army or had been killed. Sometimes families were separated while fleeing enemy troops. If parents could no longer feed their children, they might take them to orphanages, perhaps planning to return for them later, if they could. Or they might leave them in public places, hoping they would be found and cared for. Only 25,000 of South Vietnam’s estimated one million orphans lived in the country’s approximately one hundred orphanages. The rest lived with one relative or another, or fended for themselves.
In 1973, Holt opened its first center in Saigon to assist families in crisis. Sometimes they cared for severely malnourished babies and children, working very hard to save these children’s lives and return them to good health. While in Holt’s care, the children lived at the Holt Center. The staff tried to find adoptive homes for children who were orphaned or whose parents could no longer care for them. Sadly, because of the hardships of the war, few Vietnamese could adopt a child. Most of the children went to live with American families. Babies waiting to be adopted did not stay at the Holt Center. Instead, children two and under lived with Vietnamese foster families until it was time for them to leave for their new homes.
Many orphans, like this young boy and his baby sister, begged on the streets of Saigon to support themselves
The older the child, the harder it was to find an adoptive home. For older Amerasian children like Long, it was hardest of all.
* * *
After a month at Holt, Long was still getting used to new ways of doing things. The first time he pushed the handle on a flush toilet, he jumped back, startled by the swirling water. It seemed peculiar to be going to the bathroom inside a house instead of outside. Taking a shower was also odd. Long was used to washing with some water and a rag. A shower was like standing in warm rain, only you used soap and shampoo.
But the strangest thing was learning to eat with a fork. Long had never used anything except chopsticks. It was easy to pick up food with those. Trying to stab something with four prongs made little sense to him.
The food was also different. Long wasn’t used to much meat or to sweets. The cook at Holt used lots of rice and noodles, foods he loved, but added things like canned beef. Whoever thought that meat could come in a can! The cook made pudding, which he liked, and cookies and cakes. Nobody seemed to mind how much he ate, and his thin frame began to fill out.
Good food and plenty of it was one of the best things about Holt. Long also liked being with the other children, especially the boys his age. One day Ky decided to teach him to tie shoelaces. Long didn’t have any shoes, nor did the other children, except for the rubber sandals they sometimes wore, but Ky said that in America, children wore shoes, and you needed to know how to tie the laces. He learned with a pair of laces belonging to Miss Anh, their teacher, struggling to master the art of looping and threading, until he could produce a strong knot with both laces the same length. He couldn’t imagine he would ever need to know this strange American skill.
Mealtime at Holt is full of activity
Because all the children were waiting for new families, they talked constantly about adoption. On a bulletin board near the administrative offices on the first floor was a large map of the United States with colored pins stuck in states where children had already gone. Amy proudly pointed to California and pulled out the photo of her new family, which she always kept with her.
“You want to see it?”
Long did. His eyes went past Amy’s new sisters and father to the blond woman with the big smile. Amy said her new mother had written a letter saying how much she was looking forward to meeting her new daughter. She said Amy would have her own bedroom.
Long was surprised. “Why would you want that? It’s better to sleep near people.”
“Not there,” Amy said uncertainly. “Americans are rich. They have their own rooms.”
“Won’t you be scared?”
Amy said she hoped it wouldn’t be too bad, though she agreed it was better to sleep close to other people. She also said she should be leaving for America in the late fall. “I’ll be there for Christmas,” she informed him.
“What’s that?”
She looked unsure. “I think it’s like Tet. Only you don’t wear costumes. And you cut a tree, and put it in your house and decorate it.”
Long laughed. Americans did some strange things. But from what he had heard, America was still a good place. Americans had plenty of food, and they were far from war. They had lots of schools and colleges, and when you grew up, you could be anything you wanted. It was hard to believe that was true—didn’t your family decide that for you?
Long studied the hallway map, trying to learn the names of the states and wondering what each one was like. But when he thought about America, he worried about Ba. How could he leave his grandmother behind? Shouldn’t he stay at the Holt Center so he could see her once in a while? So far she had not come to visit. He missed her very much, and if he went to America, he could never see her.
His days settled into a routine of school and play. School was held on the flat roof of the building. It was hot up there, especially during the summer, but at least there were tentlike coverings to provide shade. Long liked peering between the railings at people on the sidewalk below. He liked looking at the buildings around them, and seeing planes take off and land at nearby Tan Son Nhut Airport. Someday maybe he would be on one of those airplanes, flying off to meet his new family.
On Holt’s rooftop school, teachers help students with their schoolwork and craft projects
It seemed like every week or two, several children left to go to new homes. Usually it was younger children, but whenever it was one of the older ones, he felt anxious. What if no one ever wanted him? Or what if someone did want him and he had to leave? He didn’t like thinking about going so far from Ba and from the place where he had his memories of his mother.
; He couldn’t complain about being at Holt. He felt safe and well cared for. There was usually something fun to do. Sometimes the children went on special outings. They walked to a nearby pool to swim, or they played at parks in the area. One time they went to the Saigon zoo. There were only a few animals left because the zoo did not have money to care for more. Those that remained looked thin and sad. The tiger had lost clumps of hair. Miss Anh said it was because the tiger didn’t have enough to eat. Once the zoo had been the pride of the city. Maybe, if the war ever ended, it could be again.
Miss Anh became Long’s special friend. She reminded him of his mother because of the gentle way she treated him and because of her soft laugh. Several times she took him to visit her home and eat with her family. She lived with her parents and two brothers, and they always welcomed Long. Miss Anh even had a small Honda motorbike and took Long for rides on it. Sometimes they went to the market to shop. He still thought the market was a treat—although now when he went, his stomach didn’t rumble with hunger.
One of the best things Miss Anh did was take him to his first-ever movie—King Kong. Long was on the edge of his seat the entire time, so excited he could hardly sit still. He stared in wonder as the lights started to go down and he saw the first flickers of color on the screen, then screamed with delight and dread, clutching Miss Anh’s arm whenever the huge ape made an appearance. When the movie was over, Long begged to see it again, but Miss Anh had no more money for tickets. She told him he would be able to see lots of movies in America.
That fall of 1973, Amy left to join her new family in California. She promised to write. The other children were happy for her, but envious too. Long started wishing for three things: a new mother, a new family, a new home in America.
Still, his mother and especially his grandmother were always in his thoughts. Six months had passed since Ba brought him to Holt. Had she forgotten him? Was she okay? Why hadn’t she come to visit?
Then, one afternoon, when he had just finished his studies on the rooftop and was going outside to play, he spotted her coming into the building. He ran to her, and she opened her arms to him, hugging him tight. For the next two hours, until she had to leave in order to be home by dark, the two of them walked around the area and then sat on the bench outside the Holt office. Ba told him she had to work every day of the week just to support herself, and it still wasn’t enough. She did not want to return to the village, for she felt safer in the city and she wanted to stay closer to him.
When she left, she promised to return as soon as she could. As it turned out, this was not until the following spring. By then, Long had been at Holt a year and, in May 1974, had turned eight years old. This time, when Ba came to visit, she brought him his favorite meat sandwich. He could tell by how thin she was that she was not getting enough to eat, and he urged her to keep the sandwich for herself or at least share it. She would not hear of it, and was not satisfied until he had downed the whole thing.
They sat on a bench near the playground and talked. She said she was pleased at how much he had grown. She patted his arm. “They feed you well.” She grinned, showing her dark teeth.
“I’ve been here many months, Ba.”
“They say to find a home for a boy like you, it takes time. I hope it is soon.”
“But when I go, it will probably be to America, and you won’t see me anymore.”
The smile vanished from her face, and Long was immediately sorry he had said this. He took a deep breath. “I could come home with you and find a job and help out. Then we could stay together.”
Her faded eyes stared into the distance. Her hair was completely white now, and her hands more withered than before. “There is nothing for a small child. And I have no extra rice.”
When she said goodbye and started her long walk back home, he stood at the gate and waved as long as he could see her.
Once again, sadness engulfed him, swirling around the hole in his heart. Why hadn’t his mother stayed alive to care for him? Why couldn’t he stay with Ba? Would he ever have a family? Where did he belong?
He did not go back into the Center for several minutes. He didn’t want the other children to see his tears.
4
A FAMILY FOR LONG
Late one fall day in 1974, as Long played with a group of children on the playground, he saw Ky hurrying toward them, a big smile on his face. “I’m going to be adopted!” Ky blurted out. “They just told me. A family in Canada chose me. My new name is David.”
The children gathered around him, sharing his excitement. They repeated his new name over and over, commenting on how odd it sounded. Long joined in. He was happy for his friend, but he wished he were the one making the announcement.
In school, Long worked hard at learning English. He mastered words and phrases like “hello” and “thank you,” and sentences like “I am hungry” and “I am happy to meet you.” In December, the teachers decided the children would put on a Christmas program for all the staff and invited guests. Long learned to do a special dance and to sing carols like “Silent Night.” He took the singing very seriously. If Americans sang these songs, then he wanted to learn them.
A Christmas card arrived for the children from Amy. She described her new home, with its swimming pool, fireplace, and playroom. The children were wide-eyed with wonder as they read the card. Why did one family need its own swimming pool? And what was a fireplace? Was it a place where you cooked food?
On a rainy afternoon a few weeks later, Long was called to the office. He left class, his heart beating hard. Maybe his grandmother had come to visit. He had not seen her in many months. Or maybe … But he couldn’t even hope for that.
A social worker greeted him and offered him a chair. He sat down as she studied some papers on her desk. She looked up. “I have some good news for you, Long.”
He held his breath, trying to concentrate on what she was saying. Then he heard the words, “We have a family who would like to adopt you.”
Long thought his ears must be playing tricks on him. But she repeated her words, assuring him it was so. “They live in a little town called West Liberty, Ohio, and it’s you they want. I think we can have all the paperwork done in time for you to leave next June.”
Long’s heart was pounding so hard, he could hardly hear his own voice when he asked in a whisper, “Do I have a new name?”
“You do. It’s Matthew. They want to call you Matt.”
Matt. Another strange American name. He thought for a moment. He had always been Long. Could he become someone else?
Matthew. Matt.
Finally he took a breath. “That will be okay,” he said.
And then he smiled.
* * *
The family that had chosen Long was the Steiners. Jim Steiner was a doctor. His wife, Mary, was a homemaker. They had three sons: Dan, age seventeen, Doug, fifteen, and Jeff, thirteen.
For two years the Steiners had been working their way through all the application forms and paperwork to adopt a Vietnamese orphan. Back in 1960 the Steiners had lived in South Vietnam for six months. Jim had worked as a missionary doctor with people suffering from leprosy—a horrible, disfiguring disease. When Mary gave birth to their son Doug at the leprosarium hospital, Jim was the doctor.
The Steiners loved the people and culture of South Vietnam. But they knew life there was especially hard for Amerasian orphans and that as these children grew older, they often suffered increasing discrimination. Sometimes such children were called “half-breed” and treated poorly. Jim and Mary felt they could offer a home to one of them. Because the Steiner boys were in their teens, they decided to request an older child.
Long, in the photo sent to the Steiners
The Holt Foundation had sent them a photo of Long. “He looked kind of sad, like a little boy we wanted to help,” says Mary Steiner. “Our hearts went out to him. We couldn’t choose anyone else.”
Through the months of January, February, and March 1975, the Steiners
got to know Long through letters and photos. They told him about Ohio—that it was in the middle of the United States and had lots of trees and rolling hills. They said they lived in the country, where there was plenty of space to play. With Miss Anh’s help, Long wrote back a few sentences in English and enclosed some drawings.
He often studied the family photo they sent him, memorizing each one of the Steiners. His eyes always went first to the mother. In the photo, she had short, curly brown hair, glasses, and a shy smile. She looked kind. Then he studied Dan, Doug, and Jeff, wondering what it would be like to have three brothers. It could be fun—older boys to play with.
Long had mixed feelings about the father in the photo. He looked nice, but could Long trust that? His own father had left him when he was still a baby. His stepfather had been cruel. Besides, if you had a mother, why would you need a father?
Having a father sounded nice. Maybe, just maybe, this time it would work out.
* * *
But as Long dreamed of his new family and the life he would have in America, the Vietnam War suddenly roared to life. In January 1975, the Communist army of North Vietnam began a major offensive against the South. To their surprise, they met little of the resistance that had stopped them in the past. Though some South Vietnamese army units fought back bravely, many others were fearful that they could not win because they no longer had American troops to assist them, so they did not try. Some South Vietnamese soldiers abandoned their military posts and went home to their families.
Suddenly everything was happening swiftly—so swiftly that all of South Vietnam was thrown into a state of panic. Each day came word that another city or province had fallen to the Communists. The North Vietnamese soldiers were ruthless, killing both soldiers and civilians in their path. Within weeks, the North Vietnamese controlled important strategic areas in South Vietnam and continued to push southward.
Escape from Saigon Page 3
