by Julia Legian
“I’m going to kill myself. I’d rather drown than be raped by pirates. My neighbour’s daughter was one of their victims. After they took turns in raping her for days on end, they threw her body overboard because they thought she was dead, and they slaughtered the rest of the people on her boat.”
Mum and Aunty Thuy struggled to hold her. They told her not to do anything foolish.
A beautiful young woman started to shave off her stunning long black hair in quick, strong strokes, dropping it onto the deck. The wind whipped it away into the ocean. She also had heard stories about pirates and was prepared. She would disguise herself as a nun so that the pirates would respect her and leave her alone. She changed into a nun’s habit and hung an ancient altar bell from a belt around her waist.
I remember sitting amongst this madness in silence. A stillness that I can’t explain settled over me as I remembered Quan m’s words. In my calm state I prayed with all my heart. I called on Quan Cong, Quan m and God to chase the pirates away.
The chase went on for several hours. Dad brought the boat about, desperate to hold it steady and trying to get away from the pirates. Despite all his efforts they were constantly on our tail and slowly gaining ground. The passengers became hysterical as the pirates drew closer.
Suddenly, when they were within metres of our boat, we watched in disbelief as they turned and headed away. Nobody knew why they gave up when they were just about to catch us.
Once again we had escaped certain death. Everyone on board hugged each other while tears of joy ran down our faces.
Some time later a sense of doom settled over us as a storm blew up, quickly turning the blue skies to grey with sudden furious winds. The waves grew in size and our boat rocked from side to side as water surged across the deck, soaking us to the skin.
The storm intensified, with waves that seemed to be the size of ten storey buildings pounding the boat from all sides. The deep blue of the water swelled, tossing our boat around like a cork.
Dad had nailed two long wooden planks on both sides of the boat and we clung onto them for dear life. If thrown overboard even the few who knew how to swim would not survive in these conditions. We all knew it was life or death. If the boat sank, we would all die.
Chapter 21
The new day brought no relief. We were shaking, wet, cold and hungry. Mum couldn’t cook with the boat being swallowed by the waves.
As the hours went by, the storm grew in strength and fury. The boat wasn’t made for such a rough journey and we all knew we couldn’t survive much longer. The boat was pitching out of control and everyone on board began to run out of hope. We had very little fighting spirit left as the brutal storm took us prisoner.
We passed by several oil rigs but the huge waves made it impossible for us to land on their docks. The powerful storm would have smashed the boat into pieces and killed us all if we’d attempted to take refuge.
Dad pushed on and we frantically waved to a handful of tankers for help but they could not see our distress call.
The waves grew more violent. The storm tossed the boat around like a rag doll and threw it up to the highest point of the water. Heaved up by the force of the swell, the boat hovered as if it were flying, before dropping like a stone into the ocean below, jarring our bones. It could have capsized at any time on its wild roller-coaster ride or it could have smashed to pieces as it flung itself back into the water.
I clung on and prayed, knowing we would be looked after.
We endured the whole night of sheer terror, being bashed and beaten by the merciless waves before the storm finally eased. The sky turned blue and the baking hot sun came out. We were all drenched but safe and we were elated and grateful to see land in the distance. Surely we were safe and our drama was finally over. Dad’s thundering scream cut short our reverie.
“Thuy, what the hell are you doing?”
Dad’s face turned red.
“I’m washing my clothes as we’re going to land soon.”
“I can see that, you idiot! I’m going to feed you to the sharks.” He punched her several times. “What makes you think we’re stopping here? We still have days to go.”
“Stop, Inh, please let her go. Please don’t throw her overboard. She can’t swim,” Mum cried.
“I don’t care, she’s brainless. She wasted more than half of our drinking water washing her stupid clothes. Who in their right mind would do this kind of thing? I’m going to make her pay for it. I knew from the beginning that she was useless and would just be baggage. I told you not to take her with us but you wouldn’t listen.”
Mum struggled to stop Dad from throwing Aunty Thuy overboard.
“Brother Inh, I need your help right now!” Chu Nhanh shouted from the cabin.
Dad turned around to look at Chu Nhanh and let go of Thuy.
“What is it?” he asked.
“The engine is struggling. Oh, dear Jesus, it’s stopped!”
Dad rushed to the engine room. I ran after him and watched as the two of them worked in a frenzy trying to re-start the engine. But to no avail. They worked the whole morning but no matter what they tried nothing worked.
Dad decided to take a break to clear his head and went out on deck. I followed him. With the engine off and nobody at the helm our boat drifted off course. We could no longer see any sign of civilisation.
Dad turned his anger back on Thuy. This time he swore he was going to kill her for wasting our drinking water as our lives depended on it. Thuy and Mum fell to their knees and made a last desperate bid for her life to be spared.
In the midst of the argument the blue sky turned dark again. Worried that the storm would return any moment, Dad hurried back to the engine room, determined to get the motor going again. An hour later, his stubborn refusal to give up paid off. The engine came back to life.
Hours went by and in the distance we saw signs of human life - vegetation, houses and white sandy beaches.
“Daddy look – houses,” I said, barely containing my excitement.
“Yes, I can see,” Dad said, smiling.
Our hearts lightened and everyone on board began cheering and hugging each other.
“Inh, let’s stop here,” Mum said.
“No, I want to keep going all the way to Australia,” he replied.
“But we don’t have enough food or water and it looks like the storm will return,” Mum said.
“Shut up, what do you know? I’ll make the call. I don’t want to stop here in Malaysia. It’s too risky. We don’t know what would happen to us here. We’ve made it this far, we only have a few more days to go. We’re going all the way. I’ll stick to the shore so if anything happens I’ll be able to stop.”
Despite Mum’s plea, Dad ignored her and kept pushing on.
He was wrong about the weather. Some time later the storm came back and the waves became more dangerous than ever, hitting the boat from every direction. Dad totally lost control of the boat and it began to leak, the timber forced apart by the pounding from the merciless weather. Water drenched us and the fear was real that the boat would capsize and drown us all.
“Inh, where are you?” Mum screamed in panic.
“I’m here, why are you crying?”
“Tri, our son Tri! He’s gone! The wave ripped him out of my hands! I can’t find him!” Mum cried.
“You idiot. How could you let that happen? You were supposed to hold onto him and Tai. What kind of a mother are you? I’ll kill you if you can’t find him!”
While Mum and Dad were busy arguing, a huge wave crashed into our boat. I watched in awe as Tri was carried by the wave back onto the deck.
“Mum, Dad, look, Tri is back!”
Mum held Tri and Tai tightly in her arms and cried. Dad turned to me and said. “Loan, listen to Daddy. I want you to swim to shore and get help.”
For the first time in my life I was afraid of the water.
“But Daddy, the waves are huge! I don’t think I can survive. I’ll drown, Daddy.”
> “Come on, my baby girl, this is your chance to save everyone on board, especially your brothers, Phuong and Aunty Nhanh, as they can’t swim. You’re my fearless, brave little girl. You just follow Daddy’s instructions and you’ll be okay. Besides Daddy, you’re the only skilful swimmer on this boat and I’m counting on you to find help. Trust me, I promise you’ll be safe.”
“I don’t know, Daddy. I’m scared.”
“Don’t be, my sweet girl.”
Dad gave me a reassuring smile. I reluctantly agreed to go.
“Now listen to me. I want you to jump into the water after the next big wave. Once you’re in the water hold your breath as long as you can and go all the way to the bottom. When you reach there push both your hands and feet as deep as you can into the sand to keep the waves from pulling you back. Wait for the next wave to come, then crawl on your hands and knees as fast as you can with the wave, and let it take you to the shore. Got it?”
I nodded and without any warning he pushed me into the water.
I did exactly as he said. I struggled to keep myself from being pulled in the opposite direction. I couldn’t remember exactly how long I stayed under the water but somehow I managed to kick and scrabble my way onto the sandy beach, exhausted, out of breath - but alive.
A Malaysian man appeared from nowhere, carrying a machete. I screamed at him in Vietnamese.
“Our boat capsized. Dear uncle, please help! My family is trapped. They need your help.”
He didn’t understand a word I said. I grabbed his hand and tried to haul him to the beach, still repeating my plea for help. That wasn’t a good move. He brandished his machete and I backed away.
I don’t know how long I waited on the beach, praying nonstop to God for help. He once again answered my prayers as I watched the boat wash ashore with all the passengers clinging to it.
I ran to the boat and saw another Malaysian man approaching us. He started talking to the North Vietnamese family in a language I could not understand.
“Come on, let’s go,” the North Vietnamese man finally said to the group.
“Where are we going?” Dad asked.
“We’re going to follow this Malaysian man to his place. He will help us out. His house is just behind these trees.”
We gathered what we could salvage from the wreckage of the boat and followed him. According to the North Vietnamese family, our boat landed in front of a very wealthy Malaysian businessman, who ran an export business selling tuna and canned sardines around the world. He let us shelter in one of his warehouses, fed us instant noodles and called the authorities to come to help us.
The police came some time later, gave us clean clothes and took us to shelter. The new place turned out to be a large house, somewhere near Terengganu in Malaysia, which the local government was using when transferring refugees from Pulau Bidong to Sungai Besi camp.
I was so excited. “Dad, look at this house. It looks like a castle!” High fences with iron gates led to a long driveway lined with coconut trees on both sides of the entrance. “Daddy, look at the beautiful tropical plants and flowers of all colours.”
Once we got inside, we found several wooden staircases stretching up into the upper level. I would have liked to slide down the rails that enclosed at least forty steps but I wasn’t game to try. The mansion had many rooms, each with a view of the gardens. Each family was given a room.
For the first two days it rained so hard we couldn’t play outside. Whenever I got tired of playing with my sisters I would go and slide down the rail. Without fail, whenever I played on the stairs, the North Vietnamese kid would also want to play. I could not stand this kid.
During our boat trip to Malaysia he screamed constantly and annoyed the heck out of me. He followed me everywhere, clung to me and made horrible noises, while all I wanted was to be left alone in my grief of missing Grandma. One time I got so angry I nearly pushed him overboard, but his brother stopped me in time and told me his brother was mentally sick.
One day I was peacefully sliding down the railing on the stairs, when out of nowhere I heard a loud bang. I looked down to the bottom of the stairs and saw the boy lying on the floor crying. I felt bad about how I had treated him so I ran down and helped him to his feet. His mother and brothers ran out of their rooms. Instead of thanking me, the kid turned to his family and accused me of pushing him. They all jumped on me like a pack of wild dogs. Dad heard the commotion and saved me.
After dinner I went out to play on the stairs again. Shortly afterwards, the kid came out, and I confronted him.
“You stupid ungrateful kid! Why did you blame me for pushing you? I was nowhere near you when you fell. Get lost or you’ll get me in trouble again,” I shouted.
“Ha, ha, ha I know you didn’t push me. I was pushed by that lady ghost. Can’t you see her?”
He pointed to the empty hallway and walked away. He scared the daylights out of me. I took off, running quickly back to our room and from then on I refused to go out of the room alone.
A couple of days later the storm finally died away and the authorities herded us to the jetty to board a large boat that would take us to Pulau Bidong.
Again there was the breathtaking scenery, with cloudless blue skies and water so clear you could see the sand in the shallows. Everyone’s spirits lifted as we headed to a new life through such calm waters. Although I missed Grandma so much, it was such an exciting time for me. I couldn’t wait to reach Pulau Bidong.
As we approached the main island, I noticed some sea creatures I had not seen before.
“Mum, Dad, look at those strange big fish in the water. They’re as big as me!”
I watched them dance across the water, blow water up through holes in the top of their heads then dive underwater again, their magnificent grey bodies glistening in the sunlight. At that moment I fell in love forever with the creatures. Later, I discovered they were dolphins.
Pulau, in Malaysian, means island and Bidong means it belongs to Malaysia. The island was quite big and covered by thousands of tall, slim coconut trees. Only a small parcel of land on the south side housed boat people. We were forbidden to go on most parts of the island.
Pulau was north-east of Kuala Terengganu City and Merang town. In the early years, it was a temporary home for many people fleeing Vietnam. The Malaysian government officially opened the settlement in August, 1978, which meant it had been established for some time before we arrived. Prior to the influx of Vietnamese refugees, in the late 1970s it also took in Cambodians fleeing the Khmer Rouge atrocities.
As we were about to land, I heard the sound of people calling out and clapping. I looked up to see hundreds of strangers on the island cheering us on our arrival.
The captain steered the boat up to the jetty. We disembarked to be greeted by these eager strangers who treated us like long-lost relatives. They were happy we’d made it safely to Pulau Bidong, whether we were strangers or not. They made us feel welcome and that they deeply cared about our welfare.
The guards who accompanied our group ushered us into the office where we filled out paperwork saying who we were, where we’d come from and, of course, where we would like to go.
They gave us a change of clothes, which, despite being second-hand I found to be the most spectacular clothes I had ever worn. They also gave us food that was supposed to last us for an entire week.
The refugee camp was divided into five zones. Our family was assigned to Zone F, an area very close to the water, overlooking a cemetery.
Our luck held as our accommodation was a two storey longhouse designed for the hot, humid climate. It stood about a metre above the ground and had narrow, steel steps leading up to the living quarters. The metal roof kept the elements at bay and at the back of the house were the kitchen and shower areas.
There was a block of public toilets not far from the house. It seemed to contain at least thirty to forty toilets with a constant flow of people to and from them. The smell was overpowering.
A powerhouse provided electricity to the entire Island and people dug wells for water. However the wells close to the ocean tasted salty, the ones people dug on the mountainside tasted much better, every day Phuong and I collected the drinking water from there.
In spite of the unsanitary conditions, I truly loved Bidong. Coming from an abusive family where most of your life was spent without proper food or beds to sleep on, this was better than winning the lottery.
Rather than having ragged clothing and little food to eat, I had a home with as much food as I could eat and hundreds of kind strangers to share the magnificent island with. I made a lot of friends very quickly and best of all, my parents stopped fighting. Every single day I went to the pristine sandy beaches, swimming among pretty coral and my favourite gentle, loving dolphins.
I thought my nightmare was over at last. All we had to do was to wait for the United Nations Commission on Human Rights (UNCHR) to process our application to go to Australia. Or so I thought. I was dead wrong.
Chapter 22
Thousands of people arrived on the island after us. Our small two-level longhouse that was already home to four adults and seven children, now had to take in another eight adults. The food that used to be plentiful when we arrived was now in short supply. We always ran out before the next handout. We now were given food only twice a week - meagre supplies of chicken, corned beef and fish along with some kind of vegetables and a handful of instant noodles. Our portions were small and the food ran out by the second day. Mum put our food together with others to make sure we had enough until the next handout. Somehow cooking a large meal and sharing it seemed to make the food go further.
Eventually, we were only given instant noodles. Although there were plenty of those there was hardly anything else. We had three meals of instant noodles a day - breakfast, lunch and dinner. When we got sick of it, someone came up with the brilliant idea of turning the instant noodles into snack food. All of a sudden everyone in the camp would fry their dried noodles with lots of sugar. Some would even add chilli for flavour. I thought this was delicious and would eat it all day.
