by CW Ullman
“They’re not Holiday Inns,” the State Department’s legal affairs attaché remarked. “You need to provide your own food when you’re in jail.’
“That won’t be a problem,” My Ling affirmed.
The attaché added a cautionary note, “The U.S. Government cannot back you in this endeavor. We can back-channel quite a bit, cajole, convince, threaten, but publicly and officially we have to appear hands-off. While everyone from the Secretary of State on down is very sympathetic to your cause, we cannot risk our relationship with Thailand to intervene publicly. Besides, if we publicly supported you, it would probably work against you because the Thai government would not want to appear they had been bullied by the U.S. Government into letting you off.
“I want to change the subject for a minute,” the publicist interjected, “and bring up something you may not have considered. What you are trying to do, in effect, is mobilize people. I’ve worked on a lot of political campaigns and you may have a noble cause, but you probably will not get the outcome you are looking for.”
“What do you mean?” My Ling asked.
“If you go to Southeast Asia without firm objectives, you are going to be like the coach who inspires his team, but loses because he isn’t good executing the game plan. When you get arrested, what do you want your people to do then? If you are convicted what do they do then? If you are killed, God forbid, what are your expectations for the people?
“I can get you all the press in the world. I can have you on television everyday with CNN, but I don’t want to be a party to this if you’re trying to ride off into Valhalla.”
The one person in the room, the publicist, who everyone assumed to be the most facile, made the most profound impact.
“I went back and looked at these kinds of events in history. I wanted to see which ones succeeded and which ones failed and why. The closest event to this was when Gandhi was alive. His campaign worked, because he was very focused on just one thing at a time. Before Gandhi demanded that the British quit India, he first fought them on the Salt Tax with a march of over four hundred miles. He had a series of goals with an overall strategy of nonviolence. The reason he was nonviolent is he knew he could never beat the British in a war. Also, all that he accomplished in India he first tried out in South Africa. George Marshall said, ‘if you get the plan right, a lieutenant can execute it.’
“You’re already ahead of him in one area: Colonel Cin’s status has created a kind of unity amongst the various tribes and factions in Southeast Asia. You need to discuss with them what they want and show them how to obtain it.”
She stopped for a moment and noticed the entire room of people riveted on her.
“First you need to create a list of objectives. Maybe you noticed I like to quote people. Lewis Carroll once said, ‘if you don’t know where you’re going, any road will take you there.’”
Over the next few days, My Ling thought about what the native people in Southeast Asia needed. Was it representation, was it respect, was it land, or was it something else? She began to feel presumptuous thinking she knew what was best for them. She then thought about what was most important to her and realized it was to see the end of selling girls.
On the phone, she asked Tuyen and Thanh to contact local tribe leaders and find out what they wanted politically for their people. When they got back to My Ling, they had a list she did not want to hear, because it was mostly grievances. It was like listening to people in America complain about their problems instead of solving them.
Cin had the instincts of a warrior and saw things in terms of military battles; if you did not take the fight to the enemy they would crush you. In Cin’s mind, a good leader was always on the offensive. My Ling desired to create a peacefully offense. She reconciled Gandhi to Cin and believed power and authority can happen if an overwhelming number of people held firmly to a common goal.
For her plan to work, the powerless tribes would have to strike a deal with those in power. The tribes would have to believe power for them was possible. However, she had a better understanding of the powerful. To marry these two disparate groups, the powerful needed to feel that it was in their best interest to relinquish some control, and the tribes would have to realize that power came with responsibility. She felt that the powerful would be easier to convince than the powerless. My Ling realized she needed to talk with people who had gone through similar situations and called her advisory board together and asked their advice.
The State Department attaché informed the group, “South Africa just ended apartheid.” She turned to My Ling, “If I were about to undertake this mission I’d go there and speak to people from both sides who hammered out the deal.”
My Ling, Hao, and her sister spent a week in Pretoria, South Africa and came away with two distinct impressions: for those in power to relinquish control they needed to feel they would be safe and second South Africa would not become Zimbabwe.
It took My Ling two more years to plan the campaign, consider potential outcomes, and contingencies, before she brought it to her family. She spent three hours making her presentation.
Little My Ling, now fifteen, listened intently and when her mother was finished asked one question that stumped her, “Do you believe in this plan enough that you would be alright if I were in your shoes?”
When My Ling did not have an answer, she saw Hao out of the corner of her eye shake his head.
“What does that mean?” My Ling asked.
“It means no, you’re not doing this,” Hao stated.
Before My Ling could respond, her daughter interjected, “No, it doesn’t mean that, Hao. It means Mother isn’t confident and is still going to wing a lot of this.”
“Perfectly said,” Hao offered with a tinge of smugness.
“It also means I am going with you,” Little My Ling dropped on the assembled like a bomb. “And I am not taking “no” for an answer.”
Hao was speechless, but not My Ling, “What do you mean, you’re going?”
“I am the wild card the government will have to deal with,” Little My Ling calmly explained. “Being Cin’s only heir gives me as much status with the people as you being Father’s widow, Tiger Girl.” She chuckled then continued, “You want the masses not to riot. The one hole in this scheme is if you aren’t granted bail, you’ll have no control over what happens outside of the jail.
“If you make bail, then we can divide and conquer. We have two separate rallies which forces the government to monitor two huge assemblies. That presents a logistical problem for them.” She paused as all the participants at the meeting were surprised by her grasp of such an enormous undertaking.
“What are you all looking at?” She joked, “After all, I’ve got Colonel Cin’s blood coursing through my veins. ‘I am about my father’s business.’” Little My Ling paraphrased Jesus. Teasing again, she offered, “A Catholic education does provide you with some great quotes.”
However, none of this was humorous to Hao who exploded, “You’re both going? This is insane!”
My Ling put her arm in his and he relaxed. However, she had concerns about her daughter’s involvement.
“You have to know you could be killed,” My Ling stated flatly.
“After two years of listening to you talk about this and how the Thai government would be faced with massive riots if you were killed, I actually think they’re going do everything in their power to prevent that from happening. I think you have a much bigger problem,” she paused, piquing everyone’s curiosity.
“What if they choose not to put you on trial or what happens if you are found not guilty? I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but that pretty much means your fifteen minutes of fame are over. I would think those two outcomes are more likely than you being found guilty.”
Hao and My Ling were both flabbergasted, but for different reasons. My Ling asked, “How’d you get so smart?”
“What you have to do, Mother, is be sure the killing of the Thai pirat
e is seen as justice for all the abuse heaped on women.” Little My Ling smiled as she emphasized, “Our message is what happened to Binh, Ha, you and the girls in the orphanage.”
“But what about rights for native Southeast Asians? Empowerment?” My Ling wondered.
“What about it? I listened to the publicist and if you have more than one message you have less chance of getting action on any of them. I think you should promote tribal rights and woman’s rights by enveloping it in the message that women are being sold, raped, attacked and killed. If women can achieve an abuse-free environment, it gives them the opportunity to gain political power,” Little My Ling proffered.
My Ling mulled over her daughter’s suggestions. She had supported Cin’s endeavor to elevate the Degar by empowering the men. She had not given much thought to the women being in charge. She chuckled to herself wondering if Cin would be turning over in his grave with this new development.
During My Ling’s preparations, Charlie and a friend, Sister Marie Celeste came to visit.
“I would like to go with you,” Sister Celeste stated. “I’ve talked with my Mother Superior about it and she said it would be fine. I think I can be of service to you and the children at the orphanage.”
My Ling never denied anyone who wanted to help. She told the nun that Cambodia was either hot and humid or cold and raining. “Do you think you can handle that?”
“I have permission to change from my religious habit into civilian clothes and I think I’ll be okay… I hope,” Sister Celeste ventured.
The plans were worked and reworked. All the contingencies were evaluated and the probabilities discussed. My Ling asked her daughter to join her in a meeting with the Knights of the Fire Ring, who had all gone through weapons training with Don Padre.
“I don’t know how this is going to turn out. I would feel better knowing that your families also know that,” My Ling stated.
Charlie spoke for the group, “All of our families know the risks.”
“I have the restaurant covered and I’ve explained it all to my kids. My ex-wives hope I get killed over there,” Gaston kidded, creating a chuckle in the group.
“My wife and daughter have been told everything and the sheriff’s department has given me a six month sabbatical,” Carlos said.
“Claudia and my daughters understand I have to do this,” Curtis said.
“I’d be over there right now if you hadn’t changed the objective. Poncho Villa has trained me. There’ll be a few bars in Hermosa that’ll miss my money,” Ronnie added.
Rusty was the last to speak, “Darla would go if she could. She can’t stand what’s happening to the women and children. She told me if I get killed over there she’s never going to speak to me,” eliciting another chuckle from the guys.
“We’re hoping for the best and planning for the worst. We’re your guys -,” Charlie quickly corrected, “We’re your fellow girl, but we have a question: what’s a win?”
Before My Ling could answer Little My Ling spoke, “We won’t be satisfied until Mother is declared Queen of Thailand.”
The six men were stunned by the proclamation until her mother spoke, “They think you’re serious,” erasing the men’s panic.
Little My Ling again spoke, “Honestly, it’s a work in progress because it is multi-pronged. The first priorities are to stop the sale of children, sex trafficking, and abuse of woman. We are going to start by mobilizing as many native Southeast Asians as we can by stressing their own participation in government. It will all start when Mother tells her story of killing the Thai pirate and then going to Thailand to face charges.”
She went on describing a far-reaching campaign that would build upon each success. She finished by saying it would be quite the adventure. As much as they admired My Ling’s passion to correct the wrongs toward natives and woman, they had more confidence in her daughter’s pragmatic approach to the endeavor.
“When we get there, we’re going to organize the people and set the tone. But first we want to energize the four countries using a media blitz.” She continued, “Mother will be known as Tiger Girl and I will be Tiger Cub.”
“Why the name change?” Charlie asked.
“You’ll see once we get there,” My Ling stated.
Before My Ling departed she had a brief meeting with Don Padre at their rendezvous coffee shop. She told him there were more phone taps being applied to his gang members’ phone lines. He understood why.
“They’re not getting info from me and it’s because we have all gone legit,” he explained.
“Really?”
“Yes, I’m serious. We’re getting too old for this. I cut all the guys loose. I don’t want to lose my daughter and I know that would be the next thing. I met with the Mexican Mafia and told them I was out. What’s new with you?” Don Padre finished.
“I need about fifteen guns and ammunition.”
“After I trained your boys, I was wondering when you’d come see me. You plan on going to war?”
“No, the guns won’t be used to fight government troops, but if the gangs know a large contingent of missionaries are traveling unarmed, they’ll attack us.”
She told him how to disguise the guns and where to ship them.
“Good luck, little Asian lady. You’re gonna need it.”
Once the story broke on the front page of the Los Angeles Times, the local CBS affiliate did a piece for the evening news. A week later, a producer for 60 Minutes called. My Ling mentioned her deceased husband Colonel Cin in every interview. When the story eventually circulated amongst the ethnic Southeast Asians in Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam and Thailand, expectation grew for the return of Colonel Cin’s widow to their land. The governments in those countries underestimated the impact of Colonel’s widow’s.
My Ling went on to do stories in The New York Times Sunday Magazine, People, Vanity Fair, and Rolling Stone. When she announced July 1997 as her departure date for Thailand, she neglected to mention she would be secretly leaving for Cambodia nine months prior to organize the tribes.
The night before she left, she called Tuyen, who was excited for My Ling’s homecoming. Tuyen said, “I’m not going to tell you what it is, but we have a little surprise for you.”
<>
So as not to draw attention, My Ling landed in Phnom Penh at the Pochentong International Airport with Little My Ling. The rest of the entourage followed the next day. The Knights rendezvoused with My Ling in the port district on the Mekong River. They picked up the guns Don Padre shipped in crates marked “Telephones.” Two days later, they boarded three boats and traveled north up the Mekong and then east up the Tonle San to the orphanage.
The group included My Ling, her daughter, Dao, Di.u, Hao, Trieu, the six Knights, Police Chief Biwer, Sister Marie Celeste, two ex-special forces from Oklahoma, a camera crew of three from CBS News and a reporter with the Los Angeles Times. They resembled a small platoon.
Dao, Di.u, and My Ling sat together up front in the lead boat. The last time they were on these waters was over twenty years ago in far different circumstances. Back then, there were human bodies and dead animals floating by, the city of Phnom Penh was deserted, and the Khmer Rouge was executing people on ferries. My Ling had killed a teenage soldier. There were the boatman, Mr. Pok, and brutal beatings. My Ling remembered Cham fleeing with their belongings on their backs, the girl carrying her little brother, and it was the first time she saw Cin. They fished, ate cold noodles, and played cat’s cradle. It was also here when Dao and Di.u heard that their mother had been killed. As the memories flooded back, bringing the three to tears, a cameraman silently filmed them as Di.u rested her head on My Ling.
My Ling was not prepared for the memories this trip stirred up. She had forgotten how frightened they were and how keeping the murders of the girls’ mothers had weighed so heavily upon her.
All the confidence she had felt in this plan to help the people, the children, the orphanage, and endure the coming murder trial was
now drained from her. This journey was freighted with depressing memories and it all came suddenly down on her with a dispiriting heaviness. She wanted to turn around and go back to the United States, but then Di.u spoke.
“We can never let this happen to another girl, My Ling,” Di.u hiccupped, her tears subsiding. She took a deep breath and said, “What we went through, what we endured, can never occur to another girl. We experienced the horror of it. We were witnesses to it all and it can never happen again.” Di.u’s voice cracked as she effused, “You are my hero, My Ling. I could never have survived those years or made this trip without you. You are the bravest person I know.”
Di.u’s faith was the antidote to My Ling’s despondency. She also needed this river voyage to be reminded of the nightmare and the suffocating futility and hopelessness she felt back then. She needed to feel this pain; she needed to be reminded.
<>
The boats arrived at the Pak Nhai dock two days after they left Phnom Penh. They were surprised by the turnout of the entire orphanage waiting for them on the banks of the Tonle San. Dao, Di.u and My Ling were smothered in hugs from the girls that were old enough to remember them. Tuyen Mam and Thanh had to wade through the crowd of girls to welcome the returning three.
“That was quite the surprise you promised,” My Ling said to Tuyen.
“Oh, that? That’s not the surprise,” Tuyen replied.
My Ling introduced everyone from the boats and each person grabbed a bag or box to transport to the Lotus Blossom, a hike of two miles to an elevation of one thousand feet. When the children tried to help Sister Celeste, she became very protective of a back pack that she insisted on carrying. Walking through the jungle, seeing the monkeys, and feeling drenched in the humidity were experiences that Chief Biwer recalled from his time in Vietnam in late 1969. While Charlie, Rusty, Curtis, and Carlos were in decent condition for the jungle trek, Gaston and Ronnie were struggling in the jungle conditions.
My Ling, Dao, Di.u, and Little My Ling were surrounded by the girls who were asking them many questions about America. Where did they live? Did they know Michael Jackson? Could any of them ride a surfboard? Did they miss the Lotus Blossom? The questions were endless, but the travelers never tired of answering them. They walked up the long path to the compound and there stood the main house that My Ling had longed to see. Many trees had been removed so dormitories could be built for the endless stream of girls that came through the mission. When they got to the center of the compound, all the little girls told My Ling to close her eyes. A group ran off and came back to a chorus of hushes and giggles.
