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ESCAPE
FROM VIETNAM Page 8 After half an hour of fetching water, the boat started again. The boat owner and the captain came inside the boat and announced that we were moving south along the Mekong River and probably would make it out to the South China Sea by about 5 or 6:00 PM in the afternoon. The boat owner reassured everyone that the boat was well stocked with food and fuel, and with luck, we should make it to Malaysia in 3 days. The owner also introduced the captain to the escapees. The captain was a former South Vietnamese Navy officer. In fact, he was just released from re-education camp only two months ago. In organizing the escape, the owner (who just recently bought the boat with the purpose of escaping and make some money at the same time) couldn't find any one who could navigate the South China Sea, so he came to this captain and offered him two spaces on the boat if he agreed to take the helm. The captain wanted to take his wife and only son along, but the boat owner only allow two spaces, unless he has money to paid for an additional spot. Being dirt poor, the captain couldn't afford to pay. Thus, he ended up taking his son along in the escape and had to leave his wife behind. His story is just one of the many tragedies of the people on the boat. I poked my head out of the window in the engine room to look at the river and the town, trying to photograph the last image of Vietnam in my head. Ironically, one of the last things I saw was a statue of Ho Chi Minh (The founder of the Vietnamese Communist Party) waving his hands. I thought to myself "Great, Uncle Ho is waving good bye to all of us!". By a coincidence, many years later (in 1989), a friend of mine in the Stanford Graduate School of Business, David Michael, traveled to Vietnam and took a photograph of this statue in Can Tho. When David showed me this picture, it brought back all the unforgettable memories of the perilous journey I made 13 years ago. There was not much for me to do except to sit tight and waited till night fall. We were not out to international water yet, and the Communist Coast Guards could still stop us at any time. As long as we were still inside Vietnam's water, we still had a great chance of being stopped and arrested. Time slowly passed and by night fall, we were well on our way to the South China Sea. I couldn't tell whether we were still on the Mekong River or at sea because I wasn't allowed to look outside anymore. At about 6:00 PM, a woman started to cook a big pot of rice and some food, and distributed to everyone. It was the first and last full meal anyone on the boat would get for the rest of the journey. The rice smell of gasoline because it was cooked with the water in the gasoline barrels. Nevertheless, I was too hungry to be picky. I swallowed everything quickly, and still was not full. Everyone ate quickly, as if they realized this might be their last full meal. Feeling tired and still somewhat hungry, I retreated to a corner of the engine room and tried to get some rest. In 5 minutes I felt asleep. The
first day
at sea At midnight, the cold, piercing wind rudely woke me up. I was wearing short and short sleeve shirt because it was very hot and humid during the day. Taking a few minutes to adjust my eyes to the darkness, I could see the mechanic sitting across from me, smoking his cigarette. I asked him if he knew where we were. He told me that we were at sea, but still in Vietnam water. In another hour or two, we would get to international water and would not have to worry about the feared Communist Coast Guards anymore. I climb down to the cabin to get my pant and jacket (Actually I only brought along one shirt, one jacket, one pant, and a short. My sandals were lost when we got on the boat.) It took extreme care from me not to step or fall over any one in the cabin. The air in the cabin was very humid and filled with the strange combination of the smells of human sweat, fish and the food that some people vomited because of seasickness . My cousin and her children were asleep. I was surprised to see the kids sound asleep. They had been crying all day because of the strange, uncomfortable environment and strange people. My nephew also suffered from a severe case of seasickness. He had vomited everything he ate earlier in the day (and he didn't eat very much of the food that smelled of gasoline.) I got my clothes quickly and climb back up to the engine room, avoiding to wake them up. I was getting very nauseated with the air in the cabin. It was a lot warmer there than in the engine room, but there is no way I could stay in there for another minute. I rather braved the cold than inhaling the cabin's air for the rest of the night. We made it to international water without any incidence. I was told by the mechanics, who in turn was told by the captain, that we were out of Vietnam water. I didn't know how the captain knew or was he just guessing. He only had a compass and a map of Vietnam coastline as his navigational tools. The sky was pitch black and as far as I could see, there were water all around us. Even if he had traveled this part of the sea for all of his life, how could the captain tell where we were in this vast expanse of water. I thought he was just guessing as much as anyone else. The sea was calm, but its vastness inspired awe in me. I strained my eyes to look in all directions, but could see nothing in sight except for water. If the weather turned bad, and if we were all to die in this sea, nobody in the world would ever know. Suddenly, I realized just how insignificant our lives were. The sun would still rise tomorrow and the earth would still turn. And the disappearance from the earth of 60 wretched human beings on this flimsy boat would not change anything at all. I tried to put all the scary thoughts out of my mind and sleep again. I had a very uneasy sleep. In my dream, I was still at home, chopping wood in the mountain in the middle of a torrential rain.... I asked the mechanic if he know where we were. By far, he was the most friendly person on the boat to me. He said that we are about 6 hours south of the southernmost point of Vietnam, and with luck, we will make it to Malaysia in two and a half days. I looked around, and there was nothing in the sea except for our boat. It was a very scary feeling. I tried hard to suppress my fear and think of more positive things. For the rest of the day, I didn't do anything except to lounge around the dock or went back to the engine room. I also came down to the cabin to play a little bit with my nephew and niece. My cousin's ankle was swollen now, and she could hardly move at all. |