The History of my Family

Where do I even begin. It is hard for me to explain the history of my family on paper because it portrays so much more emotion when told in person through my moms perspective. I do not give the story justice, but I will try my best to give you an idea of what it was like.

My story begins in 1967, the day my ma was born. At the time, the capital of Vietnam was known as Saigon and considered a beautiful city. The war was currently underway, as the United States came to support the South Vietnamese government in an effort to fight the North Vietnamese Communists. At the time, my ma's father being my grandfather, Ong ngoai, was a Three Star General in the South Vietnamese Army and had been stationed in Saigon until further relocated to an Island off the coast of lower Vietnam. The Island of Conson was a prison camp run by only high-ranking officers, as it served as holding cells and additionally, an airport for transporting troops and goods to and from the mainland's. Ong ngoai was given this position and upheld it with great honor. Having been shot three times in the chest, side, and leg he was awarded many medals for his valor and commitment. His position was well respected by those living and serving under him on the island as he did his best to efficiently uphold the reputation of the camp.

Ever since my ma can remember, her life looked very different from the other children growing up on the island. Housing developments weren't much of developments at all as they resembled a mixture of mud/bamboo huts. She remembers this vividly, because her home was much larger than the rest on the island, and contained real structural forms of cement and rock. Too young to understand the differences, she didn't think anything of it. All she new was that she felt lucky to have a toilet, while the rest of the families on the island used dugouts to do their business. Much of my ma's memory remains cloudy as she was very young at the time, but she distinctly remembers the swaying palm trees scattered across the island, and the sour enchanting fruits full of juice and color or the overwhelming rainstorms showering the island from corner to corner. She remembers rushing outside, to dance in the monsoons, as children were commonly sent outside by their parents to "shower" in them. She remembers spending her leisure days hunting Komodo dragons with her brothers and sisters, although too young to have any success, it was always thrilling and entertaining. She remembers the classroom, consisting of one teacher for all ages. Strict and unforgiving, the teacher would punish students with bad grades or tardiness through humiliation, slapping them with rulers in front of the class or forcing them to kneeled positions for the entire day. They were taught never to speak, unless spoken to. She remembers most of all, from all her memory, the day her life changed. It was the day Communism had won the war; "The Fall of Saigon".

April 30th, 1975 marked the official surrender of the South Vietnamese Government. Broadcasted live on the radio and television, terror swept over Vietnam. The United States military began pulling their forces out as the North Vietnamese were rapidly gaining control of Vietnam. Knowing the consequences would be torture, imprisonment, or even death, especially for an enemy military officer of his stature, Ong ngoai did not hesitate to grab his family and escape. Receiving word that their were U.S. Naval ships, including the USS Dubuque, evacuating South Vietnamese refugees off the coast of the mainland's, Ong ngoai quickly gathered his children and wife, in pursuit for the row boats attempting to board the Naval ships before it was too late. At the age of 7, my ma remembers the panic and crying from her own pregnant mother (Ba ngoai) as she frantically gathered what little items they could carry (gold, jewelry, money, photos, etc.) and burst out the front door of their home. Running for the shoreline with her four younger brothers and sisters (Hoai was 1 years old, Hai 3 years old, and Num 5 years old) they passed people screaming from all directions as many of them were also headed for the last rowboats on the shoreline. Thrown by her father into a random boat, my ma found herself crowded by strangers, rowing to the naval ship as it towered before her. Unable to climb up the vast titanium walls of the ship, men threw down rope ladders for people to scale up. Upon scrambling to the front of the boat, my ma watched as a crying woman slipped halfway up the weaved ropes and fell into the water; Struggling to stay afloat, the woman drowned right in front of her as everyone was too occupied to even notice. My ma doesn't know how she made it up the ship amongst all the chaos, but recalls reuniting with her family at the portside of the ship. They had all made it aboard with minimal time to spare. However, regrettably two of my ma's eldest sisters were left behind in Saigon as they had been attending schools their at the time. Without any way of contacting them, it was helpless. Amongst all the pandemonium, Ong ngoai had no choice but to leave them behind in hopes that they would be taken care of by their aunt and uncle in the city.

 Day in and day out, my ma and her family had battled hunger and discomfort aboard the USS Dubuque naval ship until their arrival in the Philippines. Sleeping on the docks of the ship, they were provided with only a few blankets while meals came very scarce. In one instance, my ma remembers her father returning back to their living space holding something tucked underneath his jacket. The loaf of bread brought such excitement to her, even though Ong ngoai had no other option but to trade it for 24 carrot gold with a sailor. This was the type of life they had to live for the many weeks aboard the naval ship. In order for survival, my grandfather Ong ngoai had to make sacrifices for the sake of his family. From the Philippines, they boarded a ship to Hawaii and then eventually to San Francisco, CA where they waited in refugee camps for whatever path their future entailed. My ma remembers her father would walk with her through the thick crowds of people surrounding the refugee camps, while holding her hand and saying, "Look down, keep looking for coins". Money was constantly an issue, and they needed whatever they could get. Finally, after weeks of waiting, a family in Castle Rock, WA sponsored by a local church program helping in refugee war efforts took them in. Receiving tickets from the church to fly to Castle Rock, they moved into a small house rent-free next door to their sponsored family. Once settled, my ma and her brothers and sisters were immediately enrolled into schools, learning American language and culture all for the first time. Ba ngoai, my ma's mother, would sometimes go to the school and watch her children through the windows of the classrooms, struggling to communicate and having no clue as to what they were learning; she would feel bad for them. Life wasn't easy for them, especially now. My grandfather, Ong ngoai later got a job with the help of their sponsor family at a "Skippers" fast food joint. His main duty was to clean the building "head to toe" and assist the cooks in their daily needs. Going from a heavily decorated Three Star General for the South Vietnamese Army, to cleaning toilets, Ong ngoai had lost his dignity and respect, but he did it to ensure the security of his family.

It wasn't tell three years after the fall of Saigon that Ong ngoai and Ba ngoai were able to make contact with the two sisters (Ghi hai and Ebah) left behind in Vietnam. Writing letters day after day, Ba ngoai had to be careful what information she was sending, for the North Vietnamese would confiscate anything and everything. Ba ngoai would even send care packages to the sisters, hiding money she had sewed into the fabric of clothing to keep the North soldiers from finding it. It was a difficult and strenuous process but finally, in 1981, they got Ghi hai and Ebah out of Vietnam and into the United States. Later, moving to Kelso, WA due to a job opportunity both Ong ngoai and Banoai took up, my ma found that she and her older sisters gained more responsibilities. Having to take care of the infants and younglings of the family, my mom found that her days would consist of school and cooking meals for her brothers and sisters while the parents were hard at work. Totaling 40 hours a week each from their laborious work at the Tollycraft manufacturing facility, Ong ngoai and Ba ngoai were working on boats taking every opportunity for overtime work and always showing up early and finishing with excellence. In the evenings, they would go to work landscaping tell nightfall for homes in the area. My grandfather worked so hard that he was often offered multiple promotions in his jobs, however turned them down for fear of causing unwanted tension with his "angered white colleagues". Ong ngoai would give up higher paid wages in fear that it could bring harm to himself, but more importantly his family. So instead of accepting promotions, he continued to work hard in multiple jobs at a time. On the weekends, my ma recalls her family having to get up at 5am in the morning and go pick strawberries in local Farmlands for the entire day in order to increase the family income.

Eventually, my mom graduated from Kelso High School after her many tough years adjusting to the unfamiliar new lifestyle, and moved on into the big world. Traveling from state to state and experiencing life and its possibilities, she finally met my dad. Born in Maine and growing up on the east coast, my dad was a traditional "Irish boy" living in a Christian family. Upon meeting one another, they soon made the decision to get married. However, before they could follow through, my ma said to him, "It is tradition in Vietnamese families for the man to ask the parents for permission to marry their daughter", and willingly, my dad agreed, however getting my grandparents to say yes wasn't as easy of a task as he thought, but that's a story saved for another time!