I always had a vague notion about the "boat people" because I knew I was one of them, but my parents have never really talked about our family's experience with me or my sisters. Whether it is because they wanted to shelter my sisters and me or were too busy trying to support the family, they have not openly shared their experiences until recently. Or maybe perhaps we children never really inquired... My family, along with over 150,000 refugees in 1980 escaped for various reasons from Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia to face their unknown futures in America.

The desires of my parents to escape and their willingness to face death for a chance at new life, stems from the social and political push factors in Vietnam. My dad would always talk about how poor Vietnam was and how terrible life under Communism was, so I knew those were the main reasons why we left. My dad tells me that it was a special visit to my grandfather that compelled him to think about escaping. "I took you and your sister to see your grandfather, and he said: son, look at them. You have such beautiful children, why don't you find a way to escape for their sake." With luck and compassion, my family was able to escape Vietnam unharmed. According to my father, it was $3000 per person to escape, and with no money to send the entire family, my grandmother was only able to secure enough loans for my father and me, at the time only four years old. At the time of departure, my dad pleaded for my older sister Tam, she was allowed to go for free. My mom and Niki stayed behind. On March 11, 1980, we left Saigon pretending to be poor peasants. My dad knew that if caught, it would mean death. But it didn't matter. "Di la Di....you go then you go...I was looking for life amidst death." In the middle of the night, we were put into a 3 x 10 meter fishing boat along with about 120 other refugees. Our boat was similar to the one above. My dad said that it was used to carry ducks or sugar cane across small rivers. It was made from wood sealed with tree sap so it leaked and could easily be destroyed in ocean storms. For three days and four nights, we were in the open seas. What little food and fresh water we had ran out quicky. My sister kept begging my dad for water but there was none to give. He offered his urine and she refused. Today, my Dad laughs and teases my sister about it everytime he tells the story. I laugh along as well. But in reflecton, my parents were really willing to give a part of themselves for us...