Northern Wind: Memoirs of a Freedom Seeker

By Minh Nguyen

In the shadow of darkness, a nine-year-old boy and his parents join thirty-four others in fleeing the Communist regime.

Their escape begins on a small, ill-equipped fishing boat as they traverse the treacherous waters of the South China Sea. The anxiety of not having enough food, water, and fuel compound with the constant threat of Thai pirates create tremendous fear, yet the desire to find freedom drives them onward. Despite the horrific encounters on the high seas, these boatpeople were not prepared for what they would have to face in an Indonesian refugee camp during their seven years of waiting—waiting to be accepted in the free world.

This long and arduous journey—from 1989 to 2006—is told through the eyes of the author as a child, a teenager, and later, as an adult.

Northern Wind: Memoirs of an Asylum Seeker is a heartwarming story teeming with extraordinary love, courage, and sacrifice—the sacrifice one is willing to make for his child. Or for freedom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9781716201158

Minh Nguyen

Associate Professor Minh H. Nguyen is Conjoint Associate Professor, University of Newcastle, School of Environmental & Life Sciences and Adjunct Associate Professor, University of Western Sydney, School of Science and Health. He was also Director, East West Research P/L, a research and consulting company, Life Fellow of Australian Institute of Food Science and Technology and Australian country representative, International Food Engineering Association. He was also President of Australian Food Engineering Association. He has over 40 years of experience in Food Science and Technology as lecturer and researcher at Hawkesbury Agricultural College/ University of Western Sydney, National College of Food Technology, UK, Asian Institute of Technology, Thailand, Nestle Australia, Sandy Trout Food Preservation Research Laboratory Queensland. Professor Nguyen has co-authored a scientific book on Membrane Distillation and Osmotic Distillation, published by Wiley & Sons in 2017. He is a world leader in Gac fruit research and has authored and co-authored over 40 refereed research papers on various aspects of Gac fruit.

Book preview

One

The crow of an early-risen rooster signaled others to respond in kind, as morning light glowed on the horizon of the village. At one of the houses, hens scattered into the front yard, where they scratched and pecked at the ground. Before the porch, marigolds stood dripping with dew. It was 5:30 and daylight was still very weak inside the house when an elderly woman with a small oil lamp in hand gently opened the door to her daughter’s bedroom. Thúy, honey, it’s time to get—

The old woman squawked like a panicked hen, shocked by what her lamplight revealed.

Her daughter lay stiff on her bed, eyes large and round, caught in flagrante with a young man.

For a brief moment, the woman hoped a thief had entered their home. The room stood still for a second as three pairs of eyes darted back and forth, from one to another.

All of a sudden, the young man—his business unfinished—jumped to his feet, grabbed his clothes, pushed the petrified woman aside, and dashed out the door.

The old woman fell on her rump upon the dirt floor, stunned, as her daughter struggled with her clothes. Her hair was a mess, her face pale.

Sounds of rage and shame struggled to escape the old woman’s throat, but sobbing was all she could muster.

The neighbors’ dogs howled as if they were seeing ghosts; other canines joined the chorus following the perpetrator’s wake. The village came to life….

This type of incident rarely happened in the Khúc Ngay village. It was 1968, an era when children were raised properly and young girls usually behaved in an appropriate fashion. That was why this incident became the talk of the village, as well as many nearby, for several years. Every time this young man passed, girls would blush and squirm with secret desire; elders would purse their lips and shake their heads. Despite such controversy, in the opinion of the girls in his village, Năm, the young man in question, was irresistibly handsome, charming, and extremely popular—the type of young man who was quickly chosen by fathers as a future groom for their daughters. Yet Năm was no fool; he didn’t even want to commit to a relationship, much less a marriage. He had always told his friends that being committed in a relationship was, as the Vietnamese would often say, like boards that belonged to the boat—with the implication that once a boat is built, it can never be un-built. Năm loved the freedom of bachelorhood; he wished for no long-term relationships or hassles from a nagging wife. And then there would be children. Ugh, those filthy kids! he would say with distaste. Năm never wanted his boat to be tethered to the pier, as he had put it. Eighteen is too young to take on any responsibilities, he reasoned. Life is far too short to waste on a monogamous relationship just now. And because of his outlook, many girls’ hearts had been broken.

Two years after Năm’s infamous escape, his mother, Mrs. Sáu urged him to marry.

She feared he would become involved with more girls in the village without their parents’ approval, damaging both families’ names. Our family’s reputation is all we have, Năm, his mother pleaded. You’re twenty years old. You must get married before you cause any unplanned pregnancies!

Mrs. Sáu, a frail woman in her late sixties, stood no more than five feet tall, yet her powerful voice caught many by surprise. Those who didn’t know her expected her to sound as frail and diminutive as she appeared. She hoped that giving Năm a bride would keep his focus on the future and his new family instead of on sleeping around and spreading his seed all over. Who knew whose daughter would wind up carrying his child? That was her greatest fear, for she knew of the shame it would bring.

Mothers, universally, dread having a daughter who has reached womanhood, especially a pretty one. It felt like having a bomb in the house. For Mrs. Sáu, though, this time bomb wasn’t a young daughter—it was Năm, a young, single man with the raging hormones of a mountain goat! The old woman feared it wouldn’t be too long before little Năms began popping out in every village. Oh mercy! she often lamented. I would have to dig a hole in the ground and crawl into an early grave to avoid such a disgrace!

I’ve found a suitable young lady whom you’ll wed, she continued nagging.

Năm, however, quipped, Well, Má, if you chose the girl and promised marriage to her without my agreement, then it’s you who’ll have to feed her!

While Mrs. Sáu went through great pains trying to arrange his marriage, Năm chose to do things his way and dated whomever he pleased. Eventually, in 1974, he enlisted in the army of the Việt Nam Cộng Hòa (VNCH—the Republic of South Vietnam), which was fighting against the Vietnamese Communists. The news of his joining the war devastated his mother. She feared that he would die before he could give her a grandchild.

Năm’s platoon was based at the border of southern Mỹ Long, and it was there that he met Pearl, a daughter of a local farmer. Pearl was eighteen and fair-skinned; she was a lighthearted girl who possessed the most vibrant smile Năm had ever seen. He immediately fell for her. It was, as the cliché goes, love at first sight.

As for Pearl, she’d go through her chores daydreaming about him. The image of his handsome face filled her vision; the sweetness of his words dominated her thoughts. She’d go to bed anxious for a new day so that she could see him again. When they met, she’d smile dazzlingly at him; his heart skipped a beat and melted in his chest. More and more, he abandoned his work at home to be with her, to help her fetch water, to hold her soft hands, and to steal a kiss from her when no one was looking. At the well, he’d draw water for her and occasionally whisper words in her ears that made her blush. She’d respond with restrained giggles that drove him crazy. No other girl had made him feel that way before, and the more time they spent with each other, the deeper became the feelings they had for one another. They had dated for only three months when he decided she was the one, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

The news of Năm’s decision for his boat to be anchored surprised his eight brothers and sisters. Mrs. Sáu was most pleased upon hearing this. She began to make plans for the union of Năm and Pearl. However, things didn’t go as smoothly as everyone else had planned—Pearl’s mother, Mrs. Mến, vehemently objected to the marriage and refused them her blessing. She knew that Năm was serving in the army and he could die any day.

If anything happens to you, Mrs. Mến told Năm, I do not wish to see my daughter a young widow.

In spite of her mother’s protestation, Pearl was determined to marry Năm, so the day came when she collected all her belongings and waited for her lover. They eloped.

Two

The war was nearing its culmination; the battle between the Communists and the Republic had reached its bloodiest point. While patrolling the outskirts of a small village, one of Năm’s comrades stepped on a land mine set by the Vietcong, and several from his platoon didn’t survive the blast. Many others were injured. Năm was comatose for several days.

When he awoke, he discovered that he had lost the sight in his left eye. During his recovering process, all he could think of was that his life was ruined. Once a famously good-looking young man, he’d soon be teased as One-Eyed Năm! What almost ripped his heart out, though, was his and his fellow soldiers’ vain sacrifices. He’d learned that the army of VNCH had been defeated by the Northern Communists. They had taken control over the southern states and reunited the nation under their new Socialist Republic regime. This new government began enforcing its harsh law on our people and changed the name of Saigon to Ho Chi Minh City. Now freedom, justice, and human rights no longer existed. Due to all of this, Năm sank into the abyss of distress. His will to live quickly diminished. Perhaps the only person saving him from going under was Pearl, who was always by his side to care for him. Her selfless attitude and devoting care helped speed up his healing, her untiring presence shattered all pessimistic thoughts he’d had. What Pearl had done for him made him love and cherish her even more, and the bond of their relationship became stronger.

Ultimately, Pearl’s mother sent word that she now agreed to their desire to wed, but that her daughter should come home to help set up a traditional wedding. In light of their elopement, this would be the only way to help keep dishonor from her family’s name.

Three

After a wedding that was rather small but sufficient to lend legitimacy to their relationship, Năm and Pearl made the decision to live on a sampan—a twenty-foot-long by eight-foot-wide skiff propelled by an oar in lieu of an engine. This tiny vessel, covered with a round roof made from bamboo stems and palm fronds, was their entire living space. The two spent their days floating the small rivers and channels of the Mekong.

The Mekong is the longest river in southeastern Asia. It begins a 2700-mile journey in China where melted snow feeds the river, and it flows between the borders of Myanmar (then called Burma), Thailand, and Laos. From there, it streams across Cambodia, where it separates into nine smaller rivers that snake across the southern part of Vietnam before emptying into the South China Sea. For eons, the Mekong River has been a vital source of fresh water, essential to the rice-growing farmers of these regions. Moreover, the waters were calm and kind to the small boats and those who lived on them. With fish in abundance, these watercourses were the main source of life for thousands of families in the South.

Strange as it may sound today, many people, like Năm and Pearl, chose to lead a nomadic, on-the-water lifestyle in the Mekong delta. Life on these small and peaceful rivers was, perhaps, a way of escaping civilization for the so-called social rejects. Young women like Pearl, who had committed brazen acts such as leaving their families and running away with their lovers, expressed open disregard for familial honor, values, and traditional practices. Also, there were tens of thousands of men like Năm, former VNCH soldiers, who, following the loss of the South, had no standing in the new Socialist Republic regime. The waterways became their haven.

These once-proud soldiers had protected and served their people, but now they had become personas non grata. Perhaps Năm’s choice to live on the boat wasn’t just a way to make a living, it also offered him a chance to avoid daily confrontation with his neighbors, who, after the war, turned out to be his enemies. Following their rise to power, the Vietcong expressed intense hatred towards traitors like Năm and, had they been on the frontier, these outcasts would have been shot on sight. However, the usual way of dealing with these losers was simply to not provide them with jobs or assistance, and let them die slow deaths.

Năm had net-fishing skills that came naturally, as he’d been raised beside the Mekong. Now that he had a wife, he and his bride eked out a meager living by net fishing from these watercourses. They lived frugally but happily on their little boat. Pearl was especially contented, finding herself free from family pressure. Traditionally, she would have had to live with her husband in his mother’s home and serve his family as an in-law. That meant she would have been required to do all the chores in and around the house: cooking, cleaning, working in the garden and rice fields, and even doing the laundry for everyone in his family—not to mention that everything she did would be watched and criticized. By living on the boat, she avoided all this. For two and a half years, the newly-weds lived floating from river to river, channel to channel, enjoying nomadic freedom.

One evening, Pearl, then twenty-one, gleefully announced that they were about to become parents. To Năm, this was the happiest news since Pearl’s mother’s change-of-heart! He was overjoyed to think of his family growing. He worked even harder at net fishing, and Pearl sold their catch in the marketplace to earn money in preparation for their little one. Having a child would be a milestone in their lives. This child would be the fruit of their love, a permanent lock on their marriage.

About four months into term, Pearl complained of having abdominal pain. At first, they thought it was a simple stomachache, but medicine didn’t ease the pain. Năm decided to take her to the hospital in the Hiệp Mỹ village, a couple of miles upriver. Pearl’s pain was intensifying by the minute, and seeing his wife writhing and moaning in agony pushed Năm to row the boat with great determination. He had to race against time and the lowering tide. The village finally came into view. This was where they often sold their catch to seafood-dealers, visited with friends and relatives, and shopped for rice and condiments.

As one of the largest structures in the village, the hospital—a white stucco building with wooden French windows—stood towering over other establishments and was visible from the dock. While the clinic had a hotel-like appearance, inside, the halls were freshly painted and reeked of antiseptic.

Năm waited impatiently in the hallway, pacing back and forth, praying that his wife and their unborn child would be safe. After a long wait, the doctor emerged from the emergency room; looking weary, he announced, Your wife is safe.

When Năm asked about their baby, the doctor shook his head and, with crestfallen voice, said, I’m really sorry; I’ve done all I could.

Năm was miserable and disappointed, but accepting of fate. He entered the room to find his wife lying on her side, facing the wall, her back to him. She was sobbing. He grasped her hand and gently squeezed it, assuring her that everything would be okay. Pearl wouldn’t acknowledge his presence. Personally, she blamed herself for not being able to keep the baby.

We’ll have another chance, he said in a low, sympathetic voice, hoping to comfort her.

Regardless of how he tried, her tears poured. She believed that the miscarriage—and a blow to their marriage—was her fault.

…a failure.

…a curse.

Four

Despite such heartrending loss, Năm swore to always love and cherish Pearl. He believed that if only he could keep her happy, their family would take root. This news had yet reached Năm’s family.

Pearl’s father, Mr. Mến, came to the hospital and helped arrange the burial while the couple mourned.

When Pearl was released from the hospital, Năm took her back to their little floating home. He hoped they could move on with their lives. He continued with his net-fishing, she with her daily chores: cooking, sewing, and helping him mend the nets. Pearl was an excellent homemaker. Although she made him enormously happy, he knew she wasn’t happy. For months following the ordeal, marital intimacy was lacking. Sometimes he would catch her quietly crying, tears trickling down her round face. He would gently inquire the source of her sorrow, but she would always shake her head and continue with her chore. He knew she was still blaming herself for the loss of their first child.

As a young husband, Năm felt helpless, and all he could do was to say things he hoped would be comforting to her. Because he loved her, he spared no effort to make her smile. Now, Năm found himself working harder to salvage their relationship than he had worked on it when it was new. Regrettably, it seemed as though the harder he tried, the more he failed at helping her shake her disappointment. There were times when he thought that their sufferings would never end. In the meantime, he pondered on how to keep their marriage from failing. A breakthrough had to come for them, and Năm prayed that it would come soon.

One typically beautiful night, the young lovebirds lay together, admiring the stars in the dark, moonless sky. Pearl snuggled in her husband’s arms while the shores, illuminated by fireflies in the thick foliage, shone like lines of giant Christmas trees twinkling with myriads of lights. As she rested in the warmth and comfort of her husband’s arms, he struggled with millions of whirling thoughts and questions. Why couldn’t things turn out the way I had planned? My life was meaningless until I met Pearl and fell helplessly in love with her. She’s everything I’ve ever sought in a woman. Could I handle losing such a wonderful wife like her?

A star rocketed across the southern sky, followed by another. And thankfully, a solution finally arose—Năm would seek help from his mother. Má, the young man thought with optimism, might be able to help salvage my marriage.

With glee, the young man asked his wife, Would you be willing to move back with my family?

Unexpectedly, she accepted his proposal.

Five

To Pearl’s relief, Mrs. Sáu was delighted to see her.

Mrs. Sáu remembered Pearl as having fair skin and a lively face. Now, seeing her daughter-in-law so much paler, she grasped the girl’s hand, shook it a little, and asked, My, what happened, child?

Before Pearl could answer, Năm’s mother turned and glared at him, her frail index finger poking at his chest. You careless ingrate, have you been starving my daughter-in-law?

Năm could only shake his head and offer a weak smile to his mother.

Mrs. Sáu wasn’t satisfied with her son’s gesture as an answer, so she pulled Pearl close to her side, as if to exclude him from their conversation. She asked her quietly, eyeing her son as if he were a thief. Has Năm been mistreating you, my daughter-in-law?

No, Má, Pearl said, he’s been treating me well.

Nonetheless, both their answers didn’t alleviate the old woman’s doubt. In her eyes, her ingrate of a son was the prime suspect in this case of abuse.

Then why are you so—

Má, Năm said, before his mother could go on with her interrogation.

She turned to him with a frown.

He gently placed a hand on her small shoulder, said, Let’s go inside and we’ll tell you all about it.

Once inside, he began to relate the news of his wife’s miscarriage. Pearl had been having abdominal pains. They had been oblivious that the pain was a sign of trouble with Pearl’s pregnancy. When the symptom intensified, they knew that something had gone terribly wrong. By the time they decided to seek medical help, it had been too late to save the child.

It was truly misfortunate that they had lost their first child, their son! Unfortunate as it might be, the doctor had been thankful—even pleased—to be able to save the mother. He had even commented that Pearl’s survival was due solely to Năm’s determination to propel the boat as quickly as he did. The doctor believed that if she had been brought in just a few minutes later, she wouldn’t have lived.

After hearing this, Mrs. Sáu, with tears rolling down her cheeks, hugged Pearl tightly, like a mother hugging her feeble child, and reassured her daughter-in-law, No matter what happened, child, I still love you as much as before.

Mrs. Sáu had received the news of Pearl’s pregnancy some three months previously. She had been jubilant, despite already having more than a dozen grandchildren from her three elder children. A child from Năm and Pearl, the old woman admitted to herself, would be more than just another grandchild. Such a child, Mrs. Sáu knew, would bring her a great sense of happiness and a secure feeling. It would mean a new obligation for Năm—he would be a man with a family! His boat would finally be anchored! The Mountain Goat would finally be tamed!

Now, with this regrettable news, the old woman was disappointed but glad to see that her daughter-in-law was safe, and she, like her son, was optimistic that Pearl would conceive again. Pearl was young and beautiful, and would soon regain her health if she followed Mrs. Sáu’s prescription. Additionally, as long as Năm remained the Mountain Goat, the old woman was sure it wouldn’t be long before she would be surrounded by so many grandchildren that she wouldn’t be able to remember all their names! She now immediately laid out her plans for Pearl’s recovery. Primarily, Pearl wouldn’t be doing any heavy chores while in such poor