1 March 2001
Kei Huynh

The story I am about to tell you is an amazing one - true to the core. The woman in question is my mum, Nhuan. Like any Chinese family, my mother is at the centre of our family life. Whether it's in times of sorrow, happiness or trouble, mother (like in Kindred Spirits) always seems to take the brunt of it all.

We were the ethnic Chinese, living in Vietnam, and from as young as I can remember my mum always told us of the life she had in Vietnam. She was, in a sense, trying to teach us how privileged our life was now, and how hard life had been for her in Vietnam. Mum was born in Bentre, a village south of Hanoi. She was the forth child of eight children born to the average working family. The Chinese liked big families (the main purpose to earn extra money for the family). My Grandmother had more, but a couple died as infants and a couple were given away due to the family not having enough money to feed everyone.

When still a child, mum remembers fleeing the village, heading for Saigon because the Communists had taken Hanoi. She narrowly escaped death when a stray sniper just missed her head. With four children and little money, the family headed for Saigon as grandfather had relatives there. They were so poor that grandfather's bed was two chairs put together. As mum got older, tuberculosis nearly killed her. She had to start earning money at fourteen, helping grandmother and after a few years she took an opportunity to be a market trader (the market still survives to this day) where she met my father. Through very hard work and much dedication the business flourished, but she had sacrificed her normal schooling, taking evening classes instead.

Mum and dad married. War broke out in Vietnam. Kids came along and it wasn't until 1975 when the Americans were finally airlifted out of Saigon that the city fell to Communism. Living under communist rule for four years they saw everything they had worked for disappear. Along with hyperinflation and devaluation of the currency, Vietnam had hit economic turmoil. News soon spread around the city of people leaving on boats, but their leaving was at a price. Because the currency had devalued so much, people had lost faith and only if you could raise enough gold were you allowed on these boats, to flee to Hong Kong. Mum finally made the decision to go only after all her siblings and mum had raised enough gold for a place on a boat. Dad didn't want to leave but mum's insistence, as always, got the better of him. We had to leave the city under darkness for if the police saw us we would surely have been shot. Our boat, crammed with two hundred men, women and children was the fourth to leave Saigon for Hong Kong.

Mum and dad had packed up what little possessions they had, mainly gold and jewellery in the hope that if the worst came to the worst it could be sold to get food or money. They had left everything they had worked so hard for to the authorities. As usual, mum did all the worrying. Looking back on it mum and dad showed such courage going into the unknown and leaving the journey to fate. No one can comprehend such a feat unless, like thousands of others, they were 'one of the boat people.'

We finally hit Hong Kong and stayed in the refugee camps surviving on handouts until the plight and suffering of the 'boat people' made the world news. Countries started opening borders to allow their quotas of refugees in. Being one of the first groups of refugees, we were fortunate enough to arrive in the UK. We had some wonderful English guardians who helped our family immensely. Recently Havaliah,one of our first English guardians, told us when we first came to England how depressed and vacant mum was.

Being the first Chinese family in 1979 you can imagine the hassles and racial slur we got in the small village and school we were at in Grays. It was to remain our home for the next twenty years. Soon the hassles subsided as we adapted to the English way of life and likewise other Chinese joined the ethnic community and mum started to make some Chinese friends. Mum and dad had had to start all over again. To think this year, we have been in the UK for twenty-two years. Now they live in a nice house, have their own business and all the children have had a good education (very important amongst the Chinese) and have made a success of themselves.

As ever mum is in the driving seat for all decisions, and dad seems content enough to let her do so. I really admire them both. Being in a country where they know little of the spoken language let alone read or write it. I guess they would rely on the children. Through thick and thin, I have always helped my parents, working in the City and helping them at weekends. It's the least I can do. Going and getting drunk in the evening doesn't interest me; I've done all that at university. As you can imagine being in an English society, the influences rub off and somehow mum wants the Chinese-ness in us to remain, which I find extremely difficult. I guess mum is a control freak. My dad also tries to control my life (not to go out drinking too much, too many late nights, marry a Chinese girl...the list is endless). I know all parents want the best for their kids but to the Chinese success is judged by the money you have, and health and quality of life come second and third. Funny as it may seem, I am starting to learn to deal with mum's manipulation and controlling manner. I am now the one that tells mum and dad to slow down and in times of crisis not to worry about things, as things will turn out okay.

My mum is very tenacious and always had goals in her life that she has achieved. Its pretty remarkable to start a new life in a foreign country with its amazing mix of cultures and values, yet somehow try to keep your own culture strong enough to be passed on to your kids. This is not to mention running a business without the knowledge of reading, writing and understanding the English language. When we were young mum would worry about us, whether we would cope at school and how we'd adapt to the English way of growing up. Now that we are all grown up she worries about us getting good jobs and finding suitable marriage partners. That's our mum - a born worrier!

What keeps my mum strong is her faith in the Buddhist religion and paying respect to our ancestors. She chants in the morning daily, also taking time out from her busy working week to visit the temple in London. She made sure her brothers and sisters had raised the necessary funds to board a boat to get out of the country. Even now, mum still buys clothes and food parcels to send abroad to her siblings in Switzerland. Sometimes I have to take two steps back and look at myself because I think I am like my mother. But I could never have gone through the hardship and tribulations she has - and survived!

I often ask myself, why can't I have a mum that stays at home and cooks dinner for the family or massages her husband's shoulders after a hard day's work? But in dealing with mum and dad's troubles, as well as my own, I have shown maturity beyond my years. Not to mention the experience of life it has given me for being who I am today.

My mum's life is truly a script for a Hollywood blockbuster or even a best seller but then so are the lives of hundreds of thousand courageous people escaping for a better life, and for future generations driven by the need to survive. But you can't deny, my mum's life is truly a 'Life less ordinary'.