Kin-man Ly
1 March 2002

My name is Kin-man Ly. I am 25 years old. I was born in Saigon, Vietnam in 1976 in Saigon Hospital. In 1979, my entire family embarked on a journey half way around the world in order to start the rest of our lives in England.

My family is from a small village, south of Vietnam called Song Mao - about 30/40 minutes drive from Phan Thiet, the fishing town in South Vietnam, which is the fastest growing tourist town in Vietnam.

The village mainly consists of Ethnic Chinese families and the main language spoken is Cantonese. I have no memory of the village, no memories of the first three years of my life in Vietnam or the journey my family took on one June night in 1979.

I remember when I was a child, listening to my mother describe where we came from, I'd imagine dusty roads, shacks for houses, same scenes when watching Chinese films with my parents that were set in rural villages. My first sight of the village was very similar to those film sets.

I was three when I left Vietnam and returned for the first time last year. It was 22 years since I have been to the country of my birth. In my village I saw the house that I lived in for the first three years of my life, met neighbours who remembered me when I was a baby, strolled down the street alleys that I used to go to my grandparents house.

I went to Vietnam with my boyfriend; Ladi and we meet up with my mum and aunt who were also there on holiday. When we arrived in Phan Thiet, we were sitting in an outside restaurant on the beachfront and my mother told me this was the place were we had boarded the fishing boat:

One June night, 390 people left on a small fishing boat from the shores of Phan Thiet. It was night. It was windy, the sea was very choppy, my mother was scared - she cannot swim - she had a 3yr daughter and a 1 year old son. She was too scared to board the boat - she begged my father to stay, saying she couldn't go through with the journey - my father said there was nothing to stay for: leaving war torn Vietnam was the only option.

My father carried me onto the boat, then my brother and helped my mother on board. My mother's family were also with us, my maternal grandparents, my four uncles and two aunties and three young cousins. Also with us was one of my aunts from my father's side (rest of his family went to America) and a great cousin who was my mum's cousin - his family was left behind. In those days, only families who could afford to help pay for the fishing boat were allowed to board.

We drifted in the South China Sea for three days before spotting a large cargo ship. Men put a yellow flag with large black letters, "SOS" on top of our boat. Eventually the ship spotted us and got everybody on board. It was only known by the number 036. But when you talk to the people from the fishing boat, the way they tell the story, the look on their faces when describing their journey, you know that they are sure that they owe their lives to the ship and it's captain, John Appleby who allowed us on board.

It was a surreal moment for me, I was sitting just a few hundred yards away from the place where we started our journey to a place where I call my home - England.

Phan Thiet is a beautiful place but is becoming very modernised. Whilst I was there, there were about ten hotel resorts being built by the beachfront and there were large billboards everywhere advertising these fantastic hotels "soon to be opened!" I guess there is a price to pay when one beautiful country becomes popular with tourists and backpackers because of its natural beauty.

Vietnam is becoming a tourist destination. As most people who have been to Vietnam have experienced, there is a two-tier pricing system: one for the locals and one for the tourists. Tourist normally pays double what a local pays. I could pass as a local, together with my mother and aunt who both speak Vietnamese; but my boyfriend, who is Nigerian, had to pay double for everything.

Because of his nationality and his colour of skin, he got stared at a lot. In London, we don't even think twice about an inter-racial couple walking down the street. In Vietnam, however, many people have never seen a black person, let alone, a black person holding hands with a Chinese person. I remembered when we were in my little village and we were visiting the small temple in the middle of the village; a mother brought her two small children into the temple and I heard her say "come here and look at a black man".

I didn't find the people in Vietnam as friendly as the people in Hanoi. Hanoi is a very touristy place (also a very beautiful place, you notice the influence of French architecture in the main town) so they are treated very politely and helpfully. But down south, especially in Ho Chi Minh City (I find it very strange that the city I was born in has a different name now) the people don't care if you are tourist or not. There are tourists in Ho Chi Minh City but it's such a manic city (I thought London was the busiest city in the world but it's nothing compared to Ho Chi Minh) that the people don't care who you are or where you are from - they just want to get about their business.

Having said that, we met a lovely couple while in Hanoi. They were on holiday - they lived just outside the centre of Ho Chi Minh City. It was funny trying to communicate with them. The wife spoke Vietnamese whilst the husband spoke little Cantonese and no English. When he was trying to communicate with Ladi - it was such a funny sight. He only thing he could say perfectly in English was "Ladi"!

After my two weeks in Vietnam, I can honestly say I feel very lucky and proud to be born in such a beautiful country and grown up with Chinese traditions. At the same time, I feel very thankful that my parents took the journey to England, back in 1979.