Trinh Ngoc Thu’s story
“The search for freedom has cost many Vietnamese their lives. Their bodies perished under the immense seas. I almost died again and again on that fishing boat; I was so close to becoming one of those lost souls.
My father was a well-known merchant and broke down in despair when our country fell to the communists. He died one year later, on the same day I sat my Baccalaureate exam. I studied Literature and worked as a teacher. However, it became unliveable under the communist regime and I decided to flee the country. A man arranged to get
me onto a small fishing boat with 35 other adults and eight children. He charged me $500 and told me it would be a five-hour journey across the sea.
At 1 am on 18th October 1980, I left my home, my family, my beloved mother. We’d barely left the shore when one engine fell from the boat. The other engine broke down soon after. From then on, the boat was subject to the wind blowing it adrift day after day on the wavy ocean. I was so seasick and constantly vomited.
We were running out of food and water. A German ship passed but refused to help us. Then one day our boat was boarded by Thai fishermen, who took us one by one and threw us on the [fish] catch on their ship. After searching us for jewels, they threw us back onto our boat and we continued our ordeal.
Without food and water, the children succumbed one by one. On the 22nd day of our journey we dropped the last three children’s bodies into the water. The adults survived by eating the snails that clutched onto the boat and drinking their own urine, but I was too weak to do that and could only lie motionless, waiting for death to come.
At times there was so much water in the boat, only my head was above the water level. On the 30th day of the journey a woman gave birth, but sadly the baby died. I was partly unconscious on the 33rd day when we finally reached land. Malaysia. When I tried to stand up, someone yelled and pointed at my legs. That’s when I realised something had consumed the flesh on my thighs. I cried out and fainted and was about to be carried off by the waves when someone swam back and brought me over.
My journey to freedom was the saddest and most heart-breaking experience of my life. I still cry when I recall it and when I think of my beloved motherland, Vietnam. I was depressed for many years after arriving in Australia.
I now have four grown up children and a beautiful granddaughter and work as a
Vietnamese language teacher. I named my eldest son Warren and my daughter Cathy after the two teachers in Adelaide who taught me English. My other daughter, Helen, is named after my library studies teacher.
I am deeply grateful to Australia for sheltering me in my time of greatest need.”
