exiting their home country

My parents were Boat People.

They left Vietnam.

They met at the secret spot to make their escape in the night outside their village in Kiên Giang, a coastal province in the tropical Mekong Delta region of southwestern Vietnam.

It was a perilous journey.

My biological dad heroically steered a cramped 15-person boat for four days and nights to safety as refugees to Thailand then to the Philippines.

During the journey, my father fell in love with my mother.

I suspect he may have fallen in love with her as a child growing up in the same village. She was very beautiful, and still is. But my mom was from a very respectable family, and had many suitors growing up, so he never felt like he had a chance.

And out of respect for my mom’s family, as the journey was made possible through funds by my Ông Bà Ngoại.

Ba và Mẹ.

One night, their bodies touched on sleeping tarps at the refugee camp.

I was conceived.

A Vietnamese baby girl.

Born in Bataan, Philippines.

According to my biological mom’s brother, my Cậu 3:

Refugee camp life included a daily ration of 7.5 gallons of water for washing, bathing, and drinking.

Meals consisted of a small bowl of rice with fish sauce, or if they were lucky, a sliver of low quality, fatty chicken or beef.

The sleeping arrangement was a 1m x 2m section on the ground where they would roll out their sleeping mats for the night.

Makes my van life setup sound like a dream.

They made the dangerous journey with nothing but the clothes on their back and hope for a better future.

They made many sacrifices to come to the US. There was a lot of uncertainty then, but somehow they pulled through. This gives me hope that we can make it through any tough times.

Be well my friends.