THI, 87: I remember Anh’s mother was in labour for a long time.
I went home to make congee, but by the time I brought it back,
I’d missed the birth. When she was a year old, Anh’s mum and
dad went to escape Vietnam on a boat, but the captain refused
to take a baby, so they entrusted Anh’s aunty and me with
looking after her.
I was praying at the temple all the time – for them to be safe on
the boat journey and for Anh to grow up strong. It was a very hard
time. Her mum said if anything were to happen to Anh, she’d kill
herself, so we kept Anh inside the house like a diamond. We didn’t
want anyone to steal her. There was this one time when an aunty
tried to pick Anh up and she was so scared, she said, “Fuck you!”
without knowing what it meant. She was only two or so. She was
so cute and chubby as a kid, and so smart.
When I was Anh’s age, I was a housewife. Back then, it was
socially acceptable for husbands to have mistresses. I was the first
wife and my husband had children with a mistress. I already had
nine children, but when I saw that his mistress was struggling with
her three kids, I decided to take them in as my own. People looked
down on me for lowering my status to below the mistress, but
I did it anyway.
After the Fall of Saigon in 1975, my husband was sent to re-education
camp because he was a police officer under the former government.
Traditionally, women stayed home and didn’t work, but after that,
I had to sell everything in the house and sell lottery tickets on the
street to make money. One time when I went to visit my husband
in the camp, I didn’t have enough money to return to Saigon. I’ll
never forget the woman who gave me $5 to get home – I’ll always
be grateful to her.
When I arrived in Australia, I thought it was so good that there
was welfare and good healthcare. No one would give you free
money in Vietnam. I’ve tried to teach Anh not to care about
what people say, and to show love to the poor. Do what you can
to help. I’m very proud of the way Anh helps other people and
those around her.
ANH, 32: Grandma was born in Saigon. She was the only child –
her dad passed away when she was seven – so she always wanted
a big family. My earliest memories are from growing up in our house
in Saigon with her, Grandpa and my aunty. They were very protective
of me and spoiled me inside the home, but didn’t let me go outside.
I arrived in Australia with Grandma in 1991 at the age of five.
There’s a tape of us stepping off the plane, with me meeting my
parents and sister for the first time. We had an arrival party after,
but then I had to go home with my parents, and Grandma had to
go to an aunt’s house. I cried so much they had to bring Grandma
to the commission flats so I had a familiar face.
Eventually, Grandma came to live at the flats with us. At one stage,
we were on level 8 and she was on level 4. We’d always talk on
these walkie-talkies – our MacGyver-like dad installed them so we
wouldn’t use the costly landline. After school, my sister Dai and
I would walk back to Grandma’s, eat and watch classic Asian series
like Monkey Magic.
My relationship with Grandma is pretty cheeky. Sometimes I can’t
believe the things she says – she has a really dirty sense of humour.
She loves affogatos, hot chips and Hawaiian pizza. We play around
with her a lot, too. Recently, at our cousin’s wedding, we wheeled
her onto the dance floor and did wheelies with her. We’re very close
and I feel like she opens up to me a lot. The relationship between
grandkids and grandparents is almost like a secret language –
you can confide in grandparents because they’re not the ones
who discipline you.
She worries about me a lot, though. She lives next door, and there
are times when she’ll say she didn’t sleep much because she was
waiting to hear my car come home. It’s tiring at times, but I’m lucky.
She’s the only person who’s been with me my entire life.
My favourite thing about Grandma is that she’s such a kind person,
but so tough. When my sister and I were younger, she’d take us to
orphanages in Vietnam and show us what reality was like for some
people. She taught us responsibility and to help out when we can;
that we’re survivors, but we’ve got to give back, too.ANH & THI