My family and I came to America in search of a better life. The journey was a long and dangerous task. But in the end, it was worth the risk.
At the time, the country had begun to recover from the war. But life was harsh. Living conditions were bad, food and water was scarce, and Vietcong soldiers would roam the street terrorizing innocent villagers. But the worst problems came from home.
My father (born and raised in Vietnam) was a gambler, an alcoholic, and an abuser, often took out frustration and anger on my mother. My mother, who was a part-time waitress and a housewife, had to raise 5 children and care for her parents. This was the custom way of life for most families in our country. The future looked dim.
My parents, wanting a better life for our family, decided to flee to America. A group of people, including my father, planned and organized an escape. A ship was stolen, filled with food, water, fuel, and other materials. Everyone met on a dock at midnight and boarded the ship. My family was the last to go. As we got on the ship Vietcong Soldiers came. The ship sailed away as they opened fire and shot at us. We were lucky.
The ship sailed for 3 weeks, in wind, rain, and storm. Inside, it was crowded and dark. Everyone was tired, sick, and scared. Things got even worst when we ran out of fuel and supplies. We were in the middle of nowhere and hope was lost. But another ship was detected a few miles away. No one seemed to know what to do. They feared it was the Vietcong soldiers. In the mist of confusion, my father proceeded for help. He waved at the ship, shouting and screaming like a rock star. When the ship came near, he leaped over and asked for help. Fortunately, it was the Hong Kong Guards. They gave us fuel and supplied us with food and water. Then they escorted us to Hong Kong. .
In Hong Kong, we stayed in a refugee camp for 3 months. Life was strange. We waited in long lines for food and water.
