Lily Hoang, Linh D. Hoang
Hope: A Story About Vong
Hope
a story about Vong
By Lily Hoang & Linh D. Hoang
Illustrations by John Crisostomo
This story is written to understand and appreciate one family’s journey from Vietnam to America and their hope for a new beginning.
Sincere gratitude to our parents,
Ms. Trinh T. Phan
Mr. Dinh N. Hoang
In memory of the hundreds of thousands of Vietnamese people who perished on the way to freedom; we pray that they may now enjoy lasting peace. Their sacrifices will not be forgotten.
I was hungry and you gave me something to eat; I was sick and you took care of me; I was a stranger and you welcomed me in. We are thankful for the people around the world who champion for freedom, stand in solidarity with our immigrants, and work to keep our families together; you inspire us all to live up to our highest ideals.
Part 1 — Escaping Vietnam
“Look, Grandpa! My kite is flying so high!” Vong exclaimed with a wide smile on his face as he held on to the string of his kite.
Sure enough, his blue and white rhombus-shaped kite floated so high above him that it seemed a part of the sky. It seemed as if it wanted to fly away, too, along with the strong westward wind, but Vong gripped the end of the string tightly in his small hand. It was his favorite toy, after all, along with the handmade bamboo flute that was in his pocket.
His grandfather merely smiled, holding on to the rope attached to the large water buffalo his family owned.
Every afternoon, after school, Vong would take the water buffalo down to the Mekong river with his grandfather. Other than that, he was also in charge of feeding their pigs and chickens while his parents and three older brothers worked on the farm.
Vong was eight years old and the youngest of four children. He lived with his family, as well as his Grandma and Grandpa, in a small mud house in the middle of a green rice paddy.
As soon as they reached the river, Vong pulled down his kite and gave it to his grandfather. Then, he handed his flute to his grandfather just before jumping into the river to swim alongside the water buffalo. Vong’s grandfather no longer liked to swim so he just sat on the riverbank and watched Vong while playing the flute.
When it was getting dark, Vong’s Grandpa called out to him. “Vong, the sun is going to set, get out of the water and let’s go home. Your Grandma should have dinner ready soon.”
“Yes, Grandpa.”
Vong quickly got out of the water and he, his Grandpa and the water buffalo headed home under the amber skies. Dinner was Vong’s favorite part of the day because it was the time when his whole family would gather together and share their experiences that day. Also, Vong’s Grandma was in charge of dinner and she was an excellent cook.
“I wonder what Grandma cooked for dinner tonight,” Vong thought out loud.
His grandfather smiled. “You will know soon enough.”
Indeed, when Vong arrived home, he immediately knew what was for dinner. It was his favorite pumpkin soup!
As soon as his nose picked up the delicious smell, Vong’s stomach started rumbling. His Grandma, however, warned him to stay away from the pot with a stern look.
“Go and change your clothes, Vong,” she said. “We’ll wait for the others before we eat.”
Vong did as he was told. Right after he had changed his clothes, his mother, father and three older brothers walked in the door, looking tired but still happy. They all washed up, then, everyone sat around their small table, lit with a bright lantern in the middle, so that they could eat dinner.
Vong slurped every last drop of his pumpkin soup in no time at all. “Cảm ơn, thank you, Grandma!” he said.
“I am glad you liked it, Vong.” His grandmother smiled at him, showing her perfectly black teeth.
After dinner, Vong’s Grandma rushed him to bed early. Vong was a little puzzled that he had to go to bed earlier than usual but he did not complain. He was tired, after all, and it was not like he had anything else to do, except stare at the sky, which was pitch black without any stars at all. Soon enough, he fell asleep.
Hours later, he was shaken out of his deep slumber by his Grandma.
“Wake up, Vong!” she said in an urgent whisper.
“Why, Grandma?” Vong asked, reluctant to get out of bed.
“We’re going on a trip, but you have to be very quiet,” his Grandma answered. “Now, stand up!”
Vong wanted to ask some more questions but something in his Grandma’s voice told him he shouldn’t. Quietly, he got out of bed and as soon as he was on his feet, his Grandma grabbed his arm, pulling him out of their mud hut so that he didn’t even have time to put on his slippers or grab any of his things, even his precious bamboo flute.
Barefoot, he ran as fast as he could behind his Grandma, his two older brothers, mother and Grandpa ahead of him and his other older brother and father behind him, all of them staying close together under the cover of the dark night. Vong didn’t know why they were fleeing or where they were headed but he dared not ask. He simply tried to keep up with everyone else, not wanting to be left behind.
After a while, Vong heard some dogs bark in the distance. Then, he heard his father speak in a whisper.
“We must hurry,” his father said. “If the village patrol catches us, we will be sent to jail.”
At the words, Vong ran faster, gripping his Grandma’s hand tighter. “Grandma, I’m scared.”
“Shh, don’t cry,” his Grandma pleaded. “Just keep going.”
Vong obeyed, willing his feet to go as fast as they could, ignoring the mud that is beginning to coat the soles of his feet as they go through the rice paddies and step on puddles. Vong still couldn’t see anything but as they continued running, he thought that they were heading for the river.
Vong was right. Soon enough, he picked up the scent of the river breeze and while he paused to catch his breath at the riverbank, he saw a tiny, wooden fishing boat. Vong and his family climbed aboard and went inside the cabin. There, Vong recognized some of the other families from his village and he was about to greet one of the children he knew when the captain of the boat spoke.
“No light, not a single noise or crying.”
Vong nodded. As the captain shut the door to the cabin, his family huddled together, packing themselves into their corner of the cabin like sardines. Vong sat with his Grandma, wondering what would happen next. Soon, he heard the engine roar to life, the only sound amid the silence all around him, and he smelled the kerosene from it. He felt the boat moving, too, and he knew that the boat was going down the river, drifting into the dark of night. Exhausted from his flight, he, too, drifted off into the darkness of sleep.
Part 2 — Voyage To The New World
When Vong woke up, it was already morning, a faint sliver of sunlight seeping in through a small hole in the boat. Vong took a peek through the hole and he found himself looking at dense palm trees lining the river on each side, the river opening not far ahead.
Vong was still confused, but it was slowly becoming clear to him that they were leaving their homeland. He wanted to ask why and where they were headed exactly, but since everyone else in the cabin was quiet, he decided to keep silent. He would have wanted to stretch his legs and go out for some fresh air, but he somehow understood that they had to stay inside. There was still a chance that they could get caught by the river police.
Vong sat quietly beside his Grandma and thought of their beloved water buffalo, as well as his kite and his flute. He suddenly wished he had brought both with him. There was nothing he could do about it now, though, and looking around at all the other people squeezed into the cabin, he realized they did not have many things either and so he decided not to complain.