Across the Water

It was a warm day, as it usually was in South Vietnam, and I traveled across the country. I was going to see my father and show him my new daughter. Her father was an American who had lived here before the war. I could only gather that he was there to escape his nagging, drunkard wife. I had met him while serving as a waitress and we were mutually attracted and the next thing I know I have a daughter. He is gone now. He left for America. He promised me he would come back, but how many do? So many women are promised that their boyfriends will come back for them, but as soon as they return to American, their wives and girlfriends in Vietnam are forgotten, not to mention not recorded. I could not wait for him. His friend was an attractive young man and I now dated him. But it was dangerous to be associated with American in these days. The North Vietnamese were brutal to anyone they thought so much as spoke to an American. What would happen to me if they found me with a half-American daughter? I could only wonder as I came into a small village and saw people running about, fleeing in terror. The North Vietnamese were arriving. In my city clothes, I looked like a building in a field. I would draw attention. Without a second thought I ducked into an abandoned hut and found some village clothes. I changed. Now for my daughter. Bending down, I picked up some dirt and rubbed it on her face until she was dark. There! Peeking outside, there was more bustle, but I didn't see any soldiers. Quickly, I hurried outside and carefully made my way away from the village. It was would be many miles before I could breath deeply. "Nghỉ," someone shouted at me. My heart shook with fear as I obeyed. "Bạn và có thì bạn sẽ là ai?" the soldier asked me when he reached me. "Tôi Thi và tôi đến thăm cha tôi," I explained who I was and where I was going, praying he would not inspect my daughter closer. "Bạn đã thấy bất kỳ người Mỹ hay kẻ thù?" He asked if I had seen any Americans or enemies - South Vietnamese soldiers. I shook my head calmly explaining I had not seen any. "Đi vào sau đó," the soldier ordered me on. I obeyed, grateful that my other daughters and sons were not there. Back home in the city I  had left my three daughters and two oldest sons from my first husband. He died fighting the North Vietnamese in the war. I had been well off with him, but now I had to provide for all my children on my own. It was a hard life, but I was not the sort to waste time feeling sorry for myself. We all have our struggles. I reached my father with no worse event and made it back to the city safely only to realize that I was pregnant again, this time with my new boyfriend's child. I could not let my pregnancy take away from my work, so I went on my travels again to gather supplies to sell as usual. I did not feel well about this journey. My baby was due any time and the North Vietnamese were ever close. The time came for me to give birth. My child was a son. Around the same time the soldiers arrived in the village. I ran with the villagers into a cave to hide. We were all terrified. I was still bleeding from giving birth. "Có ai trong đó không?" (Is anyone in there?) someone shouted. We were too afraid to answer. "Lên tiếng hoặc tôi sẽ ném một quả lựu đạn!" (Speak up or I will throw grenade!). "đợi!" I cried, "Wait!" The villagers stared at me as I ran out. I could not allow fear to hold me back now. Thinking quickly, I explained, "Xin vui lòng! Chúng tôi nghĩ rằng bạn là người Mỹ và trốn bởi vì chúng tôi đều sợ hãi. Không có người Mỹ ở giữa chúng ta, chỉ có nông dân Việt Nam." I told them we had thought they were Americans and hid because we were afraid. There were no Americans among us, I assured. Satisfied, the soldiers went away. I quickly finished buying my supplies and returned to the city with my new born son. I was almost back to the city when I stopped to rest. Near me I noticed a dying American soldier. My heart moved. There was nothing I could do for the poor young man, except... the sun was shining in his eyes uncomfortably. I glanced around. There was no one near. I took a giant leaf fallen from a tree and covered his eyes. At least he might die in more comfort if there was nothing else I could do. If a North Vietnamese soldier had seen me do that, he would have shot me. Finally, I was back in the city. My half-American daughter was named Xay May. Before her father returned to America, he wanted her to have at least one Vietnamese name, so we called her Xay, but I wanted to give her an American name, so we also called her May. That was the name we called her now. She was a wild little girl. When she was two, she would chase other little children away from our yard. She did not like them on our tiny yard. In the house we had not beds, only mats to sleep on. Professional photographs to remember the beauty of youth is easy to save up for, on the other hand. Two years went by since May was born when there was a knock on the door. By then I had another son. I opened the door and standing before me was May's father! He brought forth plane tickets not just for May and myself, but enough for at least four of my other children, too. He had worked long and hard those years mowing grass and anything else he could do to buy the tickets for all of us. He did not know about my younger children. There was nothing else to do and certainly nothing for me here. I broke up with his friend, I did not know if he would do what May's father had done and keep his promises to care for me. My two older sons were old enough to take care of themselves, but I could not leave my daughters behind unprotected. I was cried when I left my youngest sons at the orphanage, but nothing else could be done. With May and my three older daughters, we flew to America to live. Years later my oldest son and one of my younger sons came to America. My oldest took care of me while I took care of my younger son's daughter. My other son is doing well in Vietnam and in America I am still surrounded by my family. It was not easy to come to America, poverty stricken and without knowledge of the language. May's father drank a lot and although we eventually separated, I never divorced him, and when he grew old and died, I was sorry and received the flag with reverence at his memorial service. I keep it at my house, displayed among the pictures of my numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren. We all had our flaws and problems, some we could not live with, but at the same time, we all had our hearts that did it's best to shine through all our sins holding us back. I could not ignore his abuse, but I forever acknowledged as well his kept promises and good heart underneath. Many women were left behind. Many families were torn apart. Many hearts were broken. I lived in a dangerous world, but it did not affect my humanity. I thank God that He allowed me not to lose my family. I still have contact with all my children. I am still surrounded by my daughters, sons, and many grandchildren who care for me. He took care of me and has blessed me throughout all of life's trials and miseries and I plan to live long and strong as He continues to give me strength and joy.

(Based on a true story)