Escape from Saigon (5 page)

Many orphans, like this young boy and his baby sister, begged on the streets of Saigon to support themselves

The older the child, the harder it was to find an adoptive home. For older Amerasian children like Long, it was hardest of all.

*   *   *

After a month at Holt, Long was still getting used to new ways of doing things. The first time he pushed the handle on a flush toilet, he jumped back, startled by the swirling water. It seemed peculiar to be going to the bathroom inside a house instead of outside. Taking a shower was also odd. Long was used to washing with some water and a rag. A shower was like standing in warm rain, only you used soap and shampoo.

But the strangest thing was learning to eat with a fork. Long had never used anything except chopsticks. It was easy to pick up food with those. Trying to stab something with four prongs made little sense to him.

The food was also different. Long wasn't used to much meat or to sweets. The cook at Holt used lots of rice and noodles, foods he loved, but added things like canned beef. Whoever thought that meat could come in a can! The cook made pudding, which he liked, and cookies and cakes. Nobody seemed to mind how much he ate, and his thin frame began to fill out.

Good food and plenty of it was one of the best things about Holt. Long also liked being with the other children, especially the boys his age. One day Ky decided to teach him to tie shoelaces. Long didn't have any shoes, nor did the other children, except for the rubber sandals they sometimes wore, but Ky said that in America, children wore shoes, and you needed to know how to tie the laces. He learned with a pair of laces belonging to Miss Anh, their teacher, struggling to master the art of looping and threading, until he could produce a strong knot with both laces the same length. He couldn't imagine he would ever need to know this strange American skill.

Mealtime at Holt is full of activity

Because all the children were waiting for new families, they talked constantly about adoption. On a bulletin board near the administrative offices on the first floor was a large map of the United States with colored pins stuck in states where children had already gone. Amy proudly pointed to California and pulled out the photo of her new family, which she always kept with her.

“You want to see it?”

Long did. His eyes went past Amy's new sisters and father to the blond woman with the big smile. Amy said her new mother had written a letter saying how much she was looking forward to meeting her new daughter. She said Amy would have her own bedroom.

Long was surprised. “Why would you want that? It's better to sleep near people.”

“Not there,” Amy said uncertainly. “Americans are rich. They have their own rooms.”

“Won't you be scared?”

Amy said she hoped it wouldn't be too bad, though she agreed it was better to sleep close to other people. She also said she should be leaving for America in the late fall. “I'll be there for Christmas,” she informed him.

“What's that?”

She looked unsure. “I think it's like Tet. Only you don't wear costumes. And you cut a tree, and put it in your house and decorate it.”

Long laughed. Americans did some strange things. But from what he had heard, America was still a good place. Americans had plenty of food, and they were far from war. They had lots of schools and colleges, and when you grew up, you could be anything you wanted. It was hard to believe that was true—didn't your family decide that for you?

Long studied the hallway map, trying to learn the names of the states and wondering what each one was like. But when he thought about America, he worried about Ba. How could he leave his grandmother behind? Shouldn't he stay at the Holt Center so he could see her once in a while? So far she had not come to visit. He missed her very much, and if he went to America, he could
never
see her.

His days settled into a routine of school and play. School was held on the flat roof of the building. It was hot up there, especially during the summer, but at least there were tentlike coverings to provide shade. Long liked peering between the railings at people on the sidewalk below. He liked looking at the buildings around them, and seeing planes take off and land at nearby Tan Son Nhut Airport. Someday maybe he would be on one of those airplanes, flying off to meet his new family.

On Holt's rooftop school, teachers help students with their schoolwork and craft projects

It seemed like every week or two, several children left to go to new homes. Usually it was younger children, but whenever it was one of the older ones, he felt anxious. What if no one ever wanted him? Or what if someone
did
want him and he had to leave? He didn't like thinking about going so far from Ba and from the place where he had his memories of his mother.

He couldn't complain about being at Holt. He felt safe and well cared for. There was usually something fun to do. Sometimes the children went on special outings. They walked to a nearby pool to swim, or they played at parks in the area. One time they went to the Saigon zoo. There were only a few animals left because the zoo did not have money to care for more. Those that remained looked thin and sad. The tiger had lost clumps of hair. Miss Anh said it was because the tiger didn't have enough to eat. Once the zoo had been the pride of the city. Maybe, if the war ever ended, it could be again.

Miss Anh became Long's special friend. She reminded him of his mother because of the gentle way she treated him and because of her soft laugh. Several times she took him to visit her home and eat with her family. She lived with her parents and two brothers, and they always welcomed Long. Miss Anh even had a small Honda motorbike and took Long for rides on it. Sometimes they went to the market to shop. He still thought the market was a treat—although now when he went, his stomach didn't rumble with hunger.

One of the best things Miss Anh did was take him to his first-ever movie—
King Kong.
Long was on the edge of his seat the entire time, so excited he could hardly sit still. He stared in wonder as the lights started to go down and he saw the first flickers of color on the screen, then screamed with delight and dread, clutching Miss Anh's arm whenever the huge ape made an appearance. When the movie was over, Long begged to see it again, but Miss Anh had no more money for tickets. She told him he would be able to see lots of movies in America.

That fall of 1973, Amy left to join her new family in California. She promised to write. The other children were happy for her, but envious too. Long started wishing for three things: a new mother, a new family, a new home in America.

Still, his mother and especially his grandmother were always in his thoughts. Six months had passed since Ba brought him to Holt. Had she forgotten him? Was she okay? Why hadn't she come to visit?

Then, one afternoon, when he had just finished his studies on the rooftop and was going outside to play, he spotted her coming into the building. He ran to her, and she opened her arms to him, hugging him tight. For the next two hours, until she had to leave in order to be home by dark, the two of them walked around the area and then sat on the bench outside the Holt office. Ba told him she had to work every day of the week just to support herself, and it still wasn't enough. She did not want to return to the village, for she felt safer in the city and she wanted to stay closer to him.

When she left, she promised to return as soon as she could. As it turned out, this was not until the following spring. By then, Long had been at Holt a year and, in May 1974, had turned eight years old. This time, when Ba came to visit, she brought him his favorite meat sandwich. He could tell by how thin she was that she was not getting enough to eat, and he urged her to keep the sandwich for herself or at least share it. She would not hear of it, and was not satisfied until he had downed the whole thing.

They sat on a bench near the playground and talked. She said she was pleased at how much he had grown. She patted his arm. “They feed you well.” She grinned, showing her dark teeth.

“I've been here many months, Ba.”

“They say to find a home for a boy like you, it takes time. I hope it is soon.”

“But when I go, it will probably be to America, and you won't see me anymore.”

The smile vanished from her face, and Long was immediately sorry he had said this. He took a deep breath. “I could come home with you and find a job and help out. Then we could stay together.”

Her faded eyes stared into the distance. Her hair was completely white now, and her hands more withered than before. “There is nothing for a small child. And I have no extra rice.”

When she said goodbye and started her long walk back home, he stood at the gate and waved as long as he could see her.

Once again, sadness engulfed him, swirling around the hole in his heart. Why hadn't his mother stayed alive to care for him? Why couldn't he stay with Ba? Would he ever have a family? Where did he belong?

He did not go back into the Center for several minutes. He didn't want the other children to see his tears.

4

A F
AMILY FOR
L
ONG

Late one fall day in 1974, as Long played with a group of children on the playground, he saw Ky hurrying toward them, a big smile on his face. “I'm going to be adopted!” Ky blurted out. “They just told me. A family in Canada chose me. My new name is David.”

The children gathered around him, sharing his excitement. They repeated his new name over and over, commenting on how odd it sounded. Long joined in. He was happy for his friend, but he wished he were the one making the announcement.

In school, Long worked hard at learning English. He mastered words and phrases like “hello” and “thank you,” and sentences like “I am hungry” and “I am happy to meet you.” In December, the teachers decided the children would put on a Christmas program for all the staff and invited guests. Long learned to do a special dance and to sing carols like “Silent Night.” He took the singing very seriously. If Americans sang these songs, then he wanted to learn them.

A Christmas card arrived for the children from Amy. She described her new home, with its swimming pool, fireplace, and playroom. The children were wide-eyed with wonder as they read the card. Why did one family need its own swimming pool? And what was a fireplace? Was it a place where you cooked food?

On a rainy afternoon a few weeks later, Long was called to the office. He left class, his heart beating hard. Maybe his grandmother had come to visit. He had not seen her in many months. Or maybe … But he couldn't even hope for that.

A social worker greeted him and offered him a chair. He sat down as she studied some papers on her desk. She looked up. “I have some good news for you, Long.”

He held his breath, trying to concentrate on what she was saying. Then he heard the words, “We have a family who would like to adopt you.”

Long thought his ears must be playing tricks on him. But she repeated her words, assuring him it was so. “They live in a little town called West Liberty, Ohio, and it's you they want. I think we can have all the paperwork done in time for you to leave next June.”

Long's heart was pounding so hard, he could hardly hear his own voice when he asked in a whisper, “Do I have a new name?”

“You do. It's Matthew. They want to call you Matt.”

Matt. Another strange American name. He thought for a moment. He had always been Long. Could he become someone else?

Matthew. Matt.

Finally he took a breath. “That will be okay,” he said.

And then he smiled.

*   *   *

The family that had chosen Long was the Steiners. Jim Steiner was a doctor. His wife, Mary, was a homemaker. They had three sons: Dan, age seventeen, Doug, fifteen, and Jeff, thirteen.

For two years the Steiners had been working their way through all the application forms and paperwork to adopt a Vietnamese orphan. Back in 1960 the Steiners had lived in South Vietnam for six months. Jim had worked as a missionary doctor with people suffering from leprosy—a horrible, disfiguring disease. When Mary gave birth to their son Doug at the leprosarium hospital, Jim was the doctor.