An Unforgettable Trip   

   While waiting to pick up a close friend recently at Union Station, I was reminded of an unforgettable train trip that my mother and I took in 1981. We went to visit my father, who was living in a re-education camp in northern Vietnam. It was a difficult time for us all, and the political situation was terrible. Our trip from Binh Trieu Station to my father’s camp taught me the strength of my mother’s love for my father through hard, strange, and stressful times.

   On December 20, my mother and I carefully packed rice, sugar, salt, milk, meat, and several kinds of dried fish to take to my father, who was being held in Hanoi.  Early that morning, we rushed off to Binh Trieu, a small train station near my house in southern Vietnam.  After buying two tickets, we got on the train, found two seats, and stored our luggage.  It took us almost four days to get to Hanoi, arriving in the evening.

   When we got to this city, which we had never visited before, we felt like fish out of water.  After getting off the train, most of the other passengers quickly dispersed because they knew exactly where they wanted to go.  We, on the other hand, felt lost because we didn’t know how to get to my father’s camp or what transportation we should take.  Then a man standing beside a motorcycle with a small trailer attached came up and asked my mother, “Where are you going?”  When my mother explained that we were going to visit my father at Hanoi’s re-education camp, he smiled and said, “Don’t worry.” He continued, “I’ll take both of you.  It takes about two hours.”  He helped us put our luggage into the trailer.  Finally, we arrived at my father’s camp at midnight, and my mother paid the driver.

   We were taken to a cottage that had no furniture or electricity.  There were some candles burning on the walls.  The air in this low-roofed cottage was very humid.  Over thirty people were waiting there to visit husbands, sons, or other relatives.  Because of the long trip, we were quite tired, so we fell asleep on the ground almost immediately.  The next morning, the director of the camp came and told my mother that we had to wait at least three days to see my father, that we could see him for only one hour, and that it was an annoyance for him to have to arrange for visits on such short notice.

   My mother and I were deeply disappointed, but we waited and slept in the cottage without blankets. The evenings were cool and the nights rather cold. As a result, I got sick, and my mother had to stay up at night to take care of me. My mother expected me to improve, but I only got worse, so she cried and requested that the director allow us to visit my father sooner than scheduled. Finally, he reluctantly agreed.

   I had tried to imagine my father’s appearance and voice, but it was hard because I hadn’t seen him for eight years.  Although I was sick, I sat up in a chair in a small room beside the cottage waiting with my mother to see my father. At the same time, seven other women and four other children were sitting around waiting for their relatives.  Everyone was silent; we just looked at each other without talking. Suddenly, the door opened.  Eight men stepped in and sat down face to face with their wives, children, and friends.  At that important moment, my father, who was thin with darkened skin, sat opposite us.  My parents looked at each other but didn’t talk for a while.  When I looked around, I saw other people looking at each other without speaking.  My parents had tears in their eyes.  My father held and kissed my mother’s hand.  A little later, my father held me tightly, kissed me on the forehead, and asked me many everyday questions such as,  “How are you?  Have you been good?  How is school?  What are you doing in your free time?  Did you go somewhere last summer?”  He listened to every single answer, touched my face, and reminded me of something he always included in his letters: “You must obey your mother and help her in any way you can and not forget to write to me whenever you have time.”

   I was deeply moved by my father’s appearance, voice, and words back then.  The visiting hour had gone by so fast that I couldn’t believe it.  However, I felt very satisfied and happy to have seen my father.  After that, my mother kept visiting my father twice a year until he was released on June 8, 1987.  My family came to the United States in 1993.  Since then, my father has been working for an electric company, and my mother has been staying home taking care of my father, brother, older sister, and me.  I’m often reminded of our amazing trip and the strength of my parents’ love when I look up and see him eating my mother’s cooking with us at the dinner table.