The other foreigner took off his jacket and Hang saw that he was wearing a golf shirt and slacks. His head was shaved bald and he had a large pot belly ... but it was his arms that caught Hang’s attention. She had never seen arms covered in so much thick, black hair. More black hair unleashed itself from the open neck on his golf shirt. It made Hang think of a bald ape and she quickly looked away so as not to be seen as being rude.
The two foreigners spoke to each other in a language that Hang did not understand. After, the bald ape turned to the Vietnamese man.
“Tell them all to stand,” said the bald ape, speaking English.
“Yes, Styopa,” replied the Vietnamese man. He then gave the command in Vietnamese and everyone got to their feet.
For Hang, the names Petya and Styopa were too foreign to pronounce. She would just think of them as the vulture and the bald ape.
The vulture and the bald ape approached each woman and pointed for them to stand on one side of the room or the other. As this happened, the Vietnamese man wrote everyone’s names down on two lists.
It is the Vietnamese custom not to look into a person’s face. To do so could imply a lack of respect. In this case, Hang sensed it was an uncomfortable shame the women felt as they stared down at the floor, wondering what the selection was all about. When the men reached Hang, the bald ape lifted her chin to face him, but she continued to avert her eyes.
“You are the young one,” he said. “You speak English?” he asked.
Hang nodded, but the man still gripped her chin, making nodding difficult.
“Let me hear you talk,” he commanded.
Hang swallowed and said, “Yes, I speak English. My father taught me.”
“Good. And you are going to the States to live with an American family, correct?”
“Yes, to live in the house of Mister Pops.”
“Mister Pops!” The bald ape glanced at the vulture and they both chuckled before turning back to Hang. “Your English is good,” he said, releasing her chin. “Your sister was supposed to come. Why didn’t she?”
“My father wanted me to go first. To make sure it would be good for my sister.”
“That is very prudent,” said the vulture. “Your father is a wise man, but you will see that you are very happy there.”
The bald ape grabbed Hang’s hand and held it up to show the vulture her extra thumb. Hang felt her face flush with embarrassment. The vulture spoke harshly to the bald ape in his own language and the ape dropped her hand. Hang felt his eyes upon her for a moment before they moved on.
When the men finished dividing the women into two groups, the bald ape walked back to one young woman and poked her in the ribs with his finger and turned to his Vietnamese colleague and said, “This one is too fat. Nobody will want her.”
The Vietnamese colleague said, “She is fat now, but she will be much thinner in six weeks when she arrives.”
The bald ape blurted out a laugh.
Hang had been warned that the voyage on the ship would be cramped, with little time on deck. It would be a tough journey, but one they were told they would forget completely once they arrived in America. Still, his cruel laugh—he is like the rats who live in the sewer. The sewer I must cross to America.
She risked glancing at the vulture. His face was cold, without expression. A slit under his beak cracked open and he said, “They are all okay. Get them to the ship.”
Moments later, Hang found herself crammed into the back of a large cube van. There was standing room only and she was glad that Ngoc Bích had remained by her side.
It was three hours later when they hurried up a wooden gangplank in the dark to the deck of a ship. The women were told to remain in the two groups they had been divided in. Each group was directed to a separate cargo hold.
They were told to climb down a ladder leading below deck and a man stood at the top of each ladder to help. Hang stooped to get on the ladder and felt the man grab the cheek of her buttock and squeeze tight while emitting a laugh.
Hang gasped but before she could respond, Ngoc Bích slapped the man hard across his face. He released his grip immediately and pulled back a fist to punch Ngoc Bích in the face. At the same time, another man’s voice uttered a command from the darkness for them to be quiet.
The man who had grabbed Hang scowled and lowered his fist. He grabbed Hang by the arm and made her go with the second group of women. She quickly made her way down the ladder into the cargo hold and, along with the others, stood waiting for further instructions.
An hour passed and, following the shouts and commands from above, the diesel engines coughed and rumbled to life, causing the ship to shake before it slipped away from its moorage.
A crew member eventually came down the ladder and told them the cargo space they were in was their home for the next six weeks. He pointed to a plastic pail that they could use for a toilet and pieces of cardboard on the floor for them to lie on. Nobody would be allowed up on deck for two weeks, after which they may be allowed up on deck at night only. The passengers looked at each other in shock as the crew member climbed back up the ladder and closed the cargo doors behind him.
Three of the young women started crying. Hang stared at them blankly for a moment before picking up a piece of cardboard and selecting a spot near the hull of the ship to lay it down. She was cold, even with her new coat, and brought her knees up close to her chest. She lay with her back to the hull, but felt the vibration of the ship’s engines and readjusted the cardboard.
When she was settled once more, she stared at a black cord with a yellow light bulb that hung from above, swinging with the movement of the ship. The dim light did not hide the fear she saw in some of the faces around her. She wished Ngoc Bích had not slapped the crew member. She felt exhausted. Maybe later they would be allowed to be together ...
Hang suddenly awakened to the sound of someone vomiting beside her. She felt nauseous, too, and moaned, grabbing her head as a piercing pain reduced her vision to flashes of light. The smell of diesel was overwhelming and water had leaked in, turning much of the cardboard mattresses into soggy masses.
The woman who vomited faced a string of obscenities from another neighbour, which only brought more angry voices and commotion from others. Another woman climbed to the top of the ladder and yelled and pounded on the cargo door. From somewhere in the ship, Hang heard Ngoc Bích yelling and the pounding clang of metal being struck with a pipe.
The cargo doors were opened and the women rushed to stand beneath as fresh air and rain came in from above. The crew member took only the first few steps down the ladder before cursing and going back up. He returned a few minutes later and tossed down a mop while ordering another woman to bring up the plastic pail so that it could be dumped overboard.
Three weeks passed and, despite the promise to be allowed on deck at night, had that luxury rescinded because of severe storms. The ship rocked and creaked as it was blasted by the wind and heavy waves. During this time, the cargo doors were closed again to prevent flooding. It was also the time when most people were sick.
On this night, the storm was worse than usual and Hang was one of the few who had managed to keep her food down. She waited until most of the others were asleep before deciding to take the opportunity to squat over the plastic pail.
She balanced her steps on the rollicking floor of the ship as she headed for the pail, only to see that it was overflowing. She wondered what to do just as the ship gave another violent heave, sending the pail sliding across the floor and tipping over. She decided to wait.
On the following night, the storms abated. It was January 29th, this year’s official beginning of the celebration of Tet Nguyê;n Dán, or “TET,” as it is commonly called, marking the lunar New Year. This year was the Year of the Dog. Today, their daily rations of rice, noodles, and fish soup was replaced with ample quantities of chicken, pork, and vegetables.