Kim
September, 2000
Sam wondered why Kim was offhand and dismissive. He would have known if he’d looked at her eyes; red and almost shut from trying to settle the new baby through the night. It wasn’t as if he’d shirked his duties; he was up at one and again at three to change a nappy and rock the little one back to sleep. But while he slept around those interruptions, Kim stayed awake hanging on each breath as the baby sniffled and spluttered.
He tried to break through the coldness in the kitchen with some small talk, just meaningless chatter to connect with his wife.
‘Coffee?’ he asked again.
‘I’ll get my own.’
Sam paced the kitchen, cradling the baby while Kim wiped the table again and unpacked the top shelf of the fridge. If she stopped moving, she’d fall asleep. It was time to go because it was the 15th, and he was rostered on for early morning playground supervision. Kim would have to manage.
There were a couple of students he wanted to catch up with; a chance to chat in the playground before classes started. Katey and Shane had promised so much in their earlier years with the indigenous art they’d done for him. But lately they had become disinterested, and he wanted to know why.
He collected his keys from the kitchen bench but stalled because he felt there was something he’d forgotten. Oh, no! He took a deep breath to give himself time to choose his words.
‘I was thinking…er… that maybe we can celebrate at Michael’s restaurant tonight,’ he began. ‘It won’t be quiet and romantic, but it’ll be fun... I thought we could ask a few people to come along.’
Kim stopped what she was doing, took baby Anh from his outstretched arms. ‘That would be nice, I suppose.’
He pushed his luck a little further. ‘I have something for you; you’re hard to buy for but I think you’ll like it.’
‘Well, okay,’ she said, cuddling the baby and kissing his forehead. ‘You’d better get going.’
‘I was going to ring Michael last night, but things got pretty hectic.’ He was babbling now. ‘Could you give him a call?’
‘Yeah okay,’ she said. ‘I want to talk to Mai anyway.’
It was safe now to give her a kiss, just on the cheek. He wasn’t going to push his luck. He headed for the door and with his back to her, let out a pent-up breath. He’d dodged a bullet but had created another problem - what the hell was he going to get her at such late notice?
Kim moved to the lounge room and settled down on the chair to feed Anh. She was tired but the thought of a night out with family and friends was nice. Her brother, Michael, loved a celebration and his wife, Mai, was thrilled that their twin six-year-old girls had a new baby cousin to lavish their affection on.
Sam was sure that Michael would invite others too, friends from Kim’s childhood. He enjoyed Michael’s and Mai’s company; their warmth always made him feel part of the family. But not until he secured a gift, would he be able to relax.
He admired Michael for other reasons too - the struggle they had been through in the early years when his name was Duong. Since, he’d worked hard for years to make the restaurant one of the most popular in Cabramatta, a busy suburb in Sydney’s west with a very distinct Asian influence. Now, with success from years of toil, Michael and Mai were able to take a step back and allow a trusted manager to run the place.
~
Since the 1990’s, the number of authentic eating houses had proliferated in Cabramatta, the working-class suburb that had been through a complete facelift since the first arrivals of Vietnamese refugees after the fall of Saigon in 1975. For a generation of immigrants and their newborns, life in this Vietnamese pocket of outer Sydney was volatile and dangerous.
Being children in a strange place, Kim and Duong had defied the odds. It was a place where the cohesive family structure that had been so important in Vietnam had been obliterated by the war. Unsupported in a foreign land, remnants of many families were left in tatters. Young refugees floundered without the guidance and security of family support, and a huge part of a generation was lost to the streets of Cabramatta.
By 1979, Prime Minister Fraser had dismantled the remaining threads of the White Australia Policy by opening Australia’s doors to the many refugees arriving by boats. The policies of multiculturalism were being rolled out by the government while at the same time, an underbelly of gangs and drug-fuelled violence was festering on the streets of Cabramatta.
Politically, xenophobes cited the Vietnamese as demonic and a demonstration of all that is wrong with Asian migration, further dividing the nation over the issue. It was a long road for the community of Cabramatta to reach the turn of the century in-tact. With tenacity and voice, the suburb forged a remarkable though politically tumultuous turnaround.
Kim’s brother, Duong, known more widely as Michael, was one of the many hard-working refugees who became part of the fabric of change. His small restaurant, along with numerous others that were part of the Asian streetscape, offered authentic Vietnamese food to the locals, and created a demand for fresh produce markets that offered exotic fruits, vegetables, seafood and freshly slaughtered animals. The air in Cabramatta was alive with the natter of shoppers getting the best deal they could from the merchants in the shops and stalls.
It was fast becoming a vibrant ex-pat Asian town not dissimilar to those of the old country. By the year 2000, the restaurants, food stalls and markets attracted people from all over Sydney and beyond to sample the hub of Southeast Asian culture in the suburbs. Michael’s restaurant became known as ‘Duong’s’ and had grown to a capacity of over twenty-five tables, most of them fully occupied on any day or night of the week. It was a place full of noise and merriment.
~
Duong’s was typically crowded on the night of Sam’s and Kim’s wedding anniversary. Crockery clattered as diners passed around dishes to be shared amongst the laughter and lively chatter. Against one wall of the restaurant was an enormous fish tank, from which a fish or even a lobster could be selected for cooking.
In the corner of the expansive room was a large television that usually played videos of Vietnamese musicians. On this night however, it was broadcasting the opening ceremony of the major event of the year, the Sydney Olympic Games.
With Michael and Mai at their table, and Anh snug in a pram between Sam and Kim, their gathering was always going to receive the VIP treatment. While they were enjoying the first of many dishes, the waiters and waitresses were also focussing on another fifteen large tables of people that filled the rest of the room. They were there to celebrate a Vietnamese wedding, a popular way to commemorate such events at Cabramatta. The bubbly mood of that celebration was infectious, spreading across the entire restaurant and reminding Sam and Kim of their wedding feast at Duong’s two years earlier.
Amidst the festivities, Sam’s eyes were drawn to the opening ceremony on the television screen. At one point his attention was totally captivated as the rock band Midnight Oil staged an unexpected protest. It was against the Prime Minister, John Howard, for his refusal to make an apology on behalf of the nation, for the historical policies of removing indigenous children from their parents.
With a world audience, they removed their outer garments mid-song to reveal the word ‘sorry’ written in bright white letters on the black shirts. In the packed stadium where the ceremony was continuing, and across the nation where people watched on their television sets, Midnight Oil’s act prompted a wide spectrum of responses ranging from bitterness and anger to enthusiastic support.
Sam was captivated, and he thought of Katey and Shane, the two indigenous students in his senior art class. He remained troubled as to why they had stopped painting. For some time, he had grappled with the issue of reconciliation between modern Australia and its first people, struggling to accept the Prime Minister’s aspirations for the nation to be comfortable with the doctored history they’d been taught. He pondered the fate of those living on the margins, who were not part of Howard’s vision.
Later in the opening ceremony, Cathy Freeman, the indigenous world champion 400 metre runner, lit the Olympic Cauldron to unleash a massive circle of flame which would sooth those in the audience whose conscience had been pricked. The weight on the gifted runner’s shoulders was immense, knowing that in a few days she was expected to produce a world-beating run to satisfy the population’s hunger for results.
Sam was lost to the others at the table. He wondered when the nation would acknowledge the wrong turns along the way, own the injustices and start to do something about them. He thought about Katey and Shane. If the national mindset shifted in that direction, he pondered, we might feel more comfortable about being Australian.
Kim picked up on Sam’s preoccupation and shook his arm to bring him back. ‘Are you okay?’
‘What? Yeah, I just remembered I left my gift for you at home.’ He looked at the people around him and the spread of food on the table. ‘And it’s just a small thing, but it’s beautiful.’
At that moment, Michael leant over in front of his sister to speak to Sam. ‘Do you mind if I change what’s on the television,’ he said. ‘The bride and groom have requested some Vietnamese music, I have a special one, just for weddings.’
‘Sure! Music will be great!’ Sam said. ‘I bet it’s the same video we had two years ago.’
‘Ha, you could be right! Have a look and see!’
The night rolled along, with people feasting and jumping into the conversation as soon as their empty mouths would allow. Anh was content in his sleep, waking only once for Kim to feed and change his nappy.
As waiters began to clear the table, Michael stood and rearranged a couple of chairs, sitting down next to Sam. With wine and full bellies, the mood of the night became more reflective. Michael reminisced, reminding Sam of the first time they met on the coast when they were all kids. ‘We’d only been in Australia for four years,’ he said. ‘You were one of the first non-Vietnamese people we spoke to.’
‘Just kids,’ said Sam remembering. ‘Well, you were older, not that much though.’
‘That day was like a test for us,’ said Michel. ‘A chance to try out some of the Australian words we’d been practising.’
‘You were doing fine and now look at you and what you’ve achieved, especially your beautiful family.’
Michael nodded and went quiet for a moment.
‘It’s been a hard road,’ he said. ‘Lucky we even survived the boat trip; all that time on the water...’
‘Do you think about it much? I know Kim still has nightmares.’
Sam’s words hung there as Michael stared blankly across the table.
‘Are you okay?’
Michael’s hands trembled around the glass he was holding. ‘I’m not sure what the worst part of it all was... escaping the village in that putrid boat... leaving my parents behind without even having the chance to hug them and tell them I love them... nearly dying out to sea; even now I can’t stand the thought of getting onto a boat.’
‘I don’t know what to say,’ said Sam. ‘I worry about Kim too sometimes... the days when she goes quiet.’
‘She’s remembering, Sam,’ he said as he nodded slowly. ‘She wishes that we’d been able to see our parents again...wishes that they had been able to make it here with us.’
‘I can’t imagine what you went through. I don’t think anyone could unless they were there.’
The two men were interrupted by Mai. ‘This all looks way too serious.’
‘Ha,’ said Michael, bringing himself back into the celebration.
‘You might want to have one last drink, Sam,’ she continued. ‘Kim has sent me over to tell you it might be a good time to leave soon. She said that Anh’s in a solid sleep and he’ll need a feed when you get home.’
‘Party pooper!’ said Sam.
‘Hey, don’t shoot the messenger!’
‘This has been lovely, Michael,’ said Sam. ‘But it’s time to start saying our goodbyes.’
‘You do that,’ said Michael getting to his feet and holding his hand out for Sam to take. ‘Just one thing before you go.’
‘Sure, what?’
‘Talk to Kim,’ he said. ‘When she goes quiet, wait for the right moment. Then talk to her and let her know that you’re there to listen when she’s ready. She saw things that no one should ever see, especially when they’re a child. She needs you to know.’
~
The days were getting longer with summer approaching and the warmer air was an encouragement to get a bit more out of each day. It was a short drive home from the local high school where Sam worked, and he loved to spend an hour or so in the backyard getting his hands dirty. It was a tranquil time to come down after a day of teaching; a time to mull over the unfinished business of the day.
His students, Katey and Shane had been missing a lot of days in recent times, and he felt frustrated that they weren’t painting at school like he knew they could. How it would connect them and how much the rest of the class could learn from them. The situation mulled over in his head.
Kim had returned to nursing for a few days each week now that Anh was toddling, and she felt secure leaving him with Mai. On those days, her twin girls rushed home after school to play with him.
One afternoon Kim collected Anh from Michael and Mai’s place after her shift at the hospital. It had been a difficult shift, right from the handover at the start of the day when she was briefed about one of the patients, a seventy-five-year-old Asian woman suffering a heart condition. She was frail and the lines in her face told many stories. She thought about her own mother.
Over the day, she learned a little about the woman’s past, and that she was from a part of Southern Vietnam that Kim had never been to. The old woman had also come to Australia by boat, though between the two of them there was a respectful understanding that neither wanted to talk about that part of their lives.
Around the dinner table that night, Sam picked up on Kim’s distant mood, recognising the signs that she was slipping into one of her quiet times. He had planned to give her the small gift that he had in his pocket, something special from his world, but this wasn’t the time. He knew that she liked to be left alone at these moments but remembered what Michael had told him.
‘Kim, are you okay?’ he probed. ‘I know sometimes you just like to be left alone, but I really need to know.’
‘I’m okay.’
‘You know you can tell me anything you want,’ he pushed. ‘I can just listen.’
She looked at him in the eyes and shook her head slowly. ‘Just had a bad day, that’s all.’
He remembered Michael’s words. ‘I am your husband, Kim...’
‘Stop, Sam,’ she snapped. ‘Can’t we just leave it?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Look... if you must know, there was an old woman in the ward, from Vietnam.’
‘Okay, and?’
‘She made me think of my mother... She just got me thinking, that’s all.’
‘I know a little about that part of your life Kim,’ he said. ‘A bit about what you went through... it must have been awful.’
Her eyes stared into the distance. Too much had been held inside. ‘I’ve never spoken about it before, not even with Michael.’
‘I think you need to tell someone about what happened and I’m here right now.’
‘It’s hard to talk about. I don’t even like thinking about it. After we got to Australia, for months after and then years, we just wanted to forget what happened...’
‘I can’t imagine.’
‘How can anyone forget leaving their parents behind like that; they were never going to survive.’
Sam leant forward and looked down at the table. It was already more than she had ever spoken about before. She put her hand on her forehead to shield the eyes that were beginning to well up.
‘It’s okay, Kim,’ said Sam, moving closer and putting his arm around her.
‘I still have nightmares about the boat,’ she said. ‘It was so crowded, and we were thirsty; hungry too but it was being thirsty that was the worst.’
‘You’ve never told me anything about it before. I’m glad you can now.’
‘Sam, we would have all died if it wasn’t for Michael.’
‘He saved you?’
‘There was this man, one of the older ones and he was crazy.’
‘What did he do?’
‘Whenever anyone would fall asleep, he would worm his way towards them and try to take their water... and he got away with it a lot.’
For the first time, she began trusting him with her story.
‘What happened to him?’
‘When we were in the middle of the ocean somewhere... only the sea in every direction and nothing else, for days we didn’t even know which way we were going... except for Michael and another older boy, the boss of the boat, they knew somehow...’
‘What happened?’
‘The crazy man tried to take over.’ She stopped for a moment, her voice faltering. ‘He tried to push people off the boat, anyone who tried to stop him. He had a knife and cut people. There was shouting and people screaming!’
‘Did he hurt you?’
‘Not me... he cut Michael though, on his arm and would have done more until...’
‘Go on, until what?’
‘Michael went into a rage, I’ve never seen him like that before or since. I thought they were both going to go over the side until it all stopped.’
‘Just like that? They just stopped?’
‘There was blood everywhere, the crazy man was holding his chest and mumbling something that no one could understand. Then he stopped.’
‘And?’
‘Michael and the boy, the boss of the boat... they pushed him into the water; it was so red. Everyone went quiet for hours, we wished we never saw what just happened, all of us sitting squashed up in the boat and hoping, praying that we were going in the right direction.’
Kim began sobbing, as the torment of what had been held inside for so long spilled out.
‘Sam...’
‘Yes, Kim,’ he said hugging her more tightly,
‘Please, can we... never talk about this again?’
Sam put his hand on hers. ‘Okay; only if you want to.’
He lifted his hand to retrieve something from his pocket. ‘Remember the chain I gave you for our anniversary?’
‘Of course; I wear it whenever we go anywhere.’
‘I’m glad you like it but I have something else for you too,’ he said. He passed her a painted flat rock about the size of a drink coaster.
She dabbed her eyes with her shirt sleeve, taking short breaths to stop the sobbing. When she was able to, she took the rock from his hands. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘It’s beautiful, but what is it?’
‘Katey’s first painting for me in two years. This side, all those dark swirls and lines - it’s her past.’
She looked at every swirl and dot. ‘It looks sad somehow, but so beautiful,’ said Kim, flipping the stone over. ‘And this side? The red and yellow dots and circles? It’s so bright and lovely.’
‘That was Shane’s work,’ said Sam. ‘He painted Katey’s future.’