The first time we tried to leave Vietnam, the boat sank. At that time, I was only 4, but I remember being on Dad’s back while he swam to the shore.
Mum and Dad were separated, and one year earlier, she had left by boat for Hong Kong with the intention of supporting my sister and I by finding work there. At that time, there was a mass exodus of people leaving post-war Vietnam.
Then, my Dad decided to follow with me, leaving my sister with my grandmother. The idea was that if . . .