Our fathers part 2: Unknown

Mum had plenty to say about Thi's father, her first love, but when I asked about sis, she knew only as much as I did.

Sis is a 70's child, and everything about her, from her pragmatism and quiet nature, screams this. Vietnam in the 70s was still the main character of the world's newsrooms, becoming an entire genre of American movies. American Vietnam war movies always featured handsome young white men tracking through tall grass, with thick palm trees covering the sunlight above them. With the camera focused on the main character, the audience can barely see the farmers in banana leaf hats and bamboo houses in the background. The houses were built with dry leaves and were never meant to last more than a few years. It was easy to see why our homes made for good cinematography when they were alight from Viet Cong bombs.

"You know, the Viet Cong burnt down your grandfather's house three times!" mum said.

"The first time they burnt it down, he had just finished building his new home. It was beautiful with painted tile floors and a sturdy brick roof. The second time they burnt it, he had just finished restoring the ruined tiles. The third time it happened, he rebuilt it into a cheap wooden house with a banana leaf roof. This house lasted the longest of them all."

Mum laughed and continued, "houses were always burning down, but what happened to your Ong Co, your great uncle, was so funny. He was old and living alone with his pet monkey when this happened. Like your grandfather, Ong Co kept a round table at his front steps with several plastic chairs so he could invite people to come to sit with him as they walked past the house. Every day, he spent hours with his cup of tea beside him, a cigarette in one hand and a fan in the other, talking with his neighbours."

"What did they talk about?" I asked.

"Fish, the weather, gossip, food. Not much different from today. Anyway, one morning he decided to go to the market to buy some fish for lunch. On his way back home, he saw a large crowd building nearby his neighbour's house. He could see smoke and was scared someone was in trouble, so he pushed through the crowd to help his neighbour. When he got to the front, he realised they were trying to stop a fire at HIS house! And to the side of the crowd, there was his monkey, standing at the front porch laughing."

Mum couldn't hold back her laughter and burst into a yell of delight.

"The monkey lit his house on fire!"

When Ong Co's house burnt down, the whole family laughed. What else was there to do than laugh? That was the village life in Vietnam in the 70s; things just happened, and it didn't have to be sad or bad. There had to be humour in even the worse of things because otherwise, there would only be grief.

Even though we all knew grandmother was the one who made the decisions, our family was proud to have my grandfather as our patriarch. Grandfather was born into poverty. His father, my great grandfather, was a drunk and unable to work. Hence, as the eldest son, grandfather inherited the responsibility of caring for his mother and siblings. The pressure suited grandfather well and shaped his work ethic and entrepreneurial spirit. While other villagers bought and sold materials they grew within the village, grandfather took the risk and travelled far into different cities to sell the things that could only be found in his village. He inflated the prices up to 100x what he paid. Once he emptied his cart, he would buy materials unavailable in his village and repeat the process back home. He was one of the few traders willing to travel so far and take this level of risk, so he became comfortably wealthy. With his wealth, he ensured all of his ten kids, the girls and boys, were well educated. These kids, my uncles and aunties, ensured their children and grandchildren were also educated. Education enabled my family to build generational wealth so that when a house burnt down, we could reach out to our network of over one hundred cousins, aunties and uncles for funds to rebuild it. Not everyone was so lucky to have a family support system like ours. For some, when their homes burnt down, there was no way for them to rebuild. The poverty meant that many families were made homeless and starved. Families with children often gave up their kids. Some were sold into wealthy homes as servants. Others were put to work. Some parents asked for nothing from the wealthy family but that they keep their children fed and cared for. This is how sis came to be a part of our Lam family.

Sis's name is "Hiep" which means to unite or be a warrior. However, most people called her "Gai", which means girl. My siblings and I called her sis.

Mum was considered progressive when she took sis in as her child. While sis was taken in to look after Thi full time, mum did not call sis a servant. She didn't even call sis her adopted child. Sis was her daughter, just like Thi.

"Gai was always a perfect daughter, very obedient, unlike you. I feel so guilty thinking about the way I bossed her around. I would scream out her name, and she would come running to my side; I never had to call her twice." Mum was progressive in many things, but her views about what made a good daughter were from the 1800s.

"Gai stopped school when she moved in with me and took care of Thi full time while I worked. She bought the groceries, cooked, cleaned, changed Thi's diapers and helped grandmother in her home. Village kids were so intelligent and independent, nothing like Western kids.

She refused to come with me, Thi and your brother Ti to the refugee camp. Thi was eight and old enough to care for Ti, so I let her stay in Vietnam. She only agreed to come to Australia after you were born so she could watch for you. She loves baby girls."

I thought of sis cleaning my potty every morning and teaching me how to touch my toes. Strangers we met always thought she was my mum because she was already twenty-three when I was born. Sis was so kind and the only adult I knew that loved me because I was a girl, not despite it.

"She was such a good daughter, and the boys could see how good a wife she would make. She had so many requests for her hand in marriage, but she always turned them away. Some of them were really handsome too! I couldn't believe that with all her options, she considered marrying Xuan."

Xuan was the class clown of our group of family friends. He had lanky arms and scruffy hair to match his personality. He often came to our house to care for me so sis could have a break or help mum with sewing. He wasn't book smart or even very street smart, but he knew how to make even the toughest of people laugh, and I think that takes a special kind of intelligence.

"At least the boy had the good sense of coming to me for permission before he tried to ask Gai." mum said, rolling her eyes.

"He cried and begged, falling on his knees at my feet. He kept bowing and begging; it was a sad sight. "Me o me!" (mum please mum) he had cried". Mum let out a slight chuckle at the memory.

"Good thing your sister followed my instructions; look at the good man she's married to now". Mum's choice of husband did turn out to be a much better choice than Xuan. The man mum approved works every day and has never beat sis. On the other hand, Xuan became an alcoholic and hasn't worked since mum denied his request for sis's hand in marriage.

"That's the price of loving too much," said mum, commenting on Xuan's depression.

"You know, before Gai's wedding, I found her biological mum. I got her phone number and gave it to your sister, but she tore it up! She said she didn't want to know anything about the woman that given her up. What an ungrateful child!"

"What about her dad?" I asked in response.

"The dad? Oh right, I don't know. That's a question Gai's biological mother might have been able to answer, but I guess he'll just be left unknown".

Sis's father, like all our fathers, was just an afterthought.