SAIGON :The six letter word that embodies a culture, a tradition and a heritage.
30-04-75: The six digits that tore it all apart.
‘Home is not where you live, but where they understand you.’ The words of German author, Christian Morgenstern encapsulates the lives of over 3 million Vietnamese people, who fled from the suppression, turmoil and obliteration of their Vietnam.
Forced to sacrifice their lives, the 30th April 1975 not only marks the fall of their city, Saigon – but more importantly their culture, heritage and home. As a foreigner, looking back on one’s past, it is difficult to wholly understand the experiences of a Vietnamese refugee after the fall of Saigon. One can be told stories. One can be given recounts. But one may still not understand.
As an Australian-born Vietnamese, it is this understanding that I strive to acquire. The understanding of what tore lives apart on the 30th of April 1975. The understanding of the culture and heritage that once was, and still is.
It is this understanding that I strive to maintain for a generation who call Saigon, their home – the understanding that has been shrouded and suppressed by the workings of a dictatorial force.
Behind the historical and political significance of the 30th of April, lie the stories of millions of Vietnamese people. The stories of displacement, loss and defeat, that have been told and those that haven’t. Brought up, I was told one of these stories.
Forced to escape when the guard’s lights were circling the entire district in the early hours of an awakening day, crawling on her hands and knees, her wrists were bound to the front of the rickety boat. Braving the raucous seas for nine days, enduring the shortage of food and water, she was forced to abandon everything she owned – forced to abandon her Saigon.
The 30th of April to her, is not only a day to commemorate the South Vietnamese soldiers, who fought for her country, but rather the obliteration of her culture, tradition and heritage. It is not only a day of grief as she remembers the Communist flag, raised above the South Vietnamese presidential palace, but rather one to mourn the death of friends and family members lost at sea.
The 30th of April to me, not only marks a cornerstone of my identity, but rather one that has shaped my family to how it is today. It is not only a day of sorrow and sadness as I am told of the sacrifices that were made, but rather one of understanding – understanding what this day means to the South Vietnamese people, who too, are my people.
My mother’s story is just one of many millions.
It is my generation that need to see beyond the illusions that have been made. Beyond the fabrication of a culture and heritage that once was. Beyond the obliteration of the Saigon that once was. And although the 30th of April 1975 marks the day a culture, tradition and heritage were torn apart – it is the stories and memories like these, that piece them back together again.
30-04-75: The six digits that tore it all apart.
‘Home is not where you live, but where they understand you.’ The words of German author, Christian Morgenstern encapsulates the lives of over 3 million Vietnamese people, who fled from the suppression, turmoil and obliteration of their Vietnam.
Forced to sacrifice their lives, the 30th April 1975 not only marks the fall of their city, Saigon – but more importantly their culture, heritage and home. As a foreigner, looking back on one’s past, it is difficult to wholly understand the experiences of a Vietnamese refugee after the fall of Saigon. One can be told stories. One can be given recounts. But one may still not understand.
As an Australian-born Vietnamese, it is this understanding that I strive to acquire. The understanding of what tore lives apart on the 30th of April 1975. The understanding of the culture and heritage that once was, and still is.
It is this understanding that I strive to maintain for a generation who call Saigon, their home – the understanding that has been shrouded and suppressed by the workings of a dictatorial force.
Behind the historical and political significance of the 30th of April, lie the stories of millions of Vietnamese people. The stories of displacement, loss and defeat, that have been told and those that haven’t. Brought up, I was told one of these stories.
Forced to escape when the guard’s lights were circling the entire district in the early hours of an awakening day, crawling on her hands and knees, her wrists were bound to the front of the rickety boat. Braving the raucous seas for nine days, enduring the shortage of food and water, she was forced to abandon everything she owned – forced to abandon her Saigon.
The 30th of April to her, is not only a day to commemorate the South Vietnamese soldiers, who fought for her country, but rather the obliteration of her culture, tradition and heritage. It is not only a day of grief as she remembers the Communist flag, raised above the South Vietnamese presidential palace, but rather one to mourn the death of friends and family members lost at sea.
The 30th of April to me, not only marks a cornerstone of my identity, but rather one that has shaped my family to how it is today. It is not only a day of sorrow and sadness as I am told of the sacrifices that were made, but rather one of understanding – understanding what this day means to the South Vietnamese people, who too, are my people.
My mother’s story is just one of many millions.
It is my generation that need to see beyond the illusions that have been made. Beyond the fabrication of a culture and heritage that once was. Beyond the obliteration of the Saigon that once was. And although the 30th of April 1975 marks the day a culture, tradition and heritage were torn apart – it is the stories and memories like these, that piece them back together again.