V

Year: 1979
*I was born in Vietnam. *
I was born in Vietnam. But I'm Chinese. I've been alone all of my life.
I had a rough childhood. My sister and I sneaked out of Vietnam of my
Evil Uncle's fishing boat. I was ten. My sister 18. There are moments in
Evil Cradling that reminds me of the torturous existence. Our bodies
were cram together like sardines on the boat. We drifted aimless. I lost
track of time. There was an only horizon of days just a thin line
between sky and sea. A large boat rescued us. We had not eaten for days
and the boat was full of chickens in a large cage. I was feed chickens.
At night, I slept in the hull of small boat one the deck. I looked at
the stars. It was a happy time. Once we reach a small island along the
archipelago of Malaysia, we were ecstatic to touch a piece of land. The
water is beautiful but lonely if there were no lands near. I learn to
swim. We had to build our own shelter and cemetery. There were a few
deaths. Some infants died. There was not much privacy. But the beach was
beautiful and romantic. The waterfall was like paradise. Women bathe and
washed their clothes. We go up to the hills for firewood and timbers to
make beds. I remember not having any one to talk to. There was this sort
of scared silence and waiting. The island is a purgatory. I just
absorbed the situation. I had no language to express or capture my daily
experience. Now I am sort of obsessed with my fading memory of the
island. I am obsessed about diaries. I visited St. Lucia two years ago
just to be near the climate and the waves of the tropic again...