“They told me we would be on land in an hour,” replied Ng
c Bích. “We haven’t made it yet.”
“If it is only an hour, I think I could swim that far,” replied H
ng.
Ng
c Bích laughed and said, “Not here. You would become like a block of ice at the fish market.”
“Quiet everyone! Lie down!” came a man’s hushed voice from the ship above.
H
ng quickly did as instructed. Soon the reason was clear as she heard the sound of a third boat. It chugged closer and closer ... before continuing past.
H
ng peeked over the railing and saw that it was another fishing trawler heading out to sea. Everything was okay.
Their trawler did make land in an hour and moored alongside a wharf. Two vans took turns relaying the passengers to their next destination. Eventually it was H
c Bích’s turn to stumble down a wharf into a waiting van.
“My legs ... they are acting strange,” said H
ng.
“We are like sailors,” said Ng
c Bích. “At sea many days.” They reached the van and crawled in the back with several other passengers. The driver was a Vietnamese man. He told them he was a fisherman and would take them to his home nearby.
“Just like Hanoi,” commented H
ng, gesturing around the van from where she sat on the floor. “Another crowded van filled with the same people. Maybe we’re still in Hanoi.”
Ng
c Bích smiled. “Same, same, only different. It is colder. We are in Canada.”
The fisherman’s home turned out to be a house set back from the highway in a forest. H
ng had a glimpse of the heavy moss on the roof of the house and the peeling olive-coloured paint on the siding while being ushered inside to join her fellow passengers in the basement of the house.
Once in the basement, H
ng felt like she had entered paradise. The room was warm and the floor was scattered with blankets. There was a bathroom, complete with a shower for them to use, and even a television set. Few people from H
ng’s neighbourhood would ever be able to afford a television set.
H
c Bích looked at each other and smiled. Excited voices drew H
ng’s attention to the far side of the room where several of the passengers were standing near a stove. A real stove! Not a hot plate. H
ng was awed. That a simple fisherman should own such a place—is it possible?
A large pot of boiling water was on the stove and some of the passengers who had arrived earlier were dumping Dungeness crabs into the pot. H
c Bích quickly joined in.
A short time later, H
ng crawled under a blanket. Her stomach was full and it didn’t take long for her to fall asleep.
It was many hours later when H
c Bích staring at it intently.
H
c Bích said, “Good to look. Learn English.”
H
ng found herself watching a show called CSI. It was about the American police. It was a show she found engrossing. They are the police and they are scientists. Very smart these American police ...
The fisherman came downstairs to tell them that because the ship was early, they would have to stay in the house for another three days before continuing on.
H
ng smiled. She was anxious to meet her new family, but after what she had been through in the last six weeks, this was like being told she would have to stay in a palace.
The fisherman produced the list of paper that H
ng had seen prepared by the bald ape and the vulture in Hanoi. The names were called out and everyone was divided into two groups, except for H
ng, who remained standing alone.
Then came the bad news. Only half the women were being smuggled into the United States. The other half, including Ng
c Bích, would be staying to work in hotels in Canada.
H
ng pushed through the group and grabbed her friend by the arm. “Say something! Come to America with me!”
Ng
c Bích took the fisherman aside and talked to him quietly. H
ng saw him shake his head and she felt a lump in her throat. She wished that her father had sent Linh with her. Now the loneliness crept into her body like the morning fog that swirled past the doors of H
Chi Minh’s mausoleum.
Ng
c Bích returned and said, “It is not all bad. I must work in Canada for only a few months. Then I will be sent to America. I have been selected to work at hotels owned by three men. They are Vietnamese. The Tr
n brothers. I am told that one of them is taking you to your home in America. He will know where you are. We will see each other in a few months.”
