Asian American X: An Intersection of Twenty-First Century Asian American Voices

5. Comings and Goings

5 Comings and Goings Vinh Nguyen Breast milk: It’s the reason why I am here today, healthy and alive and able to share my experiences as an Asian American in this country. Aside from its nourishing attributes which encouraged my growth, breast milk is the essential reason why I am here—in the United States—and not in Vietnam, where I would have been, had it not been for that oh-so-tasty and enriching refreshment enjoyed by countless millions of screaming infants out there. Yeah, you’re probably scratching your head right now, wondering if all this nonsense has a point to it . . . Well, it does; it just takes a while for that point to come into fruition. So read along! Smile! Shed a tear! Relate! You can do just about anything, so as long as you take a moment at the end to re›ect upon your own experiences as Asian, and as American, in this country. Asian American: You. Me. We. (Extremely corny line, admittedly.) Going Year: 1981. Setting: Small village on outskirts of Hue, Vietnam. Rice paddies everywhere. No electricity. No running water. No nothing. Situation: People are running back and forth, grabbing things, dropping things, losing things. Many of them are getting ready to board ‹shing vessels and sail away from their homes, their families. To where? And why? Clouds and smoke pollute the sky. [Enter my Mom, holding an infant of three weeks wrapped in a bundle of sweaters. Her three-year-old son, Phuoc, is by her side. The infant is crying.] Mom [talking to the bundle of sweaters; well, actually, not to the sweaters necessarily but to me, the infant, who is buried within the sweaters—it just looks as though she’s talking to the sweaters; whatever, you get my point]: Oh dear! Oh dear! How will I be able to go? I can’t bring you along. You’ll surely die out there in the open seas! But I can’t leave you here. There will be no milk for you to drink. Oh dear! Oh dear! [Enter my Grandmother. . She is also crying.] Grandmother: You must leave him here! There’s no way he can survive a twoweek voyage up the South China Sea. The winds are ‹erce, the monsoons are imminent. The poor baby will certainly die if you take him with you. Mom: That’s what I’m afraid of. But if I leave him here with you, how will he get his milk? Powdered formula is not available in this village and there isn’t anyone who will wake up in the middle of the night and breastfeed a crying baby! I am his mother; that is my responsibility. [Grandmother thinking. Her hand is under her chin. She’s thinking really hard.] Grandmother [shrugging her shoulders]: Ehh, you’re right. Okay, take the little shit. Just make sure he’s kept warm on the boat. But one thing: You have got to leave Phuoc behind. I am old. All of my children have left me or are leaving me, leaving this country. I have no one to take care of me once everybody’s gone. This is all I ask of you. Mom: But mother, I can’t— [Seeing that Grandmother is heartbroken and realizing that, yeah, she would be all alone, Mom changes her mind.] Mom: Okay, I’ll leave Phuoc behind. I don’t know how I could abandon my ‹rstborn, but at least I know he’ll be in good hands. [Sound of boat motors heard in the distance.] Grandmother: They’re beginning to leave now. Go, my dear. Your husband is waiting for you on the boat. [She picks Phuoc up.] I will take good care of this grandson and hopefully, you’ll take good care of the one you’re carrying. Go now, leave. Everybody’s leaving. [Grandmother, carrying Phuoc, begins to cry. Phuoc also begins to cry. Mom, too, begins to cry. The infant, by default, due to his young age and maybe a couple of Asian American X 40 clumps in his pants, has been crying all through the dialogue. Kisses are exchanged between everyone. People are running around everywhere. Confusion overwhelms. Mom reaches boat, with infant in arms, and climbs aboard. Husband is with her, along with many other people. Boat sails away. To where? To where?] That is the account given to me by...