Originally published in August 2009 Issue of The Dubliner
Thirty years ago, the Irish government allowed just over 200 Vietnamese refugees, on the run from war and devastation in their homeland, to settle here. Dean van Nguyen speaks to some of the original Boat People about how they survived, and eventually flourished, in this strange country
It’s a humid afternoon in South London, and in his living room Tien Van Nguyen is struggling to read an issue of The Dubliner. He squints at the glossy pages then leaves the room, returning with his reading glasses. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him wear them. Failing eyesight and a few wisps of grey hair are the first signs of this 45-year-old showing his years, but it’s not before time, since Tien has lived the kind of life you’d expect to cause premature ageing. I’ve travelled to London to interview him. It’s one of the trickiest tasks of my career, given his quiet demeanour and the fact that English isn’t his first language. And because he is my father.
Between August and September 1979, Tien, then just 15, and 211 other Vietnamese refugees arrived in Ireland seeking freedom, protection and a chance to rebuild their lives. Many left behind their families, in a country devastated by war and poverty. They didn’t know the language; few even knew where Ireland was. The story of these Boat People is one of this country’s true tales of human endurance, and one that has largely remained untold.
I myself knew shockingly little about my Dad’s own story, although we’ve always had a good relationship. It’s been nine years since he moved to London, and many more since we lived under the same roof, but relations remain strong. Tien has always been a quiet man and, predictably, is a difficult interviewee. He knows the reason for my visit, but shudders when I bring it up.
“You should talk to your auntie in Coolock. They have been very successful!”
He retreats further when I produce a dictaphone. It’s not that he’s secretive, or unwilling to relive his past. The Vietnamese have simply never sought the spotlight, despite the considerable media attention they received in the 20th Century. Even today, their existence in Dublin is pretty low-key.
“No one knew anything about Ireland,” he smiles. “I saw some photos and videos of Ireland before I came over. I remember seeing old pictures of the countryside, with horses and carts and everything. We were told it was a quiet country. People just wanted freedom – they didn’t care where they went.”
After the Vietnam War, many citizens of the formerly democratic South decided to flee the country rather than live under the new communist government’s regime. Some feared retribution when it was discovered that they had fought against the North Vietnamese forces, while others fled to escape ‘re-education camps’, essentially prison camps. There was also the threat of being forced to fight in the brief Sino-Vietnamese War that broke out between Vietnam and China in 1979.
“Vietnam was desperate at the time. Everyone wanted to get out,” says Van Bui, a Vietnamese refugee now living in Lucan. Van has lived most of his life in Ireland, but has never forgotten the harsh realities of Vietnam in the late-1970s. “There was no more war, but the communists were making arrests and people like me were trying to get out of the country. I’d been in the [re-education] camps for a while. They forced you to go, but would claim you went by your own free will. I tried to escape back to the city and make a living, but you could never live free. There was no freedom. So I got out in 1979 and went to Hong Kong.”
Fleeing the country was illegal under the communist regime, so travel by plane was impossible. The only option was to escape on a fishing boat or another makeshift sailing vessel; many of these were completely unsuitable for a trip into open water.
“I escaped Vietnam in a very small boat,” explains Tien. “About 150 people were onboard. With no space, you could only sit. We sailed like this for about five days.”
Often the travellers went days without food or water as they made their perilous journey across the South China Sea. It is estimated that 250,000 of those who fled Vietnam died in the stormy seas; 929,600 reached asylum. Many died when their boats were robbed and sunk by Thai pirates.
Hong Kong was the most common destination for the refugees. “Life in Hong Kong was so crowded because Vietnamese kept coming over. It was very hot as well, it just wasn’t suitable for long-term living. But we just wanted to get out of the camps. Most people wanted to go to America or a big country, but the Irish government came and interviewed some of us.”
Ireland herself was in bad shape in 1979. In the months before the arrival of the Vietnamese, the Troubles had reached new heights, and huge anti-PAYE demonstrations were taking place all around the country. The UN refugee agency had already requested that the Irish government allow a handful of Vietnamese families to resettle here in 1975 and again in 1976. Both times the request was refused on ‘economic grounds,’ but finally, under international pressure, the government allowed 212 refugees to enter Ireland (a tiny portion of the estimated 1.5 million who fled the country. America alone took 823,000 refugees; Britain allowed 19,000 in).
Dr Vera Sheridan teaches Contemporary Culture and Society in DCU and has researched the adaptation of the Vietnamese community to life in Ireland.
“There was pressure from the UNHCR [United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees] that all countries should take a share of the burden. The story received a lot of media attention. That number seems very small when you compare it to the States, but I can see a rational logic of the 212 in terms of a population of three million. It doesn’t seem particularly generous, but then again, look at the Irish economy at the time.”
Between Ireland’s economic troubles and the Vietnamese refugees’ lack of English, finding work was tricky. Some were eager to move to America or Canada where they had relatives, and where there were job opportunities.
“Many refugees wanted to get out of Ireland because there were no jobs,” Van remembers. He was fortunate: “I lived in Sligo and worked in a jeweller’s. I didn’t speak much English but the people were very good to me. There weren’t many Vietnamese in Sligo, but we took care of each other.”
For those who stayed, opportunities began to come their way, thanks to their reputation as hard workers. “I worked in Jurys Hotel,” remembers Tien. “About 15 to 20 of us worked there. Others started working in Chinese restaurants as well. After that, everyone saved some money so they could buy caravans.”
In the film adaptation of Roddy Doyle’s The Van, the main characters quip about being “fed by the Vietnamese.” This is how many Dubliners first came across them, as they spent evenings parked in housing estates selling curry chips and chicken balls from their food caravans.
The vietnamese in Dublin today have come a long way from the image of the ‘Boat People’ shown to the world 30 years ago. The food caravans are gone, some replaced by Vietnamese-owned takeaways in Dublin’s suburbs, run by family members. Minh ‘Michael’ Dam and his wife Mai have worked in takeaways all their lives, and now own the New Century in Glasnevin. For Michael, self-employment felt like an obvious move.
“When I first came over, I worked in the food caravans in Tallaght. I saw [Vietnamese] people doing well and when I had the opportunity to open my own takeaway, I took it. It’s been a great success.”
In 1979, four generations of Mai’s family came to Dublin; she was just four years old. “My family owned a food caravan, and then a takeaway. I suppose it was the only profession for us at the time. I started working in the caravan after school when I was about 12. It just felt natural that I’d stay in the industry, and when I married Michael, things fell into place. We’ve had our own takeaway for about nine years now.”
“Sometimes I work seven nights a week,” says Michael. “I don’t like sitting at home. I’d rather be working.”
The refugees were not oblivious to the 1990s property boom either, as Tien observes. “There were a lot of new housing estates being built around that time and some Vietnamese wanted their own houses. They got mortgages and bought in places like Coolock and Donaghmede. About ten families bought houses in Clarehall alone.”
Some choose to forge their path academically. Thinh Doan came to Dublin aged 14 with no English, and went on to win a Bank of Ireland Millennium Scholarship for people from disadvantaged backgrounds with academic potential. He studied Actuarial and Financial Studies at UCD. “I just try to work hard to represent my family and the Vietnamese community in Ireland,” he modestly asserts.
Despite his achievements, his humble nature is extraordinary. “I don’t even think you should be interviewing me,” he laughs.
Perhaps it’s this steely determination to make the best of their situation that will be the Vietnamese people’s lasting impression on this country. Many are now settled in Dublin with families, properties and businesses. The next generation has come along, and they embrace their Vietnamese values as well as their identity as Irish people.
Van’s daughter Leila studies marketing in DIT, and thinks her Vietnamese roots have had a positive effect on her life. “I think the Vietnamese have a really good work ethic. They never think they are above any sort of work and they work very hard. They are resilient and I’d like to think I could be that strong.”
There is a sense of pride among the new generation at what our parents achieved; when I suggest this to Leila she grins in agreement. “I guess I am proud of my Dad. He didn’t even know where Ireland was, and to come to a completely different country culturally and succeed, I think was a great thing.”
It’s a sentiment I share with my own father. The interview’s over now. We move into the next room to look at some pictures of his early days in Dublin.
“Got any photos of you with the mullet and ‘tache?” I joke.
“You’ve no Vietnamese values!” he sighs. “You’re too cheeky to your parents.”
October 07, 2009, 8:16pm Comments
