SOS! You and God save us

approached, a ladder was dropped down and the boys and men climbed up. A rope cage then came down for the women and children. We had been rescued! As the last one left on board, I looked over the boat one final time. Oh dear, this was farewell!

A young came to tell me that the captain wanted to see me. We went to his office and were surprised to find four people there with lunch all set out. I was embarrassed and felt a bit awkward standing in front of them. The young man stood up and made some introductions:

‘This is Mr Noel, the captain. Mr Duncan is the first mate [deputy captain], Mr John is chief engineer and I am the mechanical engineer. Please sit down.’

‘There’s something we have to discuss’, he said. ‘A notice from my company has ordered us not to rescue refugees unless their boats have sunk. You saw us pass you, of course, but then someone here suggested we take a vote on whether to rescue you or not. You won.’ We were rescued by majority vote! He then asked me to read a document and see if I was prepared to sign it. He had to justify the rescue to the ship’s owners.

The document set out details about the boat, the number of people on it, their condition an so on, then described the circumstance: The boat was listing, the engine had failed and in any case it had no fuel. There was no drinking water, no food. I had no hesitation in signing it. I was really gratified when he told me our boat would be used as a refugee rescue boat, registered by their Singapore company. Everyone was satisfied. And we had a pleasant lunch.

Later that day my cousin and I went up on deck to enjoy the fresh air. The sky was blue, the sea was calm and a few dolphins were jumping up and playing alongside the ship. Some enormous and strange fish swam by, as did a squid that must have been two metres across. I suddenly felt very happy and said, ‘This is quite heavenly, isn’t it.’

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘If I’d known beforehand what a good trip this would be, I would have persuaded my wife and children to come along.’ I turned to look at him. His eyes were red and his face was full of emotion.

It was early in October when an Indonesian naval ship, the Kota Berani, came to transfer us to the island of Kuku.  After health checks, we were taken to our huts. These were made from timber poles with palm-leaf roofs. A long bed was made of sticks.

On 25 October, after we had been on Kuku for seventeen days, we were moved to Galang camp. There we were welcomed and led off by Tim, a dynamic, handsome young man with a black bushy beard who had come from Jakarta as a volunteer.

Galang was a well-organised camp. Anyone who lived there cannot forget the road extending from the wharf area through the Kampuchea Barracks, where there were temples, markets, the camp office, a clinic, schools and offices of the Red Cross, Save the Children and Tu-Do magazine.

Day and night people roamed up and down the main road, particularly in the evenings. It was a friendly road where it was easy to meet people. Young men and girls wandered around looking for lovers. Love flourished quickly, but, when one partner left for their new country, they said goodbye forever. That was the hell of love in Galang.

On weekends the churches and the temple were crowded. People came to consolidate their faith in God and Buddha. Father Dominici of the Catholic Church spoke Vietnamese and understood Viet history and culture, he’d lived in South Vietnam but was expelled when the communists took over. He understood deeply the pain of the refugees – their loss of loved ones at sea, being raped by pirates, having to eat dead bodies on the ship to survive, being bullied in the camp, being swindled …

Father Dominici was very much trusted in the camp, and he did a wonderful job in protecting refugees who were treated unfairly. He often preached about forgiveness and the challenges that were awaiting refugees in the countries where they would be resettled.

Six months after I arrived, I began work as a volunteer leader of the Unaccompanied Minors Centre. Unaccompanied minors had not been cared for until this new centre was established. They had missed out on school, they were undernourished, they were sleep-deprived and at night they would wander around the camp disturbing others. Some of them had been there for three years, and no country was prepared to accept them for resettlement. Several of the girls were pregnant and some of the boys often got drunk. There were deaths. They were a real headache to the camp officials.

The UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR) requested that the Indonesian Red Cross, Save the Children and the Catholic and Protestant churches cooperate to care for them, and I was one of the volunteers who came to work in the centre that was established. All we had at the start were a list of names and three empty barracks, but before long about five hundred children were accommodated in two of the buildings, the other one being used as the school.

We organised them into teams, each of about twelve children. On top of going to school they studied woodcraft and drawing and engaged in various other activities. In the evenings they were too exhausted to wander around the camp and disturb the others. All they wanted to do was sleep.

We worked and lived in happiness with the children. I remember their bright faces and fresh smiles and hope that they remember our time together with pleasure.

Some time later the United States Ambassador in Jakarta visited the Unaccompanied Minors Centre and had a long discussion with the Chief Migrant Officer. After several days all the children were called in for interview. Nearly all of them were accepted for resettlement in the US.

When I recall the tragic refugee stories of danger, death, piracy, rape and loss of money, my heart is broken still. But on the other hand I had a happy time working with the unaccompanied minors, and a very meaningful time.

Today I live in Australia. I want to thank those who offered us kindness during our journey of escape, and hope that I might one day see them again.

Quang is retired and lives with his wife in Adelaide.