4 // COASTWEEKEND.COM
CLOSE TO HOME
By DAVID CAMPICHE
hree men ishing in a small boat
off the mouth of the Columbia
River. Three sitting, one talking. Talking
about a moment from the past, 40 years ago.
The listeners are rapt.
Back then, the days were interminably
long. Helplessly adrift, 60 refugees in a
boat, somewhere off South Vietnam on a big
ocean — no food, no engine — prayed for survival.
Pirates took it all. Left them adrift. 60 human beings
were cast to the wind and tide. On day six of their
epic journey — drifting, drifting — a ishing boat
pulled alongside.
“Here,” the sailors said, “60 small raw ish. Here,
ive gallons of water. Take, eat, drink.”
Each of the 60 players got little better than a
sip. They were all South Vietnamese, a stigma not
overlooked by the North Vietnamese, the victors of
decades of war against the Chinese, the French and
inally the Americans. The year was 1975. By now,
three foreign armies had deserted Vietnam.
The ishing boat disappeared on the blue horizon.
Nothing but sea. The sea and prayers. A blazing sun
beat down. Hopelessly adrift, babies cried in their
mothers’ arms. Mostly, they had run out of tears.
On day nine, the boat grounded on a Malaysian
beach. The survivors were summarily thrown into a
refugee camp. It was already stuffed with suffering
South Vietnamese. All were unwanted.
Before the boat, there were plenty of injus-
tices. The war was over, and retribution had
just begun. Bo Tran was interned in a North
Vietnam labor camp. Every day, says Bo, 10
or 15 human beings were gunned down inside
the prison walls. Don’t look, he says. Don’t
make eye contact with the assassins. Don’t open
your mouth —that is, other than to eat a single
spoiled tomato for breakfast and a cup of rice
for dinner. That’s all folks. That’s all there is.
For six months that was all there was. The day
Bo was released — that day (How? Why?) —
the man with a steely impassive face and steady
brown eyes, planned his escape. A yellow boat
on a great blue sea — pour family and relatives
in that fragile craft. Pray to the Lord.
Back in Malaysia — after the boat — the days
remained bleak, until inally, there was a break. A
Christian group in the United States essentially paid
bail. Sixty immigrants were delivered into the great-
est nation on earth, the land of the free. The same
nation that had waged war on their very country for
a decade and lost nearly 60,000 brave young men.
PHOTO BY DAVID CAMPICHE
After the Vietnam War, Bo Tran, who is South Vietnam-
ese, survived a labor camp, being helplessly adrift in a
boat on the ocean, and a refugee camp before immi-
grating to America as a refugee. He shared his story
recently with columnist David Campiche while ishing
on the Columbia River.
The Viet Cong were resourceful but still sacriiced
over a million people. Who ever wins at war?
Bo arrived in California penniless. His irst job
was washing dishes for two bucks an hour. Rent
devoured that. Twenty family members crowded into
a small apartment. Everybody contributed. Bo even-
tually graduated to pantry and then to line cook. Five
years later he was pulling $15 an hour as a capable
chef. California dreaming, he thought.
Bo bought a small house. During off hours —
there weren’t many — he ixed it up. Later, he sold
it. He bought a restaurant and then lost the business.
Rallied again. He was becoming good at that. He put
money down on a larger home, an investment for his
future. Then another miracle: His Caucasian boss
offered Bo a deal.
“I’ll back you. I’ve made a lot of money this way.
At larger real estate. Gamble more, make more. You
game?”
Is the Pope Catholic? With assistance, Bo bought
a four-unit apartment.
Bo was on his way to the coveted American
Dream. The Vietnamese man worked long hard days,
seven a week, often 12 hours a day, to cover that
dream. Here in American, he earned his way. His
daughter, Linda, is now an attorney in a Seattle law
irm, a brilliant student and high-achiever. Like her
father, she blossomed like a rose.
The political debate this year of 2016 remains,
to say the least, contentious. Much of that debate
centers around immigration and its consequences.
To be or not to be? To stay or return to persecution,
in some cases, torture and death. Bo and his family
know reality. They know the hard ball and the long
ball. And honestly, they are going nowhere outside
the shores of North America. But what if they hadn’t
been served a pitch to hit? What if they weren’t
given a chance? America is about opportunity.
You know: Grab the tail of the comet, and hang on
iercely.
Ask yourself: Who built America? Wasn’t it the
immigrant? Wasn’t it the English pilgrims who
stole the land from Native Americans? Wasn’t it
the Irish, Germans, Chinese, Japanese? And all the
others. Millions and millions of others, including
tens of millions of Hispanics. Indeed, huge parts
of this land had been their land. They were just
coming home.
How about the African American? They came
as slaves. They overcame immense odds. In many
current situations, they are still overcoming immense
odds. And who are your heroes: Jackie Robinson,
Martin Luther King Jr., John F. Kennedy or Albert
Einstein? Maybe, if you knew him, that person might
be Bo Tran.
I met this quiet capable man ishing on my
brother’s ishing boat. Pirates didn’t interrupt us and
steal all of our jewelry and dollars. Didn’t steal our
outboard and leave us adrift for nine days. Had they,
we might have lost hope. We might have suffered
and died. No, it didn’t happen. We caught a few fat
salmon and went home happily. Our home is Ameri-
ca, a generous country with open arms.
What do we get in exchange? We get Bo Tran and
his capable daughter, and millions of strong backs
and good minds that work long and hard. We get
common Americans. We get brilliant Americans,
physicists and teachers, doctors and nurses. You
know them. They are our neighbors and our commu-
nity.
And we are all in that boat together.