Summer is light and joyful, but many things can happen under the sun. Some are less light, but are also essential to know, essential to History and Memory. It might take a while, but things do get lighter and sunnier when you begin to write them down. hiMe, from the blog A Refugee’s Journey, shares all that…
via Interview: hiMe printed the book of her story as a Refugee — Blookup Blog
Chinese Opera actresses put on make-up before a performance.
<<Story related to the information>>
CHOLON 1955 – La Rue des Marins – Đồng Khánh
street. The book “CHOLON” was written by Jean-Michel de Kermadec with pictures from Raymond Cauchetier. It was printed in December 1955 by “‘Imprimerie Française d’Outre-Mer” (IFOM) 3, Rudyard-Kipling Street (Nguyễn Siêu street) in Saigon.
Chợ Lớn (The Big Market) in Chinese quarter in Saigon before the Fall of Saigon
A market in Chợ Lớn (The Big Market) – another name for the Chinese quarter in Saigon in 1965.
A market in Chợ Lớn in 1966.
A street in Chợ Lớn in 1970.
A street in Chợ Lớn.
A street in Chợ Lớn.
It has now been several months since I met Lantern. I decide, that I can wait no longer; I have to act on my promise.
Comments about this post on ABC Open 500 Words- Dear unfinished business.
I ducked into a store when I saw Lantern at a shopping centre because I haven’t fulfilled my promise made to her, whose family seems like they’ve been put under a curse by a wicked witch. As I know her family, and am older than her, Lantern sought me for help in her desperate attempt to save her parents’ marriage.
In recent years, Lantern’s mother has become sick and homebound. Lantern’s father, a pensioner laden with the stress of caring for his wife, sadness and loneliness, has been seeing another woman who is about ten years younger. But wait there’s more!
(Sicilian-Quatrain-style poem)
The octopus arms of the wicked witch,
Squeeze hard and choke to death the old man’s heart.
A blind man’s guided by an artful bitch,
The tart beams gaily as the couple part.
Image credit
by Jim H..
(Quatern-style poem)
When sin visits the man of God,
Layman disguise would get a nod,
Whether it’s during day or night,
Whether it’s in or out of sight,
In places that ain’t thought as odd,
When sin visits the man of God,
He blithely leads a double life,
In it, criminal acts are rife. But wait there’s more!
(Rondelet-style poem)
It’s the shame chair,
In the house that is communal.
It’s the shame chair,
That imprints the mind with nightmare,
That reforms girl who ain’t moral,
That serves as a warning to all.
It’s the shame chair.
Image credit
by John Hain.
(Memoriam-stanza-style poem)
A naked letter posted on Church door.
An innocent soul injured in the act,
A person’s dignity that was attacked,
Injustice wildly let out a loud roar. But wait there’s more!
The innocent letters were stuck onto the Church door, naked, at mass.
Comments about this post on ABC Open 500 words – A test of courage.
“Sister, your letters were pinned on the Church door!”, Sally told me after coming home from mass. I was numb with shock and embarrassment to hear it. I felt like my soul was stripped naked and humiliatingly paraded for the Vietnamese Catholic congregation to see.
Why did they do that? What were wrong with my letters? There were only the two of us in the living room and I wanted to ask Sally to tell me more details. It was getting dark, and yet I wanted to take a train 25km from home to South-East Melbourne to see for myself if what Sally had told me was true. I wanted to ask Father Fatty who had delivered mass that day, if he knew who put my letters on the Church door and what he thought of it. But wait there’s more!
Born with both Chinese and Vietnamese heritage meant that I saw both sides of racial discrimination in Vietnam.
Comments about this post on ABC Open 500 words – Lost and found.
My maternal grandfather is Chinese and my maternal grand other is Vietnamese. My father is Vietnamese too, so I only have a quarter of Chinese heritage in my blood.
Mum was Chinese educated. She speaks fluently Mandarin, Teochew, Cantonese and Vietnamese. I was Vietnamese educated, and I excel in Vietnamese but only learnt enough Cantonese from my neighbours to get by. My friends were all Vietnamese and no one knew that I have some Chinese heritage. But wait there’s more!
(Triolet-style poem)
The herbal medicine – sweet smell,
The Chinese songs lulled me to sleep.
My childhood memories now swell.
The herbal medicine – sweet! smell!
The home-sick Chinese tears fell,
The lonely guests in a host country.
The herbal medicine – sweet smell,
The Chinese songs lulled me to sleep!
Image credit
by manhhai.
A refugee's journey - Vietnam to Australia 
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