Safe Ashore at Last

By Patricia Blake

For most Vietnamese boat people, the suffering has ended

Only two ago, a tidal wave of Vietnamese refugees seemed to have engulfed all of Southeast Asia. Arriving in frail fishing craft in the waters of Thailand, Malaysia and other countries that proved incapable of or unwilling to shelter all of them, they were known as the boat people. They seemed to be the ultimate casualties of the U.S. defeat in Viet Nam. Peasants and fisherfolk, small shopkeepers and traders, as well as former soldiers of Saigon's army, they fled the oppressive Hanoi regime in increasing numbers. Soon the exodus was joined by hundreds of thousands of ethnic Chinese, who were routed from their ancestral homes in Viet Nam in the spring of 1978 during a fierce outburst of anti-Chinese racism by Hanoi. More than a quarter of a million people who left Viet Nam by boat -- most of them children -- are be lieved to have perished at sea because passing ships refused to help them, or Asian governments denied them haven. For 384,000 surviving boat people, there seemed to be no better prospect than interminable months in fetid "holding centers" in Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia and Hong Kong. Even today, the bobbing skiffs that still flee Viet Nam are prey to ruthless Thai pirates who rape the women and plunder the refugees' belongings -- in one documented case, even the gold fillings from their teeth.

At the end of 1980, however, for a majority of the Vietnamese boat people the horrendous saga of suffering had come to a halt. According to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, by the turn of the year more than 300,000 Vietnamese had been permanently settled in west. Though years 60,000 ago, a still remain in Southeast Asian camps, the resettlement record is impressive. The U.S. tops the list of countries that have accepted the Vietnamese boat people, with 185,000, followed by Canada, with 46,000, and Australia, with 38,000. France has taken in 9,000, in addition to 62,000 other Southeast Asian refugees. The remaining boat people are scattered in various other Western European countries, from Italy to Norway.

The most comprehensive and possibly most successful effort to integrate the Vietnamese has been made by the Australians. Their campaign, in fact, represents a radical break with their once notorious "white Australia" policy. Upon arrival the refugees are housed in government-run hostels for four months to a year. There they study English and attend orientation classes. Most get jobs quickly and keep them. Australian employers find the refugees exceptionally hard-working and stable. Explains Melbourne Social Worker Phillip Benoun: "They've hurdled the obstacles of their escape, getting into a refugee camp and being accepted as immigrants in Australia. Now they've won their freedom."

In Europe, France's reception of refugees has been impressively warm and well organized, largely as a result of strong public pressure. Stirred by the plight of the boat people and by their old colonial bonds to Indochina, the French have admitted 71,000 Cambodians, Laotians and Vietnamese. Indeed, 35,000 of the Indo-chinese in France are not even regarded as refugees, but as French nationals who are entitled to repatriation. The newcomers spend their first months in 41 resettlement centers that provide them with French language lessons, clothing, spending money and other necessities. Jobs, however, have been hard to find in a time of economic squeeze. In spite of efforts to distribute the refugees around the country, about half have congregated in Paris. Still, with a population of 53 million, including 4 million immigrants from southern Europe and North Africa, France is proud of its record. Says Social Worker Isabelle Brumpf: "Taking in refugees is not a part-time job. It is often a draining and frustrating task, but it is amazing how many families and communities have met the challenge."

In Canada, the boat people can thank private organizations and individuals who responded to the crisis. "Per capita, Canada did as much as or more than other countries because so many people decided it was the right thing to do," says Kirk Bell, executive director of immigration for Ottawa's Federal Ministry of Employment and Immigration.

The Ottawa government has provided air transportation that the refugees must ultimately repay. Private sponsorship groups and churches have supplied housing and taken over additional details of resettlement for most of the boat people, as well as some help for the 23,000 other Indochinese refugees Canada has accepted. This degree of personal involvement among Canadians has given an emotional boost to the homesick refugees.

Says Vietnamese-born Psychiatrist San Duy Nguyen: "Many have symptoms of depression, but if you consider the hardships they endured you would expect a higher incidence of men tal health problems."

The sheer size and visibility of the Vietnamese influx into the U.S. at first dismayed many Americans who might have preferred to forget the Viet Nam War.

Conspicuously few former antiwar activ ists, for instance, have taken up the cause of the victims of Hanoi's postwar repression. There has also been widespread concern over accepting refugees in such substantial numbers in a time of recession.

Still, Americans, more than any other people, have taken practical responsibility for the Vietnamese.

The U.S. Government has spent roughly $3.2 billion in transporting and resettling 185,000 boat people, in addition to 142,000 other Indochinese refugees and the 123,000 Vietnamese who were airlifted to the U.S. at the time of the American pullout from Viet Nam in 1975. That aid has been supplemented by scores of private voluntary agencies, such as the United States Catholic Conference, the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society and the International Rescue Committee, which have taken charge of the actual resettlement of the refugees.

Except for the 1975 refugees who were held in temporary camps in the U.S.

for up to nine months, newly arrived Vietnamese have been thrust into everyday American life from the moment of arrival. Families like the Trinhs (see box) are lodged, sent to school and employed, if possible, with surprising speed. Though the culture shock is incalculable, the boat people are determined to adapt. "Whatever job they get here usually means a substantial upgrading in their standard of living," points out International Rescue Committee Executive Director Charles Sternberg. One major problem for the boat people, however, is loneliness. Un like Korean and Chinese immigrants, the Vietnamese find no well-established communities of compatriots. Most of the boat people have been resettled in California, Texas and Washington. Says Elizabeth Kirsnis of Los Angeles' Catholic Welfare Bureau: "They're working, they're not accepting welfare. All their charm, reserve and dignity are returning. They're no longer just survivors."

In spite of a positive overall record of resettlement, officials at refugee agencies fear that compassion may give way to in difference as time goes by. Says Sternberg:

"Some of the drama surrounding the boat people has faded and national memories are short." Meanwhile, 60,000 Vietnamese refugees are still waiting in temporary Southeast Asian camps. The rate of escape from Viet Nam has risen from an average of 3,000 a month at the end of 1979 to an average 6,500 last year, with no end in sight to the number of those ready to set sail for freedom.

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