Hblung Nay - blʌŋɡ
The experiences that Hblung endured before she entered America and became a refugee of our country are likely to never enter the average person's conversation. They will not be recorded in a history book. Her story will become another untold tale fading into the background of a fast paced culture.
Hblung, her husband at the time, and their four children made the journey from Vietnam together in search of freedom. The horror that infiltrated their life before their arrival to America is nearly impossible for me to believe. If I had not heard it directly from her mouth, I think it would have taken more time to convince me of the truth.
During one of our conversations, she slipped into another part of her story that broke my heart…
Hblung forces her swollen eyes to open, the gritty taste of sawdust in her mouth. Her body yearns for the appeasement of water. It had easily been two days since she had been allowed any water, and as for food, she could not remember.
She waits for her eyes to focus. The process becomes increasingly difficult with every day she spends in this place. She counts the scratches she has made in the crumbling cement walls. 66. Sixty-six days she has been in this place.
The shadow of a guard passes between her and the rays of the Vietnamese noonday sun.
"Water. May I have a taste of water, please?" Hblung mumbles almost inaudibly.
The guard does not hesitate in his pass. This means another day will likely pass with no water.
She hears another set of footsteps approach and a very small tea cup is shoved right in front of her face. Water. The guard did hear. Something must be going well for them out there.
Her frail hands raise the cup to her cracked lips. She allows the water to trickle onto her tongue. Immediately her body rejects the liquid before she has time to swallow it. The guard had brought her water, mixed heavily with salt, exactly the opposite of what her body needs.
A word of exasperation seeps from her lips. The guard, who had not left her presence, erupts in laughter. She is just a burden to them. The guards could not care less if she died today.
This encounter with the salt is just one part of the 90 plus days that Hblung spent in prison during the year of 2005. When I asked her what the differences were between Vietnam and America were, her response was simple,
"Vietnam, no freedom."
Hblung and her family were among a large group of Vietnam that were harassed, beaten, imprisoned, and killed for their religious beliefs. This religion they follow is not some off-center cult. They did not seek to destroy the government or bother their neighbors. They wanted the opportunity to believe what they knew in their hearts to be true and gather together for worship.
During the summers, Hblung would work as a farmer in order to supplement her family's meager income. When she was not on the farm, she was raising her 4 children. She had grown up in this area, with all her family in the surrounding villages. There had always been a clear division among the religious populations. Growing up she recalled how everyone worked through their differences in a civil manner. In her teenage years, she remembered times that her parents would lower their voice in another room to talk about a situation that had erupted between the Christians and the government, but nothing catastrophic ever came from it.
Since she had been married and started having kids, the grim reality of the conflict had faced her family head-on. It seemed as though a different hoard of armed enforcements came every single day, knocking on the door and screaming threats concerning her and her family's beliefs. Those people didn’t simply imply that their beliefs should be muffled, their threats were forcefully spoken. The meant “stop your beliefs completely or we will case major harm to you and your family.”
The women would huddled their children in the back area of their multifamily home when the enforcements would appear. Hblung would hold her babies to her chest, as if she could shield a bullet if one strayed in their direction.
Neither submission nor resistance would appease the men. Submission leads to beatings. Resistance leads to prison sentences. Over the years of harassment, Hblung's family members had been put through a plethora of cruel punishments. Both her father and brother had spent several months in prison for their beliefs. They had tried to stand up against the enforcements to protect their family. That resistance had not been taken well. It had been during that same time during the early 2000’s that Hblung had found herself in prison.
Hblung was always acting out of her maternal instincts. The event that landed her in jail was no different. The rain was pouring down on her tiny tin roof. The voices of her family could not even be heard during the storm. An enforcement group busted into the house without any warning. The men of the house had just left after their basic breakfast of leftover rice. The other women of her home fled as usual with the children to the back room. Hblung went face-to-face with one of the enforcements. She began to talk with them. They would have no part of it. The man closest to Hblung struck her with the back of his hand. Searing pain shot through her facial muscles. The enforcements took her, despite her pleads for her children, drug her through the muddy sludge, into those crumbling walls they call prison.
The breaking point came in the year of 2007. Hblung with her husband and four children packed only as many items as were necessary to travel. Before the sun was visible, they took off across the countryside,West towards Cambodia. They trekked through treacherous terrains riddled with wild animals that lurk throughout the Vietnamese wilderness. Their journey covered several days. Upon entering the Cambodian border, Hblung and her family are granted freedom to practice their religion and to live as they please. Since that freedom was so immediate, they settle not far from the actual Vietnam-Cambodia border. This seemed to be the freedom that had been searching for.
Due to the closeness of their location, throughout the year that they spend in Cambodia, several tactics were used to try to get the family to return to Vietnam. The Cambodian government did not try to protect these outsiders. Vietnam wanted them back to punish each one for their crime. Several other families that had made it across the border did end up dragged back into Vietnam. They were forced to pay for their religious determination.
2008 is the fateful year that Hblung, her husband, and four children made the move to America. They had had enough of being taunted across the borders. They were ready to pursue full freedom for their beliefs, even if it cost them everything.
Upon arriving in America, freedom was seized upon instantly. Something in Hblung's husband changed and he decided that he no longer wanted to be married to her. Hblung’s husband demanded a divorce. This left Hblung to fend through the refugee system in the USA with her four children completely alone.
Hblung, her husband at the time, and their four children made the journey from Vietnam together in search of freedom. The horror that infiltrated their life before their arrival to America is nearly impossible for me to believe. If I had not heard it directly from her mouth, I think it would have taken more time to convince me of the truth.
During one of our conversations, she slipped into another part of her story that broke my heart…
Hblung forces her swollen eyes to open, the gritty taste of sawdust in her mouth. Her body yearns for the appeasement of water. It had easily been two days since she had been allowed any water, and as for food, she could not remember.
She waits for her eyes to focus. The process becomes increasingly difficult with every day she spends in this place. She counts the scratches she has made in the crumbling cement walls. 66. Sixty-six days she has been in this place.
The shadow of a guard passes between her and the rays of the Vietnamese noonday sun.
"Water. May I have a taste of water, please?" Hblung mumbles almost inaudibly.
The guard does not hesitate in his pass. This means another day will likely pass with no water.
She hears another set of footsteps approach and a very small tea cup is shoved right in front of her face. Water. The guard did hear. Something must be going well for them out there.
Her frail hands raise the cup to her cracked lips. She allows the water to trickle onto her tongue. Immediately her body rejects the liquid before she has time to swallow it. The guard had brought her water, mixed heavily with salt, exactly the opposite of what her body needs.
A word of exasperation seeps from her lips. The guard, who had not left her presence, erupts in laughter. She is just a burden to them. The guards could not care less if she died today.
This encounter with the salt is just one part of the 90 plus days that Hblung spent in prison during the year of 2005. When I asked her what the differences were between Vietnam and America were, her response was simple,
"Vietnam, no freedom."
Hblung and her family were among a large group of Vietnam that were harassed, beaten, imprisoned, and killed for their religious beliefs. This religion they follow is not some off-center cult. They did not seek to destroy the government or bother their neighbors. They wanted the opportunity to believe what they knew in their hearts to be true and gather together for worship.
During the summers, Hblung would work as a farmer in order to supplement her family's meager income. When she was not on the farm, she was raising her 4 children. She had grown up in this area, with all her family in the surrounding villages. There had always been a clear division among the religious populations. Growing up she recalled how everyone worked through their differences in a civil manner. In her teenage years, she remembered times that her parents would lower their voice in another room to talk about a situation that had erupted between the Christians and the government, but nothing catastrophic ever came from it.
Since she had been married and started having kids, the grim reality of the conflict had faced her family head-on. It seemed as though a different hoard of armed enforcements came every single day, knocking on the door and screaming threats concerning her and her family's beliefs. Those people didn’t simply imply that their beliefs should be muffled, their threats were forcefully spoken. The meant “stop your beliefs completely or we will case major harm to you and your family.”
The women would huddled their children in the back area of their multifamily home when the enforcements would appear. Hblung would hold her babies to her chest, as if she could shield a bullet if one strayed in their direction.
Neither submission nor resistance would appease the men. Submission leads to beatings. Resistance leads to prison sentences. Over the years of harassment, Hblung's family members had been put through a plethora of cruel punishments. Both her father and brother had spent several months in prison for their beliefs. They had tried to stand up against the enforcements to protect their family. That resistance had not been taken well. It had been during that same time during the early 2000’s that Hblung had found herself in prison.
Hblung was always acting out of her maternal instincts. The event that landed her in jail was no different. The rain was pouring down on her tiny tin roof. The voices of her family could not even be heard during the storm. An enforcement group busted into the house without any warning. The men of the house had just left after their basic breakfast of leftover rice. The other women of her home fled as usual with the children to the back room. Hblung went face-to-face with one of the enforcements. She began to talk with them. They would have no part of it. The man closest to Hblung struck her with the back of his hand. Searing pain shot through her facial muscles. The enforcements took her, despite her pleads for her children, drug her through the muddy sludge, into those crumbling walls they call prison.
The breaking point came in the year of 2007. Hblung with her husband and four children packed only as many items as were necessary to travel. Before the sun was visible, they took off across the countryside,West towards Cambodia. They trekked through treacherous terrains riddled with wild animals that lurk throughout the Vietnamese wilderness. Their journey covered several days. Upon entering the Cambodian border, Hblung and her family are granted freedom to practice their religion and to live as they please. Since that freedom was so immediate, they settle not far from the actual Vietnam-Cambodia border. This seemed to be the freedom that had been searching for.
Due to the closeness of their location, throughout the year that they spend in Cambodia, several tactics were used to try to get the family to return to Vietnam. The Cambodian government did not try to protect these outsiders. Vietnam wanted them back to punish each one for their crime. Several other families that had made it across the border did end up dragged back into Vietnam. They were forced to pay for their religious determination.
2008 is the fateful year that Hblung, her husband, and four children made the move to America. They had had enough of being taunted across the borders. They were ready to pursue full freedom for their beliefs, even if it cost them everything.
Upon arriving in America, freedom was seized upon instantly. Something in Hblung's husband changed and he decided that he no longer wanted to be married to her. Hblung’s husband demanded a divorce. This left Hblung to fend through the refugee system in the USA with her four children completely alone.
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