We moved into an old house in Sydney’s suburbs, Sydenham. The house was on a busy road, with cars and trucks constantly passing by, and under the path of planes. It was a two-bedroom house with a small lounge room, which we used as a bedroom, and a small backyard. Despite being a small house, it was bigger than the sleeping area we had in the Hong Kong refugee camp.
Like many refugees and low-income families, we received help from St. Vincent De Paul (aka the Vinnies). We received essential furniture, such as beds and a fridge. Thanks to the Vinnies, we had beds to sleep on.
The first day at an English-speaking school was a major shock for a little kid who doesn’t speak much English. Everyone had a different accent from the American accent I used to hear back in Hong Kong.
One funny event from my first day at Tempe Primary School that I still remember is: I sat next to two Greek boys, George and Peter. The teacher told them to help me order lunch. I could not understand what they said at all. I only knew a few words: food and money. They asked me a lot of questions, but I didn’t understand any of them at all. The two boys laughed. They gave up and wrote something on the little white paper bag. They told me to give them the $5 my stepdad gave me. I received a peanut butter bun and a small juice box at lunchtime. The peanut butter was a new taste, but I loved it very much. So I remembered the name and ordered it once a week for a few months for recess.
Another strange new food that I tasted was the green Granny Smith apple. Sometimes, after school, I would ask Mum for 20 cents to buy a Granny Smith apple from the grocery store next door. I then put it in the fridge for about 20 minutes before having it as an after-school snack. The crunchy, sour taste was excellent.
For the first few years, life was a struggle as I tried to learn a new language and adapt to a new culture. Like many other Vietnamese families, I had to help with the family’s sewing work.
Despite struggling, my mum bought a pink (and white) BMX from a little toy store on the main road of Marrickville, a suburb next to Sydenham. I rode the bike to the shops in Marrickville to get some small grocery items for my mum. There were two stores where I often rode my bike to shop.
There was a Vietnamese grocery store called Tan Hong Phat at the corner of Marrickville Road and Victoria Road. Unfortunately, the store closed around 2018 after over 40 years of serving the Vietnamese community. The store owner was a young, beautiful lady who always called me “cưng” (i.e., “honey” in Vietnamese).
There was a Vietnamese butcher on Marrickville Road, near the Post Office. My mum sent me there to buy pig fat to fry and make cooking oil. I believe the butcher closed down many years ago.
I rode the bike with the kids from the neighbourhood, whom I learned about through my stepdad’s friend’s son. One of the boys was Terry from Turkey. I am trying to remember the names of the other boys now. The funny thing is, the boys used to bully and make fun of me before we were introduced. That’s kids for you.
Unfortunately, one day, someone stole my beautiful pink BMX bike when I left it outside the video rental store, Khai Hung, in Marrickville.