A refugee's story part 1 - Roots

I've been meaning to write a series of pieces, perhaps even a book one day about some events that happened some years back and came to shape my view of the world and my place in it. I was born in the UK, of Vietnamese boat people and grew up really not knowing much about my history and roots at all. Then the death of my mother and a trip to America changed all this.

It's been a long time coming and well I'll be honest I'm pretty scared about this undertaking, so please be gentle with me. I am hoping to write about how I discovered that I actually have roots and why it's so important to me to try to get to grips with them. A foreigner in my own skin, I want to try to come to terms with a history that seems to belong to a different place.

It's not going to be easy, but I carried out some interviews a while back that may help. As much of the story unfolds I will be changing names to protect identities. I never was any good at history either, being a physics teacher as I am so please bear with me if I make some historical gaffs, but I'll be doing my best to try to learn about Vietnam as I go.

It's a new set of stories to break up the flow but I'll try to throw in the odd story about shitting or monkeys in between just to keep it fresh huh!
blog comments powered by Disqus