Life In Vietnam Essay

LIFE IN COUNTRY OF ORIGIN

Although living in Denver, Colorado, my parents’ roots originates from Vietnam. Both of my parents were born in Saigon, the largest city of Vietnam. When remembering about life before immigration, my parents recognized Vietnam as a country exhausted from poverty, uncertainty and fear. My dad, born during the Vietnam War in 1961, recollected a time of jeopardy and disaster. Helicopters, especially, became a major recurring image of the period. They soared overhead, flying a dangerous distance from houses and its owners. Inside the choppers waited either troops from the war or citizens fleeing the battle. Their place of destination, nobody knew. With the exception of families escaping, nobody left the house because

Foremost, the main pull factor for leaving Vietnam was due to HO, otherwise known as Humanitarian Operation. The program allowed former prisoners of reeducation camps in Vietnam and a number of his family members to settle in the U.S. My grandpa confirmed eligible for the program, also granting both my grandma’s and mom’s qualifications. On the other hand, an extreme push factor for going through with the decision was Vietnam’s living conditions. Due to the war, Vietnam’s economy collapsed a tremendous amount, forcing families stuck between the lower and working class. As a result, poverty spread like a disease, dominating the lives of citizens. Sanitation issues shortly followed as a problematic matter, contributing to illnesses and the development of Agent Orange. Because of the notorious hardships experienced, my mom was attracted to America’s promise for a better life. Primarily, my mom believed America would provide better opportunities for her children and family. Life in the U.S. gleamed to be more superior than Vietnam, regarding luxury and financial stability. As a result of the war, many factors played into my mom’s resolution to immigrate to

was similar to many other Vietnamese immigrants’ journeys. The only difference between her and other Vietnamese immigrants’ voyage was the form of transportation. A certain portion fled by boat while my mom arrived by plane. Accompanying her were her my grandparents and a doctor, for my grandma. All four sat in the economy class. The plane left Saigon, Vietnam on September 27, 1998 towards Denver, Colorado. The trips, however, were not only uncomfortable, but also stressful and emotionally draining. Entering a completely unknown country, my mom and her parents’ minds were filled with questions. The questions varied from the U.S.’s lifestyle to the people who lived the culture: “What do they do in America? How is life like there?” Even so, along with the questions came dread about living in an unfamiliar country. For instance, my mom worried her inability to speak English would hinder her new life’s development. My mom and grandparents also stressed, specifically, about the difficulties of adjusting to American culture. This included new food, customs, people and landscapes. Despite that, what occupied my mom the most was my grandma. My grandma, at the time, was sick with a liver disease. Throughout the whole trip, my grandma cried from the pain the infection caused. My mom stated, “It was agonizing. I couldn’t do anything for her except just to watch.” Nevertheless, a Vietnamese doctor escorted my grandma throughout the entire journey. The trip