Small Bamboo (31 page)

My colleagues at Channel Nine really were my family. We understood each other and knew each other so well. I’d see them every day for five years, creating a wealth of memories. Many of them are fun memories. We had a lot of laughs in that newsroom.

Whenever Ken Sutcliffe, Channel Nine’s veteran sports presenter, wandered in, Mullet would yell: ‘Kenny’s on the floor!’ And everyone in the newsroom would erupt with mock applause.

One day I decided to take it up a notch.

‘Kenny’s on the floor!’ Mullet announced.

‘Woo! Yeah! Kenny! Woo!’ I shouted.

We were all laughing but Ken in particular seemed to enjoy my outburst. ‘Look at her. She’s going off!’ It continues to be a running joke between Kenny and me.

It was those sorts of moments that I thrived on in Sydney. The friendships I had formed and the work, that’s what kept me happy. I was so settled that I just assumed I would live in Sydney for the rest of my life. I spent most of my years living close to Channel Nine on the lower North Shore. I rented an apartment in Lane Cove, a leafy suburb close to the city which gave me access to everything I needed—shops, restaurants. I enjoyed living there. But after spending time with my parents during that Easter break in 2012, I wanted to go home. It’s the toughest decision I’ve made so far. And telling Channel Nine was probably the hardest part.

I was working late one night, and hanging around until my boss was alone in his office.

‘You got a sec, Wickie?’

‘Yeah, Trace. What’s up?’

‘I’ve decided to move back to Perth.’

He swore and sat back in his chair. I think I shocked Wickie, and it was hard to shock this man.

‘Yeah, it’s time to go home. My folks need me there. It’s got nothing to do with work. It’s family.’

It took a while for my announcement to sink in but Wickie, in true form, showed his support for my decision. ‘You’re a good journo, Trace,’ he said. ‘You’ve really impressed me. I think when you were beaten on that story, it showed me what kind of person you are. You came to me and faced the music. You didn’t slink away. Then you came back with a strong yarn.’

I thanked Wickie for everything he’d done for me, all the opportunities he had given me. The achievements I’ve had in my career, most of them could not have happened if Darren Wick had not shown faith in me from the start.

And then I had to tell my dear friends Amelia Adams, Tom Stefanovic and Adam Bovino. Amelia is one of the brightest and sweetest people I know, and she had become one of my closest mates in Sydney. I’d already spoken to both her and Bov about going back to Perth, but not Tommy. At the first opportunity I grabbed him as he walked past my desk.

‘Heeeey, TVo. What’s up?’

‘I’ve got something to tell you. I’ve just resigned, I’m leaving.’

‘What?! Where are you going?’

‘I’m moving back to Perth, permanently.’

‘When?’

‘I’m sorting out a job first. Hopefully in a few months’ time.’

He didn’t say anything then. I looked at his eyes and they were welling with tears.

‘You’ve rattled me, TVo. You’ve really rattled me.’

And I cried for the first time since I had made my decision to leave.

My last day at Channel Nine was 24 August 2012. I cleared my desk and I thanked all the station staff, producers, editors, cameramen, journalists and my bosses for all their support and friendship over the years. I hugged everyone goodbye. Among many emails wishing me well, I got two very special messages in my inbox a few days later. One was from Ken Sutcliffe:

Tracy

You’re a beauty. I will miss that laugh.

You are a natural. Work as hard in Perth and you will own the town.

I look forward to your success. Woo!

Ken x

The other was from Peter Overton:

Walk out of this place with your head in the stars!

Pete xxx

My parents believe in karma and so do I. Mum and Dad once told me that everyone I meet in this life, I might have had some sort of connection with in a previous life. It’s a bonus to have these people in life again this time around.

20
HOME

Coming home was the best decision I have ever made. After being away for so long, it took a little time to settle back in but I’ve managed to reconnect with my old friends and, more importantly, with my family.

Dad continues to receive treatment for his autoimmune disease. Each month he goes to hospital for infusion therapy, where fluid medication is administered intravenously, and every couple of months he has a plasma exchange. I am now a blood and plasma donor; I do it to show respect for those people who are helping my father, and to give back. There’s no cure for Morvan’s syndrome. Dad’s specialist hopes that his immune system will balance itself out over time but we’ll just have to wait and see. My father remains positive about the future. He always says how lucky he is to be well looked after by his doctors and the hospital staff. On a day-to-day basis he’s much more comfortable than he was before. But all those years of hard work are catching up with him, and he still doesn’t know how to slow down.

Mum’s had arthroscopic surgery on both knees, where the doctor cleaned out damaged cartilage, but they don’t seem to be getting better. She’s struggles to get around now. But she also carries the same positive outlook on life as Dad. She thanks Buddha and God for allowing them to live in a country like Australia where they are well cared for. Dad was approved for the war veteran’s pension after it was accepted that he trained alongside Australian troops in Vietnam and faced danger during the war. He was both relieved and grateful that Australia recognised him as part of its military brotherhood. My parents can grow older with ease in Australia.

They still maintain a close relationship with their sisters and brothers. But it is getting difficult as they all get older and they start to leave this world. Sadly, my Uncle Five, the wonderful man who got everyone out of Vietnam, died of prostate cancer in 2011 at the age of eighty-three. I paid my last respects at his funeral in Melbourne, thanking him for my family’s life and for my life. He left behind his wife, three children and two grandchildren. My other uncles and aunties have carried on with their lives. Uncle Three, Uncle Eleven and Uncle Twelve live in Virginia. Two other brothers—Uncle Four and Uncle Thirteen—are in California. Uncle Seven still lives in Canada and I have recently connected with my Canadian cousins through social media; I still haven’t met them face to face.

I am enjoying every moment I have with my parents. I didn’t think I would ever move back to Perth. I was sure I would be a Sydneysider for the rest of my life. But coming home and taking this journey has made the purpose of my younger years all the more clear. After a rough and confusing childhood, I have learned to embrace my heritage. The people I have met along the way have made me feel honoured to be a Vietnamese–Australian. There were so many times I could have given up on my dreams, but I’m so glad I persisted. When I felt I wanted to throw it all in, I would think about my family and tell myself, ‘I have to do it for them’.

I believe my character stems from my family history, from the strength and courage of my parents, my aunties and uncles and my grandparents. I have taken their qualities and grown from them. I would not have had success during my career if it wasn’t for my parents, their support or encouragement. I believe I then gained the love and support of my colleagues because of the person my parents shaped me to be. I’m rich in culture and diversity and I couldn’t be prouder. My family took the risk on a leaky boat in search of a better life. They worked with all their hearts so they could give their children a good life. I hope I give it a red-hot go!

I would like to leave you with some words from my Uncle Three, the Godfather of the Vo family, who wrote to me while he was detailing his incredible story. I don’t think I could have said it better myself:

Some thirty years after the Fall of Saigon and the entire country, our Vietnamese community is thriving and continues to contribute to the economic and cultural success of a country which nurtures us, protects us and gives freedom and liberty, qualities we do not think exist nowadays in Vietnam.

Vietnam will always and forever be in our hearts and souls but our new countries, our new homes, are ours now to cherish . . .

Mum, 6 (right), with her older sister, Di Hai, visiting a zoo during a family holiday in Vietnam, 1960.

My maternal grandparents, Ong Ngoai and Ba Ngoai, at Bokor Mountain in Cambodia, 1962.

Mum at sweet 16. This photo was taken in 1970, just before her family fled Cambodia for Vietnam.

Happier times for Mum (back right) and her sister Di Hai, with their family in 1973, a few years before the Fall of Saigon. My uncle Cau Tung is seated on my grandma’s lap, while Di Loan is on my grandpa’s. Di Dung, dressed in white, is standing next to Grandpa.