For many Vietnamese, the giving is personal

Dewi Anggraeni, Contributor, Melbourne, Australia

It is not often that a journalist is reduced to tears interviewing a fit and healthy fellow journalist. Nonetheless, that was what happened when, after learning that the radiothon conducted by the Vietnamese-language program of Australia's Special Broadcasting Service (SBS) had raised over A$600,000 in merely two hours, I went and talked to Hung Tran, the head of the Vietnamese program.

"Most of the callers asked that the money they donated be sent specifically to Indonesia," Tran said.

Considering that the population of the Vietnamese community in Australia is not much more than 200,000, even if every Vietnamese person donated, the average donation would be a staggering $3,000.

Tran nodded and explained that many in the community felt that they would not have lived if it had not been for the generosity of Indonesia, which had accommodated them as refugees on Galang Island, Riau Islands province.

"So it was only a natural response from a people who felt it a privilege to assist Indonesia in such dire circumstances," he said.

How did he know that was how they felt? Well, Tran is Vietnamese.

"Besides, in the feedback programs after the radiothon, that was what they said, in many different versions," Tran replied. "The Vietnamese in Australia still feel very strong emotional ties with Indonesia. It is not just a collective debt of honor. It is personal. Very personal."

Generally, many Vietnamese-Australians have had firsthand experience with the dangers of the open sea, dangling between life and death in dilapidated, unseaworthy vessels, so the tsunami disaster incited waves of empathy for the victims in Aceh and other areas.

Then there are the personal stories.

Many of the callers cried when they recounted how they were saved by Indonesians. A common story is of people being rescued from a shipwreck, by Indonesian fisherfolk, who either died or witnessed their close relatives die trying.

"They took us onto their own simple boat, gave us the only food and water they had, and nursed us back to life. How could anyone forget such an experience?" a caller said. "The generosity I received then, I can never repay. But I want to teach my children and grandchildren the lesson of living in the spirit of brotherhood."

Tran said approximately 4,000 calls had come in all told, but the majority of callers had donated $50 to $100. "However, there were many who said they were calling on behalf of a group of anonymous donors, and these were giving between $5,000 to $20,000," he said.

A woman called in, saying that she herself had not been a refugee, but was sponsored by her son under the Australian government's family reunification program.

It was her son who had been a refugee. He escaped Vietnam on a small boat along with several others, and the boat encountered serious trouble out at sea. When all on board were facing almost certain death, they were rescued by an Indonesian fishing boat not much bigger than their own.

The woman donated a large sum of money and asked that it be channeled to Indonesian victims.

Tran himself lived for 11 months on Galang as a refugee, waiting to be relocated. "I experienced firsthand the kindness and generosity of Indonesians while I was there. So I feel fortunate that I am now given the opportunity to assist them, even if only a little bit," he said in all humility.

The following evening, during the Indonesian-language program's radiothon, I did not know whether to laugh or to cry upon hearing Bela Kusumah, the program head, and his colleague Sri Pudjiarti Dean tripping through Vietnamese names as they received a flood of calls through the switchboard.

"Another $100 from Hung Nguoc... whatever," Sri's voice faltered, too overwhelmed to be embarrassed, over the radio wave, after a self-conscious attempt at another name by Bela Kusumah, who added, "Sri, we should have taken a crash course in Vietnamese..."

I had done my crying, so I laughed.