Empowered by Hope

The bed had been made from the wood of ship wrecks that drifted to shore. Each family was separated only by a cloth rice sack hung from the tent ridge pole and had only about four to five feet of space.

We received food and medicine from the American Red Cross and other relief agencies. We had mostly canned food plus fresh eels every other day.

Every morning my husband and three of the men who shared our tent waited in line for our rations. The other women in the tent cooked and visited with people they knew. They were polite to me but didn't try to make friends with me.

I wasn't able to do much at first because it was very difficult for me to move around. My broken ankle had not been properly set and I was in constant pain. The island was hilly and the ground was uneven which also hampered my movements.

After a few months, I started to make an effort to move around more. Unable to lift my foot, I dragged my right leg behind me with my baby clutched in my arms and my one-and -a-half-year-old son holding onto my pant leg.

We would go down to the sea shore. While I watched my sons play in the sand, I searched for the meaning of all this and wondered “What next?” During this time, I felt so miserable that I questioned my faith in my father's decision, wondering if he had done the right thing.

Yet every morning I watched the sun rise. Every day was a new day with new hope and new possibilities. Every day was a reaffirmation of my promise to my father to “Live life until I took my last breath.”

On the island, in the refugee camp, we waited a very long time for our interview. While we were waiting and waiting time stood still. Every day seemed much longer than twenty-four hours.

Each day I thought, “Maybe today will be the day we get picked for an interview.” We didn't know what the system for choosing families was, or if there even was a system, or if it was just pure luck.

We did know, however, that once we'd been interviewed, we'd have a sponsor. We'd be able to settle in the United States or another first-world country where we'd be free and able to realize the opportunities we had only imagined. We were hoping for the U.S.

Then one day, after a long six months of waiting, we were notified. We got scheduled for an interview. We were excited about it but there was no sponsor yet, only more waiting. And waiting…

What helped us get through the waiting was our ability to just keep going. We held onto hope and the possibility of a promising future.

And we learned to be patient. Sometimes what you need or want is not yet available and all you can do is wait.

A few months passed while our prospective sponsors were determined. At last they were found, and the paperwork had been cleared.

But then, after our sponsors had been confirmed, there was still a four-month waiting period in another refugee facility in Kuala-Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia. We were tested for infectious diseases and given immunizations. Meanwhile our sponsors were looking for housing for us, and preparing to meet the needs of an immigrant family.

We finally got our health clearance. America, here we come!