Tên cha mẹ đặt là Bùi Doãn Bình, tên tự đặt để làm việc kiếm cơm là Bill Bùi, Sinh năm 1954 tại Hà Nội, sống trong gia đình gồm một chị và 4 em gái, di cư vào Nam năm 1954, vào Saigon lúc còn 3 tháng. Học Tiểu học tại trường Võ Tánh, Phú Nhuận, năm 1965 theo gia đình lên Dalat học Trung học tại trường Trần H Đạọ Sau khi đậu xong Tú Tài II về lại Saigon vào năm 1972 và hoc dự bị SPCN tại Đại Học Khoa Hoc sau đó học chuyên khoa Địa Chất, tốt nghiệp Cử Nhân Địa Chất Học năm 1976, Được bổ làm việc cho Ban Khai Hoang Xây Dựng Nông Trường thuộc Bộ Nông Nghiệp TP Saigon, Đến giữa năm 1978, bị đổi lên Củ Chi, bỏ việc và làm việc lang thang ở chợ trời Saigon.
Tháng 2/79 vượt biên với gia đình người bạn học cùng ngành qua Tangjung Pinang, Indonesia, một đảo nhỏ cách Singapore 100km ở phía Nam, phái đoàn My "Xù", nhưng được Úc nhận nên 6/79 qua Melbourne với 2 bộ quần áo và một đôi giày boots. Từ 7/79 toi 2/80 làm hàn (spot welding) xe hơi cho hãng Nissan. Tiếp tục hoc lại, lấy Bachelor Civil Engineering 1983, bắt đầu làm việc với đúng khả năng chuyên môn của mình tai VicRoads 2/84 cho một Agency phụ trách cầu đường của Tiểu bang Victoria, thuộc bộ Giao Thông của chính phủ tiểu bang. Lấy bằng Master Engineering Science (Transport and Traffic) vào năm 1992.
Khả năng chuyên môn: Traffic Management, Road Safety Research, Transport Planning. Nghề tay trái va hobbies: amateur photographer, amateur woodworker, home builder, handy man, home machanics va travellling.
Gia đình
Lập gia đình năm 1983, Vợ tên Lê Hồng con trai Paul (1985) và con gái Brigitte (1991). Vợ trước dậy môn Việt Văn ở Trung học Ban Mê Thuộc 1974-75, qua Úc nam 1978, Diploma Welfare (1985), Bachelor Multi-cultural Studies (1989), Bachelor Social Works (1994), hiện làm Social Works ở City of Whitehorsẹ Paul học lớp 9 (2000), Đệ nhứt đẳng huyền đai Karate (1998), Đệ nhứt đẳng huyền đai Tae Kwon Do (1999), thích computing, thổi saxo và outdoor activities, (1999). Brigitte học lớp 3 (2000) thích đọc sách và sưu tầm Soft toys.
Paul (1985), Brigitte (1991), Hồng va Bình, hình chụp Dec.1999
Bùi Doãn Bình (200)
Paul's essay: Bui Doan Binh's Biography
ReplyDeleteConsidering the environment I had grown and lived, I had a reasonably happy time in the early part of my life. I was born in the year when the Geneva Accord was signed, ending the war against the 80-year French colonisation. Then another war, the civil war between the North and the South, between the communists and non-communists, started towards the late 50's. Since then the war escalated to a full scale with international involvements.
I was born in Hanoi to a middle class family, my father, a public servant with the department of civil works, my mother, from an affluent family with many relatives, being mandarins and high ranked officials. My parents made a very important decision shortly I was born, that they should migrate to the South, the other half of the country which the communists hoped to take over in two years by winning a general election set down in the Geneva Accord. My sister was almost two and I was three month old when we flew south. In Saigon my father continued his clerical works and resumed his studies. He finally achieved the Baccalaureat II and started a part time study in pedagogy. The family grew to five with three more sisters born in Saigon. While my father buried his head in his books each evening, I gave him several occasional breaks with my questions over drawing and pictures I found in the Petit Larousse, the famous French Encyclopedia. I usually got most of the things I asked from him except the horse, I mean a real horse, which he did not refuse but never actually brought one home for me to ride. I loved horses most among other animals. Horses appeared on the home blackboard everyday.
Dalat was once a holiday resort used by the French authority. The place has the alpine, almost 4-season climate, temperature hovering between 10 to 20 degrees Celsius all year round, beautiful pine forests flanking mountains and lakes and waterfalls. It was 1965 when my father accepted a teaching post at the only high school for boys in Dalat. It was a big change for me, as at 11 years of age, I had never climb a hill, let alone mountains and lakes and waterfall and pine forests. The family holidayed in Vung Tau every year, but the mountainous area was something special, probably the cool climate had a striking impact. I was happy. And was happy during the 7 years I spent at this place, completed my Baccalaureat II. I returned to Saigon late 1972 to start first year Science at Saigon University.
Having missed out the opportunity to go abroad for graduate course, I was determined to be successful this time, a post graduate study in USA. In my third year and also last year, I studied English hard and fast and the prospect of going overseas for a PhD was looking good. It was May 1975 when my dream shattered. I was having final exams when the South collapsed, surrendered to the communists. Everything was stopped for a while awaiting the policies of the new government. I was forced to do 3-month brain washed politics course, then exams before resuming the university exams. I finally graduated with a Bachelor of Geology in late 1976.
The victor took revenge, my family being "refugees" running away from them in 1954 certainly did not help my career. The Saigon University refused to offer me further studies and did not help me to obtain work either. Early 1977, not content but no choice, I accepted a job with the 'office of Clearing and Communal Farms', travelling to seven communal farms on the fringe of Saigon, collecting operation data and reported back to the office administration. These farms, growing rice and pineapples were located between 20 to 70 km from Saigon. The works had nothing to do with the knowledge I had gained from the university.
Then came the war with Vietnam's neighbour, Cambodia. Being cleaned, ie. never holding a gun against the communists, I was a good candidate to supplement the people's army to go to war. For two consecutive years 1977 and 1978, I escaped the conscription by getting my heartbeats in excess of 100 at three health check-ups. And at the third check-up, the doctor asked me to stay in his room and rest for 1 hour before he measured my heartbeats again. They were still too fast. At that time, I somehow was capable of controlling the rate according to what I wanted.
Recognising the danger and likelihood of a non sense death and no future on this land, I started to look for ways to leave the country. Shortly after the 1975 event, my father quickly applied for French citizenship and although I had some hope that one day the application will be accepted and the family may leave the country, however, the process is long and the government was unreliable and unpredictable. There were rumours from time to time but nothing eventuated so far. By 1978, the family had been waiting for the outcome close to three years. At the same time, the prospect of being conscripted to Cambodia war was getting more obvious.
In mid 1978 together with a few members of a friend's family, I carried 6 taels of gold hidden in my underwear, as part of the payment for the trip, heading down to Ha Tien, the southern tip of the country, to board a fishing boat. The boat owner kept asking where was the gold as he could not figure out whether I had the gold with me or not. For reasons I did not know, he left the group the following morning after we spent the night in Rach Gia about 150 km from the destination. I went back home, loosing one tael of gold to the boat owner from the deposit.
Shortly after that event, I again joined the same friend's family for another attempt. This time, I believe it was genuine, as my friend's family had known the organiser for years. I was calm and mentally prepared for the worst but my parents were not. My father tried to persuade me to stay back and wait for the legal migration. Unofficial information from the French consular was favourable but leaving the country was entirely in the Vietnam government hands.
Around December 1978, the boat was ready for the trip and on the D-day, I received instruction to take a coach to Can Tho, a large provincial town on the Mekong river. I was hanging around in the area near the ferry for a couple of hours in the morning waiting for signals. Shortly after lunch, I took the ferry crossing the Mekong to the town centre where I waited at a food stall. An unknown man appeared and gave signals to follow him. I arrived at the riverbank and boarded the boat around 8pm. The 12-metre freight riverboat was modified at the front to cope with ocean waves. It left the riverbank around 9pm heading towards the China Sea. Slowly, rocks stored in the front were thrown into the river and the front rose up. I did not know how many people on board but 50 to 60 would be a good guess. A small and fast canoe led the way as the area was unknown to the skipper. By 4am, I could hardly see the river bank, the delta now spread for miles, it was a cloudy day and it started to rain when the boat hit a sand bar. All men were asked to get in the water to push and lift the boat. Drums of fuel and water were also floated to get the boat bottom off the sand bar. Within minutes, I jumped on board again and the boat headed towards the open sea. It was 8 am at the river mouth that the storm came. Strong winds howled, high waves rushed in one after another and it got worse. The skipper turned off the engine and dropped the anchor and ordered all windows to be closed. But waves up to two story house kept coming, and I knew when they came, a very special roaring thundering sound, pushed the boat down under tons of water, the boat tumbled and floated back again just in time to receive another blow. It appeared that all structural members of the boat were at their limit, tension and compression as they flexed and creaked. Every time the boat survived a wave, I was a bit closer to the bottom of the China Sea and death. After about one hour into the storm, water had risen close to half body height of someone standing on the keel. I heard the skipper screamed on the roof to get the pump started but it failed miserably. Then he ordered someone to pump a few tire tubes. A couple of truck tubes were stored on board as emergency floating devices. I knew the boat was going to sink if the storm continued. The thought of death flashes through my mind once or twice. By 10 am the storm intensity reduced. Men were rotated to bucket the water out through the windows. The boat survived and the boat people survived. The skipper started the motor, and miraculously it burst into life, the boat headed back to inland as all fuel and water were lost during the storm. After passing the sandbars without problem, it was the police and navy patrol that presented the next fear. Jail terms for boat people varied depending on the local authority, and their readiness to take bribes, but could be several months to several years. It was another miracle that the boat pulled into the same riverbank that it had left the night before without police detection. People lost their footwear and I went all the way home, 200km with barefoot. My parents were happy to see me again. My father was more determined to convince me to wait for the legal path.
In late 1978, the agency where I worked decided to transfer me to one of the seven farms located 70km north west of Saigon. This created a dilemma for me, as I must remain in Saigon, alert and ready within 2 hours to leave home to the rendez vous. I decided staying back home, but to avoid the spying eyes of neighbours and local authorities, I rode off on my bicycles every morning, pretending to go to work, but in fact wandering the book market and visiting friends until the end of the day. I could not cheat them for long, as on 7 February 1979, two army soldiers and local police arrived at my home and one of the soldier immediately read the Department of Defence's decree that summoned me to join the army. They then asked my mother my whereabouts. The fact was I had left the country the previous day. They left, empty-handed.
A door knock awoke me. It was 4am Tuesday 13 Feb 1979. It was still dark outside. The messenger told me I had to be at the rendez vous by 10 am. While I put on my clothes, my parents came down. I did not look at their faces for too long. They were extremely worried about my safety. I guessed I would have 10% chance of success, but 40% being caught by police and 50% drown in the China Sea. My sisters did not say goodbye to me, they were asleep upstairs. I told my mother to collect my bike at the friend place. At 5 am I travelled with the friend's family to coach terminal and headed toward Can Tho, a second time. The same arrangement took place with signals and unknown scouts led small groups of people to the boat. By 8pm I was on board a freight boat, lying in the bottom and listened to the waves hitting the hull. Many young men gradually arrived. No one talked. By 10pm the boat moved slowly towards the sea. Around 11pm another boat came up side by side and I jumped across on board the 'real' one. Still the same boat which survived the storm last year. It was cramp inside. I did not have enough space to stretch my legs. Rocks were thrown off from the anchor well. The boat hit the sandbar again, but freed itself and by sunrise, the open sea was in front of us. People were glad as further from the land, the chance of police detection diminished. But not for long, it was the mighty sea that saw people started to vomit. There was no storm this time, but high seas and high wind forced the boat to ride the waves. Life is rough. I restraint myself for a while but finally gave up. The noise and the smell from people vomiting induced other people to follow. I lost orientation, the stomach squeezed as hard as it could, every 10 seconds and I believed I should die to end this miserable life. When the stuff came out was green and yellow in coloured, I was totally exhausted. Then there was nothing else left in my stomach. I could not remember very well what happened and for how long towards the end of this torture. The skipper, a 17-year-olds son of a fisherman, was the only one remained not seasick. By the second day, the sea was calm and people regain their composure. Water was rationed and I had five spoons a day. Some army biscuits were distributed from the third day. The skipper used his foot to steer the rudder and occasionally looked at the map of China Sea, a back cover of a notebook used by primary students. His assistant, also one of the organiser, recorded the path with his army compass, but the skipper was keen to use the sun and possibly other sky features to find the way to another land. I heard them decided to go to Malaysia instead of Thailand to avoid pirates. And to Malaysia we did, in the early morning of the sixth day. The boat must have wandered half of this time. A portable radio was tuned into the local frequency and it was Malaysian language. Through the window, it was a beautiful island surrounded with blue water and white sandy beach and coconut trees but almost no people in sight. The boat moored for a couple of hours and people discussed what we should do. A few people standing on the beach looked at the boat. They disappeared again. Around 9 am a navy patrol boat arrived. We were not allowed to stay, they said. The negotiation began. Shots were fired into the air to reinforce the navy position. At the end, a drum of fuel and a drum of water were lowered onto our boat and a rope was attached to the refugees boat. The tow lasted for three hours before the patrol boat released their rope and we were on our way again, this time further to the south.
It was day 9th when I saw a small island ahead. The skipper dropped the anchor and many people swam in hoping to find local people for help. The group returned to the boat and I received many cuts to my lower legs due to sharp corals. They were not healed for a month. The skipper restarted the motor and the journey continued. In the afternoon, the boat approached a group of islands and there were plenty of people living on this island. We found civilisation again. While people stayed on board, the organisers negotiated with local people for direction to refugee camp. Some gold was paid and the boat left the island. On day 10th, the boat arrived at Tanjung Pinang, an island around 100km south of Singapore. It was late morning when Indonesian authority allowed the refugees to step on land and inspected the boat. The officer went in from the back and emerged from the front cabin door with his fingers squeezing his nose. After ten days, all sort of human liquids mixed with seawater had dried out and absorbed by the timber, which released the smell that only those who spent considerable time with it could live with it. The genuine status refugee permitted the group to move into the refugee camp, only 2km from the port the boat landed. The day was 22nd February 1979.
The camp had been an abandoned plant processing bauxite. It had metal roof and a few walls missing, presumably had been salvaged by people living nearby. There was a well with plenty of cleaned water and toilets erected on the edge of water. The camp was cold during night and hot during day. There was no electricity so evening social gathering was around the kerosene lamps. My group was allocated an area large enough for everyone to have a decent spot to sleep. The United Nations immediately supplied food, mainly rice and sharks caught in local waters. Vegies and meat came from your own money which I did not have. I shared the cooking with the friend's family and was quite pleased with the way it was. It was the freedom to plan and to do in the future that made me happy.
After the day I moved in the camp, I sent a letter to my aunt in France who sent a telegram home. I could not make any direct contact to home at all. But I could imagine the huge relief my parents received when they knew I had survived the trip. I knew nothing would make them happier than this good news. My mother told me later that she did not sleep for the whole period since I left home til the telegram arrived. She prayed and prayed for my safety and hoped to see me alive again. She was a remarkable woman, selflessness, caring and diligent. The only thing she wanted was to be closed to her children and to see them happy.
The following month, in March, US immigration officer distributed application forms to the refugees. I quickly filled the form and hoped. They were collected the following week. My name was not in the interview listing. The US did the interview and left. The Australian arrived. I was asked a few questions in the interview. A week later, I was advised I had been accepted. The Canadian and French followed shortly after that Technically I was not allowed to apply to these countries. After a health check at the local hospital, I waited for the departure date.
On 15 June the Australian immigration office sent a truck transporting the group to the capital town of the island, Tanjung Pinang, about 30 km from the camp. I spent a night in the refugee camp in town. The next morning I left the island by boat to Singapore, a 5 hours journey. I spent two nights there before boarding a jet to Melbourne. In my bag, a pair of trousers donated by an Indonesian local, and an extra T-shirt, a notebook with vital address and ten dollars Singapore.
Arriving at Enterprise hostel in Clayton on the night of the Queen's birthday, 18th June 1979, I settled down into new country. It was so cold that I had to borrow a jacket from a flatmate before found a jumper of my size in the welfare office. I kept thinking about repaying my aunt for the amount of gold that she had loaned to me for the escape. Its worth was about 1500 dollars. I wanted to gain a degree and at the same time improve my English but I must work first to settle this debt. Three weeks alter, I was in an overall building Nissan Stanza. It was my willingness to work which pay dividend. The first time I walked into the employment office, the man behind the glass door shook his head 'no work, sorry'. A flatmate suggested I should asked for an application form which I did the following morning. The same man received the filled form and promised to phone me if there was vacancy. I decided to come back the next time and asked for another form. This time, the man took me inside the plant and offered a spotwelding job. The manual work caused muscular pains for two weeks but I remained determined to clear the debt before February next year, the start of a new school year. Before Christmas the debt was cleared. I remained at Nissan until end of February, had a weekend and went into the university classroom on Monday.
I completed the study at the end of 1983 and shortly before Christmas, got married with a honeymoon in Queensland. In February 1984 I started work with VicRoads, almost 17 years up until now.