Vietnam Babylift Personal
Stories
Vikki Slater
I have been looking for a website like this for years. I just happened to come
across it on a surf this lunchtime and found it through Google.
I am/was a child from Operation Babylift, about 18 months at the time, going
to England to meet up with my adoptive parents. My father died in the Vietnam
War and all I have been able to find out is that my mother had too many children
to cope with she gave up her youngest 2 children for adoption. Apparently my
brother was part of Operation Babylift as well.
I can't say how my life has changed since OB because I cannot remember anything
prior to it, but I can say that it has given me life. I am absolutely certain
that my life is richer now than it could ever have been had I not come to England.
Obviously, I am British, I speak only English, if you held a telephone conversation
with me, you wouldn't think anything at all. But obviously I look different
to 'normal' Brits.
I remember my first day at Secondary School. My first lesson was History and
my first History lesson was all about the Vietnam War. So from day one I was
picked on at school, as you can probably imagine. I was told by my English family
that 'people are ignorant' and 'people are jealous', although I still don't
know what they could possibly have been jealous of, I was advised that
whenever I was the focus of people's imaginations, I should just laugh it off
and people would get fed up, rather than find enjoyment in seeing me cry. I
tried this and the more I laughed, the more they would taunt, tease and ridicule
me. There were times when I wanted the world to open up and swallow me and even
considered suicide. I'm glad to report that it was just a thought
and I live to tell my tale. I'm not quite sure whether it was bravery or sheer
stupidity that put a stop to the bullying though, as I was pushed so hard one
particular day that I snapped. I had taken verbal and racial abuse for 5 years,
the ring-leader was on his own and he set upon me. I snapped
suddenly and in a fit of rage I smacked him as hard as I possibly could over
the head with my school bag. I'd forgotten that that day we'd been doing cookery
and I had a jam jar in my bag which made contact with his head. I watched him
as he stumbled to try and regain his balance, it was only
momentary, although his head had been cut and watched a trickle of blood run
down the back of his neck as he headed towards our classroom where he reported
me to my form teacher. My initial heart felt joy quickly turned to panic as
I envisaged being sent to the Head Teacher and my parents being dragged in to
be told what I'd been up to. Luckily, I think the teachers sided with me and
on
seeing that this bully was still conscious and still breathing - although they
never said anything to me, I think they understood what I'd been through in
the years that led up to this incident. Saying that, they never stopped the
behaviour when it was going on, which in my eyes, made the teachers just as
bad as the abusers. But that was the last time anybody ever gave me any racial
abuse. I still see in people's eyes, until I start talking and people realise
that I speak their language, they question the difficulty they may have in communicating
with me. For instance, when I first walk up to a
Customer Services desk, I see them mentally assessing their position!
I am not attempting to contact anybody from the airlift. I do not know any details
about my brother or even what country he first went to, what his name was, so
there's no point.
I went straight to England where I still live today.
I don't know anybody else who has been involved in OB, unfortunately, my father
who worked in Vietnam at the time of my adoption, died 6 years ago. It's a shame,
I've been in denial for so many years, because I had such a hard time at school,
I just wanted to be accepted, and one way of doing that was to ignore what I
am. Now, since I've grown up, I've had questions that only my
father had the answers to. I'm looking at this website and others like it as
a chance to rediscover myself.
I did see the Channel 4 programme some years ago, 'Children of the Ashes' and
after that 'Children of the Airlift', which I found fascinating. I found the
children who went back to Vietnam to discover their past a little ignorant.
Even I know why I don't when my birthday is, I find it a little bit stupid that they weren't warned before they ventured back. I jumped for joy, though,
as I watched the original footage and saw the first moving pictures of myself!
I have very few pictures of myself as a tot, none as a baby, and to see me in
moving pictures really was a treat. I have both films on video cassette. Those
tapes are worth their weight in gold!
My name is Vikki Slater, formerly Vikki Cowley, daughter of Douglas & Jennifer
Cowley and brother of Jonathan Cowley (natural son of, not adopted). The name
that I was given in the Vietnamese orphanage was Lam Yen Hang, whatever that
means!
Have I been going on a bit? I'm sorry!
Vikki x
Eastbourne, East Sussex, UK
Email: vikki.slater@yahoo.co.uk