This was published 10 months ago
‘She was looking after four medical students: three children and me!’
Phan Giang Sang, 90, and his wife To Kim Châu, 85, fled Vietnam by boat in 1978 with three children and just the clothes they were wearing. He was a doctor; she a pharmacist. Starting over in Australia was difficult.
Phan Giang Sang and To Kim Châu. “My secret to staying married is: if she wants something, you do it,” says Sang.Credit: Joshua Morris
Sang: The first day I saw Kim Châu, I knew I wanted to marry her. We met at a charity event for poor people; I was examining patients and Kim was dispensing the medicines. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, but she kept avoiding my gaze. She was a pharmacy student, so I thought we would make a good couple to help people in need. She was also very beautiful. We married in 1966.
During the Vietnam War, I was a medical officer for the South Vietnamese army. After the fall of Saigon in 1975, the communists sent me to a “re-education” camp. Luckily, I was released after eight months because they realised the country needed doctors, but I was kept under house arrest. We had three young children and it was Châu who, somehow, kept the family afloat.
We knew we couldn’t live under the communist regime, so in 1978, with much sadness, we decided we had to escape Vietnam. The owner of one of the boats carrying refugees wanted a doctor on board who could look after his pregnant daughter-in-law, but we still had to pay him 30 ounces of gold, all our savings of many years. Six hours after we left, the woman went into labour and I delivered the baby at sea.
We arrived at a Malaysian refugee camp with nothing but the clothes we stood in. I’d thought I could easily be a doctor elsewhere. Châu and I both spoke French and imagined we’d go to a French-speaking country, but Australian officials who interviewed us at the camp accepted us within a week.
Sang and Châu on their wedding day in 1965.Credit: Courtesy of Tri Phan
A few months after we settled in Brisbane, Châu developed viral meningitis. In Vietnam, if you get meningitis, there’s no way to recover, so I was very afraid I was going to lose her. If she died, I knew I wouldn’t be able to raise the children by myself. In the end, she recovered, but the infection left her permanently deaf in one ear.
I’d been successful in Vietnam, but here I struggled with English and was failing. We moved to Sydney in 1982 so I could sit the exams for medical school and start from the bottom again. Then I failed the fourth year and had to repeat. I was almost 58 by the time I graduated. I often fell into despair in those early years, but Châu always reminded me that my success or failure was not important: it was the children’s future that mattered. In the end, I opened a practice, wrote books about medicine and had a talkback show on SBS radio called Health is Gold. [In December, he published his memoir, From Vietnam to Australia: Sang’s Memoirs.]
“Châu always reminded me that my success or failure was not important: it was the children’s future that mattered.”
Phan Giang Sang
Châu had to give up her own dream of becoming a pharmacist here. She took a full-time job at Australia Post to support us all while we were studying. She was looking after four medical students: the three children and me! I don’t know how she did it, but she also saved $30,000 to put a deposit on the house in [inner-Sydney] Sydenham we were renting so we could settle and study in peace. She never complained.
When she first arrived, she didn’t know how to do anything domestic: there were always maids in Vietnam and she had spent all her time studying. Here, she had to learn everything, like how to scale a fish. She’s very resourceful, very clever. My secret to staying married is: if she wants something, you do it.
Châu, in Vietnam in 1973, with children (from left to right) Thanh, Huong and Tri.Credit: Courtesy of Tri Phan
Châu: I met him in 1964 when we were students at that event. Afterwards, I left on the back of my friend’s moped and I saw him following us. We couldn’t shake him off. I asked my friend to drop me at another house, but he found out my address. Two days later, he came to see me. Each time he visited he brought a beautiful rose. I had three other suitors at the time, but he was sincere and not slick like them. He met one of the other suitors one day and was so nervous he spilt all his tea.
When we escaped on the boat, we went to it separately. I travelled to a secret location with the children and hid for a few days beforehand. Not knowing where we were meant that Sang couldn’t tell the communists if he was caught. I wasn’t frightened about going on my own as I knew that even if Sang didn’t make it to the boat for some reason, I’d be able to go on and raise the children myself. That was what mattered.
We had planned to go to a French-speaking country, but when we saw communists [among the workers] at the refugee camp at Malaysia, we feared it was also going to become a communist country, so we didn’t want to wait. We said, “Any country that will take us, we will go there.” We knew nothing about Australia and didn’t speak English. I knew nobody when we came here. I missed my relatives back in Vietnam and my ancestors’ burial place.
“My husband and I are on the way to die soon – maybe him, he’s ill, or maybe me – but I don’t worry.”
To Kim Châu
I didn’t mind having to give up my own studies: I was prepared to do anything if it meant our children would have a good education. I wasn’t so worried about my husband because he was a grown-up and could look after himself.
From left to right: Châu and Sang with son Thanh and grandchildren Brigitte, Albert, Callan, Chiara, Ben, Emma and Alex.Credit: Courtesy of Tri Phan
We have been married 57 years. I wouldn’t say we argue all the time, despite what my children might tell you. No. It’s just that my husband can take a long time to agree with me.
When he started working at the hospital and earning money, he would give me the salary to manage the finances. One day, he said, “Give it to me and I’ll do it.” So I gave him all the bills and said, “Okay, if you think you’re so good, you do it.” That didn’t last long.
My husband and I are on the way to die soon – maybe him, he’s ill, or maybe me – but I don’t worry. My children have good positions. Two are professors and one is a partner in a pathology lab. In Vietnam, the husband and wife go to the altar after they marry and pray to the ancestors to look after them and, in turn, the couple promise to look after their children. We are part of a chain of care.
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