February 18, 2011 at 12:47 pm

For most of us, a visit to an exotic island halfway across the world represents an unknown adventure filled with fun. For Neil Ta, a Vietnamese Canadian, visiting Bidong Island is a homecoming filled with conflicting emotions. He shares his story:

Pulau Bidong, Malaysia. Those words alone send shivers down my spine. My parents fled post-war Vietnam with my four siblings and found themselves on Bidong. I was born on the island. The journey to get to Malaysia was not without its risks. Families would have to pay large sums of cash or gold for the opportunity. This did not guarantee any type of safe arrival. Many people lost their lives at sea, were robbed by pirates, raped, attacked, or murdered. Boats would break down and be adrift at sea or sink. Of all the refugees who fled by boat, about 200,000 to 500,000 died at sea or were unaccounted for. The decision to leave was no joke.

All that remains of a church that was once used to house Vietnamese refugees

Some 250,000 Vietnamese “boat people” passed Bidong from 1975 through 1991. As refugees, life on the island was no vacation. There were limited food rations. An ample amount of medical personnel but a lack of medicine. Extreme over crowdedness. Many former refugees remain tight lipped about their time on the camp. My parents have only ever told us a handful of stories. The reason for this is obvious; it’s not a time in their lives that they have fond memories of.

I left Bidong at a very early age having no recollection of the place that was once home. Despite being different, we lived a modest but relatively normal life in Canada. Growing up, I was not teased by my friends and peers, but my relatives. They would call me “stateless”. I am ethnic Chinese with parents from Vietnam, born on this makeshift refugee camp in Malaysia, but grew up in Canada virtually my entire life. So according to my relatives, I didn’t have a true place to call home.

I felt comfortable with others, but never within my own skin. I found it difficult when people asked me “where are you from?” or “what’s your background?” It typically ended with me rambling for several minutes and a number of eyes glazing over. To say I’ve suffered from identity issues is an understatement.

Revisiting Pulau Bidong became an obsession for me the last several years. The desire to reconnect with this still-abandoned island was overwhelming. I had to put my life on pause and fulfill this mission of coming full circle.

Journey to the Island

So my journey began. To access Bidong, you need to get to Malaysia. You’re more than likely going to fly in to Kuala Lumpur. From KL, you need to head northeast about 500kms (six or seven hours by bus) to Kuala Terengganu. From Terengganu, it is about a 30 minute taxi to the islands’ gateway – Merang. From Merang, you can hire a local tour company or “boatman” to take you the 45 minutes or so to your destination. The boat charter will cost about 600RM or 00USD for 5-8 hours. I recommend booking through a tour company in advance.

When approaching Bidong, you begin to see a silhouette of a rather large island with a hilltop centred in the middle. As you get closer, the silhouette gets larger until you can see the detail of the thick jungle forest. The new jetty looks a little out of place, but it made docking easy and the island less menacing.

One of the many reminders of the refugee camp at Bidong Island

A quick walk into the jungle to the eastside of the island reveals an urban explorers dream; ruins of a once bustling refugee camp with a deteriorating church and Buddhist temple, collapsed homes (huts), evidence of sewage and garbage facilities, and tributes to loved ones who were not lucky enough to make it, or were lost at sea.

Somewhat shocking is the new garbage littered all over the island – broken glass bottles, plastic water bottles, and pop cans strewn along the beachside. On the opposite end of the island (northeast), there is an absolutely pristine beach with the softest white sand I’ve ever felt. Strangely, there is some evidence that there is a buried boat (or at least part of one) in the beach sand. For a solitary moment, I thought I was on some sort of private island paradise. It very well could be.

The secluded sandy beaches on Bidong Island

I really can’t find the words to explain how I felt. My life was made more fulfilling. I finally saw something that I needed to see, to feel, to touch, and to document. No one can take this adventure away from me or try to pretend like they know how I must have felt. It is just one of those things where neither words nor pictures could capture the essence of what the experience meant to me. I finally conquered Pulau Bidong, once said to be the most densely populated place on earth, housing 40,000 refugees in a flat space about the size of a football field. The island was mine alone for a few solitary moments.

Homecoming - Neil Ta walking through a past he cannot remember nor forget

Note:
Neil Ta was born on Bidong Island and became one of the many Vietnamese refugees who were housed temporarily on the island. Even though he and his family left the island for Canada five months after his birth, his bond with the island continued with his nickname Bidong. He currently resides in Canada and maintains a personal blog on photography and his other pursuits at www.iambidong.com

Photos (c) Neil Ta

Tags: Bidong Island, Island, Neil Ta, Terengganu, Vietnamese Refugee Camp