Flying Tiger balm
I AM INHALING the scent of Tiger Balm, my nose filled with the pungent smell of camphor and menthol as I walk down the jetway to my airplane. It is filled with 500 Vietnamese, Cambodian and Laotian refugees. “Boat people” they are called, as many of them escaped the war in leaky, rickety boats, sailing anywhere just to get out and get away. If they survived the boat ride, they ended up living in refugee camps all over Southeast Asia, waiting sometimes years for someplace, any place, to go.
At long last with the help of the United Nations and various sponsors, they are now leaving for a new life in America. Flying Tigers picks them up in Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, Bangkok and Hong Kong. We will fly them to Oakland, California, their first stop on their way to a life of freedom. I’m struck by how brave these people are, going to places like Minnesota and Michigan, exchanging the lush tropics for a snowy winter which awaits them in just a few months.
On my days off at home in Marin County, California, I volunteer at a placement facility for these refugees, passing out donated used clothing. Americans are so big compared to the refugees, the donated clothing hanging off the frames of these short, thin people who have been living a hardship I can’t begin to imagine. One family told me they thought their daughter had been killed on the open sea by Thai pirates, but they found out she was alive and well and living in Sacramento!
Tiger Balm is a medicated ointment sold in little round red tins the size of a quarter. It is rubbed on foreheads to soothe a headache, daubed on mosquito bites and burns, patted under the nose to ease stuffiness, sniffed to quell nausea. Tiger Balm has been around a long time, has been somewhat elevated from its folk medicine status and is used all over Asia.
On each flight before takeoff, we flight attendants perform the safety demonstration at the front of each cabin. We follow along with taped announcements. “Seatbelt demonstration, Vietnamese version,” the voice intones in English, followed by the Vietnamese explanation. We hold up the seatbelt, clasp the buckle, tighten the strap for all to see.
