‘Sadie’ is Vietnamese, short and thickly built. Her cropped black hair frames a round face, finely wrinkled. Crisp streaks of eyeliner frame her lashes snugly as she looks kindly at me, her small nose wrinkling and thin lips curving.
Here are excerpts from a conversation I had with her and ‘Sarah.’
Sadie: So you came out here just by yourself, just to observe? You’re such a bright soul.
God bless you for doing this work.
Isabella: Aw, thank you.
Sadie: I understand it, because I came here in ’69. That’s just before my family came over from Vietnam, cause the war. I’m in a category of my own, with my sister. My mom had married somebody, and I’m a product of the Vietnam War. You’ll rarely meet a 50-year-old that’s Americanized like I am. I’m 50.
And Vietnam used to be ruled by the Chinese. So we’re all ancestral.
Sarah: We’re not all Communist.
Sadie: Well, that’s political. We’re all the same people. We’ve just been separated.
***
Sadie: My grandmother, she lived to be 103. And when she died, her skin still looked like mine.
Sarah: Preserved.
Sadie: She looked really good. She ate very simple, little meat, and she was always lean. Did a lot of walking when she was little in Vietnam. And she lived a life in war, when she always had to buy and sell things on the street. She would pick stuff and sell it.
Isabella: Like street vendors.
Sadie: Yeah, like street vendors! And then she made fish sauce. She had to grind the anchovies, and stuff like that, to extract the juice. She lived a hard but a working life.
Sarah: Very smart. Wise.
Sadie: Yeah, and her skin was just like mine. I held her hand until it turned cold. I stayed there with her body. And when she died, she took her last breath and let you—she didn’t gasp like everybody. She died in heavenly peace. It was amazing. She’s lovely, and God gave her peace.
Sarah: God gave her glory. One hundred is glory.
Sadie: One hundred and three!
Sarah: One hundred and three! Trinity!
Sadie: Trinity!
Isabella: So she was in Vietnam?
Sadie: No, she was here! She was in Dallas. My aunt took care of her until the end.
Isabella: Oh! So did your whole family move to America together?
Sadie: Well, my mom’s family, all from Vietnam, most of them lived in Dallas. And my mom moved here with my brother. He decided to move to Austin because he liked music. But she had gotten a divorce. We used to live in Amarillo. I’m actually from Amarillo.
Sarah: She’s a Texas native.
Sadie: I’ve lived in Texas since ’82.
Isabella: A lot has happened since you were alive and I wasn’t.
Sarah: Yes. It’s good that you’re coming out for social work. I’ll give you a picture before and after my homelessness. We made it! You can improve.
Sadie: We still stand tall in this circumstance.
Sarah: This is a fight.
Sadie: I’ve learned to preserve my dignity.
Sarah: You gotta hold your integrity. You should see my body. I have six-packs all over my body. I’m ripped. I’m built for war. Bacteria melts at 118 degrees. Imagine sitting out in it all summer long. Healthy. If you’re not drinking for hurting yourself, carrying a 30 pound rucksack on your back, you’re going to get strong. If it doesn’t kill you. If you have the will, it won’t kill you.
Sadie: You should come for Easter, and observe what other churches do. It’s an amazing event. You can just feel God’s love. It’s a day out here, when they give out food, resources—just to make us feel like we’re still somebody. It’s really amazing. It’s tear-jerking, that they would sacrifice so much.
Isabella: I was here for the Thanksgiving meal, and I kind of saw some of that. I was helping serve food and stuff.
Sadie: Well, you’re just amazing.
Sarah: Isabella, may God’s protection be over you.
Sadie: God sent you here for a reason.
Sarah: I imagine you scaring your mother coming out here. The exposure. She’s exposing herself, instead of staying in bed.
Sadie: You’re so young, and have that compassion. That’s such a gift.
Isabella: Thank you so much.
Sadie: Thank you for coming.
Sadie: You should take notes, and interview us at certain times of the year, and some day create a book. I can give you my number.
***
Sadie: This is a good story to write.
Me and my husband had a vehicle. Oh, how do I start? Me and my husband met on the street. It’s amazing. This man is a man of God. God brought us together, because there’s no other way we would have met. But this man, he went to prison at the age of 17, came out at 43. So he never had a youth. Can you imagine a young man, going to prison, and coming out? But he came out a man of God. He’s so loving. That’s how I get respect on the streets. Because of him—I was associated with him. Everybody call me Mamma Su. They call him Pops. But anyway, have you heard about K2?
Isabella: Yes.
Sadie: Well, he got caught up in this arrest. Because we were helping this girl: we gave her a ride. And she was caught with some stuff in our car. But since she was in out car—and we didn’t think nothing of it, because K2 is so available. But it was this girl, they stopped our car because she was dumping tobacco outside, so the police came up and we were parked where most people park, up where they smoke. So they just came up to our car and they asked to search the car, and of course, I didn’t think nothing, I was like sure, fine. Car is registered under my name. They gave her a ticket, because they found stuff on her, and they let us go. But six months later, they took that stuff and tested it, and it came back with ‘bad substance,’ so they took all of us to jail. But supposedly, she wrote a statement, and my lord she showed me, saying that she was selling for us. But that’s her way of getting out of her mess. She was already on probation violation, and had already gotten in trouble. So she was afraid: she snitched on us, saying that she was selling the stuff for us. But how can that be? If that was the case, they would have given us all a ticket that day. But they didn’t, and they didn’t take us to jail that day.
Sarah: So the thing is all fucked up, while he’s sitting over there.
Sadie: Yeah, cause he’s my husband, he had a license. But God saved him somehow.
Anyway, he’s black. And me, being Asian: that’s why I’m shunned by my community. His ancestry, we dug into his ancestry, and it goes all the way back to Egypt. We’re all from Adam and Eve, right? So we’re all related, all interconnected on all levels.
Sarah: That’s why you need to go back to school.
Sadie: I am going back to school. I’m trying to go back into Capital ID. But right now, I’m having trouble with my naturalization certificate. I lost it.
Sarah: I go somewhere that can get it for you: there’s the immigration services, right behind BookPeople. ICOS.
Sadie: Tomorrow, I’ll meet with you and let’s do it.
Sarah: See, that’s what we do. We talk. I only got so much time with her. I might not see her for another three months, and then I see her and we pack it.
Sadie: We bind. But anyway, he’s been sitting in jail for six months. And I’ve been out here, just trying to figure out what I’m going to do. And I don’t know what to do.
Sarah: I know what to do. Go back to the court and email them.
Sadie: Yes, because he’s got medical needs: his heart. He should be dead, but God keeps him alive. He’s held on: all those years in prison, he’s educated himself. He’s amazing, his brain. That’s why I was attracted to him: his intellect. Because as far as his physical condition, he’s not in the best health. He’s handicapped. But when I see him when I visit him, his spirit is so alive and he keeps me strong. He’s a brilliant man. You have to meet him. And he said God sent him to me. And the first day I met him, I couldn’t leave him. First of all, I used to feel sorry for him, because I saw him in a wheelchair. Just sitting there by himself. And I was like, why is this old man sitting here by himself?
Sarah: He left everything.
Sadie: That’s what he said—when his mom died, he left everything and went to the streets. Because his mom: all those years he was in prison, his mom basically visited him. And when she died, his family blamed him for giving her stress to cause her to have a stroke and die. So he carried a lot of guilt. So he just left everything behind. Had a heart attack, left his possessions, and went to the streets to be among the people that he felt like—he doesn’t really minister to people, he just listens to them. It’s his story. He told me that he met me so that I could write his story. But I’m not that great of a writer. It takes me time.
Sarah: Pastor Ricky Roberts!
Sadie: I meant to record him, and write every day in a journal, but in the street, people kept stealing our phones, and kept getting all our stuff taken away from the police, so I couldn’t keep up with it. But it’s in my head.
Sarah: That’s the trick, getting it out.
Sadie: I know. Well, I gotta get a place first to get things done. Being on the street—
Sarah: No, you just gotta do it.
Sadie: That’s true. He tells me that. We’ve even had a computer on the street. We’ve had a couple of them. But we lost it. We lost everything over and over again.
***
Sadie: I went through a divorce, and I went through here to be with family. I have two kids: two boys. I thought my family would be my support system. I didn’t know my way around Austin. So I thought that with the knowledge that I had in Amarillo, I could apply it here. But everything came crashing in once I realized that I was in a new environment, and I had given up everything I’d built for my kids and everything. I did something I should have thought through more carefully.
Sarah: They call it a midlife crisis.
Sadie: No, it was a mental breakdown too. And so I went into a major depression. And my people, when my kids started missing their dad in Amarillo, and they’d see that I was falling apart. And they started getting real sad. So I made up my mind that it’s better—I told their dad to come get them. And that I was going to go and try to create something, and when I get more stable, they can come back to me. He’d lost custody of them when the judge awarded me custody, and I thought I was going to be able to be strong. In Amarillo, I knew my resources, and I had friends and everything, but I lost everything.
Sarah: It’s so scary being a stranger, being homeless and stuff.
Sadie: Well, I thought my family would be there for me. I though my sister and my mom would help me. And when I came here, they just kinda abandoned me. They told me to move in this area, and I moved in this area, and it was like the Mexican barrio. And the place that I rented, there was a nightclub in the back, and it was loud music. Once I realized what I’d done, I had a mental breakdown. My kids started crying, and they were like, we want to go back to Amarillo. So I called him to come get them, and then I lost it. I just had a major breakdown. So my mom and my sister, they put me in Shoal Creek. They thought I was crazy. So after Shoal Creek, I went to the streets. So I’ve been in the streets. They came and tried to get me back, but my mom, she’s been kicking me out since I was young. I’ve been on my own since I was 14. So I’ve had a rough life. Can you imagine being 14 and being on your own?
Isabella: I can’t imagine being 16 and being on my own.
Sadie: Every life is a story. But the ones that are most interesting are the ones that are living by God’s will. Don’t be afraid. But be careful.
Sarah: Yes. And I knew half these minorities before I got out here: I was part of that anti-racist organization.
Sadie: Yeah, me too! I’ve always been the rebel. I am not listening to that prejudiced thing—I refuse to let that enter my head. With my husband—I call him my husband, but we’re not married yet. We’re planning the big day.
Sarah: Yeah.
Sadie: You’re going to be there—you’re going to be my maid of honor!
Isabella: Aww!
Sadie: Anyway, hopefully this ends before Easter. We’ve been looking at Thanksgiving, Christmas. Since I met him, he never left my side. We were together like, 23 hours, except for my bathroom breaks and getting something to eat or something.
Sarah: Yeah, homeless love rocks. Homeless sex sucks. But homeless love rocks!
Sadie: But you never imagine you’d fall in love with someone on the streets! Nobody looks for that. I told myself, I never want to be with a felon. No way, that’s not me. My sister went out with a gangster when she was younger, and I used to say, why would you want to choose that? Why would you want to be with a gangster? And then it’s like a turn-around. I ended up being with one.
I feel like these are my family. These are my people.