Precious Cargo: Play tells story of orphans evacuated from Vietnam

Barton Williams, who was evacuated from Vietnam as a child, holds a picture of himself back in his homeland.

When Australian-raised actor Barton Williams headed to the Isle of Lewis to film his part in surfing film Silent Roar, he had no idea he was soon to meet a man who is almost a brother to him.

He was introduced to Lewis-based composer Andy Yearley who, like him, was evacuated from South Vietnam as an orphan of the war during the US-led Operation Babylift in 1975.

While they’d found new lives on opposite sides of the globe, their shared experiences formed a strong bond that brought a new Edinburgh Fringe play to life, telling the story of children born into a warzone, 50 years on still trying to find out who they are.

“When we met I realised Andy is me but Scottish,” Barton said. “It was quite bizarre, like meeting my biological brother but it wasn’t.

“He looked and identified as Vietnamese, but spoke with a broad Scottish accent, and then there’s me, looking Vietnamese but talking with a broad Australian accent. We just connected.”

Precious Cargo

Barton had already started writing an early iteration of what would become Precious Cargo and the two joined forces with Lewis-based arts company Sruth-mara (“sea current” or “sea lane” in Gaelic) to bring the show to life.

Operation Babylift, ordered by US President Gerald Ford, saw thousands of Vietnamese babies and young children evacuated from South Vietnam in early 1975.

They were sent to new homes across the western world, most being orphans but some tragically separated from their families in the warzone.

Raised in homes very different to those prior, many of the links to their family heritage in Vietnam were gone.

Instantly, Barton and Andy realised that, while they’d gone to two very different environments in South Australia and the Outer Hebrides respectively, they were both raised in strikingly similar circumstances as the only Vietnamese children in small, predominantly white communities.

Barton on stage in Precious Cargo, the play that entwines his and Andy Yearley’s story and that of other Vietnamese orphans.

“Andy gets me,” Barton said. “He gets the displacement I feel being Asian on the outside and something else on the inside.

“At the same time, what’s really nice is we’ve both got on with our lives and we’re both really fortunate.

“We touch on the history, but I think people will come to this show and see it’s not just about adoption, displacement or racism, it’s a layered humanitarian story.

“Had I not gone to the Hebrides on that job, I’d have never met Andy, our producer Andrew Eaton-Lewis and our director Laura Cameron-Lewis.

“It’s incredible that Andy and I both came from Vietnam, and then two orphans from opposite sides of the world met in the Hebrides.”

Orphans’ stories

Precious Cargo, which premiered at An Lanntair in Stornoway earlier this month, sees Barton and Andy’s stories interwoven with tales from other orphans who were reached out to via social media.

“It’s heavy on tech, so we hear a lot of great voices,” Barton said. “There’s a lot going on on stage, even though I’m the sole actor. It’s the story of my experience, and then you’re hearing it from other adoptees as well and then you throw in Andy’s music.

“I didn’t think it was going to strike me as hard as it did and then on stage I could really feel it. There’s a scene where we take you back to Vietnam and it feels like you’re there – other than the smell and the heat which we couldn’t replicate!”

Barton says the story is particularly relevant at a time where so many people around the world find themselves displaced for one reason or another.

“It’s not a political play, but at the same time we have to acknowledge that politics played a part in this,” he said. “If Operation Babylift didn’t take place, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

“I’m not saying that it was all a bed of roses, I think the play shows that and there are some challenges that people probably didn’t realise, but in my story I’m very grateful for the life I was given.

“Operation Babylift is very unique to each adoptee. I think we’ve balanced it pretty well.

“The other thing I find interesting is that, at some point in your life as an adoptee, there’s always a curiosity to find out about your biological relatives.

“I think that’s a common theme among all of us, whether we’re happy with how our life turned out or not.

“I went back to Vietnam when I turned 40, which is quite late, but it’s always there.”

Technological advances in DNA testing and social media have lead to some being able to track down their families, but not in the case of Barton and Andy.

“I’ve learned a lot more about Operation Babylift as an adult than when I was younger,” Barton said of the experience of putting Precious Cargo together. “I didn’t really understand it then.

“The whole experience has been cleansing but, at the same time, in light of my adopted mother passing last year, it’s been an emotional journey I’m still battling with a little bit.

“Mum was such a strong, significant character in my life, she was my rock. We’ve dedicated the play to her.

“There have been of highs and lows because I am having to reminisce a fair bit and think about how fortunate I am.”

‘I hardly slept a wink the whole week’

Composer Andrew Yearley was born in Saigon in 1972 and arrived in Scotland in 1974. He grew up in the village of Keose on Lewis with adoptive parents Iain and Eileen Yearley.

Here he recalls his return to Vietnam as part of a 2004 documentary by Lewis-based MacTV.

I didn’t find blood family but it was still the most unforgettable, vivid and surreal week of my entire life.

A normal tourist visiting Vietnam finds stimulation overload, but in my case it was my first time seeing the country of my birth, potentially finding blood family, surrounded by a Gaelic TV crew, and escorted by a high up official from the Vietnamese government. Surreal was a total understatement!

I hardly slept a wink the whole week – everything was too vivid, I didn’t want to miss a second. I still remember so many moments as if it were yesterday.

On the last day I went on a sort of pilgrimage to the street where I was found in the ditch, the dead woman beside me presumably my real mother. It was 5am and the street was buzzing with activity.

To a lot of folk, their first known location is a hospital bed, or a birthing pool.

Here I was at mine – a bustling, beautiful street with overgrown foliage everywhere, children, cats and dogs running wild, and a barely discernible old train track running through it.

It was a very personal moment I will never forget.

Precious Cargo, Summerhall – Demonstration Room, Aug 1-26, 3.10pm