Naomi Armel often reminisces about her past, curious about her biological family. Her desire to find her roots grows stronger and stronger.
Naomi Armel, born Pham Thi Hoa, has no memories of Vietnam but clearly remembers the snow everywhere on her first day in France.
But that same day the little girl suddenly disappeared. Mr. Bertrand and Mrs. Martine searched the whole house in Toulouse and found their daughter sleeping under an outdoor table, on the gravel floor.
The girl, nearly 2 years old, was adopted by the couple from an orphanage in Vietnam in the mid-1990s. In the early days, the girl was not used to sleeping on blankets, not knowing how to take a bath, and not wearing enough warm clothes. "At that time, I still kept the habit of hiding food because I was afraid of running out," Naomi Armel said.
The Vietnamese girl grew up in the love of her adoptive parents and two brothers. Since childhood, Naomi has always excelled in her studies and has a talent for many arts, making her mark in many dance and children's beauty contests.
Her curiosity drove her to explore everything. Deep down, she wanted to prove to her parents that they didn't regret adopting her. "I was afraid of being abandoned again," Naomi explained.
Because of this obsession, Naomi refused to attend the Vietnamese language and culture classes arranged by her adoptive parents. She told herself that she would never return to Asia, only make friends with white people, and even planned to have cosmetic surgery to remove the Asian features on her face.
At 18, Naomi went to Taiwan to study languages. But on the island, an "internal identity struggle" arose. She did not know whether she was French or Vietnamese and often reminisced about her past, curious about her biological family. "Are my biological parents still alive?" she asked herself many times.
Naomi set a goal to find her family at the age of 25, when her career was stable and shining. In 2019, while working in Hong Kong, she contacted the Vietnamese Consulate General there but received no response.
The Covid-19 outbreak caused Naomi to put her plans on hold.
"During those years, my desire to return to my roots grew stronger and stronger. Along with that was the fear of not being able to see my birth parents again due to old age," she shared.
In 2023, Naomi met a French-Vietnamese teacher in Singapore named Sang. Hearing the story, Sang wanted to help. The two planned a return trip in June 2024.
But one day in early May, the story of finding the family of Naomi Armel, birth name Pham Thi Hoa, hometown Hien Van commune, Tien Du district, Bac Ninh province, was posted on social media, along with a photo of a family of 6 people. Hien Van commune police contacted Nguyen Thi Men’s family to inform them that they had a daughter in France that they were looking for.
It turned out that Sang had asked various acquaintances and used many leads to find a family for her friend. She kept the whole process a secret because she didn't want Naomi to get her hopes up and then be disappointed. When she was told the good news, Naomi asked her friend five times before tears started to flow.
A few days later, Sang announced that he could not return to Vietnam. This news made Naomi very sad. Vietnam was still a place with too many emotions for her lost child. "I could not have faced the psychological trauma accumulated over 30 years without your support," she confided.
The plan was put on hold. By mid-July, Naomi was invited to launch a fashion brand in Ho Chi Minh City. This time, she was determined to overcome her fear.
At 11:25 p.m. on July 17, she downloaded a messaging app, entered her eldest sister's phone number named Hien, and sent a long message: "Hello my dear sister! I'm Pham Thi Hoa, your younger sister...".
The message was responded to immediately. The two sisters texted with the help of a translation tool until the next morning.
On July 22, the car picking up Naomi stopped at a village more than 30 minutes away from Bac Ninh city. Naomi trembled as she brought the letter she had written to her mother before the trip for her eldest sister to hold and give to her to read first.
A moment later, she entered the house. What caught her eye was the altar with a portrait of her father - the man in the photo her adoptive parents had shown her throughout her childhood. Her eyes stung and her nose was stuffy.
The older sister pointed to the room on the right and met her mother. After a moment to calm down, she knocked on the door. The air was quiet. Suddenly the lights came on, and cheers rang out. In front of her were many faces. People were holding flowers, holding cakes, clapping their hands. People were crying, laughing. Her mother walked over and hugged her.
Naomi was overwhelmed. She received an unexpectedly warm welcome. "I wanted to surprise people, but they ended up surprising me," she said.
The story of why Naomi was adopted gradually unfolded. In the early 1990s, Mrs. Men’s family was the poorest in the village. Her husband had a serious heart condition and could not speak or walk. The woman had to support her four children’s education while also paying for medical treatment and taking care of her husband. As a last resort, the family sent Hoa to an orphanage.
At that time, from France, Mrs. Martine and her husband (who is partly Vietnamese), had always wanted to adopt an unfortunate Asian girl. After two years of paperwork, the orphanage proposed Hoa. When she visited, Mrs. Martine immediately fell in love with the blonde girl.
Before leaving, they returned to their son's village and saw his father dying in his thatched house.
Mrs. Men said that the day her daughter followed her adoptive parents to France was also the day her husband passed away forever. "There is no greater pain than having to say goodbye to your child and lose your husband at the same time," she confided.
Because her family was poor, the eldest sister had to drop out of school early and work as a maid to help her mother raise her younger siblings. The second sister was able to go to high school and later went to work in Taiwan. The third sister, thanks to the sacrifices of the first two sisters, was able to go to university.
"It was then that I realized the most difficult and painful decision my parents made was to let me go for a better opportunity," Hoa said.
In a letter to her mother before the reunion, Pham Thi Hoa summarized her journey to find her family and expressed her desire to "draw a new blank page" with everyone. She plans to spend more time in the future exploring Vietnam, organizing charity activities and becoming a bridge between her homeland and French fashion brands.
"My adoptive parents are about to retire and the idea of bringing the two families closer together fills me with joy," Hoa shared.
Over the years, Hoa has also participated in humanitarian activities around the world. In Singapore, for the past two weeks, she has been busy organizing a charity event to raise funds for her return to Vietnam in early October to support the victims of Typhoon No. 3 (Yagi).
"From now on, I can start my healing journey," said the fourth daughter in Hien Van village, Bac Ninh.
TB (according to VnExpress)