Devaki Murch

“In order to acknowledge a story or experience, you need to understand its boundaries.” Devaki Murch recently said this to a room of Lahainaluna students, admitting that she lacked this knowledge when she started her first project. Murch tours schools and colleges discussing Operation Babylift—a military operation authorized in 1975 to rescue orphans from Vietnam—and her search for details within archives.

According to Murch, most of the knowledge she gained about her history found her, rather than the other way around. She claims these accidental discoveries directed her path toward different goals for her first project.

Murch described how her first project, which she called “The Secret Ability to Fly,” was about showing gratitude to her caregivers: “I wanted to write letters to all these people that have influenced and supported me.” She did this until she realized that not everyone was as fortunate as she was. “Number one,” she said, “when I started talking to people, [I realized] regarding the letters of gratitude, not everyone is grateful for being over here.”

Murch talked a lot about stability and her gratitude for being raised by a supportive, loving family. As she changed her focus, she realized how important it was to have “people that will be there to catch you.” “That, to me, is the huge thing,” she added, “and I'm finding that a lot of the adoptees don't have someone there to catch them and they never have. And I didn't know that.”

Her project never caught on initially. While everyone she talked to shared a connection to the Vietnam War, they did not share the same identity or experience of growing up. Listening to so many perspectives, Murch realized that “gratitude” was not the right word and shifted to questions about memory and connection. “When I think about it,” she said, “what do we have to pass on and how do we relate to things?”

The Details That Are Never Shared

Operation Babylift was one of the largest emergency child evacuations in history, leading to the evacuation of over 3,000 children. In April 1975, President Gerald Ford authorized the operation to evacuate orphans by aircraft, sending C-5A Galaxy cargo planes to pick up infants, toddlers, and their caregivers to rescue them from the fall of Saigon.

One of 314 passengers, Murch was on the first C-5A Galaxy plane to arrive in April. She and others were put in the plane’s upper level, while older children who could walk were put in the lower level. Twelve minutes into the flight, the rear cargo door blew out due to broken hydraulic locks, causing the plane to make an emergency crash landing near the Saigon River. Pieces of the plane were scattered across nearby rice fields. Only 175 out of the 314 passengers on board survived.

After her first moment of good fortune, Murch and the other children were rescued a second time and eventually reached San Francisco, where they met their adoptive families. Murch’s family was from Kauai, where she would spend her fortunate childhood.

Growing up on the Garden Island, Murch felt that she fitted in, at least in appearance. “When you walk around, I look like all the other kids. We donʻt have a lot of Vietnamese in Hawaii... people just always thought I was like a Filipino or something just like that." This sense of belonging provided the comfort and stability every child needs. “In order for you to question your history and your origin,” she said, “you have to have a place to stand on. If you don't have a place to stand on, you have no bandwidth for uncertainty.”

"Records are Alive"

Later in life, Murch used her extra “bandwidth” to reflect on the difference between who we are born to and who raises us. She now prefers the term “First Family” over "birth family" because “it might not be birth. It might be truly this collective larger multi-generational family that you were raised [in]... it's much more encompassing.”

As Murch got older, the pieces of her past seemed to be drawn to her. A friend’s dad found an old newspaper article in an attic; a reunion attendee gave her a piece of the metal from the plane crash. “The newspaper article found me. The piece of the plane came and found me… it was not me searching out any of this. But to me, records are alive and they came and found me.”

Murch continues to take feedback from her audiences to tell her story more effectively. She spoke at UH Maui College the day before visiting Lahainaluna and had prepared a completely different slideshow based on student feedback. However, to her disappointment, her USB drive contained an outdated presentation.

Yet, this was another lucky break. Without the new slides, she was forced to speak from the heart, which appeared heartfelt and genuine to the students. To her, these opportunities are never a one-way street. She learns “not only what I need to communicate, but the perspectives and the impacts that we have... and the power that all of you have by doing these interviews... recognizing our past and where we're going.”