Pond dries. Nowhere to wash. so angry as I walk home. hurrying because sun is setting, already my eyes are fogging over. Night blindness. Every night. Maybe I have a fever, maybe I am possessed by some wicked spirit that means me harm. Who know. But when I see my neibhor with his two children as I approach my house, I loose my head.
“They say they make country better,” I say, as I walk up to them. “Country not better because now we have no water to take a bath. How can they do this?”
Right away, I know I make a mistake. silence is so loud . They do not greet me, say nothing. young man standing with them.Some stranger. Whatever, I think, walking on. Just someone new to camp.
Two weeks go by. I sit in front of my house, no work today. Two Khmer officers are walking from dining tent.
“Oh, somebody in trouble,” I think. “Somebody else disappear today.”
Army officers are getting closer. Hut by hut, everyone look so happy when they not stop at their home. Sound of their boots only noise, so loud. Noone talking.
I am watching so hard I guess I am last one to realize they come for me. Sun leave my body, liltle grasshoppers jumping all over inside. Teeth chattering even nore noise than boots. Can hardly breathe.
They stop in front of me. My eyes roll back in my head in horror.
“You have to come to Kamatoo right now,” one of them says. He so ugly, a big broken nose, face pocked like a plucked chicken. Big belly
“Nothing wrong,” the other solder is tall and skinny, not like me, more normal skinny and he smile as he reaches down and grasps my arm. “The major just want to talk to you about school.”
I dig my feet into the steamy soil. Struggle against this man so hard. Where this energy come from?,
“No school for me. I not want to die.” I am screaming and my sisters run outside, hold onto each other. Crying already. going to die. I battle these horrible men. I fight for my life. All this time, I think I do not want to go on, I want to leave this body, I pray that my eyes do not open. Why I want to live so bad? So strange, I think. So strange you fight so hard. What for? You only going to die anyway.
“You don’t want me, Big mistake. Please. Who take care of my little sister.”
“Go with them,” big sister sobs. “Just a couple days. You come home. You have to go.”
I know she does not believe this. She just want tomake me not so frightened.
We walk, rice field after rice field, single file, one in front, one in back. Sun sink in sky. Oh how I want Mi. Where she now? So tired, legs so weak. Stumble, fall to the ground. Need rest.
“Go, go.” Man behind me is impatient. He wants me to walk faster. I grab onto weeds in the ground but he rips me upward, pushes me forward with butt of his rifle.
Now finally my tears, too, gone. They too frightened.
“Don’t hurt me, please. Don’t hurt me.”
We walk maybe half day come to giant temple. Just sitting there like before, like nothing bad happening here in my land. A rush of happy childhood memories. Maybe not so bad, I think. Maybe some kind of school afterall.
They push me up the steps and through the door. I only think about water.
Even before I see anything , my stomach tight at smell, the hot air rotting with garbage, sweat, urine and feces . We move inside and now I know where they take me. This is last destination of disappeared.
So dark inside. Think I scared before but not prepared for this. line after line of college students sit on floor, legs in front of them. Long chains stretch from one end of temple to other, binding cuffed feet together. Small dried fish trapped in a can, packed tight against each other. Temple seals their silence. big sunken eyes talk. No terror. No hope. Death faces.
Torture screams like never hear before from behind huge Buddha near back of temple. Death faces no change. Man dragged outside, hear door slamming. Empty eyes stare straight ahead.
Soldiers push me down at end of row near middle. No chains on my feet.
Oh I do not know how I sit here with this terror. Waiting for death. I am praying, I call out to Mi, ask her to take me away. Come back for me, Mi. This mistake. When mayor see me he know. Wrong person. Angry with guards for wasting time. Send me home. Sisters so happy. Treat me best. Give me most food. Everybody so happy, Just mistake.
Much later, they bring us food. Already I no see. Everything black. A bowl of rice and dry fish. Lie down and sleep. Wake later when something hits me on the back. I sit up and feel around me in the midnight. Fingers find a mango.
In morning I eat mango with rice. I see now, look around. Noone else eating. Too sick. Close to dying. Look on their face, still same, look I see on Mi, on Shrey Mom. Now hundreds of death faces. Do I have death face, too? How I know this? I not see my face in years.
When they finally come for me, I know where; back behind the Buddha. Torture room. The big man stands in front of me.
“Uncle, please don’t hurt me. Please.” My hands are under my chin. “Whatever I say, I don’t mean anything. I so hungry, so starving,”
He no care what I say. He no listen.
“Who your husband?”
“My husband rhickshaw man.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, yes. He rickshaw man. Many years.”
“What you do for living before here?”
‘I sell fruit, sometimes clothes.”
They ask so many questions. I know they want to hit me. But they know I going to die soon. Why bother?
Big man just waves me away.
Later, guards let me go outside to bathroom. I see two men standing outside their arms and legs chained to temple wall. No clothes. And then I see that man, that man next to my neighbor when I complain about no water.He smile at me. He spy. He bring me here. Oh, I so stupid. Why I so stupid?
Next day again behind Buddha.
“Mut,” the mayor says. “You are going to tell us truth or you die like others.”
“No truth to tell, uncle. Big mistake. Please, don’t hurt me.”
They wrap my head in plastic bag. Tell truth or you die.
Tight across my face, my hands tear at plastic. My breath sucks suffocating fabric deep into mouth like snail swallowing its skin. My body battles, battles until spirit stills. I feel Mi with me. Like when she ask me to take her with me if I try to escape. She here now. I know not going to die that day.
I look out behind mask, everything so slow. Why they screaming at me? Why they twisting my fingers, kicking my legs with filthy feet? So peaceful inside. Just want to sleep now. No pain. My eyes closing.
Dreaming about Mi. She right beside me. My finger hurt so bad. She come and blow on it. I hear someone calling me. Open eyes. Is this Temple again?
“I thought you dead.” A ghost-girl beside me. I look around. Oh, no. Back in temple with death masks still waiting to die. Mi? I look down at finger; feel her breath.. Close my eyes. Go home to Mi.
Another day. They come for me again. Same questions. No plastic bag this time. Mayor tells me to take buckets of feces and dump them outside. Two buckets . I so weak need two hands each bucket. Dirty body-waste slush over top, cover my hands.
Big man is gone when finish. Guard yell, “Wash your hands. Come with me.”
We are on bicycle now.
“Where you take me? Where we going?” He no answer, keep pedalling. Keep asking.
“Where you think you going?” he finally ask. I look and look around me. So frightened. No idea. Like nightmare. Time go by. I feel like a rag doll on that ride, flopping all over, no control. I think my mind …
“Oh, look that tree there. Look like near my house.”
The guard think I crazy because near my house I don’t recognize. Oh that tree is similar. I think I see that tree before but I don’t know where. He take me past my house. Oh that look like my house.
Guard take me to leaer house. I lucky, he say. From now on be careful. Next time I not lucky. I walk home, see all these people so happy, crying to see me. Hugging me.
I keep pulling away, pushing them away. They scare me. They look like monkeys. They turn into monkeys when I gone. What happened? Maybe I not belong here anymore.
“Do you not recognize me, Dong? I your sister.” One of the monkeys takes my arm, she crying so hard. “We think we never see you again.”
I look around as we walk toward house.
“Where Mi? I want Mi….”
“Mi dead. You remember.
What she know? How she know Mi visit me? I keep my secret. Pretend I really coming home. I remember this place but it so long ago. No idea I would ever come back.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Kou:Time Passing
Time just go by, nothing change. Only two sarong, a few shirt now. Make hat from palm tree. No shoes. Use sand to brush teeth. Wake up when dark. Bell rings we eat. Long tables and chairs. One bowl soup for four people. Small bowl salt. Join group, walk out to fields.Sometimes find snail at work. Quick hide in pocket
Work on one row, dig, finish, move to next row. I slow because never do farming before.
Walk home to eat. Rest one or two hours. Back to fields. Just same, pick rice, replant fields. Sometimes vegetables. Everything same until I get infection.
Nurse gives us vitamin shot make us feel better. More energy to work. A couple days I get fever, arm gets red and swollen.
I go to hospital. So much pain I say “Just cut off my arm, cannot sleep.” Nurse cut big hole in my arm to get out infection. Put bandage over and tell me go back to work now. I not strong enough to work in field so work picking up cow dung.
Every week we go to Unka meeting. Outside sit on haystacks. Everyone have to go unless you too sick to walk. Group leader talk about who lazy, who bad. Always talk about crops, how to make more food to eat. We hard worker people, they say. No difference you used to be doctor lady. Get out of your head. Now you part of UNKA. Everybody same. Big plan for country. Used to be rice crop one time year, now we get three. Work hard or you die. Not enough food.
But rice not last long enough. Now we get scoop of corn in soup. Then chicken pox come, kill everybody’s children, even Khmer Rouge. Not matter to me anymore. All our children already starve to death. What I care?
After kids die, I work with old people. Tha always try to work
on row next to me, help me finish.
“Oh my good friend,” he say. “I remember you when you first came. So beautiful.” Tha always friend to me. Teach me how to collect water to make palm milk from leaves. He always hide food in pocket for me. Even though his son is general in Khmer Rouge still he work in fields.
Work on one row, dig, finish, move to next row. I slow because never do farming before.
Walk home to eat. Rest one or two hours. Back to fields. Just same, pick rice, replant fields. Sometimes vegetables. Everything same until I get infection.
Nurse gives us vitamin shot make us feel better. More energy to work. A couple days I get fever, arm gets red and swollen.
I go to hospital. So much pain I say “Just cut off my arm, cannot sleep.” Nurse cut big hole in my arm to get out infection. Put bandage over and tell me go back to work now. I not strong enough to work in field so work picking up cow dung.
Every week we go to Unka meeting. Outside sit on haystacks. Everyone have to go unless you too sick to walk. Group leader talk about who lazy, who bad. Always talk about crops, how to make more food to eat. We hard worker people, they say. No difference you used to be doctor lady. Get out of your head. Now you part of UNKA. Everybody same. Big plan for country. Used to be rice crop one time year, now we get three. Work hard or you die. Not enough food.
But rice not last long enough. Now we get scoop of corn in soup. Then chicken pox come, kill everybody’s children, even Khmer Rouge. Not matter to me anymore. All our children already starve to death. What I care?
After kids die, I work with old people. Tha always try to work
on row next to me, help me finish.
“Oh my good friend,” he say. “I remember you when you first came. So beautiful.” Tha always friend to me. Teach me how to collect water to make palm milk from leaves. He always hide food in pocket for me. Even though his son is general in Khmer Rouge still he work in fields.
Kou: Another Death
Brother-in-law stay in bed this morning. His eyes very bright
“Oh, Kim, such a beutfiul dream. Do you remember Thom? He in my dream. Just down road, he say, so much food you not believe. I follow him down into village, big market all kinds of food, sardines, bananas, pineapples, noodle soup. Free. We eat everything.”
Everybody love share these dreams, feel so good, so happy this morning I no patience to listen, too hungry. Rush out to join my group. Angry at him, why he not get up to work? He need real food, not dream food.
Only corn to eat now. Over a month. Brother-in-law always so clever. He never stop finding new things to eat. He catches ginkos crawling on the walls, under the trees. Takes off skin look like chicken, he cook them. He not find anything for week now.
Lunch time. Brother-in-law sleeping. He wake up when my niece return from dining room with bowl of food. He sits up and grabs her, tries to take her food.
“Give me food, give me food,” he yell at his daughter.
She scream back, “No, no, don’t take my food.”
I rush between them, slap his arm away.
“Gee, why you do this?” I ask, placing the bowl firmly in my niece’s hands, shooing her away to eat. “ You always do this.”
“You know I so hungry.”
“Why don’t you just wait? I hungry, too.”
When the bell rings for our food, brother-in-law asks me:
“Can you get my food, too? Too weak to get up. cannot go.”
I go to dining area and fill our bowls and rush back with food. I hand bowl to him. He still lying in bed.
“Thank you,” he whispers. “Just leave bowl on my chest.”
I place bowl there and begin eating my meal. He folds his arms around the bowl. Not try to eat anything.
I finish my meal and walk over to wake him. He is dead.
Sister, children and I cry next to his body. This death is my fault. Why I not realize how sick he was? Why I not realize he going to die when he tell me dream this morning? Why I get so angry at him?.
“I am so sorry,” I cry. “I didn’t know that you were that starving”
The KR come to take his body away. A few months later his wife is also dead. They take her away, too.
“Oh, Kim, such a beutfiul dream. Do you remember Thom? He in my dream. Just down road, he say, so much food you not believe. I follow him down into village, big market all kinds of food, sardines, bananas, pineapples, noodle soup. Free. We eat everything.”
Everybody love share these dreams, feel so good, so happy this morning I no patience to listen, too hungry. Rush out to join my group. Angry at him, why he not get up to work? He need real food, not dream food.
Only corn to eat now. Over a month. Brother-in-law always so clever. He never stop finding new things to eat. He catches ginkos crawling on the walls, under the trees. Takes off skin look like chicken, he cook them. He not find anything for week now.
Lunch time. Brother-in-law sleeping. He wake up when my niece return from dining room with bowl of food. He sits up and grabs her, tries to take her food.
“Give me food, give me food,” he yell at his daughter.
She scream back, “No, no, don’t take my food.”
I rush between them, slap his arm away.
“Gee, why you do this?” I ask, placing the bowl firmly in my niece’s hands, shooing her away to eat. “ You always do this.”
“You know I so hungry.”
“Why don’t you just wait? I hungry, too.”
When the bell rings for our food, brother-in-law asks me:
“Can you get my food, too? Too weak to get up. cannot go.”
I go to dining area and fill our bowls and rush back with food. I hand bowl to him. He still lying in bed.
“Thank you,” he whispers. “Just leave bowl on my chest.”
I place bowl there and begin eating my meal. He folds his arms around the bowl. Not try to eat anything.
I finish my meal and walk over to wake him. He is dead.
Sister, children and I cry next to his body. This death is my fault. Why I not realize how sick he was? Why I not realize he going to die when he tell me dream this morning? Why I get so angry at him?.
“I am so sorry,” I cry. “I didn’t know that you were that starving”
The KR come to take his body away. A few months later his wife is also dead. They take her away, too.
Kou: Mae
Mae
Every night after dinner, Mae and I sit in front of our house and watch people walk by. I can always tell by their faces if they are going to die soon. I always tell Mae.
“Why you say that?” she ask. “How you know this?”
“I can see face of death,” I say.
One day I come home Mae lying down spread out. Arms outstretched. I see that face again. That face is awful face.
“Mae! Wake up! Wake up! Why your face like that?”
She open her eyes. “What face?”
“The face like I always tell you. The face just before you die.”
“I don’t try to do that kind of face.”
I can only cry. Too late now to escape with Mae. Too late to keep promise to take her with me.
Only a few days and already little sister and I can no longer care for her. No choice but to put her in hospital. We walk by hospital every morning on way to work and every night on way home from.
Always we so tired and so hungry. One night we not stop to see how she is.
Next morning we pick some cucumbers from vines growing near our house and begin walking toward hospital. Little sister so much faster than me, always stronger and faster, always complaining about how slow I walk. Now she race ahead to hospital. When I get there, she outside. Face very frightened. She scream when she see me.
“Hurry, hurry. I think Mae dead.”
We race into her room. Mae dying. I take my spoon and start spooning her body, scraping off sickness. She start to get color again. Open her eyes. She better.
“You have to stay alive, Mae. You cannot die. Just a little longer. Things will change. You must be strong.”
Everybody crying. But we have to leave. If we do not work, no food.
That night again we so tired not stop at hospital. Next morning, same, sister run off ahead. Now she sobbing.
“Mae dead.” She say this like it my fault, like Mae maybe live if I not so slow.
Mae’s gown pulled up over face. Bottom of body naked. Feces between legs. All these people around her. How could they leave her so exposed, for everyone to see? Why they not cover her?
Sister and I clean her body. We leave her there in bed and go to fields. Never see her again.
Every night after dinner, Mae and I sit in front of our house and watch people walk by. I can always tell by their faces if they are going to die soon. I always tell Mae.
“Why you say that?” she ask. “How you know this?”
“I can see face of death,” I say.
One day I come home Mae lying down spread out. Arms outstretched. I see that face again. That face is awful face.
“Mae! Wake up! Wake up! Why your face like that?”
She open her eyes. “What face?”
“The face like I always tell you. The face just before you die.”
“I don’t try to do that kind of face.”
I can only cry. Too late now to escape with Mae. Too late to keep promise to take her with me.
Only a few days and already little sister and I can no longer care for her. No choice but to put her in hospital. We walk by hospital every morning on way to work and every night on way home from.
Always we so tired and so hungry. One night we not stop to see how she is.
Next morning we pick some cucumbers from vines growing near our house and begin walking toward hospital. Little sister so much faster than me, always stronger and faster, always complaining about how slow I walk. Now she race ahead to hospital. When I get there, she outside. Face very frightened. She scream when she see me.
“Hurry, hurry. I think Mae dead.”
We race into her room. Mae dying. I take my spoon and start spooning her body, scraping off sickness. She start to get color again. Open her eyes. She better.
“You have to stay alive, Mae. You cannot die. Just a little longer. Things will change. You must be strong.”
Everybody crying. But we have to leave. If we do not work, no food.
That night again we so tired not stop at hospital. Next morning, same, sister run off ahead. Now she sobbing.
“Mae dead.” She say this like it my fault, like Mae maybe live if I not so slow.
Mae’s gown pulled up over face. Bottom of body naked. Feces between legs. All these people around her. How could they leave her so exposed, for everyone to see? Why they not cover her?
Sister and I clean her body. We leave her there in bed and go to fields. Never see her again.
Kou: Shrey-mom
Kou: Shrey-mom
Just a few days ago I start to worry about my daughter.
Shrey-mom start to swell. Nothing really wrong, I say to myself. She just getting fat. Already two of my nieces starve to death. But not Shrey-Mom. I not see how weak she is.
Every day I come home from fields and she still lying in bed. One day she just no get up. That day it rain so hard. Too weak.
“Get up, Shrey-Mom. Get up. You have to eat. Get up.” I pull her out of the bed. Her body so limp.
“No, no.”
My daughter not say anything else, she know she dying. I hold her up try feed her. She refuse food.
Whole family gather around us. They sit quiet as I hold her through night. She just sleep, open eyes one or two times to say “Oh, Mae.”
Mae come to sit beside me.
“She leaving us, daughter. You know that just before you die you see your real mom. Say good-bye to her, let her go.”
We just sit together crying. Outside rain so hard like the whole world cry too.
I think about day when we first arrive here. Anghar soldier come talk to me. Shrey-mom playing with her cousins. She so pretty, still healthy, still strong. Her laughter still full of joy
"You want to give daughter to me?” he ask. “She grow up healthy in my family. Lots of food. Go to school. A good life.”
How I know how bad life become? Still have food. Never think day come I not able care for my daughter.
"Is he crazy?" I think. "Why he even think such a thing?"
But now tonight I so angry at myself.
“Oh, if only I had given Shrey-Mom to that man. She still be alive today.”
Morning come. I find Anghar officer. Tell him what happen.
“Go to work,” he say. “We get her body and bury her.”
I wrap Shrey-mom in blanket and leave her on bed. I go to work. No choice. No time off to grieve. Hundreds of people die every day.
Walk home with my group. Nothing ever be same again. Nothing matter. Why even go home, my little girl’s body gone, tossed into big hole with other dead bodies. No one she know. No one know where hole is. Shovel after shovel of earth cover her. Never find.
“We have to take care of boy,” Mae say that night.
All night long, night after night, I breast feed my son. I so skinny can no longer sit on bed, my bones need cushion, many pillows. I cannot make milk, my son so little, just shrinking away.
He die so soon after Shrey- Mom. Now only 3 children in family – older sister’s children.
Just a few days ago I start to worry about my daughter.
Shrey-mom start to swell. Nothing really wrong, I say to myself. She just getting fat. Already two of my nieces starve to death. But not Shrey-Mom. I not see how weak she is.
Every day I come home from fields and she still lying in bed. One day she just no get up. That day it rain so hard. Too weak.
“Get up, Shrey-Mom. Get up. You have to eat. Get up.” I pull her out of the bed. Her body so limp.
“No, no.”
My daughter not say anything else, she know she dying. I hold her up try feed her. She refuse food.
Whole family gather around us. They sit quiet as I hold her through night. She just sleep, open eyes one or two times to say “Oh, Mae.”
Mae come to sit beside me.
“She leaving us, daughter. You know that just before you die you see your real mom. Say good-bye to her, let her go.”
We just sit together crying. Outside rain so hard like the whole world cry too.
I think about day when we first arrive here. Anghar soldier come talk to me. Shrey-mom playing with her cousins. She so pretty, still healthy, still strong. Her laughter still full of joy
"You want to give daughter to me?” he ask. “She grow up healthy in my family. Lots of food. Go to school. A good life.”
How I know how bad life become? Still have food. Never think day come I not able care for my daughter.
"Is he crazy?" I think. "Why he even think such a thing?"
But now tonight I so angry at myself.
“Oh, if only I had given Shrey-Mom to that man. She still be alive today.”
Morning come. I find Anghar officer. Tell him what happen.
“Go to work,” he say. “We get her body and bury her.”
I wrap Shrey-mom in blanket and leave her on bed. I go to work. No choice. No time off to grieve. Hundreds of people die every day.
Walk home with my group. Nothing ever be same again. Nothing matter. Why even go home, my little girl’s body gone, tossed into big hole with other dead bodies. No one she know. No one know where hole is. Shovel after shovel of earth cover her. Never find.
“We have to take care of boy,” Mae say that night.
All night long, night after night, I breast feed my son. I so skinny can no longer sit on bed, my bones need cushion, many pillows. I cannot make milk, my son so little, just shrinking away.
He die so soon after Shrey- Mom. Now only 3 children in family – older sister’s children.
Kou: Ba
Kou: Ba
Shrey-mom is singing as she pushes the baby in the hammock. She looks up when Ba walks inside. She is so young and yet I know she worries about Ba. She knows he is weak and sick because we have so little food.
‘Oh, grandpa!” She is excited to see him, she has good news. “You know, last night I dream about food. All night plates and plates of food. I wake up not hungry. Maybe we have a lot of food later.”
Ba stops beside her and gently pats her on the head.
“Oh Shrey-mom. You are only a little girl. Already you know that dreaming about food is about eating a lot of food. Such a wise girl.”
We all look at each other as she resumes rocking the baby. We understand so well the power of dreams, how you can wake up feeling as if you are full, even though you are starving. Until now, we did not know how close my daughter is to death.
Dream food not last long though. just mind tricks. Body big empty cavern.
Now I can feel energy from water. Under rain I feel a lot of energy. Water keep me alive.
Everyone starving. Most of all we worry about Mae and Ba. They both so weak.
One day I hatch plan. Number 2 sister has chicken for eggs. No way she part with that chicken. Like pet to her. So late in night when everyone sleeping. younger sister and I tiptoe outside to find chicken. We know exactly where that chicken is, underneath the house. I grab it and wring its neck.
Early next morning, I boil chicken and give to my parents and daughter to eat. It lasts for a couple days. Sister Number 2 never figure out what happen to her chicken.
Shrey-mom always cover her face when she sleep. When she born she always cover her eyes. One day when I am getting ready to go to work she beg me stay home.
“You know what happen when you leave, Mae? Uncle come into our room, he look everywhere for food. They think I sleep, but I see them.
I tell them what she say. She tell truth.
“We thought you sleeping,” her Uncle say.
***
Ba’s body swelling. Every day I come home from work and he worse. Mae too weak to take care of him.
We so frightened. Only hope to save Ba is to send him to hospital where they have thick rice soup.
“If I go, I don’t think I don’t think I will see any of you again.”
We know this true; other people go, no one ever come home
I have no choice. I have to convince him. I have to worry about Mae, too.
“We bring you back later,” I say. “I promise. Is only way.”
The trip to hospital takes half day. I walk there and report to person in charge that Ba very sick. Cart come take him away.
Mae go see him after one week. Second time she go she cannot find him there.
They don’t come to tell you when someone die. They just bury them.
We know Ba gone.
Wonder why we get up with sun. why we bother? Why we not just give up, lie down and wait to die?
Mae lie down beside me. She so small now her bones rub against mine. Her skin dry like lizard. She stroke my hand. Hear her breathe, still soft, so comforting when she so close.
“You must stay strong, Donc,” she say. “Babies to take care of.”
Son is crying on my chest. Beside me Shrey-mom asleep, her head hidden underneath small blanket.
Why I have these babies? If I not have babies I free to die.
Mae know what I thinking. My sisters and I still her babies. That why she still here. She reach across me and take my son onto her breast. Rock and sing to him. He fall asleep and still she sing. I rest my head on her shoulder. Can still smell flowers in her hair.
Shrey-mom is singing as she pushes the baby in the hammock. She looks up when Ba walks inside. She is so young and yet I know she worries about Ba. She knows he is weak and sick because we have so little food.
‘Oh, grandpa!” She is excited to see him, she has good news. “You know, last night I dream about food. All night plates and plates of food. I wake up not hungry. Maybe we have a lot of food later.”
Ba stops beside her and gently pats her on the head.
“Oh Shrey-mom. You are only a little girl. Already you know that dreaming about food is about eating a lot of food. Such a wise girl.”
We all look at each other as she resumes rocking the baby. We understand so well the power of dreams, how you can wake up feeling as if you are full, even though you are starving. Until now, we did not know how close my daughter is to death.
Dream food not last long though. just mind tricks. Body big empty cavern.
Now I can feel energy from water. Under rain I feel a lot of energy. Water keep me alive.
Everyone starving. Most of all we worry about Mae and Ba. They both so weak.
One day I hatch plan. Number 2 sister has chicken for eggs. No way she part with that chicken. Like pet to her. So late in night when everyone sleeping. younger sister and I tiptoe outside to find chicken. We know exactly where that chicken is, underneath the house. I grab it and wring its neck.
Early next morning, I boil chicken and give to my parents and daughter to eat. It lasts for a couple days. Sister Number 2 never figure out what happen to her chicken.
Shrey-mom always cover her face when she sleep. When she born she always cover her eyes. One day when I am getting ready to go to work she beg me stay home.
“You know what happen when you leave, Mae? Uncle come into our room, he look everywhere for food. They think I sleep, but I see them.
I tell them what she say. She tell truth.
“We thought you sleeping,” her Uncle say.
***
Ba’s body swelling. Every day I come home from work and he worse. Mae too weak to take care of him.
We so frightened. Only hope to save Ba is to send him to hospital where they have thick rice soup.
“If I go, I don’t think I don’t think I will see any of you again.”
We know this true; other people go, no one ever come home
I have no choice. I have to convince him. I have to worry about Mae, too.
“We bring you back later,” I say. “I promise. Is only way.”
The trip to hospital takes half day. I walk there and report to person in charge that Ba very sick. Cart come take him away.
Mae go see him after one week. Second time she go she cannot find him there.
They don’t come to tell you when someone die. They just bury them.
We know Ba gone.
Wonder why we get up with sun. why we bother? Why we not just give up, lie down and wait to die?
Mae lie down beside me. She so small now her bones rub against mine. Her skin dry like lizard. She stroke my hand. Hear her breathe, still soft, so comforting when she so close.
“You must stay strong, Donc,” she say. “Babies to take care of.”
Son is crying on my chest. Beside me Shrey-mom asleep, her head hidden underneath small blanket.
Why I have these babies? If I not have babies I free to die.
Mae know what I thinking. My sisters and I still her babies. That why she still here. She reach across me and take my son onto her breast. Rock and sing to him. He fall asleep and still she sing. I rest my head on her shoulder. Can still smell flowers in her hair.
Kou: 1973
Chapter 4
It is 1973. I am 7 months pregnant. One week my husband comes home, one week he doesn’t. He says he has overtime and there is no way he can make contact because we don’t have a telephone. Each night I wait for him to come home for dinner. I sit by myself and wait and he never comes
I move in with T and his parents; I live upustairs and he live downstairs, he still in medical school. they take care of me, parents and sister.
My stomache starts to hurt before midnight. I am by myself, I don’t want to wake anyone. I remember mom saying if you are going to have your baby be sure to clean yourself so I take a shower.
When the pain gets too bad I go downstaris and wake him. He takes me to the hospital and waits beside me until I go into the labor room. My daughter is born early in the morning.
The nurse comes outside and tells him “You have a daughter” .. “no,” he says. “It is not my daughter. She is just a friend.”
He stays with me until afternoon. My husband does not come. Mom brings me dinner and the next days his mom and sister come to check on memom and sister. After two days, my husband comes.
“Where were you? I have your baby for two days. Why didn’t you come,” I scream. He has a gun in his pocket and he makes a move as if he is going to draw it out and shoot me. He leaves.
I stay in the hospital for seven days. My husband comes to check me out and takes me to my mom’s house. She takes care of me for one month.
Three of my sisters are still living with mom when we move in. My husband comes and goes. Mom doesn’t like him.
“Why don’t you just not come anymore,” I finally say. “I don’t need you anymore. When I needed you you just weren’t there. Then finally he just leaves and doesn’t come back. I am just something he won in a contest. Why should he care? This is just part of our culture. It is how things are.
It is 1974 and my sisters and I set up a small booth on the street in front of mom’s house. We sell cigarettes, wine, herbs. My older sister sells her restuarnt and moves to Thailand. Sisters 5 and 6 come home and siter 5 gets married. My brother escapes to thailand because they are drafting all the young men to fight to Khmer Rouge.Almost everyone is a soldier, unless they escape. The old Chinese temple near my house becomes an army base. Most of our customers again are soldiers.. I make a business with all the army people come. Make a little money.
I meet Kuan that year. My daughter is almost a year old and he starts comes to the booth all the time to talk with me and he play with my daughter. My parents like him. We have a small party at our house, which means we are married. No roasted pig, no certificate for a second marriage. I am 22 and I am happy. My sisters move out the next year and now it is only me and my small family living in mom’s house. I am crazy in love.
War spiraling outside our little world. Every night we hear guns. Dum rap rap rap. Kuan count how many second between shooting and explisons like counting between thunder and lightening. We run to bed when we hear the sounds, cuddling together under our light blanket.
Everyday we go to temple. Pray bombs not hit any houses. We lucky. Bombs only in lake. Kuan a soldier. He inside tank. He not know how long he can stay here. Many Lon Nal soldiers deserting. We are together for nine short months when he decides to go see his father in Phnom Phen. He leaves in April 1975.
It is 1973. I am 7 months pregnant. One week my husband comes home, one week he doesn’t. He says he has overtime and there is no way he can make contact because we don’t have a telephone. Each night I wait for him to come home for dinner. I sit by myself and wait and he never comes
I move in with T and his parents; I live upustairs and he live downstairs, he still in medical school. they take care of me, parents and sister.
My stomache starts to hurt before midnight. I am by myself, I don’t want to wake anyone. I remember mom saying if you are going to have your baby be sure to clean yourself so I take a shower.
When the pain gets too bad I go downstaris and wake him. He takes me to the hospital and waits beside me until I go into the labor room. My daughter is born early in the morning.
The nurse comes outside and tells him “You have a daughter” .. “no,” he says. “It is not my daughter. She is just a friend.”
He stays with me until afternoon. My husband does not come. Mom brings me dinner and the next days his mom and sister come to check on memom and sister. After two days, my husband comes.
“Where were you? I have your baby for two days. Why didn’t you come,” I scream. He has a gun in his pocket and he makes a move as if he is going to draw it out and shoot me. He leaves.
I stay in the hospital for seven days. My husband comes to check me out and takes me to my mom’s house. She takes care of me for one month.
Three of my sisters are still living with mom when we move in. My husband comes and goes. Mom doesn’t like him.
“Why don’t you just not come anymore,” I finally say. “I don’t need you anymore. When I needed you you just weren’t there. Then finally he just leaves and doesn’t come back. I am just something he won in a contest. Why should he care? This is just part of our culture. It is how things are.
It is 1974 and my sisters and I set up a small booth on the street in front of mom’s house. We sell cigarettes, wine, herbs. My older sister sells her restuarnt and moves to Thailand. Sisters 5 and 6 come home and siter 5 gets married. My brother escapes to thailand because they are drafting all the young men to fight to Khmer Rouge.Almost everyone is a soldier, unless they escape. The old Chinese temple near my house becomes an army base. Most of our customers again are soldiers.. I make a business with all the army people come. Make a little money.
I meet Kuan that year. My daughter is almost a year old and he starts comes to the booth all the time to talk with me and he play with my daughter. My parents like him. We have a small party at our house, which means we are married. No roasted pig, no certificate for a second marriage. I am 22 and I am happy. My sisters move out the next year and now it is only me and my small family living in mom’s house. I am crazy in love.
War spiraling outside our little world. Every night we hear guns. Dum rap rap rap. Kuan count how many second between shooting and explisons like counting between thunder and lightening. We run to bed when we hear the sounds, cuddling together under our light blanket.
Everyday we go to temple. Pray bombs not hit any houses. We lucky. Bombs only in lake. Kuan a soldier. He inside tank. He not know how long he can stay here. Many Lon Nal soldiers deserting. We are together for nine short months when he decides to go see his father in Phnom Phen. He leaves in April 1975.
Kou: Kandal,1975
Thousands and thousands of people everywhere around big temple. Lots of food. Maybe soldiers take good care of us after all. Family find place to rest in crowd. See many people we know.
Everybody think Khmer Rouge ‘freedom fighters’ now. Couple days radio says Lon Nal defeated in Phnom Phen. Everybody cheer. Good news. Now we go home!
Almost right away, big trucks drive around. Young soldiers talk through megaphones. “Not safe yet,” they tell us. “Nobody go home yet. Plenty food here. We wait.”
Young KR soldier know from chlldhood. He nothing to me.
One day he come hit me on side head say “You be good.”
“Ohhhh, now you big KR,” I pretend fear. He know he nobody. He not hurt me.
Everybody still hope but wake up one morning see KR trucks taking people away. Every city family go to host family in country. A KR family.
We so lucky Mae’s family so near. Only one week and Mae’s brother come to pick us up. Not everybody fit in small boat. My uncle’s son take Akmow. That night just across lake hear dog howling. Oh, Akmow. You okay. We come get you.
Next day soldier-friend come ask if he can take Akmou. Donate him to KR.
“You crazy? Never give Akmou away. He my daughter’s dog. He with us since puppy. Go away.”
Uncle warn me be careful with KR but I no care. He not frighten me.
One of children get measles. Oh that boy so very sick. He need blood from magic black dog. Ba mix herbs to cure, cut Akmou’s ear, just little cut to get magic black dog blood.
Akmou never same after this. He just sleep a lot. He such a good dog, just a wild dog. He never like girls. Sometimes I see females for him, he not interested.
Akmou die at uncles.
We go to live with Mae’s brother. Host family live short walk away, Mae, Shrey-mom and I live under house in chicken coop. Ba not sleep with us.
Things fine, start to see many people I know before. But there such sense of dread. Worst yet to come.
Uncle’s wife tell me one day, “You be careful what you talk about. Don’t say anything about your past. Don’t complain.”
Be dam kou.
I work in field playing scarecrow scare birds away. Cousin come by on bicycle.
“Quick, he say, “take you to see sister-in-law
Everyone follow him. Family so rich, Know so many people. Cook big meal for us. Give us back suitcase of Ba’s things. Tell us Pol Pot turn calendar back to Year O. Cambodia new country, separate from world, cut out everything old for blank slate. No yesterday. Never go home. Forget it. Even money not buy way home.
***
Happy day. Shrey-Mom playing in lake. Many people there, laughing having fun. First time joy.
Come home, little aunt call me.
“What wrong with you? Why you not listen to me?”
She grab scissors and cut off all my hair. I crying. “This not party. You can’t go around looking pretty. Your life going to change.”
How can life change more? What does she know she not telling me?
Every night around sunset I put Shrey-mom to bed, watch the sunset and cry. Feel so sick everyday. Know I having baby. Can’t imagine bring new baby into this world. Decide must kill baby.
Start to climb tall trees, jump off land on stomach, dive into lake so stomach hit bottom. No luck, baby continue to grow in me.
Then two of my sisters arrive; one pregnant, other with new baby maybe one month old. This make it harder. I embarassed that none of us has husband for our children.
So many of my friends from past; I wonder what has become of them.
Every morning someone else missing. Hear dogs barking at night, next day someone, maybe whole family, disappear. I know they say too much. Not follow rules. Here not possible to know who your enemy. Everyone out for themselves.
One family she without husband, just like me, one daugher. She so beautiful, husband so rich. Her mom take care of her.
She come get me every night, she talk.
“You be careful about this,” I say. “Don’t ever talk about your past. Remember, the walls have ears. Don’t ever say anything.”
She not listen. Then one day she gone. Look everywhere. Mi’s friends, walk to uncles’s house. Noone see her. In afternoon her mom come outside with little girl. I rush up to her; She crying, not want anyone to see.
“Where Donc?”
“Anghar come last night,” she say. “Take her away to school. Maybe she back soon.”
Oh, beautiful friend, why you not listen? Now you gone forever. No one come home from school. Everybody know that.
“Maybe they think she CIA,” sister say.
“What CIA?”
“Worst thing to be CIA. Bad people. US. That why they kill you.”
My stomach get bigger and bigger but never feel baby move. I so worried, never tell Mae I pregnant.
Then maybe 7 months pass when pains begin. Call out to Mae to tell her. She sends Ba for boiling water.
There under house where animals live baby boy born, look very healthy. Start fire under bed to keep child warm. Just like with Shrey-Mom, just like with me, Just like with Mae. Old Cambodian tradition make me feel so safe. Hold my baby, fire underneath us. No worry tonight.
***
Sky color of peacock eggs remind me of home. Oh such a mess now, no time to clean before leaving. Papers, dishes, pans, pictures, clothing, everything on floor, spilling out of cabinets. Squish nose. Musty. Dense blanket dust.
Open windows. Lotus blossom smell enters with river breeze. Maybe not so bad. Maybe half day everything clean, back in order. Like nothing happen.
Every day dream about home. Not tell anyone. Not safe to talk about past. Unka make you disappear they hear you. Cambodia gone. Now Democratic Kampuchia. We build new country. Take five year.
I not believe them. They scare me before. Now I know they not so bad. Just no talk. No complain. Get food to eat. Stay with family. Some things okay here. Mi with her family. She happy. Not mind sleeping under house with chickens. She very strong, brave. Not blame Ba like me. Shrey-Mom play with cousins just like before. Love baby brother.
Still, I worry, what about Kuan? How he ever find me now? He not know where to look, never visit Mi family. Uniform still at house. He know something bad happen. He not know we still alive. Not even know he daddy.
Shrey-mom waking up dust with long skinny reed, drawing little pictures in dry ground as we walk towards Grandma’s house. Gentle baby songs soothe her brother to sleep; his body sags against my chest with deep sigh of release. As we round corner, see house. Two big dirty white KR trucks parked outside, small group child-sized soldiers talking to my parents. Long before see Mi’s face smell her fear. Silent but all around her like halo beaming out across fields like parallel bolts of earthbound lightening. So powerful I stop walking, pull Shey-mom to my side.
“Sssssh….”
Ba calm her terror. He reach out grasp Mi’s arm steady her, as he talks with soldiers. Voices so quiet. I see Ba nod his head,he bow slightly to soldiers. they return to trucks and drive away.
Mi and Ba already inside when I arrive.
“What happen? Everything okay?”
Ba is one to tell me. “Soldiers say we leave tomorrow. Go much better place. Lots of food, work for everyone. Many friends already there. You see, much better.”
“I don’t want to go,” I cry. “We happy here. Why we need to leave?”
“Okay, Kim, we okay. Much better. You see. No worry.”
Mi say nothing. Her face very still but in her throat that frog hopping around again.
Open eyes before sun. Shrey-Mom still sleeping, her head under blanket.
“Oh, little girl,” I think. “Why they not keep you here? You too little for all this trouble. How I take care of you?”
Uncle come downstairs and hand Ba a sac of rice and bundle of pickled fish. He happy for us. Still no idea where we go, but no problem, he say. Remember last time. We find you. Things go wrong, find you again.
Mi’s little sister stands outside waiting. She see me and come over with small bag of rice.
“You need more food for family,” she say. “I give you this for your gold chain.”
I don’t even think about it, just unclasp chain, hand to her and turn away to join group of people walking to river. I know I never see her again. Never see any of Mi’s family again.
Five or six boats waiting for us on riverbank. Ferry group after group of people to other side. Order us into big cattle trucks, no windows , a couple family each truck. One guard black uniform in back of truck with us. Not so long to train station,he tell us.
Why I the only one who sad? I watch out back of truck as we move out. See family’s house. Oh, they so rich, they no have problem. Why they stay and we go? Why they not take care of us?
At train station everyone know we going to Battambang. Stand by side of track for hour or so. Peole laughing, talking. Battambang such good idea, they saying. That where the KR first begin with big rice fields before Cambodia collapse. Battambang good place to begin new life. So lucky. Things much better there.
Seats enough for everyone on train. Late afternoon and sun still so hot. Too hot to eat. Dream about swimming now in lake near Grandma’s house. Just yesterday, we swim there. Now already so far away. Where we sleep tonight? Lean against side of traincar, try to sleep, but Po always hungry. He cry so much until I feed him. Everytime think he sleep he cry again. So tired, hard to keep eyes open. At least Shrey-Mom sleeps, her head on my lap underneath her blanket. She must be so hot under there. I lift away from her face but she snatches it back without opening her eyes.
This is nighmare again, same nightmare like night we leave Phnom Phen.
Ba gets up, walks to front of traincar and fills bowl with water. Stops beside me to offer some. Just turn face away,maybe better he not see hate in my eyes. I not remember and reach towards throat to touch gold necklace. Why I do that? Why I give to little aunt? She not need it. Only thing I have left. Look out window, but don’t see anything.
Late afternoon. The train stop. Guard order us out. Only couple train cars of people, one hundred maybe, on platform. Very very old and small train station. Sign read Moum Rhoussey. By now everyone so tired, so hungry, no more laughing. One family we know but too weary to talk. Everyone sit alongside track. Waiting but not know what we waiting for.
Day finally getting cooler when next ride arrives. Small wooden wagons each drawn by two cows pull up at station. One wagon for every family. My family lucky, we get ride right away.
Man driving wagon look very mean. He tall and skinney, big scar on cheek. Horse eyes on side of head, maybe he see behind him. We all very quiet. We big family. Very crowded. Children bounce around on our laps. No complain at bumps in road.
Cart stop in front of two houses. Old couple come out from each house to great us as we arrive. Sleep tonight under houses, they say.. Even I so tired, I want to keep going. Why we have to stay here fornight? It not even dark yet, too early for bed. Why we not just keep going until we get to new home? Not understand.
No chance to ask questions. Two more carts arrive and drop off families, old peole turn back into their houses. Mi cooks rice for us and we eat outside. Just as stars first start to appear, we quietly file under house, lie down in row to sleep on the ground. Everyone too tired to care. Just hoping to sleep quick through night to begin journey again.
We just close eyes when man calls out loudy from outside. So early even sun not quite awake, under house cannot yet see one another through darkness. Sisters and I remain still beside our children, but Mi rises and walks out with Ba and their sons-in-law. hear her preparing food, fall back to sleep. Quick as that she calling us to eat. We slow getting up, leave children sleeping.
More rice and pickled fish. No talking anyhere until man who wake us comes over.
“Enough eating,” he says. “You in my group now. This your new home. Everybody go out and cut down things to make your cottage. No time to waste.”
Frog is jumping around like crazy in Mi’s throat. I reach out and put my hand over, calm down. My own hand shaking so hard Mi grab and hold against her heart. Feel my head move violently back and forth, back and forth. Big sobs jerk body. Mi pull me closer into arms. So many years since she hold me. She whispering into and stroking my hair, like I baby. I fold against her reed thin body. Feel explosions of her heartbeat. It pulses throughout her body like hummingbird trapped in deadly gauze of mosquiteo net.
A few minutes she gently pushes me away. Grabs chin, looks into my eyes.
“Have to go help men, Kim,” she says. “You must be strong. You and your sisters stay here, take care children.”
She smiles into my eyes, she strokes my face.
“We together, Kim. We still together. No difference. Family everything, everything we need right here.”
She stands up and walks away with men. Sun rising behind them distorts their shape in new light, they much taller yet very very much like ghosts, You could just reach your hand in and through the other side.
Then suddenly they disappear into morning’s shades.
Everybody think Khmer Rouge ‘freedom fighters’ now. Couple days radio says Lon Nal defeated in Phnom Phen. Everybody cheer. Good news. Now we go home!
Almost right away, big trucks drive around. Young soldiers talk through megaphones. “Not safe yet,” they tell us. “Nobody go home yet. Plenty food here. We wait.”
Young KR soldier know from chlldhood. He nothing to me.
One day he come hit me on side head say “You be good.”
“Ohhhh, now you big KR,” I pretend fear. He know he nobody. He not hurt me.
Everybody still hope but wake up one morning see KR trucks taking people away. Every city family go to host family in country. A KR family.
We so lucky Mae’s family so near. Only one week and Mae’s brother come to pick us up. Not everybody fit in small boat. My uncle’s son take Akmow. That night just across lake hear dog howling. Oh, Akmow. You okay. We come get you.
Next day soldier-friend come ask if he can take Akmou. Donate him to KR.
“You crazy? Never give Akmou away. He my daughter’s dog. He with us since puppy. Go away.”
Uncle warn me be careful with KR but I no care. He not frighten me.
One of children get measles. Oh that boy so very sick. He need blood from magic black dog. Ba mix herbs to cure, cut Akmou’s ear, just little cut to get magic black dog blood.
Akmou never same after this. He just sleep a lot. He such a good dog, just a wild dog. He never like girls. Sometimes I see females for him, he not interested.
Akmou die at uncles.
We go to live with Mae’s brother. Host family live short walk away, Mae, Shrey-mom and I live under house in chicken coop. Ba not sleep with us.
Things fine, start to see many people I know before. But there such sense of dread. Worst yet to come.
Uncle’s wife tell me one day, “You be careful what you talk about. Don’t say anything about your past. Don’t complain.”
Be dam kou.
I work in field playing scarecrow scare birds away. Cousin come by on bicycle.
“Quick, he say, “take you to see sister-in-law
Everyone follow him. Family so rich, Know so many people. Cook big meal for us. Give us back suitcase of Ba’s things. Tell us Pol Pot turn calendar back to Year O. Cambodia new country, separate from world, cut out everything old for blank slate. No yesterday. Never go home. Forget it. Even money not buy way home.
***
Happy day. Shrey-Mom playing in lake. Many people there, laughing having fun. First time joy.
Come home, little aunt call me.
“What wrong with you? Why you not listen to me?”
She grab scissors and cut off all my hair. I crying. “This not party. You can’t go around looking pretty. Your life going to change.”
How can life change more? What does she know she not telling me?
Every night around sunset I put Shrey-mom to bed, watch the sunset and cry. Feel so sick everyday. Know I having baby. Can’t imagine bring new baby into this world. Decide must kill baby.
Start to climb tall trees, jump off land on stomach, dive into lake so stomach hit bottom. No luck, baby continue to grow in me.
Then two of my sisters arrive; one pregnant, other with new baby maybe one month old. This make it harder. I embarassed that none of us has husband for our children.
So many of my friends from past; I wonder what has become of them.
Every morning someone else missing. Hear dogs barking at night, next day someone, maybe whole family, disappear. I know they say too much. Not follow rules. Here not possible to know who your enemy. Everyone out for themselves.
One family she without husband, just like me, one daugher. She so beautiful, husband so rich. Her mom take care of her.
She come get me every night, she talk.
“You be careful about this,” I say. “Don’t ever talk about your past. Remember, the walls have ears. Don’t ever say anything.”
She not listen. Then one day she gone. Look everywhere. Mi’s friends, walk to uncles’s house. Noone see her. In afternoon her mom come outside with little girl. I rush up to her; She crying, not want anyone to see.
“Where Donc?”
“Anghar come last night,” she say. “Take her away to school. Maybe she back soon.”
Oh, beautiful friend, why you not listen? Now you gone forever. No one come home from school. Everybody know that.
“Maybe they think she CIA,” sister say.
“What CIA?”
“Worst thing to be CIA. Bad people. US. That why they kill you.”
My stomach get bigger and bigger but never feel baby move. I so worried, never tell Mae I pregnant.
Then maybe 7 months pass when pains begin. Call out to Mae to tell her. She sends Ba for boiling water.
There under house where animals live baby boy born, look very healthy. Start fire under bed to keep child warm. Just like with Shrey-Mom, just like with me, Just like with Mae. Old Cambodian tradition make me feel so safe. Hold my baby, fire underneath us. No worry tonight.
***
Sky color of peacock eggs remind me of home. Oh such a mess now, no time to clean before leaving. Papers, dishes, pans, pictures, clothing, everything on floor, spilling out of cabinets. Squish nose. Musty. Dense blanket dust.
Open windows. Lotus blossom smell enters with river breeze. Maybe not so bad. Maybe half day everything clean, back in order. Like nothing happen.
Every day dream about home. Not tell anyone. Not safe to talk about past. Unka make you disappear they hear you. Cambodia gone. Now Democratic Kampuchia. We build new country. Take five year.
I not believe them. They scare me before. Now I know they not so bad. Just no talk. No complain. Get food to eat. Stay with family. Some things okay here. Mi with her family. She happy. Not mind sleeping under house with chickens. She very strong, brave. Not blame Ba like me. Shrey-Mom play with cousins just like before. Love baby brother.
Still, I worry, what about Kuan? How he ever find me now? He not know where to look, never visit Mi family. Uniform still at house. He know something bad happen. He not know we still alive. Not even know he daddy.
Shrey-mom waking up dust with long skinny reed, drawing little pictures in dry ground as we walk towards Grandma’s house. Gentle baby songs soothe her brother to sleep; his body sags against my chest with deep sigh of release. As we round corner, see house. Two big dirty white KR trucks parked outside, small group child-sized soldiers talking to my parents. Long before see Mi’s face smell her fear. Silent but all around her like halo beaming out across fields like parallel bolts of earthbound lightening. So powerful I stop walking, pull Shey-mom to my side.
“Sssssh….”
Ba calm her terror. He reach out grasp Mi’s arm steady her, as he talks with soldiers. Voices so quiet. I see Ba nod his head,he bow slightly to soldiers. they return to trucks and drive away.
Mi and Ba already inside when I arrive.
“What happen? Everything okay?”
Ba is one to tell me. “Soldiers say we leave tomorrow. Go much better place. Lots of food, work for everyone. Many friends already there. You see, much better.”
“I don’t want to go,” I cry. “We happy here. Why we need to leave?”
“Okay, Kim, we okay. Much better. You see. No worry.”
Mi say nothing. Her face very still but in her throat that frog hopping around again.
Open eyes before sun. Shrey-Mom still sleeping, her head under blanket.
“Oh, little girl,” I think. “Why they not keep you here? You too little for all this trouble. How I take care of you?”
Uncle come downstairs and hand Ba a sac of rice and bundle of pickled fish. He happy for us. Still no idea where we go, but no problem, he say. Remember last time. We find you. Things go wrong, find you again.
Mi’s little sister stands outside waiting. She see me and come over with small bag of rice.
“You need more food for family,” she say. “I give you this for your gold chain.”
I don’t even think about it, just unclasp chain, hand to her and turn away to join group of people walking to river. I know I never see her again. Never see any of Mi’s family again.
Five or six boats waiting for us on riverbank. Ferry group after group of people to other side. Order us into big cattle trucks, no windows , a couple family each truck. One guard black uniform in back of truck with us. Not so long to train station,he tell us.
Why I the only one who sad? I watch out back of truck as we move out. See family’s house. Oh, they so rich, they no have problem. Why they stay and we go? Why they not take care of us?
At train station everyone know we going to Battambang. Stand by side of track for hour or so. Peole laughing, talking. Battambang such good idea, they saying. That where the KR first begin with big rice fields before Cambodia collapse. Battambang good place to begin new life. So lucky. Things much better there.
Seats enough for everyone on train. Late afternoon and sun still so hot. Too hot to eat. Dream about swimming now in lake near Grandma’s house. Just yesterday, we swim there. Now already so far away. Where we sleep tonight? Lean against side of traincar, try to sleep, but Po always hungry. He cry so much until I feed him. Everytime think he sleep he cry again. So tired, hard to keep eyes open. At least Shrey-Mom sleeps, her head on my lap underneath her blanket. She must be so hot under there. I lift away from her face but she snatches it back without opening her eyes.
This is nighmare again, same nightmare like night we leave Phnom Phen.
Ba gets up, walks to front of traincar and fills bowl with water. Stops beside me to offer some. Just turn face away,maybe better he not see hate in my eyes. I not remember and reach towards throat to touch gold necklace. Why I do that? Why I give to little aunt? She not need it. Only thing I have left. Look out window, but don’t see anything.
Late afternoon. The train stop. Guard order us out. Only couple train cars of people, one hundred maybe, on platform. Very very old and small train station. Sign read Moum Rhoussey. By now everyone so tired, so hungry, no more laughing. One family we know but too weary to talk. Everyone sit alongside track. Waiting but not know what we waiting for.
Day finally getting cooler when next ride arrives. Small wooden wagons each drawn by two cows pull up at station. One wagon for every family. My family lucky, we get ride right away.
Man driving wagon look very mean. He tall and skinney, big scar on cheek. Horse eyes on side of head, maybe he see behind him. We all very quiet. We big family. Very crowded. Children bounce around on our laps. No complain at bumps in road.
Cart stop in front of two houses. Old couple come out from each house to great us as we arrive. Sleep tonight under houses, they say.. Even I so tired, I want to keep going. Why we have to stay here fornight? It not even dark yet, too early for bed. Why we not just keep going until we get to new home? Not understand.
No chance to ask questions. Two more carts arrive and drop off families, old peole turn back into their houses. Mi cooks rice for us and we eat outside. Just as stars first start to appear, we quietly file under house, lie down in row to sleep on the ground. Everyone too tired to care. Just hoping to sleep quick through night to begin journey again.
We just close eyes when man calls out loudy from outside. So early even sun not quite awake, under house cannot yet see one another through darkness. Sisters and I remain still beside our children, but Mi rises and walks out with Ba and their sons-in-law. hear her preparing food, fall back to sleep. Quick as that she calling us to eat. We slow getting up, leave children sleeping.
More rice and pickled fish. No talking anyhere until man who wake us comes over.
“Enough eating,” he says. “You in my group now. This your new home. Everybody go out and cut down things to make your cottage. No time to waste.”
Frog is jumping around like crazy in Mi’s throat. I reach out and put my hand over, calm down. My own hand shaking so hard Mi grab and hold against her heart. Feel my head move violently back and forth, back and forth. Big sobs jerk body. Mi pull me closer into arms. So many years since she hold me. She whispering into and stroking my hair, like I baby. I fold against her reed thin body. Feel explosions of her heartbeat. It pulses throughout her body like hummingbird trapped in deadly gauze of mosquiteo net.
A few minutes she gently pushes me away. Grabs chin, looks into my eyes.
“Have to go help men, Kim,” she says. “You must be strong. You and your sisters stay here, take care children.”
She smiles into my eyes, she strokes my face.
“We together, Kim. We still together. No difference. Family everything, everything we need right here.”
She stands up and walks away with men. Sun rising behind them distorts their shape in new light, they much taller yet very very much like ghosts, You could just reach your hand in and through the other side.
Then suddenly they disappear into morning’s shades.
Kou: Phnom Phen: 1973
Phnom Phen. 1973
The room is dark, like a big black sac. My breath, clutched high in my chest, is the only sound. It comes faster and faster in gasps. My hands fly to my throat.
“Oh, Mae, now it’s time for you to help me. I just can’t stay here anymore.”
Husband and I live in a small house. He never comes home. One week he’s here, the next week he doesn’t come. A lot of overtime these days, he says. And we don’t have a telephone. How is he supposed to tell me these things?
I no longer work in the restaurant with big sister. No more tips, fancy clothes, handsome flirting soldiers. Now I am seven months pregnant. Don’t know how this happened. Only one, maybe two times we have together as man and wife.
Why didn’t I look where I was going? Feel like a little fly. Stop fighting! Trapped too deep in spider web. Now it is too late. Only 22. My life is over.
I have sucked all the oxygen from the room. I lie down on the floor and close my eyes. I pray to my spirit, “Just go away. Find another body.”
Suddenly, there are steps on the stair. Tha calls my name. Quick like that he is leaning over me. Holds my head in his hands. Maybe now everything is okay. Tha always takes care of me.
“Kim. Wake up, You okay? Wake up!”
I cry like a baby in Tha’s arms. No shame. No care anymore.
My sister comes with her children. They talk about me as if I am not there. Tha is worried that I am all alone. Sister has no time to take care of me.
“Kim can come stay with my family,” he says. “We will watch over her until baby comes.”
Sister helps me pack things in a small bag. I move in with Tha and his parents; I live upstairs and he lives downstairs. He is still in medical school. His parents and sister take care of me. Things are so much better now. I am not so alone.
I am by myself when the first birth pains begin. It is just before midnight. Don’t want to wake anyone. I remember Mae saying “when you are going to have your baby, clean yourself.” I take a shower.
The pain gets too bad. I go downstairs, wake Tha. He takes me to the hospital and waits beside me until I go into the labor room.
My daughter is born early in the morning
.
“You have a daughter,” the nurse tells Tah.
“No,” he says. “Not my daughter. She is just a friend.”
Tha stays until the afternoon. Husband does not come. Mae brings dinner and Tae’s mom and sister come to check on me. After two days, my husband comes.
“Where were you?” I am so angry now, so ashamed. “I have your baby for two days. Why didn’t you come?”
Such disrespect for husband is not allowed. He moves his hand to his pocket. I know he has gun. He pretends he is going to draw it out and shoot me. His eyes glare at me with threat. But he turns and leaves.
I stay in the hospital for seven days. Then husband comes. Takes me to Takmou. We move in with Mae. Three sisters still live with her. House is crowded but husband just come and go when he wants. Mae not like him.
Finally, one day I am just too angry. Don’t want to be a thing he won in a contest anymore. Now I am mother. Deserve respect. He makes everything worse for everyone here.
“Why don’t you just not come anymore?” I say. “I don’t need you. When I needed you, you weren’t there.”
Now Ba is the only man in our home. Much better this way. Shrey-mom is everybody’s baby. A new joy for my family.
***
Takmou. 1974.
The old Chinese temple near our house is now a military base. Army is drafting everyone. Soldiers are all over town. Older Brother doesn’t want to fight. He is the first to escape to Thailand. Soon after, older sister sells the restaurant in Phnom Phen and moves her family to Thailand.
Sisters and I decide to start a business. We set up a small stand alongside Highway 2. Sell cigarettes, herbs, wine to soldiers.
Shrey-mom is almost a year old when Kuan first comes to our stand. He hangs around longer than his friends. Plays with Shrey mom and Akmow. Big, happy eyes. Soon he is stopping by every day.
Kuan has been in the army for two years. He flies planes. Came to Takmou six months ago. He lives in the old temple. Many of the soldiers don’t want to fight anymore, he tells me.
He talks about the US planes killing many, many Cambodians. They fight with Communists on Cambodian land. This is not our war. Lon Nil is not our leader. The US put him in there. He is just a puppet.
Kuan knows all this. Maybe the Khmer soldiers are right, he thinks. Maybe they are really freedom fighters. Afterall, Shianook is with them.
Now I not know what to think. This is big news to me.
"What about the disappeared?" I ask.
Kuan not know. Maybe they just leave to join Khmer, maybe not really disappear. Maybe they are just afraid to tell anyone what they know.
“Soon it will not be safe to wear this uniform. Not safe for you to talk to me.”
It’s too late for that. Already I am in love with Kuan. He is everything I ever hoped for. Strong. Gentle. So much fun. So good to Shrey-mom and me. He treats her like his own child.
There is no fancy ceremony when I marry Kuan. Not at all like my first marriage. Just a small party. But so different from then because I am so happy.
Family loves Kuan, too. Ba says he is like another son, almost as good as having own son home again.
Now Kuan and I sleep tight together. Now we are the little fish safe in a tin. Close cover at night. Nobody bother us.
Almost nine months in heaven. So romantic. Crazy in love. We are like the pages of an open book, tossing back and forth in a frenzy of wind, never touching down. So free, flying out here. Then the book finally slams shut. We can’t find our place. The world around us has changed so drastically. There is no return.
Maybe Kuan tries to warn me but I am still not listening. Like when I was a little girl and I thought, “Just close eyes, no one see you. You safe.”
The room is dark, like a big black sac. My breath, clutched high in my chest, is the only sound. It comes faster and faster in gasps. My hands fly to my throat.
“Oh, Mae, now it’s time for you to help me. I just can’t stay here anymore.”
Husband and I live in a small house. He never comes home. One week he’s here, the next week he doesn’t come. A lot of overtime these days, he says. And we don’t have a telephone. How is he supposed to tell me these things?
I no longer work in the restaurant with big sister. No more tips, fancy clothes, handsome flirting soldiers. Now I am seven months pregnant. Don’t know how this happened. Only one, maybe two times we have together as man and wife.
Why didn’t I look where I was going? Feel like a little fly. Stop fighting! Trapped too deep in spider web. Now it is too late. Only 22. My life is over.
I have sucked all the oxygen from the room. I lie down on the floor and close my eyes. I pray to my spirit, “Just go away. Find another body.”
Suddenly, there are steps on the stair. Tha calls my name. Quick like that he is leaning over me. Holds my head in his hands. Maybe now everything is okay. Tha always takes care of me.
“Kim. Wake up, You okay? Wake up!”
I cry like a baby in Tha’s arms. No shame. No care anymore.
My sister comes with her children. They talk about me as if I am not there. Tha is worried that I am all alone. Sister has no time to take care of me.
“Kim can come stay with my family,” he says. “We will watch over her until baby comes.”
Sister helps me pack things in a small bag. I move in with Tha and his parents; I live upstairs and he lives downstairs. He is still in medical school. His parents and sister take care of me. Things are so much better now. I am not so alone.
I am by myself when the first birth pains begin. It is just before midnight. Don’t want to wake anyone. I remember Mae saying “when you are going to have your baby, clean yourself.” I take a shower.
The pain gets too bad. I go downstairs, wake Tha. He takes me to the hospital and waits beside me until I go into the labor room.
My daughter is born early in the morning
.
“You have a daughter,” the nurse tells Tah.
“No,” he says. “Not my daughter. She is just a friend.”
Tha stays until the afternoon. Husband does not come. Mae brings dinner and Tae’s mom and sister come to check on me. After two days, my husband comes.
“Where were you?” I am so angry now, so ashamed. “I have your baby for two days. Why didn’t you come?”
Such disrespect for husband is not allowed. He moves his hand to his pocket. I know he has gun. He pretends he is going to draw it out and shoot me. His eyes glare at me with threat. But he turns and leaves.
I stay in the hospital for seven days. Then husband comes. Takes me to Takmou. We move in with Mae. Three sisters still live with her. House is crowded but husband just come and go when he wants. Mae not like him.
Finally, one day I am just too angry. Don’t want to be a thing he won in a contest anymore. Now I am mother. Deserve respect. He makes everything worse for everyone here.
“Why don’t you just not come anymore?” I say. “I don’t need you. When I needed you, you weren’t there.”
Now Ba is the only man in our home. Much better this way. Shrey-mom is everybody’s baby. A new joy for my family.
***
Takmou. 1974.
The old Chinese temple near our house is now a military base. Army is drafting everyone. Soldiers are all over town. Older Brother doesn’t want to fight. He is the first to escape to Thailand. Soon after, older sister sells the restaurant in Phnom Phen and moves her family to Thailand.
Sisters and I decide to start a business. We set up a small stand alongside Highway 2. Sell cigarettes, herbs, wine to soldiers.
Shrey-mom is almost a year old when Kuan first comes to our stand. He hangs around longer than his friends. Plays with Shrey mom and Akmow. Big, happy eyes. Soon he is stopping by every day.
Kuan has been in the army for two years. He flies planes. Came to Takmou six months ago. He lives in the old temple. Many of the soldiers don’t want to fight anymore, he tells me.
He talks about the US planes killing many, many Cambodians. They fight with Communists on Cambodian land. This is not our war. Lon Nil is not our leader. The US put him in there. He is just a puppet.
Kuan knows all this. Maybe the Khmer soldiers are right, he thinks. Maybe they are really freedom fighters. Afterall, Shianook is with them.
Now I not know what to think. This is big news to me.
"What about the disappeared?" I ask.
Kuan not know. Maybe they just leave to join Khmer, maybe not really disappear. Maybe they are just afraid to tell anyone what they know.
“Soon it will not be safe to wear this uniform. Not safe for you to talk to me.”
It’s too late for that. Already I am in love with Kuan. He is everything I ever hoped for. Strong. Gentle. So much fun. So good to Shrey-mom and me. He treats her like his own child.
There is no fancy ceremony when I marry Kuan. Not at all like my first marriage. Just a small party. But so different from then because I am so happy.
Family loves Kuan, too. Ba says he is like another son, almost as good as having own son home again.
Now Kuan and I sleep tight together. Now we are the little fish safe in a tin. Close cover at night. Nobody bother us.
Almost nine months in heaven. So romantic. Crazy in love. We are like the pages of an open book, tossing back and forth in a frenzy of wind, never touching down. So free, flying out here. Then the book finally slams shut. We can’t find our place. The world around us has changed so drastically. There is no return.
Maybe Kuan tries to warn me but I am still not listening. Like when I was a little girl and I thought, “Just close eyes, no one see you. You safe.”
PhnomPhen: restaurant
The country is at war and the restauranty is always full of soldiers. They all flirt with me. All of the soldiers want me to serve them.
I make my own clothes, long cambodian skirts and sexy shirts. Long hair, high heels, a lot of makeup. I am so famous, so pretty.
And now I am rich. I make so much money on tips. So many of the soldiers are married but they are in PP alone and they come to the restaurant at night to flirt. Some of them come three times a day. My brother’s wife is a waitress and she is so pretty too. They flirt with her.
The soldiers drink a lot, white and red wine with a lion lable. They have guns and sometimes the begin fighting each other at the tables. There are too many men but I want jewelry, clothing and they are sometimes so generous.
My best childhood friend Thea is in PP in medical school
His parents and mine have the same last name, and in Cambodia that makes you like family. When he was young he came to our house and stayed while he went to high school and college. I am four years younger than him. His family is middle class, richer than us.
In PP, Thea spoils me so bad. He takes me out all the time. One time I go to the bathroom in the restaurant and I have a worm from eating too much raw meat. I don’t know what is wrong and I come out of the bathroom and say “Gee, I have something” and he say “Oh, you have a worm” and he brings me medicine and stays with me for 24 hours, follows me around to make sure I am okay. He kisses my forehead, touches my hand.
On one of my visits home, mom tells me that Thea’s parents want him to marry a girl who is in medical school with him. Her parents are very wealthy and they are going to buy their son a house and a car when they marry. I remember that Thea’s father once told me “I don’t care who my son marries so long as he is happy.” But I get a funny feeling.
Thea keepscoming to see me at the restaurant. One night we go out to dinnerx He has a blue vespa and I sit behind him as we drive through the city. “Do you see that house,” he asks. “That is where the girl my parents want me to marry lives. I don’t want to marry her. When you and I get married, we won’t have a big wedding.”
But he never asks and now I am 21 and mom is worried I will get pregnant. She is afraid I am going to do something stupid. I am always telling her “Don’t worry, mom. I am going to get married. You will see.”
A lot of soldiers want to marry me and three of them begin fighting over me. “Go ask my mom,” I tell them. “I will marry the man who goes to see my mother.”
Why I do that? A couple of months later, one of the soldiers, he is important but much older than me, not at all handsome, takes me up on it. He visits my mother. He has been married before and has a son. He is not in the active army. He works in the city.
We marry in my mother’s house. We close the restaurant and have a big party with a security guard outside because we are still very much in danger from the old married soldier who threatened to kidnap me.
I am married to the man who won me in a contest. We move into a small house near my second sister. It is 1973. I sit in this house day after day, waiting for him to come home. Sometimes he doesn’t come for days and days. I get pregnant without planning to.got pregnant without planning. I had only had sex a couple of times.
I spend a lot of time with my sister next door and her kids.
The kidnapping begins. During the night, the Khmer Rouge come. Neighbors just disappear. They are gone in the morning. No one knows. No one says anyting.
I make my own clothes, long cambodian skirts and sexy shirts. Long hair, high heels, a lot of makeup. I am so famous, so pretty.
And now I am rich. I make so much money on tips. So many of the soldiers are married but they are in PP alone and they come to the restaurant at night to flirt. Some of them come three times a day. My brother’s wife is a waitress and she is so pretty too. They flirt with her.
The soldiers drink a lot, white and red wine with a lion lable. They have guns and sometimes the begin fighting each other at the tables. There are too many men but I want jewelry, clothing and they are sometimes so generous.
My best childhood friend Thea is in PP in medical school
His parents and mine have the same last name, and in Cambodia that makes you like family. When he was young he came to our house and stayed while he went to high school and college. I am four years younger than him. His family is middle class, richer than us.
In PP, Thea spoils me so bad. He takes me out all the time. One time I go to the bathroom in the restaurant and I have a worm from eating too much raw meat. I don’t know what is wrong and I come out of the bathroom and say “Gee, I have something” and he say “Oh, you have a worm” and he brings me medicine and stays with me for 24 hours, follows me around to make sure I am okay. He kisses my forehead, touches my hand.
On one of my visits home, mom tells me that Thea’s parents want him to marry a girl who is in medical school with him. Her parents are very wealthy and they are going to buy their son a house and a car when they marry. I remember that Thea’s father once told me “I don’t care who my son marries so long as he is happy.” But I get a funny feeling.
Thea keepscoming to see me at the restaurant. One night we go out to dinnerx He has a blue vespa and I sit behind him as we drive through the city. “Do you see that house,” he asks. “That is where the girl my parents want me to marry lives. I don’t want to marry her. When you and I get married, we won’t have a big wedding.”
But he never asks and now I am 21 and mom is worried I will get pregnant. She is afraid I am going to do something stupid. I am always telling her “Don’t worry, mom. I am going to get married. You will see.”
A lot of soldiers want to marry me and three of them begin fighting over me. “Go ask my mom,” I tell them. “I will marry the man who goes to see my mother.”
Why I do that? A couple of months later, one of the soldiers, he is important but much older than me, not at all handsome, takes me up on it. He visits my mother. He has been married before and has a son. He is not in the active army. He works in the city.
We marry in my mother’s house. We close the restaurant and have a big party with a security guard outside because we are still very much in danger from the old married soldier who threatened to kidnap me.
I am married to the man who won me in a contest. We move into a small house near my second sister. It is 1973. I sit in this house day after day, waiting for him to come home. Sometimes he doesn’t come for days and days. I get pregnant without planning to.got pregnant without planning. I had only had sex a couple of times.
I spend a lot of time with my sister next door and her kids.
The kidnapping begins. During the night, the Khmer Rouge come. Neighbors just disappear. They are gone in the morning. No one knows. No one says anyting.
Kou: Phnom Phen
Phnom Penh: 1960s, early 1970s
My father has a friend who is a general in the army. He makes arrangements for me to live with his family in Phnom Phen. They are my new aunt and uncle.They have six or seven kids and they are wealthy, they have a sofa and so many cars. I have never seen such a beautiful home, so much luxury.
I am treated like a member of the family. I sleep with the daughter and the baby this is the aunt?>. They give me nice clothes and I eat wonderful meals with them; spicy noodle soups and all kinds of fish, Such wonderful food. I go everywhere with them, to buy food and shop. When I go home to visit my family, I travel in a chauffered car. I never spend the night, we are all too afraid of the soldier.
Nights in Phnom Phen are magic. The family has three sons in high school and every night the older son drives us around the city. The city parks are so full of life, young people like us eating ice cream and hanging out together in the park beside the Mekong.
“Meet my cousin,” they say when friends ask about me. This is just how things are in Cambodia. You can go to live with family or
I live friends. Everyone is so close.
I am a new person in a different world. I have escaped poverty and illness and the small joyless home where there is only struggle and hard work. Illness and meager meals. This is the life that was waiting for me. My spirit chose well, afterall.
My father has a friend who is a general in the army. He makes arrangements for me to live with his family in Phnom Phen. They are my new aunt and uncle.They have six or seven kids and they are wealthy, they have a sofa and so many cars. I have never seen such a beautiful home, so much luxury.
I am treated like a member of the family. I sleep with the daughter and the baby
Nights in Phnom Phen are magic. The family has three sons in high school and every night the older son drives us around the city. The city parks are so full of life, young people like us eating ice cream and hanging out together in the park beside the Mekong.
“Meet my cousin,” they say when friends ask about me. This is just how things are in Cambodia. You can go to live with family or
I live friends. Everyone is so close.
I am a new person in a different world. I have escaped poverty and illness and the small joyless home where there is only struggle and hard work. Illness and meager meals. This is the life that was waiting for me. My spirit chose well, afterall.
Takmou: 1950s
Today important day. Ba take me to get birth certificate so I can go to big children’s school. We stop at noodle stand outside market. Large bowl sizzling noodles shrimp. Big treat for big girl, Ba says. Usually only New Year have noodle soup. So expensive.
Downtown Takmou always crowded, people shopping, bringing fish and ducks and chickens to market in old trucks and carts. Cars and buses cross bridge over Mekong, many pass through Takmou on way to Vietnam.
I daughter number three in family of five girls, one boy. We live in Takmou alongside Highway 2 just outside Phnom Phen. Highway always so busy. bicycles, cars, motos, carts drawn by water buffalo. Big park with lake across highway.
Ba’s brother and family live next door, we in and out each other’s home every day, like no walls. Houses small, concrete, two stories, three walls front to back, room in middle open to sky.
Big family. We all so poor. Live behind Grandmother’s house behind field of lemongrass, Banana, palm and banyan trees. Chickens, cats, children everywhere. Families cook outside. Kids play in small alleys. Buddhist Temple just one house away from our house. Go to school here, study Khmer and Buddhism. Everybody visit Temple when have problem. Bring roast pig, fruit. Ask monk question.
Monk shake sticks and say “pick one.”
Always do what monk says or bad luck.
I no like G. She not very sweet, very strict.
She no like Mae. Always say “She so dumb.” Mae from wealthy Kandal family, own big fish company. Never understand she not like Mae, why she agreed to marriage in first place. Why she travel long journey to ask permission for Ba to marry Mae if she not want her as daughter?
Every three years my parents have another child. But something goes wrong with their last child. Mom is pregnant and one day I notice she not pregnanat any more. The baby die. We never talk about it, even though Mi very sad. Our family very quiet.
I am 10 when her health becomes so bad older sister leave school to take care of the family. Ba is too busy. Everyone thinks an evil spirit has possessed Mae. There shame on family. We do something wrong.
Mi always frightened. See heart beating fast under shirt. Her throat pulses like frog , she no sleep. We think maybe neighbor angry with her cast spell on her. We have to find someone to chase out evil spirit. This becomes my job, traveling with Mae every shaman and healer we find.
Many times healers live far away and Mae leave home for awhile. Older sisters stay home run business. My older brother? He the big man. He only one who continues school and when he home he make decisions for family.
Sometime G come with us to healing. One day Mae sit in chair inside circle, Indian people dance and sing around her. Burn incense very powerful smell, smoke hurt eyes. along. Healer play Cambodian drum. Ghost comes into his body he shake all over with spirit inside him. Dance wild. One day put something black in her mouth. She chew something, open her mouth again, drop some liquid in.
Sometimes she a little better. Every night I give her massage help her sleep.
Healing
The sun traveling up, up towards roof sky when little bus stop at Dram-Ka.
“Staight ahead, three mile,” driver say. “You see vat. Big Buddha statue. Only one arm. Turn there. Follow nose. Incense. Very strong.”
Mae and I stop at very, very old coconut juice stand, Big holes in red canvas roof. Owner asleep on bicyle.
“Uncle, wake up. We need some drink.”
Old man slow getting to feet. His soiled krama wet with sweat. crack lenses in glasses.
He hack off head of two baby green coconuts, slips straw inside each. I pay him rire. We walk. We get energy from cold white juice. Tastes so good.
Mae walk so slow. She not understand where we go.
“Why we here, Pom? Where we going? Want to go home.”
So many times I grab her arm, stop her from turning back.
“Mae, No. We go see doctor. He make you better.”
Mae’s eyes so scared. What she doing out here with little daughter? Her hands shaking so bad.
“It’s okay, Mae. I take care of you. Not too far.”
We walk in mid day heat. dirt path between brave green rice fields. Water buffalo walk so slow. No people look up from their work. No faces, only big straw circle hats. Rice paddies so big, way back to where hazy blue sky touches field.
I wish so bad big sister here. I too little to do this. So frightened to be
boss. Afraid to be with Mae. I try not worry, link arms. Start to hum song to calm her down. So afraid I loose her. What if she just pull away and run? What I do then?
Now we in small forest. Much cooler. Noisey monkeys play high in deep green branches. Many birds talk. Too many crickets. Walk faster, Mae. Walk faster. Maybe big tiger here. Not feel so safe. Mae so scared now, she pull away from me, try to run back.
Grab her arm, pull her with me. She crying now. Crying and screaming. Just walk, Mae. Just walk. You feel much better. You see.
It so hard, almost carrying Mae. Maybe she sick but she still strong. We fall couple times and everytime I rush to feet before her. Pull her up. Big big bump in my throat, heart beat so fast, hard to breath, fear runs through body. How I get her there?
Outside forest few small houses. Three, maybe four young monks sitting outside vat. Sun so hot their bright yellow robes blinding like sun.
Mae wants to sit down outside temple. “We almost there, Mae. Just two minutes.”
We sit next to one-armed Buddha. Two children play Bay Khoum. So long since I play this game. Big board with eight small holes in front, two in back. First child drops beads one by one into eight holes until only six beads left. Then pick up all beads in hole next to empty hole. Pick all beads up. They confused about game. They not know how to play. Start yelling at each other.
I too tired to tell them. It not my place anyway.Tall monk come over to stop fighting. Lead them back into vat.
I urge Mae onto feet again. Overgrown path, sticky berry plants scratch white lines on legs and arms. Families of cats sleep under young cherry blossom trees, huge banana plants. Sandalwood smell incense pull us forward. Small hut. Many ducks and chickens. Dirty white horse. No door. I push aside heavy strings of bandar beads. Look inside.
Altars, everywhere candles, little smoke pods from incense, fruit, flowers. Wrinkled old man wearning loincloth look up.
“Kru khmae? Bad spirit make my mother so sick. You help her?”
Pull fist of coins from pocket. Mae crying so hard she fall on ground. I put coins on huge altar.
Kru Khame stand, walk over to Mae, bend down. Lift her face in wrinkled brown hand. He so gentle. She stop crying like that.
“You wait outside,” he say. “No children here.”
Rain come so strong … white flower from plum tree fall on ground, some in my hair. World smell so pretty. Sit under big banyan tree, still get wet. Not know how many hours Mae inside. When she finally come out she look very calm. I take her hand and we walk across little white flowers layer ground like snowflakes. Rain stop, big clouds separate. Sky dark blue just before nightfall.
***
Now i 16 and Maenot better. Nurse soldier visit our house few days week give her medication.
He a lot older than me but soon he start coming to see me every night. So romantic. We whisper to each other in dark, he stand below my window. I don’t know if anyone hear us. We no care. One night we meet secretly outside house, hold hands and kiss and talk. He want to marry me. I know he married with a couple kids, but he tell me he not love his wife. I so young. I believe him. So exciting, being in love, having someone so handsome love me.
Nothing free in this life. One day his wife and kids comestay with him – he live only few houses away from us – and I think "I cannot do this anymore." I tell Mi he say he want to marry me.
"Why you want to marry married man?” she ask. I say not know,maybe love him.
Then soldier send someone to ask my mom if he can marry me and my mom say “No, you already married.” Even though okay in Cambodia for man to have old and young wife, Mae not want this for me. He warn them they not give me to him he going to come and kidnap me.
My parents so afraid. Make arrangements to send me to live in Phnom Phen with family Ba knows. I only 17 and Mae has to send me away.
Oh my poor mom, she never have fun. Mother in law hate her. She has lot of kids and and then she is sick. Now I leaving her.
Doctor Friend In Phnom Phen
His parents and mine have the same last name, and in Cambodia that makes you like family. When he was young he came to our house and stayed while he went to high school and college. I am four years younger than him. His family is middle class, richer than us.
Chapter 3
Takmou: 1967
• The majority of the Khmer live in rural villages either as rice farmers or fishermen and life revolves around the vat (temple) and the various Buddhist ceremonies throughout the year. However, if a Khmer becomes ill, they will frequently see a kru khmae (shaman/healer) whom they believe can diagnose which of the many spirits (neak ta) has caused the illness and recommend a course of action to propitiate the offended spirit, thereby curing the illness.
Rubbing is usually in the same areas as pinching and involves firmly rubbing of lubricated skin with a spoon or a coin in order to bring toxic "air" to the body surface. In the hot-cold theory, illness is caused by an alteration in
Unmistakable emotional disturbance is usually attributed to possession by malicious spirits; to bad karma accumulated by misdeeds in past lives; or to the bad luck of familial inheritance. Partially due to its attribution to immoral causes, mental illness is commonly denied and feared. The disturbed individuals are protected by their family and if outsiders become aware of the mental illness, great shame is brought to the family.
Downtown Takmou always crowded, people shopping, bringing fish and ducks and chickens to market in old trucks and carts. Cars and buses cross bridge over Mekong, many pass through Takmou on way to Vietnam.
I daughter number three in family of five girls, one boy. We live in Takmou alongside Highway 2 just outside Phnom Phen. Highway always so busy. bicycles, cars, motos, carts drawn by water buffalo. Big park with lake across highway.
Ba’s brother and family live next door, we in and out each other’s home every day, like no walls. Houses small, concrete, two stories, three walls front to back, room in middle open to sky.
Big family. We all so poor. Live behind Grandmother’s house behind field of lemongrass, Banana, palm and banyan trees. Chickens, cats, children everywhere. Families cook outside. Kids play in small alleys. Buddhist Temple just one house away from our house. Go to school here, study Khmer and Buddhism. Everybody visit Temple when have problem. Bring roast pig, fruit. Ask monk question.
Monk shake sticks and say “pick one.”
Always do what monk says or bad luck.
I no like G. She not very sweet, very strict.
She no like Mae. Always say “She so dumb.” Mae from wealthy Kandal family, own big fish company. Never understand she not like Mae, why she agreed to marriage in first place. Why she travel long journey to ask permission for Ba to marry Mae if she not want her as daughter?
Every three years my parents have another child. But something goes wrong with their last child. Mom is pregnant and one day I notice she not pregnanat any more. The baby die. We never talk about it, even though Mi very sad. Our family very quiet.
I am 10 when her health becomes so bad older sister leave school to take care of the family. Ba is too busy. Everyone thinks an evil spirit has possessed Mae. There shame on family. We do something wrong.
Mi always frightened. See heart beating fast under shirt. Her throat pulses like frog , she no sleep. We think maybe neighbor angry with her cast spell on her. We have to find someone to chase out evil spirit. This becomes my job, traveling with Mae every shaman and healer we find.
Many times healers live far away and Mae leave home for awhile. Older sisters stay home run business. My older brother? He the big man. He only one who continues school and when he home he make decisions for family.
Sometime G come with us to healing. One day Mae sit in chair inside circle, Indian people dance and sing around her. Burn incense very powerful smell, smoke hurt eyes. along. Healer play Cambodian drum. Ghost comes into his body he shake all over with spirit inside him. Dance wild. One day put something black in her mouth. She chew something, open her mouth again, drop some liquid in.
Sometimes she a little better. Every night I give her massage help her sleep.
Healing
The sun traveling up, up towards roof sky when little bus stop at Dram-Ka.
“Staight ahead, three mile,” driver say. “You see vat. Big Buddha statue. Only one arm. Turn there. Follow nose. Incense. Very strong.”
Mae and I stop at very, very old coconut juice stand, Big holes in red canvas roof. Owner asleep on bicyle.
“Uncle, wake up. We need some drink.”
Old man slow getting to feet. His soiled krama wet with sweat. crack lenses in glasses.
He hack off head of two baby green coconuts, slips straw inside each. I pay him rire. We walk. We get energy from cold white juice. Tastes so good.
Mae walk so slow. She not understand where we go.
“Why we here, Pom? Where we going? Want to go home.”
So many times I grab her arm, stop her from turning back.
“Mae, No. We go see doctor. He make you better.”
Mae’s eyes so scared. What she doing out here with little daughter? Her hands shaking so bad.
“It’s okay, Mae. I take care of you. Not too far.”
We walk in mid day heat. dirt path between brave green rice fields. Water buffalo walk so slow. No people look up from their work. No faces, only big straw circle hats. Rice paddies so big, way back to where hazy blue sky touches field.
I wish so bad big sister here. I too little to do this. So frightened to be
boss. Afraid to be with Mae. I try not worry, link arms. Start to hum song to calm her down. So afraid I loose her. What if she just pull away and run? What I do then?
Now we in small forest. Much cooler. Noisey monkeys play high in deep green branches. Many birds talk. Too many crickets. Walk faster, Mae. Walk faster. Maybe big tiger here. Not feel so safe. Mae so scared now, she pull away from me, try to run back.
Grab her arm, pull her with me. She crying now. Crying and screaming. Just walk, Mae. Just walk. You feel much better. You see.
It so hard, almost carrying Mae. Maybe she sick but she still strong. We fall couple times and everytime I rush to feet before her. Pull her up. Big big bump in my throat, heart beat so fast, hard to breath, fear runs through body. How I get her there?
Outside forest few small houses. Three, maybe four young monks sitting outside vat. Sun so hot their bright yellow robes blinding like sun.
Mae wants to sit down outside temple. “We almost there, Mae. Just two minutes.”
We sit next to one-armed Buddha. Two children play Bay Khoum. So long since I play this game. Big board with eight small holes in front, two in back. First child drops beads one by one into eight holes until only six beads left. Then pick up all beads in hole next to empty hole. Pick all beads up. They confused about game. They not know how to play. Start yelling at each other.
I too tired to tell them. It not my place anyway.Tall monk come over to stop fighting. Lead them back into vat.
I urge Mae onto feet again. Overgrown path, sticky berry plants scratch white lines on legs and arms. Families of cats sleep under young cherry blossom trees, huge banana plants. Sandalwood smell incense pull us forward. Small hut. Many ducks and chickens. Dirty white horse. No door. I push aside heavy strings of bandar beads. Look inside.
Altars, everywhere candles, little smoke pods from incense, fruit, flowers. Wrinkled old man wearning loincloth look up.
“Kru khmae? Bad spirit make my mother so sick. You help her?”
Pull fist of coins from pocket. Mae crying so hard she fall on ground. I put coins on huge altar.
Kru Khame stand, walk over to Mae, bend down. Lift her face in wrinkled brown hand. He so gentle. She stop crying like that.
“You wait outside,” he say. “No children here.”
Rain come so strong … white flower from plum tree fall on ground, some in my hair. World smell so pretty. Sit under big banyan tree, still get wet. Not know how many hours Mae inside. When she finally come out she look very calm. I take her hand and we walk across little white flowers layer ground like snowflakes. Rain stop, big clouds separate. Sky dark blue just before nightfall.
***
Now i 16 and Maenot better. Nurse soldier visit our house few days week give her medication.
He a lot older than me but soon he start coming to see me every night. So romantic. We whisper to each other in dark, he stand below my window. I don’t know if anyone hear us. We no care. One night we meet secretly outside house, hold hands and kiss and talk. He want to marry me. I know he married with a couple kids, but he tell me he not love his wife. I so young. I believe him. So exciting, being in love, having someone so handsome love me.
Nothing free in this life. One day his wife and kids comestay with him – he live only few houses away from us – and I think "I cannot do this anymore." I tell Mi he say he want to marry me.
"Why you want to marry married man?” she ask. I say not know,maybe love him.
Then soldier send someone to ask my mom if he can marry me and my mom say “No, you already married.” Even though okay in Cambodia for man to have old and young wife, Mae not want this for me. He warn them they not give me to him he going to come and kidnap me.
My parents so afraid. Make arrangements to send me to live in Phnom Phen with family Ba knows. I only 17 and Mae has to send me away.
Oh my poor mom, she never have fun. Mother in law hate her. She has lot of kids and and then she is sick. Now I leaving her.
Doctor Friend In Phnom Phen
His parents and mine have the same last name, and in Cambodia that makes you like family. When he was young he came to our house and stayed while he went to high school and college. I am four years younger than him. His family is middle class, richer than us.
Chapter 3
Takmou: 1967
• The majority of the Khmer live in rural villages either as rice farmers or fishermen and life revolves around the vat (temple) and the various Buddhist ceremonies throughout the year. However, if a Khmer becomes ill, they will frequently see a kru khmae (shaman/healer) whom they believe can diagnose which of the many spirits (neak ta) has caused the illness and recommend a course of action to propitiate the offended spirit, thereby curing the illness.
Rubbing is usually in the same areas as pinching and involves firmly rubbing of lubricated skin with a spoon or a coin in order to bring toxic "air" to the body surface. In the hot-cold theory, illness is caused by an alteration in
Unmistakable emotional disturbance is usually attributed to possession by malicious spirits; to bad karma accumulated by misdeeds in past lives; or to the bad luck of familial inheritance. Partially due to its attribution to immoral causes, mental illness is commonly denied and feared. The disturbed individuals are protected by their family and if outsiders become aware of the mental illness, great shame is brought to the family.
Kou: Takmau, 1957
Takmau, Cambodia: 1957
Spirit is everything in Cambodia. Our parents tell us that on the day we are born, our spirit is flying above, summoned to land in that split second of time when our body slips into this world. They choose us; they are our first taste of the air.
We are sewing mosquito nets in the cool outdoor corridor in the middle of our two-story house. I smell magnolias and drying fish.
We are so poor. Pa rides his bike to work in the fields, a few hours journey each way. Sometimes he disappears for days at a time. There is never enough food, and when we are not at school we are working for Mae, endlessly stitching new nets to sell in the local market or in Phnom Phen. We are always waiting for holiday, once a year noodle soup and two new sets of clothes
I am maybe five or six. Already, I am angry at my spirit.
“Why you have to stop here, why this poor family?” I ask. “Why you do this to me? If you had flown a little slower, you would have landed just next door. Look how many things you would have had -- a TV, a car, lots of food.”
Then I look out in the other direction.
“Why you not fly a little slower? Even on the other side, still things would have been a little better. Why you have to land here?”
The sun is setting over the Mekong, the evening chills. The cicadas chat with birds, a dog howls. I can hear my stomach clenching with hunger, so empty it is hard to pay attention to my stitching. The babies begin to cry and Big Brother tries to distract them. Our well-seasoned ears easily weed out the sound of Ba’s bike as he turns into the alley beside our home. Now we can eat.
Everyone loves Ba. He is an artist. “Oh, your father, he so wise,” they say. Our neighbors and everyone in our family come to him for advice. He knows everything. And oh, how he loves to tell stories about Grandpa’s life in China. These are my favorite times. After dinner, I am so tired, still hungry, our sewing is folded away, the babies sleep. Only the crickets chatter as Ba begins to talk. Akmow, our black lab, curls at his feet.
Ba enchants me with bigger-than-life, true fairytales, so rich and humming with life that time and space disappear.
I am no longer just one little girl in a large poor Cambodian family. I am traveling inside Ba’s memories. I am in China, crouching outside a school with other hushed children, secretly listening to lessons only meant for rich young ears. I am dancing in the dark swollen fields, chasing down fireflies, capturing hundreds in a clear glass jar. I poke holes in the lids and read Scherazade by the light of my firefly lantern. My night sky is too rich with stars and moonlight. I sleep.
My eyes snap open as Ba settles me down in the long bamboo bed with my sisters.
“It’s okay. You were dreaming,” he whispers. I stare for a moment into his deep black eyes. I sigh and turn away into sleep. We, four sisters, side by side every night, tiny sardines packed tight in a poreless tin can. So safe.
Spirit is everything in Cambodia. Our parents tell us that on the day we are born, our spirit is flying above, summoned to land in that split second of time when our body slips into this world. They choose us; they are our first taste of the air.
We are sewing mosquito nets in the cool outdoor corridor in the middle of our two-story house. I smell magnolias and drying fish.
We are so poor. Pa rides his bike to work in the fields, a few hours journey each way. Sometimes he disappears for days at a time. There is never enough food, and when we are not at school we are working for Mae, endlessly stitching new nets to sell in the local market or in Phnom Phen. We are always waiting for holiday, once a year noodle soup and two new sets of clothes
I am maybe five or six. Already, I am angry at my spirit.
“Why you have to stop here, why this poor family?” I ask. “Why you do this to me? If you had flown a little slower, you would have landed just next door. Look how many things you would have had -- a TV, a car, lots of food.”
Then I look out in the other direction.
“Why you not fly a little slower? Even on the other side, still things would have been a little better. Why you have to land here?”
The sun is setting over the Mekong, the evening chills. The cicadas chat with birds, a dog howls. I can hear my stomach clenching with hunger, so empty it is hard to pay attention to my stitching. The babies begin to cry and Big Brother tries to distract them. Our well-seasoned ears easily weed out the sound of Ba’s bike as he turns into the alley beside our home. Now we can eat.
Everyone loves Ba. He is an artist. “Oh, your father, he so wise,” they say. Our neighbors and everyone in our family come to him for advice. He knows everything. And oh, how he loves to tell stories about Grandpa’s life in China. These are my favorite times. After dinner, I am so tired, still hungry, our sewing is folded away, the babies sleep. Only the crickets chatter as Ba begins to talk. Akmow, our black lab, curls at his feet.
Ba enchants me with bigger-than-life, true fairytales, so rich and humming with life that time and space disappear.
I am no longer just one little girl in a large poor Cambodian family. I am traveling inside Ba’s memories. I am in China, crouching outside a school with other hushed children, secretly listening to lessons only meant for rich young ears. I am dancing in the dark swollen fields, chasing down fireflies, capturing hundreds in a clear glass jar. I poke holes in the lids and read Scherazade by the light of my firefly lantern. My night sky is too rich with stars and moonlight. I sleep.
My eyes snap open as Ba settles me down in the long bamboo bed with my sisters.
“It’s okay. You were dreaming,” he whispers. I stare for a moment into his deep black eyes. I sigh and turn away into sleep. We, four sisters, side by side every night, tiny sardines packed tight in a poreless tin can. So safe.
Kou: Takmau, April 975
First, I tell you story about day our lives change forever. Hot, dusty day, a month before the rains swell Tonle Sap, fill all Cambodia rivers. Perhaps you remember?
Midday outside our house. Mae sleeping in hammock and you laughing, running circles with Amonk. So so hot I cook clams on ground; they just blister in sun.
“You hungry?” I ask Mae. She shake her head no. Too hot to eat.
I always hungry. I watch you play, eat rice and clams. But oh I ache, miss my husband. Kuan not coming home. Two days ago his friend stop by to tell me.
“Something terrible about to happen,” he say. “Kuan want me give you this.” He hands me $20 and Kuan’s army uniform. “Not safe for him here, he leave country.”
What I thinking anyway. Not like no signs. Every night, Kuan and I lie beside each other in bed, listening to battle sounds under covers.
My world so small. Kuan all I think about. I so crazy in love with him. What could be more terrible than this? I scheming how to meet in City. Yesterday, we heard that airport close. Maybe he still here. Maybe not too late.
I jump to my feet, hear bombs and gunfire. Noise too close.
“Gee, what’s going on?”
Across lake see smoke and people running. Mae sit up in hammock. You stop playing, grab at my skirt. More gunshots, bombs. In seconds, Highway just beyond front yard is crowded with people rushing towards Phnom Phen.
Everywhere stench of gunpowder. Things happening so fast, camera going snap, snap, snap, only each picture frozen in slow motion like trapped in nightmare where you scream and no sound.
Gunfire, explosions, smoke closer and closer. Friends and neighbors speed past on motorcycles and trucks.
“Leave, leave!”.
Ba arrive on his bicycle.
“Get in house,” he yell. “Khmer Rouge attack. Hide, hide.”
I grab you and we run upstairs.
“We go to Phnom Phen,” I say. “Why we stay here? Everyone leaving.”
Ba not listen. “We safe here. Enough food for three months.”
I o angry. Want to go with everyone else to City. Maybe Kuan still there. We stay with his family.
But Ba in charge and so we stay.
We lock all doors, close windows. People running by just outside, pounding on the door “Get out! Get out!” Instead, we hide under the bed in the back room.
We here for long time. You want your favorite toy. I run toward front room to fetch it,suddenly hear loud noise. Scramble back under bed. Knock on door downstairs, friend of Ba’s calling up: “Are you still there? A bomb has fallen on your house. Is anyone in there?”
Sun setting. We still under bed when we hear someone kicking open downstairs door. We so quiet, even Amonk know no make noise. We hear people knocking things off shelves, throwing things around rooms. Now they climb stairs. Three pair shoes enter. Rubber shoes made from tires. Khmer Rouge. We so quiet as they move through room, throwing open cabinets, scattering everything on floor.
But Ba too tall. One of soldiers see his feet.
“Get out, get out from under there,” he order. We crawl out. We so frightened. I hold you in my arms so tight.
Three rifles point at us.
“Do you have guns here? Any army hiding in house?”
You sit on floor, playing with roll toilet paper while Ba talks.
"No, no, we not army. Just let us stay here. No problem."
Soldiers say we have to leave. No time to take anything with us. We not safe here. Americans going to bomb city. We leave now. In three days things safe, we return.
Out. Out. So quick we wrap clothing in sarongs, Ba stuffs big suitcase. We pushed at gunpoint out onto street. Soldiers everywhere. Now everyone rush away from Phnom Phen – cars, trucks, tuk-tuks overflowing with people, bicycles and motos carry whole family. Gunshots. Small boys in big black clothing scarves wrapped around heads carry guns as big as they are. Their eyes crazy with power. Bombs explode, gun battles rage. Fear so heavy you can smell it.
“Go, go, go.” Armed soldiers alongside road urge us onward, only allowing us to stop to drink from large buckets of water sitting along road.
We walk all night. Hundreds seeking shelter under trees when bullets come too close.
Ba, Mae and I take turn carrying you, your little feet tire so quickly. I so angry at Ba. Why he not see this? Why he not take us away sooner?
Finally, morning. Rest in small farm. Farmer come over with food for you. Banana leaf wrapped around sbrown rice and tiny dried fish.
Do you remember that morning, Shrey Mom, that tiny offering food? It meal for four of us.
I still haunted by way that farmer look at us. He know what in store for us. He sorry. Oh, how I hate that man because when I look at him I know. I know old life over. Life never again be normal. I know this, but I no idea three days really mean four years.
In that moment it just like they say happen before you die. My whole life flash fast before my eyes, like star shoot across sky. Like that for you, Shrey Mom? When you die, your star not have long to travel. Only five year. In my death moment, path 24 year long. My life slip away in second, not enough time even for me to reach out and capture even tiniest picture. It all gone before I finish one breath.
Midday outside our house. Mae sleeping in hammock and you laughing, running circles with Amonk. So so hot I cook clams on ground; they just blister in sun.
“You hungry?” I ask Mae. She shake her head no. Too hot to eat.
I always hungry. I watch you play, eat rice and clams. But oh I ache, miss my husband. Kuan not coming home. Two days ago his friend stop by to tell me.
“Something terrible about to happen,” he say. “Kuan want me give you this.” He hands me $20 and Kuan’s army uniform. “Not safe for him here, he leave country.”
What I thinking anyway. Not like no signs. Every night, Kuan and I lie beside each other in bed, listening to battle sounds under covers.
My world so small. Kuan all I think about. I so crazy in love with him. What could be more terrible than this? I scheming how to meet in City. Yesterday, we heard that airport close. Maybe he still here. Maybe not too late.
I jump to my feet, hear bombs and gunfire. Noise too close.
“Gee, what’s going on?”
Across lake see smoke and people running. Mae sit up in hammock. You stop playing, grab at my skirt. More gunshots, bombs. In seconds, Highway just beyond front yard is crowded with people rushing towards Phnom Phen.
Everywhere stench of gunpowder. Things happening so fast, camera going snap, snap, snap, only each picture frozen in slow motion like trapped in nightmare where you scream and no sound.
Gunfire, explosions, smoke closer and closer. Friends and neighbors speed past on motorcycles and trucks.
“Leave, leave!”.
Ba arrive on his bicycle.
“Get in house,” he yell. “Khmer Rouge attack. Hide, hide.”
I grab you and we run upstairs.
“We go to Phnom Phen,” I say. “Why we stay here? Everyone leaving.”
Ba not listen. “We safe here. Enough food for three months.”
I o angry. Want to go with everyone else to City. Maybe Kuan still there. We stay with his family.
But Ba in charge and so we stay.
We lock all doors, close windows. People running by just outside, pounding on the door “Get out! Get out!” Instead, we hide under the bed in the back room.
We here for long time. You want your favorite toy. I run toward front room to fetch it,suddenly hear loud noise. Scramble back under bed. Knock on door downstairs, friend of Ba’s calling up: “Are you still there? A bomb has fallen on your house. Is anyone in there?”
Sun setting. We still under bed when we hear someone kicking open downstairs door. We so quiet, even Amonk know no make noise. We hear people knocking things off shelves, throwing things around rooms. Now they climb stairs. Three pair shoes enter. Rubber shoes made from tires. Khmer Rouge. We so quiet as they move through room, throwing open cabinets, scattering everything on floor.
But Ba too tall. One of soldiers see his feet.
“Get out, get out from under there,” he order. We crawl out. We so frightened. I hold you in my arms so tight.
Three rifles point at us.
“Do you have guns here? Any army hiding in house?”
You sit on floor, playing with roll toilet paper while Ba talks.
"No, no, we not army. Just let us stay here. No problem."
Soldiers say we have to leave. No time to take anything with us. We not safe here. Americans going to bomb city. We leave now. In three days things safe, we return.
Out. Out. So quick we wrap clothing in sarongs, Ba stuffs big suitcase. We pushed at gunpoint out onto street. Soldiers everywhere. Now everyone rush away from Phnom Phen – cars, trucks, tuk-tuks overflowing with people, bicycles and motos carry whole family. Gunshots. Small boys in big black clothing scarves wrapped around heads carry guns as big as they are. Their eyes crazy with power. Bombs explode, gun battles rage. Fear so heavy you can smell it.
“Go, go, go.” Armed soldiers alongside road urge us onward, only allowing us to stop to drink from large buckets of water sitting along road.
We walk all night. Hundreds seeking shelter under trees when bullets come too close.
Ba, Mae and I take turn carrying you, your little feet tire so quickly. I so angry at Ba. Why he not see this? Why he not take us away sooner?
Finally, morning. Rest in small farm. Farmer come over with food for you. Banana leaf wrapped around sbrown rice and tiny dried fish.
Do you remember that morning, Shrey Mom, that tiny offering food? It meal for four of us.
I still haunted by way that farmer look at us. He know what in store for us. He sorry. Oh, how I hate that man because when I look at him I know. I know old life over. Life never again be normal. I know this, but I no idea three days really mean four years.
In that moment it just like they say happen before you die. My whole life flash fast before my eyes, like star shoot across sky. Like that for you, Shrey Mom? When you die, your star not have long to travel. Only five year. In my death moment, path 24 year long. My life slip away in second, not enough time even for me to reach out and capture even tiniest picture. It all gone before I finish one breath.
Kou Tree
Oh, the world you would have known, Shrey Mom. There are still times now, thirty years after you left us, when I look up from whatever I am doing and search for some sign from your spirit. Is that you, that slight soothing pressure on my face? Are you hiding in the clear fresh water I use to clean my client’s feet? Did you slip into that little girl’s giggle? For just a minute, she sounds so much like you.
So many times I ask my husband, “Where are the spirits of all the children who starved to death during the Khmer Rouge? Are they still waiting in Cambodia for their families to come home? Do they know we are here in America?”
He says he does not know. I never tell him how I wait for you. How I worry.
The women who come into my salon, Shrey Mom, carry huge leather satchels that probably cost more money than all the rice we harvested during five years at Pou Chrey. Sometimes they bring their children with them, pale little children in fancy soccer uniforms and hundred dollar sneakers. They will never know the joy of playing a simple game of Leak Kanseng in their dirty bare feet. The dogs that wait for them in cars much grander than the Anghar tanks go to special shops for shampoos. Akmow would not be welcome here, with his dusty black coat and half an ear.
What stories I could tell you about this strange world of America, daughter. But there are no words in the Khmer language to describe such things. It is like a story I once heard about a very old tribe who had never seen a boat before. And so, when they looked out over the ocean, where many, many enemy boats were arriving, they only saw the water. What did they know of something besides a bird that could float?
As much as I want to tell you about my life in America, things are so very different here that there is no space in your little mind for you to even imagine their existence. I can tell you that I own a small shop in a very, very rich town in America, that I clean people’s hands and feet and paint their nails different colors. Sometimes I grind fake nails for them and paste them on their fingers. Every day fancy women come here and I put rich creams on their faces to make them look younger or use hot wax to strip hair from their body. Not sexy in America to have hair on your body.
I do these things to make them happy but they are not happy, Shrey Mom. Always they have problems. I am sorry with them. I remember to ask them how things are when they return. But deep inside, as I bend over their hands, I am saying to myself: “You think your life is a sad story? You have everything. A home. Food. A job. Education. Why you so sad?”
Sometimes I think, “If only you knew my story. You would understand what sorrow really is.” But I say nothing. They are my customers and I have bills to pay.
I will tell you what their lives remind me of, though. It is another story. Some Buddhist monks came to the largest city in America, a city bigger than twenty Phnom Phen's with buildings that rise so high into the sky you cannot see where they end. The monks went every day to a famous building where very important paintings and other art is kept, and they carved a very, very big and beautiful sculpture. It took them weeks and weeks to finish. The sculpture was so big it was the size of a small rice field. When they were done they just left it there, and pretty soon this beautiful piece of art started to melt. The days were too hot. But the monks had known all the time that what they had worked so hard to create would not last. They had done it this way on purpose. They had made the sculpture out of butter.
This is what America is like, Shrey Mom. It is not a real place. What they call beauty here is just what they use to cover up what is real. It will not last.
But the story of our lives? Ah, this will never melt, this will last forever. Yes, this is the story I will tell you
So many times I ask my husband, “Where are the spirits of all the children who starved to death during the Khmer Rouge? Are they still waiting in Cambodia for their families to come home? Do they know we are here in America?”
He says he does not know. I never tell him how I wait for you. How I worry.
The women who come into my salon, Shrey Mom, carry huge leather satchels that probably cost more money than all the rice we harvested during five years at Pou Chrey. Sometimes they bring their children with them, pale little children in fancy soccer uniforms and hundred dollar sneakers. They will never know the joy of playing a simple game of Leak Kanseng in their dirty bare feet. The dogs that wait for them in cars much grander than the Anghar tanks go to special shops for shampoos. Akmow would not be welcome here, with his dusty black coat and half an ear.
What stories I could tell you about this strange world of America, daughter. But there are no words in the Khmer language to describe such things. It is like a story I once heard about a very old tribe who had never seen a boat before. And so, when they looked out over the ocean, where many, many enemy boats were arriving, they only saw the water. What did they know of something besides a bird that could float?
As much as I want to tell you about my life in America, things are so very different here that there is no space in your little mind for you to even imagine their existence. I can tell you that I own a small shop in a very, very rich town in America, that I clean people’s hands and feet and paint their nails different colors. Sometimes I grind fake nails for them and paste them on their fingers. Every day fancy women come here and I put rich creams on their faces to make them look younger or use hot wax to strip hair from their body. Not sexy in America to have hair on your body.
I do these things to make them happy but they are not happy, Shrey Mom. Always they have problems. I am sorry with them. I remember to ask them how things are when they return. But deep inside, as I bend over their hands, I am saying to myself: “You think your life is a sad story? You have everything. A home. Food. A job. Education. Why you so sad?”
Sometimes I think, “If only you knew my story. You would understand what sorrow really is.” But I say nothing. They are my customers and I have bills to pay.
I will tell you what their lives remind me of, though. It is another story. Some Buddhist monks came to the largest city in America, a city bigger than twenty Phnom Phen's with buildings that rise so high into the sky you cannot see where they end. The monks went every day to a famous building where very important paintings and other art is kept, and they carved a very, very big and beautiful sculpture. It took them weeks and weeks to finish. The sculpture was so big it was the size of a small rice field. When they were done they just left it there, and pretty soon this beautiful piece of art started to melt. The days were too hot. But the monks had known all the time that what they had worked so hard to create would not last. They had done it this way on purpose. They had made the sculpture out of butter.
This is what America is like, Shrey Mom. It is not a real place. What they call beauty here is just what they use to cover up what is real. It will not last.
But the story of our lives? Ah, this will never melt, this will last forever. Yes, this is the story I will tell you
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
The Sham: Broad Education Rants
I suppose it shouldn’t be all that difficult to actualize how the US can continue to claim its actions in the Middle East are dictated by their refusal to work with governments who support terrorists. These governments by virtue of their affiliations are terrorist nations in and of themselves. Right.
Who among our ‘elected’ officials and their incipient power machine needs be called to task for the US support of MEK in Iraq, or the Pakistani militant group Jundullah, or the most recent reports that our policy in Iraq (win at all costs) now involves supporting insurgent Sunnis in al Anbar who have turned on Al Qaeda jihadists. (I believe I must have missed a news cycle or two at the time when Al Qaeda morphed into the full blown instigator of the insurgency, please feel free to fill me in here). Nothing different here, the US never has no qualms about funding both sides in regional conflicts: it’s all about the need to be on the receiving end of lucrative, invasive bleeding of natural resources, global control and growing new markets for big business anyway. (Or at least that’s my hit on it.) The only one who ever wins regardless of outcome is the US. Everyone just accepts it.
Robert Fisk’s recent Independent article regarding MSMs abject failure to report on the reality on the ground in the MidEast. Once again, the power of AIPAC. The blind fidelity to Israel, our 51st state.
“it's really all about shutting the reality of the Middle East off from us. It's to prevent the British and American people from questioning the immoral and cruel and internationally illegal occupation of Muslim lands. And in the Land of the Free, this systematic censorship of Middle East reality continues even in the country's schools. Now the principal of a Connecticut high school has banned a play by pupils, based on the letters and words of US soldiers serving in Iraq. Entitled Voices in Conflict, …compiled the reflections of soldiers and others - including a 19-year-old Wilton High graduate killed in Iraq - to create their own play. To no avail."
I live in ‘blue state’ country, one of those small pockets of America regularly lambasted for its radical liberal viewpoints. I don’t know anyone who isn’t shamed by our government’s Mideast policy as well as control over the skys, airways and trade agreements. But I become increasingly terrified by the failure of mainstream America to take a hard look at what is occurring in our education system. Again, while the US continually publicizes the anti-American textbooks and the madrassas on the other side of the Atlantic, no one is screaming out about this administration’s subversive battle for the ‘hearts and minds’ of our children.
Sure, there is mention of the swelling number of home schoolers in America, but little report on how the government voucher program pays enough to make home schooling a family of 3 kids a highly profitable endeavor. Enter stage right the dominionist movement and the insurgent Joshua Generation (is Obama calling forth his J generation to merge with these genetically engineered airheads?)
So what skill sets can we expect from the products of No Child Left Behind? If not the military, then perhaps future employees of Blackwater. By the time this administration completes its mission to privatize the military, job demand will be such that Blackwater can easily offer its employees a minimum wage as they assume control of military training bases and hire returning Vets as trainers…. already they are recruiting mercenaries from developing countries whom they hire for extremely low wages.
What I propose undoubtedly has all the ingredients of a paranoid conspiracy theory … but is anybody thinking about this? Is anyone putting all the pieces together? The propaganda campaign raging in America right now for the ‘hearts and minds’ of OUR children brings to mind the campaign the British Colonialists waged to cover up the brutal torture and internment of over 100,000 peasants; that, too, was about winning the ‘hearts and minds’ of the British public over to support the re-education of indigenous peoples.
There is no doubt in the educational community about what constitutes the most effective processes to promote the emergence of a young population with highly developed critical thinking skills, a finely honed ability to transfer knowledge between domains, an ability to work collectively and productively, and generate new knowledge. Unfortunately, however, NCLB promotes 'teaching to the test', a paradigm based on highly uncontextualized simplistic rote learning guaranteed to create a generation of humanoid robots.
Are we offering our children any other cognate for beauty other than the biblical image of the rapture?
Lifelong learning experiences:
Why would someone as conservative as Rupert Murdock, someone who is championing the symbiotic relationship between the religious right and the government be at the same time the owner of ultra conservative media outlets and control shares in the porn channels available in homes and hotels across America? The stone throwers create, sustain and condemn. They fabricate our reality. Amazing how Janet Jackson’s boob gave the FCC license to even further remove us from actually experiencing reality as it happens. To enlarge, distort and saturate our consciousness for news cycle after news cycle with images they would have us believe have no rightful place in our public domain ….
Guns to Caviar
We are no longer playing in the same ballgame. As Naomi Klein says, we have now entered into an era where the peace incentive is no longer a viable option. Chaos promotes privatization.
“…there's an index called the Guns-to-Caviar index, which for seventeen years has been measuring an inverse relationship between the sale of fighter jets and executive luxury jets. And for seventeen years, this index, the Guns-to-Caviar index -- the guns are the fighter jets, the caviar are the executive jets -- has found that when fighter jets go up, executive jets go down. When executive jets go up, fighter jets go down. But all of a sudden, they're both going up, which means that there’s a lot of guns being sold, enough guns to buy a hell of a lot of caviar. And Blackwater is, of course, at the center of this economy.”
And for more about Blackwater, a Harper’s magazine reveals that Blackwater’s founder and former Navy Seal Erik Prince has contributed roughly $200,000 to Republican coffers; as if that isn't enough now the news that Cofer Black, former Coordinator for Counterterrorism at the U. S. State Department, and former Director of the CIA's Counterterrorism Center, is now serving as Vice Chairman.
Monday, March 19, 2007
The Straussians & Iraq
Glenn Greenwald has a particularly cogent commentary today (click on it to bypass Salon’s homepage) at his new home on Salon. Yes I know it requires clicking through an ad (though it is quite painless) but for Glenn it is well worth the time.
Irving Kristol (Himmelfarb’s husband) has written in the past about the need to exploit religious and moral concepts in order to manipulate the masses, and his intellectual North Star, Leo Strauss, has advocated — as Strauss scholar Shadia Drury documented — that “those in power must invent noble lies and pious frauds to keep the people in the stupor for which they are supremely fit” — a view Kristol has endorsed. One can see that dynamic powerfully at work in the interaction between these neoconservatives and the President. They have seized upon the President’s evangelical fervor and equated his “calling” to wage war for Good in the world with the neoconservative agenda of endless wars in the Middle East.
And the more unpopular the President becomes as a result, the more of a failure these policies are, the more strongly they tell him to ignore all of that, that none of it matters, that his God and history will conclude that he did The Right Thing, provided that he continues steadfastly to pursue their agenda. And the President believes that. That is why nothing will stop him in pursuing the path he created years ago when, in January, 2002, he became convinced to name not only Iraq, but also Iran, as standing members of the “Axis of Evil” (even though our relations with Iran were rapidly improving at the time) and cited the 9/11 attacks in order to all but vow war on those countries, despite their having nothing to do with those attacks. The President’s “lessons” at the feet of neoconservatives continue, and he is as faithful a student as ever.
As incoherent and scattered as bush administration policy and implementation may appear to rational people on the outside looking in the fact is he’s been remarkably consistent on this approach from the beginning, using the Straussian “noble lies and pious frauds” to keep the less observant distracted.
Leo Strauss (September 20, 1899 – October 18, 1973), was a German-born Jewish political philosopher who specialized in the study of classical political philosophy. He spent most of his career as a Political Science Professor at the University of Chicago, where he taught several generations of devoted students, as well as publishing fifteen books. Since his death, he has come to be regarded as an intellectual source of neoconservatism in the United States.
The Power of Nightmares
In the past our politicians offered us dreams of a better world. Now they promise to protect us from nightmares.
The most frightening of these is the threat of an international terror network. But just as the dreams were not true, neither are these nightmares.
In the past our politicians offered us dreams of a better world. Now they promise to protect us from nightmares.
The most frightening of these is the threat of an international terror network. But just as the dreams were not true, neither are these nightmares.
In the past our politicians offered us dreams of a better world. Now they promise to protect us from nightmares.
The most frightening of these is the threat of an international terror network. But just as the dreams were not true, neither are these nightmares.
Parrot's Beak
... the southeast corner of Cambodia known as the “parrot’s beak” for the way it juts out into Vietnam
A history of conflict in Parrot's Peak, Cambodia
The rivalry between Cambodia and Viet Nam started centuries ago, fueled by religious differences and by economic competition over the Mekong River basin, and has never ceased. Common cause against the South Viet Nam regime and the U.S. merely dampened mutual hatreds; even in the midst of war, there were incidents between them. In 1973 the Khmer Rouge attacked North Vietnamese who were maintaining a wartime supply line through the Parrot's Beak, where Cambodian territory protrudes into Viet Nam. The Cambodians suspected—justifiably, as it turned out—that the Vietnamese were holding Chinese arms meant for Khmer Rouge fighters.
Our third choice is to go to the heart of the trouble. That means cleaning out major North Vietnamese and Vietcong occupied territories - these sanctuaries which serve as bases for attacks on both Cambodia and American and South Vietnamese forces in South Vietnam. Some of these, incidentally, are as close to Saigon as Baltimore is to Washington. This one, for example [indicating], is called the Parrot's Beak. It is only 33 miles from Saigon. (from Richard Nixon's Speech regarding North Vietnamese and Cambodia)
Parrot's Peak Today
Friday, February 16, 2007
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