Takmou: 1950s

Today is an important day. Ba is taking me to get my birth certificate so I can go to big children’s school. I ride on the handlebars of his bike to the government building in the center of town.

Downtown Takmou is always crowded, so much to see. The outside market full of merchants selling colorful silks and threads, shiny jewelry, books and clothing. So many things to eat here. Fruit stands overflow with pineapple and papaya. Plump ducks and chicken hang from long string from top canopy many stands. Smell of cooking meats and fish. Rows of tuks tuks and motobikes, bicycles.


Cars and buses with windows wide open cross bridge over Mekong, some pass by Takmou on way to Vietnam.



There are many people in line by the time we arrive, some friends from the Buddhist school. But everyone is quiet inside, the children stand still beside their parents; we all turn to look each time someone joins the line to see if it is someone we know.

I still don’t understand why this day so important. Why I need a paper to show I was born when I have been here for 8 years already?

When we reach the front desk, Ba tells the woman the date and place of my birth. Lots of other information about our family. It takes a long time before she finally hands him a fancy piece of thick white paper. He immediately folds it into his sac. Hands her a pocketful of coins.

“Let me see, Ba, let me see!” I grab onto my father’s sleeve as soon as we are outside.

“Wait, Kim. Wait.”

Ba says he is going to buy me a treat to celebrate. We stop at a fancy food stand beside the Mekong River. I choose fried bananas and coconut ice cream.

“Big treat for big girl,” he says.” Almost like your birthday.”

We sit on the lawn alongside the River, shaded by a small grove of cypress trees. The Cambodian flag snaps in a cool afternoon breeze. We watch fisherman as they work on their nets. Dirty-faced bare-chested little boys rush back and forth from the boats carrying buckets of fish to the market. A group of old men sit on wooden boxes with dominoes spread out before them on top of a rusted lobster crate.

A young man is sitting in the grass playing a guitar. I think maybe he is an American. He has yellow hair and little brown spots on his face and the music is like nothing I have ever heard before. He looks so strange here, so unexpected, like finding a pink pearl inside a cracked clam shell. I just stare in disbelief as I eat my ice cream. My father glances at me and, for just a second, looks out to see what I am staring at before turning his attention back to his own thoughts.

Finally, Ba reaches into his sac and hands me my birth certificate. The paper is heavy with a raised seal in the bottom corner marked with the date. I trace the letters of my name with my fingers. This is the first time I have seen my name printed anywhere. I feel so proud and special, maybe now everything will be different. I am important now.

When I look up again the American is gone. We ride home on the bicycle. I am so excited to show Mae my special paper. But when I run into the house she is lying quietly on her bed. Big sister lifts her fingers to her mouth to signal me no talking. I walk outside and join my other sisters. They don’t even look up when I sit down beside them. Nothing is different. Mosquito nets are always the most important thing.

***




I am daughter number three in family of five girls, one boy. We live alongside Highway 2 just outside Phnom Phen. The Highway is always so busy - bicycles, cars, motos, ox carts drawn by water buffalo. Even sometimes elephants walk by. A big park and a lake are just across the road, and in the distance the small village of Takau, across the Mekong River.

Ba’s brother and his family live next door. We are in and out of each other’s homes all day, like no walls. Our houses are the same; small, concrete, two stories, three walls front to back, a large middle room open to the sky.

We live behind grandmother’s old house which sits set back from the highway behind tall stalks of lemongrass, vines of purple passion flowers, banana plants, palm and banyan trees. An ancient kou tree is just outside her front door. Sign of good luck.

Our families cook outside –ocre, shellfish, plantain, hot peppers - while we chase the cats and chickens in the tiny alleys between the houses. The Buddhist Temple is just one house away. In the morning, the little kids study Khmer and Buddhism. Everybody visits Temple when they have a problem. Bring roast pig, fruit, pork rolls, flowers. Gifts for the monk when you have a problem.


My family doesn’t have many problems until Mae becomes ill. Every three years, she and my father have another child. But something goes wrong with the last baby. One day Mae is pregnant. Then one day baby is gone. Nobody says anything. Nobody even thinks to ask. But suddenly it seems like Mae is always frightened. Her heart beats fast under her shirt. Her throat pulses like frog. She cannot sleep. I lie next to her every night now, massaging her to help her sleep.

Many times my family comes to temple to ask monk what to do.

He shakes fortune sticks, lets them fall, says “pick one.”

Then he tells you what he sees. Sticks show different answers every time, but we always do what monk says. Otherwise, bad luck.

But after Mae become sick, our family never finds luck again. Whatever that spirit that come into her body, it just settle right in.

At night I dream about the purple ghost. Always the same dream. It tiptoes out from under my bed, huge thorned horns first, and sits right on top of my head, terrifying with its sharp bloody nails and long forked tongue.

“I have caught you,” it snears. “Now you will never get away.”

I know better than to tell anyone about my dream. They will all think I am haunted, too. Better to stay quiet at night when I wake up frozen with fear.
***

One of the big problems always in my family is that grandma does not like Mae. She is not good enough for Ba, even though she comes from a wealthy Kandal family. Maybe my mother does not know how to read and write, but she knows so many other things. She runs her own business, she works so hard so her children can stay in school. She is very successful, makes more money than Ba to support the family. She never complains.

“She so dumb,” Grandma always say.

I just don’t understand. Why Grandma travel so far to ask permission for Ba to marry Mae if she not want her as a daughter? Sometimes I think maybe grandma is jealous because Mae’s family is rich. They own a big fish company in the south. Every year when the fish come in, we visit. Grandma never comes and she always seems to be even meaner when we come home.

Everyone thinks an evil spirit is inside Mae, but it is Grandma who says Mae is evil, that she did something very bad to bring shame on our family. She talks to Ba at night. I hear them outside the window as I lie next to my mother, waiting for her to sleep.

“You should leave her, she bad woman,” I hear her say. “Let brother’s wife take care of kids.”

I feel such fear clutch at my heart but I know that my mother is even more afraid. I know she is only pretending to be asleep because those frogs just start croaking silently beneath the soft skin of her throat. They always give her away.

“The neighbor put a curse on her,” Grandma says. “She told me nothing will make her remove it. She hates our family.”

The frogs croak even louder.

But why we worry? Ba is such a good man. No way he is going to leave his wife. We listen as he tells his mother his decision. He is too busy to take care of Mae and he knows Grandma is too old. Big sister will leave school She will run the family. All of the children will help more with my mother’s business. Big brother must stay in school and when he comes home each day he will handle all the big decisions for the family. And my job? I will go with Mae to every healer we can find. Maybe I will have to leave school, too.

***



***

The sun is traveling up, up towards roof sky when the 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 so slow getting to his feet. His soiled krama is wet with sweat. Cracked lenses in glasses.

He hack off head of two baby green coconuts, slips straw inside each. I pay him rire. We walk. Now 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 stretch 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 to 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. Noisy monkeys play high in deep green branches. Many birds talk. 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.”

Very hard work, almost carrying Mae. Maybe she sick but she still strong. We fall couple times and everytime I rush to stand up before her. Pull her up. Big big bump in my throat, heart beaingt so fast, hard to breath. How I get her there?

Forest clears for a 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 very strong. Small hut. Old black dog stretched out in sun, 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.


Mae sits in an old wooden chair inside a circle during a healing ceremony. People dance and sing around her. The healer plays a Cambodian drum. When the ghost comes into his body, he shakes all over and dances around like he is crazy. One day put something black in her mouth. She chews it, then they open her mouth and drop some liquid in.

Sometimes she is better for awhile.


***

I like being 16. When I comb my hair in the morning …., INow 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.