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By Root 657 0

half on someone else’s front door. There are bodies of men found with their chests cut open and their livers missing. The Khmer Rouge soldiers believe that eating the livers of their enemy will give them strength and power. These images of the massacre play themselves over and over in my head as I take tentative steps back toward the village that evening. I do not doubt the truth of the stories. I know Pol Pot’s men are capable of this. I walk behind the father and his family. Chou and Kim trudge ahead of me, their eyes focusing on the ground. There are smoldering remains of bonfires giving off the stench of burnt human flesh all through the village. Trails and puddles of blood stain the steps and posts of the huts. My eyes are on the ground wherever I go, steering clear of anything that looks like a grenade. I’m also afraid of stepping on a landmine, which the villagers say Khmer Rouge soldiers plant after an attack, maiming and killing people long after they have fled.

A few days after the attack, I happen to walk by Pithy’s brother while gathering wood. He is about Kim’s age, and like Kim, his eyes are very sad. His body is wiry and agile, allowing him to easily climb palm trees for their fruit. I stand there watching him, admiring his ability to get up and slide down the tree so fast. “Chum reap suor.” I call out. He nods at me. “Where are you off to?” I do not ask him about Pithy.

“Everyday I go fishing and pick palm fruits for Ma. She is in the hospital. I bring food for her and stay with her through the night. She is getting better.” I am surprised he is saying so much to me. He peels the fruit and hands me a slice.

“Aw koon,” I say thank you to him, but he does not hear me. He is very far away now. He picks up his fruit and heads off to the hospital.

The next day, I see him again at the same place, peeling palm fruits. I walk over and ask, “How is your mom doing today?” He looks up and I see that his eyes are red and angry.

“Leave me alone. Don’t bother me,” he yells and comes after me with a large rusty silver cleaver. With my knees shaking I run from him. “Get away from me! I hate you all!” he screams as I crouch and hide in the bushes. Suddenly, he stops coming after me and stands transfixed, dropping his cleaver. With his shoulders slumped, he stoops and slowly sits on the ground. His elbows rest on his knees, his face buried in his hands. He cries long, hollow sobs and his shoulders shake uncontrollably. My heart leaps for him. I want to reach out to him, but instead I turn and walk away. He is alone now too.

It is April 1979. Our future looks bleaker every day. I dread the idea of going to live with another family, but I know it will happen soon. Kim is still hoping our brothers Khouy and Meng are alive somewhere and that soon they will come for us. We don’t know how to go about searching for either them or our uncles in Bat Deng.

After completing his chores each evening, Kim sets off to the Youn camp. There is an area there where the newly arriving displaced people stay, and where people congregate to try and find each other. Every time someone new arrives at the base, Kim asks if they know or have ever heard of our brothers. Always, they give him the same sad answer. Each night, he drags himself back to give us the news, but my heart always sinks before he has had a chance to say anything. My world darkens when the thought that they might be dead enters my mind. I force it to go away. Khouy and Meng have to be alive somewhere out there.

I am feeding the baby when one of the kids runs over and tells me Kim is coming with some man. I cannot dare to hope. Chou and I look at each other, our eyes full of fear, praying the man is our brother. I see Kim’s figure as he approaches us. Meng walks beside Kim. I do not know whether to cry or run to him. I am filled with so much happiness. He is alive. We are a family. I find myself feeling shy, and I stand stiff and awkward. Meng smiles and musses my hair. My heart soars quickly at the touch of his hand. He is real—not a figment of my imagination!

“You’re coming