First They Killed My Father_ A Daughter of Cambodia Remembers - Loung Ung [109]
Before we leave the next morning, and when my brothers and sister aren’t looking, I grab some of our cooked rice and wrap it up in banana leaves. Downstairs, the woman is awake and breast-feeding her baby. I do not have the courage to talk to her or look at her. Instead, I place the rice near her and leave before she can say anything. Looking back longingly at the hut, I wonder what will happen to them. It does not look like they will be able to leave today, with a sick husband and baby. They will probably spend another night alone.
Day after day, we push on until I lose count of how many days we have traveled. Every day we walk, only stopping at night to rest. All along the way, I travel with Pa, Ma, Keav, and Geak in my thoughts. In my mind, I talk to them. I complain to Pa about my blistering feet and aching joints. I describe to Ma all the pretty flowers I see on the roadside. I report to Keav the flirting that goes on between Khouy, Meng, and their women friends. And Geak—I have the hardest time finding words to say to her. To Geak, I keep silent.
“We’re very close to Bat Deng,” Meng says, breaking into my thoughts. “If our aunts and uncles are alive, we will be with them soon.” We have been on the road for eighteen days now and our food ration is getting smaller with each passing day.
As we walk the last few hours back to Bat Deng, Meng and Khouy ask many people on bicycles or wagons if they share our destination. When they say yes, my brothers plead with them to bring word to our uncles that we have arrived. Within an hour, we see a familiar figure on a bicycle riding toward us. It is Uncle Leang! Uncle Leang still resembles the stick figure I drew in Phnom Penh, only his back curves more now. My brothers rush up to him and soon they are hugging each other and crying. Uncle Leang reaches into his bag and pulls out some sweet rice cakes. My eyes widen and my mouth waters at the sight of the roasted sesame seeds sprinkled over sweet rice.
“Here’s one for you, Chou, and one for Kim.” Shyly, I step toward him and extend one arm. “Sorry, little girl. I have only enough for my family. I have none extra for you.” My face burns with shame and embarrassment. My own uncle does not recognize me. He thinks I’m a street girl begging for food.
“Uncle,” Meng says laughingly, “it’s Loung.”
“Oh, here’s one for you then,” surprised, Uncle Leang smiles.
Chou, Kim, and I sit pressed against one other on the back of the bike, holding onto Uncle Leang. We are returning to Ma’s childhood home without her. At Bat Deng, everyone is happy to see us. Uncle Leang and his family still live in the same hut they did when we stayed with them. The first thing Uncle Leang’s wife, Aunt Keang does is to take off our dirty black clothes and give us new ones. She puts me in a shirt and pants the color of a blue sky. The clothes shimmer as they touch my skin softly, making me feel nice and light—transformed! In the back of the hut, I watch Aunt Keang throw our dirty clothes into an aluminum bowl and soak them with water. She then sprinkles a handful of white powdered detergent in the water and begins to scrub my clothes. I watch in fascination as the clear water becomes gray and then black as the detergent does its work.
When Khouy and Meng arrive on foot two hours later, they tell our story and Aunt Keang cries when she hears what has happened to us. They want the two of them to tell them over