First They Killed My Father_ A Daughter of Cambodia Remembers - Loung Ung [25]
“Those two men, are they our village representatives?”
“Yes.”
“Who are the base people?”
“Shhh … I will tell you later.”
“How come we left there so fast while all the others waited?”
“I bribed someone with one of your Ma’s gold necklaces to put our names on a list so we could leave.” Pa lets out a sigh and is once again quiet. I rest my head on his chest and think how lucky I am to have such a father. I know Pa loves me. Back in Phnom Penh, in the movie theater, I would always demand the seat next to Pa. When a movie got scary, I would grab onto his arm, signaling to him that I was ready to hop on his lap. Pa would then lift me from my chair and plop me on his lap so that his body became my chair, his arms my armrest. It seems so long ago now. He seems so serious and sad, and I wonder if I will ever see my fun Pa again.
anlungthmor
July 1975
I wake up to find that we have stopped and all the families are getting off the truck. The village representatives have a few words with the truck driver before he drives away, leaving us in the middle of nowhere. All around us, green mountain peaks jut into the gray sky. July is the midpoint of the rainy season; the air, though cool, is heavy and humid. Thick, tall trees with wide, green leaves and fat elephant grass surround us. I sit next to Chou and Geak on our small piles of clothes, listening to the sound of shrieking birds while the others stretch their bodies. A few feet away, Pa and the fathers of the four other families who came with us on the truck listen to the representatives as they give out instructions.
“We have to walk from here up to the mountains,” Pa tells us. Pa picks up Geak and carries her on his back. Khouy, Meng, Keav, and Kim gather up our bundles of clothes and follow the representatives as they lead us to a small, hidden trail up the mountain. Chou and I hold Ma’s hand and trail behind the other families. I try to run to be up near Pa in case there are snakes or wild animals who eat young children in the mountains, but pebbles and rocks slow me down by getting in my flip-flops, forcing me to shake them out every few minutes. We hike up the narrow path in silence. By nightfall, we arrive at our destination. The village chief takes all five families to his house and gives us rice and fish for dinner before the adults leave to hear further instructions. Afterward, he leads us to a little hut behind his house that is to be our new home. The hut sits on four wooden legs raised three feet off the ground. Its roof and walls are covered with bamboo leaves and straw.
“This village is called Anlungthmor and we will live here for the time being,” Pa informs us that night. “Depending on when the truck arrives with the supplies, every week or two the chief will ration each family salt, rice, and grains. To supplement these rations, we will grow a vegetable garden in the back of the hut. Remember, do not talk about Phnom Penh. There are Khmer Rouge soldiers patrolling the village, reporting our activities to the Angkar. From now on, we are country folks just like everybody here.”
Our whole family sleeps together lined up like sardines under a big mosquito net in the house. We huddle together to keep warm. On the second night, I become sick and have a terrible fever. My body aches all over and I throw up a lot. I feel hot and cold. I cannot sleep and have no appetite. Ma wraps me up in many layers of blankets, but still I cannot get warm. When I am very hot, I see ghosts and monsters coming to kill me. My heart races, causing searing pains to shoot up my spine and burn my flesh. I am scared of the monsters and run and run to get away, but no matter how fast or how far I run, I can never escape them. When I come to, Ma tells me that Kim and Chou were also sick and had the same nightmares of being tracked down and killed by monsters.
“It’s the mountains and the weather,” Pa tells us. “We will get used to it eventually.