First They Killed My Father_ A Daughter of Cambodia Remembers - Loung Ung [58]
There have been rumors in the village that Pa was not killed in a Khmer Rouge mass execution. Rumors spread that the soldiers made Pa a prisoner on a faraway mountain and tortured him every day. But he survived and escaped to the top of the mountains. The soldiers, hunting for him, have not have been able to catch him. People passing by our village say they have seen someone fitting Pa’s description. They tell tales of Pa forming his own army, trying to recruit more soldiers to fight the Khmer Rouge. Upon hearing these rumors, Ma’s face lights up and her eyes shine once again with hope. For a few days, she walks off to work with a little more life in her step and even twelve hours later the glimmer of a smile is still on her face. At night, she continuously fusses over our appearance, wiping the dirt off our faces, combing the knots out of our hair. She believes the stories wholeheartedly. “If he has escaped, it will not be long now before he comes searching for us. Until we know for sure of his fate, we must never give up hope.” Once again, she devotes herself to sitting on the steps waiting for Pa’s return.
Ma (right) and her sister.
Pa, at right, with his military friends.
My mother, Ung, Ay Choung.
My father, Ung, Seng Im. I always thought his face looked like the stone faces of the gods at Angkor Wat.
Left to right: My mother (holding Keav), Meng, Khouy, my grandmother, my aunt, and Uncle Keang.
Left to right: Meng, Keav, Ma (holding Kim), Khouy, and Uncle Keang.
Left to right: Kim, Keav, Khouy, Meng, Chou, and Ma on a family trip to Angkor Wat.
My brother Khouy. I always perceive him to be so hard and sad. He rarely smiles, so I treasure this happy photo.
Left to right: Me, Chou, Kim, and Keav.
Left to right: Me, Chou, and Keav.
My father is wearing the plaid shirt, smiling.
Chou and me (right), 1975.
Two pictures of Kim superimposed together.
Kim, Ma, Geak, me, Chou, and Khouy. The only surviving picture of Geak.
Meng, me, and my sister-in-law Eang, on our first day at the refugee camp in Thailand. We had just gotten off the boat at Lam Sing, 1980.
Khouy (top row, far left in black) and family gather at Grandfather’s gravesite in Cambodia on the day we set aside each year to remember our ancestors, 1988.
Chou and her husband, Pheng, 1985.
Chou, with her family on an outing.
Khouy, his wife Morm, and their family, 1991.
Kim, his wife Huy Eng, their daughter Nancy, and a friend’s son, 1998.
Meng, in the center, talking with friends and family during his 1995 trip to Cambodia.
Wat Ta Prom, the temple where my father told me the gods live. Photo © Sally Strickland.
Chou, me, and Meng’s two daughters, Victoria and Maria. This photo was taken in 1995 when I visited Cambodia with Meng and his family. It’s the end of the trip and Chou is seeing us off.
Me and a little girl selling goods on the street at Angkor Wat. Photo © 1999 Michael Appel.
Weeks pass after we hear the rumors about Pa and still he has not returned. I know Ma misses him and believes he is alive somewhere. Eventually, she stops waiting for him and tries once more to resume her life. Time passes slowly without Pa in our lives. Even with our own ration of food, our survival depends on our older brothers bringing more food to us each week. When Khouy gets sick, coughing up blood, we are forced to fend for ourselves. Khouy is a strong young man, but he pushes himself too hard at work. His work consists of constantly loading and unloading one hundred kilograms of rice onto trucks to be sent to China. Meng also cannot come because the soldiers are keeping him busy with work. We are all very worried for them both.
Life is hard without Pa. People in the village look down on Ma because she is not good at field work. It is too dangerous to have friends so she does not talk to anyone. The villagers also look down on her white skin and often make rude comments about lazy white people.” To my surprise, Ma becomes