When Broken Glass Floats_ Growing Up Under the Khmer Rouge - Chanrithy Him [113]
We continue on the path, escorted by PARA soldiers for a brief while, and then take refuge for the night at the edge of a forest. The next day we come to a clearing where several other people are scampering. Srey’s mom warns us that we must run across it quickly. “This is where robbers can see us, and people get shot at. If you hear gunfire and shouting, don’t stop. If you fall, get up and run. When I say ‘go,’ start running. You hear?”
When she gives the signal, we run, trotting on the sharp edges of cracked ground. I pray to Pa, Mak, and my ancestors to protect me. We all make it safely across. Later, we have another obstacle in our way—land mines. We are told to follow in the footsteps of the person in front of us as we cross a grassy field. With luck and help from a higher power, and thanks to everyone’s calmness and meticulousness, we make it across the field safely.
Srey’s mom surveys our new surroundings, then excitedly says, “We’re almost there, almost to the New Camp.”
17
The New Camp
It is May 1979. We arrive at the outskirts of the New Camp late in the afternoon. The sunlight is less intense, giving us a break from the heat. Before us, in the midst of a forest, stand doorless golden-grassed shacks built closely together like mushrooms sprouting from beneath the trees.
Srey’s mom takes me to the shelter of om’s daughter, who has come to stay in the camp with her husband. When we arrive at the camouflage-colored tent, Srey’s mom calls out, her hand shaking the cloth wall. In a few minutes om’s daughter, whom I call bang, crawls out of the tent. She’s tall and slender with curly black hair falling to her chin. Her complexion is as light as mine.
“Have you seen her sister and brother around? They left Sala Krao two days ago,” Srey’s mom says to her.
“No, my husband and I haven’t seen them,” bang says, knitting her forehead. “We’ve been trading with the Thai and haven’t seen them there either.”
Srey’s mom asks if I may stay with them until I find Than and Ra. The couple agrees and assures Srey’s mom that I’m welcome. Exhausted, I let them discuss matters among themselves. I squat down as their voices drone on. The next thing I know, bang is guiding me through her tent to a space she’s made for me to sleep, separated from her and her husband’s area.
Bang asks if I want some food to eat. I shake my head, then lie down on the welcoming blanket spread on the earthen floor.
A voice hums. Something gently pops. I spring up, sitting in a dark space filled with heat. When I fumble my way out of the space through a wall of layered of blankets, I come to the area where bang and her husband sleep—but they’ve gone.
Near the half-open cloth entrance to the tent, the sunlight filters in, shining on a covered plate of steamed rice with a piece of fresh broiled fish near a small bowl of golden sweet-and-sour sauce with sliced white onion, minced garlic, fresh shredded red chili, and ground peanuts. My mouth waters. I breathe the air greedily.
Having had no food except water for nearly two days, I swallow down everything in a flash. The rice, fish, and sauce are so delicious. The tasty sauce, which I’m pleasantly surprised to have, takes me back to my homes in Phnom Penh and Takeo. I wish I were eating this kind of food with my parents and siblings again. But that is no longer possible, and I am here alone without a brother or sister.
One day stretches to four. Still I haven’t found Ra and Than as I comb the camp, wandering past shelters and various food stands selling deep-fried bananas, yams, soup with steamed rice, vegetables, and fresh meat—an alluring makeshift market that is more bustling than I could ever have imagined possible. As I head back to bang’s tent, giving up on today’s search, a voice calls out my name urgently.
I stop, then turn back, looking for the voice among so many roaming