When Broken Glass Floats_ Growing Up Under the Khmer Rouge - Chanrithy Him [79]
Yiey Om greets us with a long gaze, her eyes peering above half-glasses, studying what stands before her.
“Chao (Grandchildren/child) you come to visit yiey?” she asks, her voice rising with concern.
“Yiey, Chea asked me to bring Map here,” I finally say, hesitant to say more for fear I’ll insult her. “Wants Map to trade chili and mint with you for something to eat.” I repeat almost exactly what Chea told me to say. I feel as if we’re not related as the word “trade” passes my lips.
“Well, what do you have in there, chao?” Yiey Om reaches out to my scarf filled with a small harvest of our chili and mvorng mint.
She looks into the pouch of the scarf and raves about the red chili and mint, effusive praise so like what I used to hear in her voice when my father would bring her a gift of soap or detergent. It is a forgotten echo of a grandma’s excitement. Bending over a steamy pot of water bubbling over the fire, she picks up a flat woven basket, then scoops up tiny enclosed sacs afloat in the liquid.
“Go ahead and eat, chao.” She motions to me and Map.
I pick out a warm sac the size of a peanut. Its texture is coarse like a soaked cloth. I hold it with my forefingers. I finally speak out, “Yiey, what is this? How do you eat it?”
“Like this, chao….” She pauses from her weaving, her finger stearing the sac open.
She hands me what’s inside, a shriveled, cream-colored worm the size of a bean. I shiver, my body recoiling at the sight of the pale, motionless worm. She chuckles. Her daughters join in. It’s a silkworm, she says, and people eat them.
I place it in my mouth. I cringe, chew quickly, then swallow the creamy tofu-textured insect. It tastes good. But the idea of eating the silkworm is repellent.
Map likes it; his small fingers peel the cocoons like peanuts, his mouth munching it like a soft candy.
Yiey Om’s family is more privileged than most “new people” in Daakpo or any of the nearby villages. Instead of staying in a makeshift hut like many “new people,” her family stays in a large wooden house built on stilts. It seems the Khmer Rouge accept them more than most of us. They have skills the Khmer Rouge want. Weaving. It’s the basis of what the Khmer Rouge value, the old ways of life which Yiey Om’s family mastered long ago. None of them seems to suffer from edema.
Yiey Om lets us eat as many worms as we want, then she wraps a handful for Map in a banana leaf to take home.
This summer yields a crop. The corn cobs grow larger, their plump kernels, light yellow, packed like snug rows of teeth. It’s the first time we have raised many vegetables, yet Mak is not around to enjoy them.
“Athy, take some corn to Mak. Take Map with you.” Chea commands, her voice decisive, her words tumbling out as if she has been waiting to say this for a long time. “Don’t go to work. Take corn to Mak and take Map with you to see her. She hasn’t seen him for a while.”
The thought of seeing Mak is comforting, but I’m frightened. I remind Chea of the chhlop, of the village leader, of possible punishment. She turns to me, her expression wise. This happens whenever she wants to teach or share something with me.
“If taking food to one’s mother is a crime, I’ll be responsible for it. I’ll talk with the village leader. You are only taking food to our mother, not to an enemy of Angka.”
I put my trust in her. When she tells Map about the trip, his eyes glow. He follows me around as I pick eight ears of corn—four for Mak and two each for Map and me. In the pot I boil the corn. Map helps add the firewood from tiny tree branches to the cooking hole while I make tamarind paste, grinding the sour green tamarind fruit and coarse salt.
By the time we leave, it’s midmorning. I tuck the corn cobs in the pouch of my old scarf, still warm, pressing against a small package of tamarind paste. We walk quickly, my eyes on guard, frequently looking over my shoulder. My hand holds Map’s. We have long since passed Daakpo, entering a stretch of gritty road without any huts nearby. My fear of getting caught eases, but my body and Map’s grow