Saring and i and solf

. sarong and    i and soft on m‘! Skin, Sl0W1Y Peeling away g co11ected_ The slippery grass in the water sways  hands them over to Keav. With‘ no soap, Keav takes t 6 Clothes to the edge of the river and scrubs them against the rocks to get them clean.  With Geak balanced  walks Chou and 1 into the pond for our first W3511 in six days. Hand in  my waist. The water feels cool  on one of her hiP5s M3 takes my hand and  ches hand, we stop when the water rea  back and forth to the  rhythm of our movements, 2‘-I~°“dY brushing against my legs. some °fi  the blades slither around my ankles, sending Chills _uP and down my spine. 1 jump and fall into the water,P“11mg Chou with me’ who is still holding on tight to Ma’s hand.When I resurface, they are 311 laughmgat m§_1 amhappy to have all of us laughing together again. In the mornings M3 Wakes °Ve1'Y°ne and We get reédy for our W‘ emh day of walking. The road ahead of us shimmers in the heat, and the dust swells are everywhere, burning my eyes‘ In the distance’ ml’ eyes focus on a lone bicyclist. I cannot tell how tall he is, only that he is very thin. It is strange that he is traveling against the flow of traflic.All of a sudden, I am startled by Ma’s scream. Between loud, halting sobs Ma manages to say,“It’s your uncle Leangl”  With our hands in the air and bodies jumping up and down, We wave excitedly to our uncle. Uncle Leang waves one hand back and peddles his bike faster in our direction. He comes to a stop a few fed from us, and all at once we rush toward him. Blinking his eyes, he tal<€5 Ma into his arms with Pa standing quietly beside them. All the WOW“ and fears of the past few days are now over, for at last he has found his sister. Uncle Leang hands Ma 21 package from his‘ front bike rack, and while she opens the cans of tuna and other food he tells Pa fill?“ this morning other people from Phnom Penh arrived in his village. The  new arrivals told him of the evacuation and how the Khmer Rouge forced everyone to leave all the cities in 9  _ cluding Phnom Penh, Balm” bang, and Siem Reap. Hearing this, he got on his bike and has been looking for us all morning. He then shares with us the glorious new5  that Ma’s oldest brother Heang is on h ' i  the layers of grime that has , 

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Able to contain his glee

"“"'\u -‘XPRII. I975  35  Ma, look!” he calls to her, barely  “ able to contain his glee. “Sugar!” Brown sugar!”  I am tired th Ma exclaims, taking the pot away from him. Though v 053 two words bring me running in the direction of the pot.  “B ” . Id :w.Vn Sugar! I repeat quietly. I never knew how two little words C0“ rmg U16 50 much happiness.“  almost a quarter of a pot of it!»  “Shh. Don’t say it so loud,” and beg us for some.” direction.  Ma, let me have a taste! There's  Keav warns me, “or people will come I notice a few of our neighbors look in our  “Here everyone, have a small taste.We have to save some,” Ma says as we gather around her. My siblings stick their fingers into the sugar and lick what they are able to pull out.  “Me . . . me . . .me . . .” I beg Ma as she slowly lowers the pot to my level. I know it is my one chance to get as much sugar as I can, so I wait a few seconds to form enough spit in my mouth. Then I put my finger in my mouth and swish the spit around my finger to make sure I wet every millimeter of my finger. When I am satisfied that my finger is wet enough, I take it out of my mouth and slowly roll it around on top of the sugar. My finger rolls so slowly that I can feel the rough grains bonding to it.When I pull it out of the pot, I am happy to see what I have achieved. I have more sugar on my one finger than anyone else does! Carefully, I place my other hand under my treasure to catch any grains that might fall from my finger. Slowly, I walk my finger back to my spot on the mat and begin to eat each grain of the sugar.  After dinner, Ma takes us girls to a nearby pond, which is already crowded with people washing their clothes and iiaked children, tenta- tively putting their heads under the muddy water. The children all look too tired to bop up and down, laugh, or splash at one another.  Ma instructs us to strip off our clothes. I remove my brown shirt, a  shirt that was yellow when I hurriedly dressed six days ago. Naked, Chou Geak and I wait while Ma removes her clothes from under her 


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Last night sudden

 run"  last night", d sudden1Y notice the Smell that hits ms or my own body odor but  nostrils. ach coi15~  my stom hot Sun for too many days. Evel-ythin  smell so Pumd that the  . t in - chicken mnard5 left Ou es blurry and I do I10‘? hear Keav telling me to - becom surroundlflg me  h only the buzzing Of flies feasting (in the human move myf 1elgSlieIav’:aliand pull at me,3f1d my feet automatically m°V€ in corpse.I CC  _ . d ‘ hers, her direct1on.Wrth my han 1n  . - ‘ h day of marching- famfly and begin our srxt  lk the soldiers are everywhere, prodding us alongfrh On our W8 »  . . ' ' 5 with ornt and give us d1rect10I1 older pCOP  We Catch up with the rest ofthe  P scorching April heat, marl)’  dehydration, but they dare throws out his belongings, wagon if the family is lucky e  puts the sick person on someone’s back or;  walk all through the morning and afternoon, stopping for food and to i  test only when the sun goes down.  All around us, other families also have stopped to rest for the night. Some stagger into the field, picking up firewood to cook their meals. Others eat what they cooked earlier and fall asleep as soon as they lie down.We walk around the curled up bodies to find an empty area of our own. Exhausted, Ma and Keav struggle to set up our "mng 5P0t and Start a fire. From one of the plastic bags we carry our  rem ' ' b ' ' th “nmgd 5:/ynglngs 1n,Keav takes out a bedsheet and spreads it on C groun . . , a unrolls the straw mat and lines 1t up next to the bed.  Her face. bro  neck as his bodwn and bhstered from the sun’ 1  their guns and bullhorns. In the ' le become ill from heatstroke and 1  not rest.When someone falls ill, the family ’  nough to have one, and march on_We ‘  Y Swivels left and right. Befme I»  rass only a few feet from Where i  my:  , . a A Smell similar to that of rotten Z 

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Meng pick the mushroom

and Meng picked the mushrooms in the woods” with ml’ CV35 Still C10S€d, the rice ball works itself slowly down my dry throat and Cluiets mY hunger. After I finish my small portion I lie back down and leave the world of the Khmer Rouge soldiers behind,  In the middle of the night I dream I am at a NewYear’s parade.The  Cambodian Lunar New Year this year falls on the thirteenth of April. Traditionally, for three days and nights, we celebrate the NewYear with  parades, food, and music. In my dream, fireworks crackle and boom noisily, rejoicing in the New Year celebration.There are many varieties of food on the table: red cookies, red candies, red roasted pigs, and red noodles. Everything is red. I’m even wearing a new red dress that Ma has made for this special occasion. In the Chinese culture it is not proper for girls to wear this color because it attracts too much atten- tion. Only girls who want attention wear red and they are generally viewed as “bad” and “improper,” more than likely from a bad family. But New Years is a special occasion and during the celebration everyone is allowed to wear red. Chou is next to me clapping her hands at something. Geak is giggling and trying to catch up with me as I run and spin around and around.We all have on the same dress.We look so pretty with red ribbons in our ponytails, red rouge on our cheeks, and red lipstick on our lips. My sisters and I hold hands, laughing as fire- works boom in the background.  I wake up the next morning to the voices of my brothers and father whispering to each other about what went on in the night.  “Pa,” Meng says in a frightened voice,“a man told me the noise last night was the Khmer Rouge soldiers opening fire on all the people who registered for work. They killed every one of them.” Their words push at my temples, making my head throb with fear.  “Don’t say anything. If the soldiers hear us we will be in danger.”  Hearing this makes me afraid and I walk over to Pa. “We’ve been —  Walking and walking for five days now.When can we go home?” “Don’t talk anymore,” he whispers and hands me over to Keav. Keav takes my hand and leads me to the woods so I can go to the bathroom. We have only taken a few steps when Khouy stops us. _ I “Turn and walk back! Don’t go any farther!” He yells. 

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Arms hanging loosely on both

slumped, arms hanging loosely on both sides Of hm’ the man with th Lon Nol uniform in his bag does not fight as another Khmer Rang: soldier points and pushes him away with the butt of his rifle,  After many hours, it is f1nal1Y our time to b: quuCI51t1r‘1’(:‘ed- I can te We’Ve been standing here a long time because t 1:; Rw warms y lower back instead of the top Of my head‘ AS 3 rlnlr Ouge soldier aPPr0aches us, my stomach twists into Ugh: knot‘: fem $103" to Pa and reach up for his hand. Pa’s hand is much too 1g Of mine» 50 I am only 3516 to wrap my fingers around his index finger.  «What do you do?” the soltfilier curtlIy0:stl:s Pa.  “ acker in the S 1PPmg '  “1\V“;i:tk<:la(: :21 do?” The soldier point? hi5,fi”ge‘ 3‘ M“'_H°f eyes focus on the ground, and she shifts Geaks weight on her hips. ‘I sell old clothes in the market,” she S3Y5 in 3 barely audible Vow:  The soldier rummages through all 0111' bags One by 011°-Then he bends down and lifts the lid of the rice pot next to Pa’s feet. Gripping Pa’s finger even tighter, my heart races as the soldier checks the pot. His face is close to mine; I Concenmte 0“ ml’ dirty toes’ I dare n°t1°°k into his eyes, for I have been told that when you look into their eyes, you can see the devil himself.  “All right, you are cleared.You may go.”  “Thank you, comrade,” Pa says meekly, his head bobbing up and down to the soldier. The soldier is already looking past Pa and merely waves his hand for us to hurry on. Passing the checkpoint safely, we walk a few hours more until the sun goes to sleep behind the moun- tains and the world becomes a place of shadows and shapes once again, In the mass of people, Pa finds us a spot of unoccupied grass near the  side of the road. Ma puts Geak down next to me and tells me to keep  an eye on her. Sitting next to her, I am struck by how pale she looks. Breathing quietly,  She fights to keel’ her eyelids open, but in the end She loses and falls to sleep. Her growling stomach talks as mine grumbles in 


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Not lie to andghor

and not lie to the Angkar! If you lie to the Angkar, we will find out! The Angkar is all—knowing and has eyes and ears everywhere.” This is the first time I hear the word “Angkar,” which means “the 0fg3’“Za' tion.” Pa says the Angkar is the new government of Cambodia. He tells  us that in the past, Prince Sihanouk ruled Cambodia as a monarch. Then in 1970, unhappy with the Prince’s government, General Lon overn-  Nol, deposed him in a military coup. The Lon Nol democratic g ment has been fighting a civil war with the Communist Kh ever since. Now the Khmer Rouge has won the war and its govern’ ment is called “the Angkar.”  “To your right, you see a table where your co waiting to help you. Anyone who has worked for the deposed govern- ment, ex-soldiers or politicians, step up to the table to register for work. The Angkar needs you right away.”Anxiety spreads through my body at the sight of the Khmer Rouge soldiers. I feel like I have to vomit.  Pa quickly gathers our family and stands us in line with Othfif peasant families. “Remember, we are a family of peasants. Give them whatever they want and don’t argue. Don’t say anything, let me do all the talking, don’t go anywhere, and don’t make any moves unless I tell you to do so,” Pa instructs us firmly.  Standing in line wedged among many people, assaulted by the stale smell of bodies that have not been washed for many  days.To filter the smell, I pull the scarf tightly over my nose and mouth.  In front of us, the line splits in two as a large group of ex-soldiers, gov- ers, and former politicians walk over to the table to register  mrade brothers sit  my nostrils are  ernment work for work. My heart pounds quickly against my chest, but I say nothing  and lean against Pa’s legs. He reaches down and puts his hand on top of my head. It stays there as if protecting me from the sun and the soldiers. After a few minutes, my head feels cooler and my heartbeat slows. Ahead of us in the line, Khmer Rouge soldiers yell something to the crowd, but I cannot hear what they say. Then one Khmer Rouge soldier roughly jerks a bag off of one man’s shoulder and dumps its contents on the ground. From this pile, a Khmer Rouge soldier picks up an old Lon Nol army uniform. The Khmer Rouge soldier sneers at the man and pushes him to another Khmer Rouge soldier standing beside hjmffhe soldier then moves on to the next family. Eyes downcast’ shoulders  mer Rouge 

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Soy it take food

\  FIRST THE‘ ""  soy  t I take the f°°d fmm him  i  “me between cho -  . h ' Wes look down at th€ gtound  S ‘ e I eat 1113’ “Ce htl as . es and says 50f-dY~ The? he, the Words make me sob harder‘ ,  anyway. Silently, -  sobs. Bending d0W“~ h - _” His 0  soldiers lie.\lVe C3I1n°‘ go  “But they said three d3YS-H d them but they lied.” , b 1' ve ’ “I know. I m sort)’ You 6 ‘C  h they lied,” my V01“ quivers as 183"“  “I don’t understand W Y lied to us." MY h°PeS crushed’ 1 WiPe  “I donlt know when butdhey ing Snot all over my Cheek. Pa gently 1113’ f°‘°3rm across my. nose, rligg takes the rice pot from me and saysl C16 ans my face with 1115 hand, th en st of the trip. only have to carry myselfvfort e realk Over to me and wraps my scarf  With Geak ofl her hlpt I1\i1eaf::m sthe sun. I wish that I were a little  rotec I . I>:l3lynlikrenyC::l:(.iStl(iepdoesn’t have to walk at  M3 1:3Te1:‘: her 111 her arms all the way. I am miserable, but at least aye 5 1: ‘ -“€31,119 Of the People walk barefoot in the scorching heat’ Carrying tkelr  6 S belong‘ ings on their backs or heads. I feel sorry for them nowing th5Y 316 worse off than I am. And no matter how far we go, there are always more people along the way. When night falls, once again we make the road our home and sleep, along with the hundreds of thousands of other families fleeing Phnom Penh.  Our fourth day on the road starts the same as the all the other days. “Are we there yet?" I keep asking Kim.When I receive no attention,l proceed to sniff and cry.  “Nobody cares about mel"I moan and keep walking anyway.  By noontime we have reached the Khmer Rouge’s military check‘ P0111‘ 111 the town of Kom Baul. The checkpoint consists of no H1019 than a few small makeshift tents with trucks parked beside them.The" are many soldiers at this base, and it is easy to recognize them because they wear identical 1oose—fitting black pajama pants and Shirts_ A11 caI1Y identical guns slung across their backs.They move quickly from place to place .W1[I1 fingers on the triggers of their weapons pacing back an forth in front of the crowd, yellin in t _ _ 3  «This is Kom Baul base, Y 8 s ructions into a bullhorn. ha Cleared you! Stand with . ou ‘are. not allowed to pass until ‘I19   your fam‘1Y 111 a line‘. Our comrade Soldlers  come a d ~ ' n ask a few simple questionslYou are to answer them trutllllllll  ./r 


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Today our third day on the road

Today, our third day on the road, I walk with a little more bounce in my step. In Phnom Penh, the soldiers had said we could return home after three days.The soldiers told us we had to leave because the United States was going‘ to bomb our city. But I have not seen any planes in the sky and have heard no bombs dropped. It is strange to me that they made us leave just so we can turn back and go home after three days. I Smile at the silly picture of us marching like black ants coming to a stop at the end of the day only to head back home. I do not understand, but I guess three days is how long it takes for them to clean the city.  “Pa, will we go home soon? The soldiers said we can return home after three days." I tug at Pa’s pants. It is afternoon and we are not even slowing down yet.  “Maybe, but meanwhile, we have to walk.”  “But Pa, this is the third day. Are we going to turn around and walk back home now?”  “No, we have to keep walking,” Pa says sadly. Reluctantly, I do what Pa tells me. Everybody has to carry something, so I pick the smallest item in the pile, the rice pot. As I walk, the pot becomes heavier and heavier in my hands as the sun climbs higher and higher in the sky. The metal handle digs and burns the palms of my hands. Sometimes I carry it with two hands in front of me, other times I switch the pot from my  right to my left arm, but it seems no matter how I carry it the pot painfully bangs into some part of my leg. It is evening now and I am losing hope that we can go home tonight. Tired and hungry, I drag my feet, taking smaller and smaller steps until I am far behind everyone else.  “Pa, I’m very hungry and my feet hurt,” I yell to him.  “You can’t eat now. We have very little food left and we need to ration it because we have a long way to go.”  “I don’t know why we have to save it!” I stand still in the road, letting $0’ Of the rice pot to wipe dirt and tears from my cheeks. “Our three days :'(:1r1n5e0”<>;hbe over. We can return home. Let’s just go home. I want to go  - e words somehow come out between halting sobs. My forty- Pound body refuses to walk any more. The red dust fiom the road and the 31:1: ::11d11i1t:fi>o:y has mixed to create a layer of n;ud on my skin making the pot She is Y- 21 walks over to Keav and takes a all of sticky rice out of  C31'I'y1ng.He comes over to me and hands me the food. My 

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April open up

April 1915  nl Open up my eyes the next morning is the {Chou against the background of cloudy  “Wake up. We have to move again,” she  The first sight I see Whe glum upside-down face 0 skies as she tugs at my half-  tells me. Slowly I sit up and rub the seeds out of my sleepy eyes. All around  me, a sea of people wake: babies cry, old people groan, pots and pans clang against the sides of wagons whose wheels grind the dirt beneath them.There are many more people than the numbers I know to count them with. My eyes follow Khouy and Meng as they walk into the temple with big silver pots to fetch water. Keav says there is alwaysa well near a temple. Moments later, Khouy and Meng return visibly shaken with their empty p0ts_  R “We vvleint into the temple but found no monks there, only a Khmer  ou e so 1er” “ tempt: Wen. \,X]:h:tyg}::)l:d1’:n(;flg::’nYel1:ed for us to staY awaY from tilt anyway", Khouyg Words are inte: ackdbut other people W€I1:1l: coming from inside the temple. Hurriiégie by the sound of guns 0d Y: W6 pack our belonglngs 3“  lte:ve the larea. Iplater on we hear the Khmer Rouge soldiers had killed o peop e insi e the temple and woun dfid many more.  T 

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The soldier walk

K.  “The soldiers walked around t 37 he neighbor h  doors, ‘telling people to leaVe,Th0Se who refu ood, knocking on an th on their doorsteps. Pa shakes his head Sed were shot dead ri he “Why are they doing this, Pa?” Kim asks. g t ufi6C3.11S€ they are destroyers of things.» ‘Chou and Kim look at each other and I sit there feel. afraid. mg 10st and «I don’t understand. What does all this mean?” I ask h look at me but say nothing.Yesterday I was playing hopscoéhem: They friends.Today we are running from soldiers with guns. W1tl’1 my After a quick lunch of rice with salted fish, we climb in the truck and move again. I watch as a stream of people seems to follow our mi Fighting drowsiness caused by the smothering heat, my thoughts race from one subject to another. I question why we had to leave, where we are going, and when will we return home. I do not understand what is happening and long to go back home. The sudden sputtering and choking of our truck halt my daydreaming. It kicks and whines, and finally stops. I climb of hoping it will move again. “The truck’s out of petrol and there's no petrol station around here,” Pa says.“Looks like we have to walk the rest of the way. Everybody grab Only some clothes and all the food you can carry. We have a long way to £0 yet.” Pa then orders us what to take and what to leave behind. 31 “You!” someone yells.We all stop what we are doing and stand par- yzed. “YOU-"’A Khmer Rouge soldier comes over to us. “Give me your watches.” “CEIQIUIY-”\lVith shoulders bent to show submission, Pa takes the Xlatfeles Off of Meng and Khouy’s wrists. Pa does not look the Soldlef “A;Ye.5 35 he hands the watches over. when hglfsht: HOW move,” the soldier orders and the give the Soldiout of earshot, Pa whispers that from now on we are to We Walk fer: ar1Yth111g they Want or they Will shoot us. . Wh n nigh Comes W‘: thfi break of day until the dark of the evening. :1 dried fish arid iv rest by the roadside near a t€II1P1e- W5 unpack t C: Cxcitementn 1°C and eat in silence. Gone is the air of mySt€YY 3“ ’ 0w I am Slmply afraid.  n walks away. 


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That nice now

 “That’s nice, now go to sleeP-”  - k . Eve e ‘ “You know the stars are candles In the 5 Y ry vemngv  ‘f we lose our wa . for us so 1 Y, angels come out and light them ’  still see." -h T - ‘ Pa has told me in the past that 1 am blessed W“ a g1 ted lmaglna. tion and he likes the stories I tell. I . _ When 1 awaken in the morning’ my Slbgrlgs :rekalr:ady “P-They were awakened bY gunshots fired into the “mm 5 V Y the Khmer  We can  the in  ‘Rouge but I was so tired l sl6Pt ‘hmugh in My Siblings an have Eta?’  - - - d t" k’ ‘ P0uches under their e‘/es; the“ ha“ 15 knotted an S ‘C mg out In man  directions. SlowlY.1 5i‘ “P ‘md Stretch out my Sore Shoulders and back. i  Sleeping in the truck is not as much fun as I thought it would be. Before long, 3 group of Khmer Rouge Soldlers Come by and yell at us to keep moving.  After a small breakfast of rice and salted eggs, we get back in our truck and take off again.We drive for many hours and everywhere we go we see people walking in all directions.The sun is high and hot on our backs. It burns through my black hair as little beads of water collect around my hairline and on the curve of my upper lip. After a while,we all get on each other’s nerves and start to fight.  “It’s not much farther, kids.We’re almost there," Pa tells us when we stop to have our lunch.“S0on we will be where it is safe."  As Ma and Keav prepare our meal, Pa and Meng disappear to gather firewood.\X/hen they return, Pa tells Khouy that it is a good thing that  we got out of the city as quickly as we did. He says the people he just talked to told him that the soldiers made everyone leave the city. They emPtied SCh001S, restaurants, and hospitals.The soldiers even forced the  sick to leave. They were not allowed to go home firs; to their famili€5 so many people are separated.  “Many old and sick people did not make it today” Khouy offer‘ grimly, ’  . “I Saw them on the side of the streets still in their bloodl’ hos’ pital robes. Some were walking and other  . hos-  pit 31 beds by their relatives? s were pushed In carts or  h Now I understand why KeaV kept Wrapping the scarf around ml ead, t 11' ’s  sides. 6 mg me to keel?’ my head down. to not peer above the We 


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Eye widen come back

goes away and comes back with a bunch of paper sheets in her hand. My“eyes widen in d1sbel1ef,“Mal It’s money. I can’t use money!”  Use it, it is of no use to us anymore,” she replies, pushing the crisp Sh€€tS Into my hand. I don’t understand this. I know that we must be in really big trouble. I know this is no time to argue, so I grab the money and head off to the Woods_  After I finish, Chou and I decide to explore the area. As we walk, we hear leaves rustling in the bushes nearby. Our bodies tense, we clasp each other’s hands, holding our breath, but then a small feline silhouette saunters lazily out of the bushes, looking for food. The owners must have forgotten it in their hurry to leave.  “Chou, I wonder what happened to our cats.”  “Don’t worry about them.”  We had five cats in Phnom Penh. Even though we say they were our cats, We had no real claim to them. We didn’t even have names for them. They‘ came to our house when they were hungry and left when they were bored.  “V/ell, somebody is probably having them for dinner by now,” Kim teases us when we ask him.We all laugh and scold him for saying such a thing. Cambodians do not generally eat cats and dogs. There are spe- cialty stores where they sell dog meat but at a very expensive price. It is a delicacy. The elders say that eating dog meat increases body heat, thus increasing energy, but you shouldn’t eat too much of it or your body will burn up and combust.  That night, Ma tucks me in on the back of the truck. While Chou, Geak and I sleep with her on the truck, the older kids sleep on the ground with Pa. It is a warm and breezy night, the kind that requires no blankets. I love sleeping outside with the stars. My imagination is captured by the bright shining light, but I don’t understand the vastness of the sky. Every time 1 tr)’ t0 Wrap my mind around the concept of the universe, my mind spins as if caught in a whirlpool of information I will never be able to understand.  “Chou, the sky is so big!”  “Shhh. I am trying to sleep.”  “Look at the stars.They are so beautiful and they are winkin t I wish I was up there with them and the angels.” g a us. 


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Very skow motion

though still moving very slowly.  ‘‘Where are we going?”  I ask Kim repeatedly, after it seems like we have been traveling forever,  “I donit kT10W, We just passed the Po Chentong airport. which , ' 99 3 means we are on Highway Four. Stop asking me all the time.  sulking.  My body sags and I begin to grow tired. My eyelids struggle to stay open against the glaring sunlight and the dust from the road. The wind whips my hair all about, tickling my face, but I do not smile. I wince 35  l burrow under my scarf to hide from the sun and resign myself to i i  the hot, dry air enters my nostrils. Keav wraps the end of my scarf i  tightly over my nose and mouth to keep the dust out, and she tells me not to look over the side of the truck. . ,  In Cambodia we have only two seasons, dry and rain. Cambodias tropical climate is dictated 13)’ the monsoons, which bring heavy mm  _ is from May to October. Keav says during the rainy season, the country  . , W V€fY i a green Paradise. She saYs there s so much water that the trees gm  A etallic tall and the leaves swell with moisture. They take on 3 dark’ m  


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First. They kill

FIRST THEY KILLED [VIA ....u;-.1‘ ’  to move faster, to get out of the way, to not talk back. I bury into Keav’s chest, my arms tight around her waist, stifling a c,y.C:1yf3te silently on the other side of Keav, her W95 Shut. Beside us, Kiriiu  Meng sit stone—faced, watching the commotion below_ so mean to us?” I ask, cljn - 31%’ ei- en  Sit‘ and  “Keav, why are the soldiers  more tightly to her. “Shhh.They are called Khmer Rouge. They are the Communism" “What is a Communist?” u\X/ell, it means. . . . It’s hard to explain.Ask Pa later,” she whjspem love Cambodia and its people  Keav tells me the soldiers claim to this mean if they love us so  very much. I wonder then why they are rlier today, but now I am afraid of them,  much. I cheered for them ea “Take as little as you can.’ You will not need your city belongingy  You will be able to return in three days! No one can stay here! The city must be clean and empty.’ The U. S. will bomb the city! The U. S. will bomb the city.’ Leave and stay in the country for a few days! Leave now!”The soldiers blast these messages repeatedly. I clap my hands over my ears and I hide ‘"3’ {€166 against KeaV’s Chest, feeling her arms tighten around my small body. The soldiers wave their guns above their llieads and fire shots into the air to make sure we 31] understand their  tireats are real.A . ~ ~ another in 3 pani:re:a;l1€I::und of rifle fire, peoplg push and shoyeglnfi with fear, but I am luck Y trym.g to evacuate the Cltyi I am nd 6: y my famlll’ has a truck in which We

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Why. I like it more

 “Why? I like it more than the truck). €::r:hanswering IIIY question. Pa bought the gone into with friends The bus: Import/export bllsmess he had briefly been Sitting in our back ans fopess never got going, so the truck has creaks and Squeaks as Khou yth many months‘ The .old pickup truck Pa ties a large white cloth tdth rows a cloth -bag Onto its floor" In from’ to the side mirrors With 6 antenna while Ming Hes another piece  ' out ‘ml’ Words, Khouy picks me up and loads me Onto the back of the truck filled with bags of clothes and pots and P3115 and food-The fest Of my siblings climb on board and we drive off.  The streets of Phnom Penh are noisier than ever. Meng, Keav, Kim, Chou, and I sit in the back of the truck while Pa drives with Ma and Geak in the Cab Kh°uY f0110WS us slowly on his motorcycle. From up on our truck, we hear the booming roars of cars, trucks, and motorcy- cles, the jarring rings of the cyclos’ bells, the clanking of pots and pans banging against each other, and the cries of people all around us.We are not the only family leaving the city. People pour out of their homes and into the streets, moving very slowly out of Phnom Penh. Like us,  some are lucky and ride away in some kind of vehicle; however, many  leave on foot, their sandals flapping against the soles of their feet with  every step. Our truck inches on in the streets, all people scream their good-byes to those who choose  eir eyes. Little children cry for their r noses into their open mouths. ll the wagons faster. gs on their backs  owing us a safe view of the  scene. Everywhere, to stay behind; tears pour from th mothers, snot dripping from thei Farmers harshly whip their cows and oxen to pu Women and men carry their belongings in cloth ba and their heads.They walk with short, brisk steps, yelling for their kids r, to hold each other’s hands, to not get left behind. I  to stay togethe oves in hurried confu-  squeeze my body closer to Keav as the world m  sion from the city. The soldiers are everywhere. There are so many 0 orns, no longer smiling as I saw them before.  angry words at us while cradling rifles in their  f them around,  yelling into their bullh Now they shout loud, arms.They holler for the people to close their shops, to gather all guns  and weapons, to surrender the weapons to them.They scream at fafnjlieg 


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My hand can hold us

 my hands. On our block, children jump up and down d an wave  their arms in the air to greet these strange men Excited I 1, - I 5 C 6 wave at the soldiers even though I don’t know why er and  Only after the trucks have passed through my street and the people  quiet down do I go home.When I get there, I am confused to find m whole family packing. Y  “What’s going on? Where’s everybody going?”  “Where have you been? We have to leave the house soon, so hurry, go and eat your lunch!” Ma is running in every direction as she con. tinues to pack up our house. She scurries from the bedroom to the living room, taking pictures of our family and the Buddha off the walls and piles them into her arms.  “I'm not hungry.”  “Don’t argue with me, just go and eat something. It’s going to be a long trip."  I sense that Ma’s patience is thin today and decide not to press my luck. I sneak into the kitchen prepared not to eat anything.I can always sneak my food out and hide it somewhere until it is found later by one of our helpers. The only thing I am afraid of is my brother Khouy. Sometimes, he waits for me in the kitchen to make me eat proper food—or else. Heading to the kitchen, I poke my head into my bed- room and spy Keav shoving clothes into a brown plastic bag. On the  bed, Geak sits quietly playing with a handheld mirror while Chou throws our brushes, combs, and hairpins into her school bag. As quiet as I can be, I tiptoe into the kitchen and sure enough, there he is. He is feeding himself with his right hand while his left gently touches a slim bamboo stick lying on the kitchen table. Next to the bamboo stick is a bowl of rice and some salted eggs. Most evenings, the Younger kids in the house will gather in the kitchen to study Chinese, and a tutor uses the bamboo stick to point out characters on the black- board. In the hands of my brother, it is used to educate us about some-  thing €156 entirely. I was taught to fear what my brother will do with it  1“ do not do as I am told.  I give Kh011Y my most charming smile, but this time it does not work‘ He St!‘-fnly tells me to Wash up and eat In moments like these I fa ‘  “mile about how much I hate him. I cannot wait until I am as Stmng 

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And bounce.as they. Pass

and bounce as they pass  black, these cargo trucks sway  dirt and engine smoke as they wearing faded black long pants shirts, with red sashes cinched tightly around  rves tied around their foreheads, stand body to body. They raise their fists to the sk  y and cheer. Most look young and all are thin and dark—skinned, like the peasant workers at our uncle’s farm, with greasy lon  g hair flowing past their shoulders. Long, greasy hair is unacceptable to  r girls in Cambodia and is a sign that one does not take care of her appearance. Men with long hair are looked down Upon and regarded  their hair long must  slowly in front of our house. Green, gray, back and forth on bald tires, spitting out  roll on. In the back of the trucks, men and long—sleeVe black  their waists and red sca  have something to hide.  with suspicion. It is believed that men who Wear 

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You.laughed at me

 You laughed at me, I Just W15}; she would d ever my nose 3T1 meaI1- _ me on gs and not be soall the time so I 0CCaS10nal]y Skip  teach us the langua  . h 01 , _ it enjoy going to SC 0 but I don t tell Pa. One thingl  d 311 day,  I don . ‘ school and stay at the.PlaYg1l,-:)ll1fr‘:)1‘ I get to Wear this year‘ My ““‘f°rIn do like about sch0°1 '5 the 'th puffy, short sleeves and a Short, blue  rt W1  though sometimes I worry that my s ago, While I was playing hopSC0tCh With . d to hfi up my skirt. I was so ang  nd trie me over a hag I thought I could. He fell and  d, h der t 11)’ 1:irI thiifk the boy is afraid of me now.  finished all our homework, Pa rewards us ub. I love to swim, but I am not allowed  . ' shi sists Of 3 Whlte  my friends, 3 17°?’ C3  that I pushed him tea a  I ran away, my knees we  ’ve Most Sundays after we  ' imming at the Cl . _ l3)’ ‘l5:k1;1ege;IS6::; The pool at the club is very big, so even in the shallow int c -  nd there is Plenfl’ of room to P133’ and Splash Water in Chouls fa“- e . - - - . After Ma helps me put on my bathing suit, which 15 a very short pmk dress with the legs sewn in, she and Pa go to the second floor and have their lunch. With Keav keeping an eye OH 115, Pa and Ma Wave from their table behind the glass window. This is the first time I saw a Barang. “Chou, he is so big and white!” I stop splashing water long enough to whisper to her. “He’s a Barang. It means he’s a white man.” Chou says with a smirk, trying to show off her age.  h I Stare at the Bamng 38 he walks onto the diving board. He is more t an a foot taller than Pa, with very hairy long arms and legs_ He hasfi l0I1g, angular face and a t 11 h‘ ‘ - '  3 , t In nose like a hawk. His white skin 15  call all white ' ' peopl it tries, including America. but they can be from many other 601111. 

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Everything. All can do

nk. He told me that wherever he walked he had to Carry 3 lfmcm path in front of him so as not to k111 any them. After leaving the monastic (“def to 6. He was so good he was promoted under Prince Norodom  l further his study, and eventually b  during his life as a m0T1kv and dustpan to sweep the living things by 5t5PPmg on f . . ' c m3”Y M3’PaJ0med the Pohcse oert Service Cambodian ROW] 6“  t Pa worked undercover a ’ He was very secretive about his  to the Sihanouk. As an 3ge“ m . _ . rnme . gather information for the gOV3  work.Thinking he could fare better'in t ' f P ’ i quit the force to go into business with friends. A ter rince Sihanoukk  government fell in 1970, he was conscripted into the new government of Lon Nol.Though promoted to a major by the Lon Nol government’ Pa said he did not want to join but had to, or he would risk being peg secuted, branded a traitor, and perhaps even killed.  “Why? Is it like this in other places?” I asked him.  “No,” he says, stroking my hair. “You ask a lot of questions." Then  rid posed as a civilian to  the corner of his mouth turns upside down and his eyes le f 3V3 my ace Whe h - . . . . ' H e speaks again, his voice is weary and dlsmnt  “In many countries it’ , s not that way” he sa 5 “1 America his not that Way” , Y . n a country called  56 . Where 1S America?”  t P ed when my Oldest brother joins 115 ""  a-d.Ores us younger children. Like P3’ CdlCtQ1.ian oflzing. Meng is a responsible, reliable 13 Class_ 1) ~ - czlfv book 3 Just bought him 3 t  he private sector, he eventually ‘  irlfriend’ and S around instead of girls. ey are t0 be married When   

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He told me about. Everything

nk. He told me that wherever he walked he had to Carry 3 lfmcm path in front of him so as not to k111 any them. After leaving the monastic (“def to 6. He was so good he was promoted under Prince Norodom  l further his study, and eventually b  during his life as a m0T1kv and dustpan to sweep the living things by 5t5PPmg on f . . ' c m3”Y M3’PaJ0med the Pohcse oert Service Cambodian ROW] 6“  t Pa worked undercover a ’ He was very secretive about his  to the Sihanouk. As an 3ge“ m . _ . rnme . gather information for the gOV3  work.Thinking he could fare better'in t ' f P ’ i quit the force to go into business with friends. A ter rince Sihanoukk  government fell in 1970, he was conscripted into the new government of Lon Nol.Though promoted to a major by the Lon Nol government’ Pa said he did not want to join but had to, or he would risk being peg secuted, branded a traitor, and perhaps even killed.  “Why? Is it like this in other places?” I asked him.  “No,” he says, stroking my hair. “You ask a lot of questions." Then  rid posed as a civilian to  the corner of his mouth turns upside down and his eyes le f 3V3 my ace Whe h - . . . . ' H e speaks again, his voice is weary and dlsmnt  “In many countries it’ , s not that way” he sa 5 “1 America his not that Way” , Y . n a country called  56 . Where 1S America?”  t P ed when my Oldest brother joins 115 ""  a-d.Ores us younger children. Like P3’ CdlCtQ1.ian oflzing. Meng is a responsible, reliable 13 Class_ 1) ~ - czlfv book 3 Just bought him 3 t  he private sector, he eventually ‘  irlfriend’ and S around instead of girls. ey are t0 be married When   

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Ma then dsa are they make good

"" id that may. Ma then sa  - trashcan b 111 Our a born  5 he makes good m k emery ofthjs and as ,  uniform, which mean kill him by putting Someone once tried I0  have I10 m ars old. I when I was one or M0 Y5  _ . H d her.  11 h m? I aske .  “Why would someone want to k1 g 1 b mbs in the countryside, many “When the planes started dr0PPmg 0  find work , the could n0‘  People moved to Phnom Penh. Once herél 0 1: didn’t know P3, but and they blamed ‘h° government‘ These laedpso th€Y targeted all the they thought all officers were corral” and 3 '  high-ranking oflicers.” “What are bombs? Who’s dropping them?  "You’ll have to ask Pa that,” she replied. h b bs _ m Later that evening, out on the balcony, I asked Pa about t C 0  dropping in the countryside. He told me that Cambodia is fighting 2 civil war, and that most Cambodians do not live in cities but in rural villages, farming their small plot of land. And bombs are metal balls dropped from airplanes.When they explode, the bombs make craters in the earth the size of small ponds. The bombs kill farming families, destroy their land, and drive them out of their homes. Now homeless and hungry, these people come to the city seeking shelter and help. Finding neither, they are angry and take it out on all officers in the government. His words made my head spin and my heart beat rapidly.  “Why are they dropping the bombs?” I asked him.  “Cambodia is fighting a war that I do not understand and that is enough ofyour questions,” he said and became quiet.  The explosion from the bomb in our trashcan knocked down the walls of our kitchen, but luckily no one was hurt. The police never found out who put the bomb there. My heart is sick at the thought that someone actually tried to hurt Pa. If only these new people in the city could understand that Pa is a very nice man, someone who’s always willing to help others, they would not want to hurt him.  Pa was born in 1931 in Tro Nuon, a small, rural village in the Kam- pong Cham province. By village standards, his family was well—to-do and Pa was given everything he needed.When he was twelve years old, his father died and his mother remarried. Pa’s stepfather was often drunk and would physically abuse him. At eighteen, Pa left home and Went to live in a Buddhist temple to get away from his violent home, 

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Looking for rare item

NJ  1 U  ound looking for fares‘ Sometimes when I Peddle Zr edg; of the railing and look down at the t e ave I Climb onto the railing, holding on  . h, with my whole bod)’ supported by the to the banister Very mg ‘Y. m toes as theY hang 3‘ the edge Ofthe raging I dare myself to lool}: atmr: and bicycles below, a tingling sensa- world. As I look dpw: Ztlatkiilg them feel as if a thousand little pins are  oe , rushes to rm’ em. Sometimes, . anister altogether, stretching my arms up hlgh above d flapping in the wind,I pretend that I am 3 e balcony is a special place because  others continue C0 feel brave, I walk over t0 lights below.When I'm Very bf  tion gently pricking ‘h letting go of the b my head. My arms loose an  dragon flying high above the city.Th n have important conversations.  I just hang there against the railing,  it‘s where Pa and I ofte ' When I was small, much younger than I am HOW, lba told me that in  a certain Chinese dialect my name, Loung’ translates into “dragon-” He said that dragons are the animals of the gods, if not gods themselves. Dragons are very powerful and wise and can often see into the future. He also explained that, like in the movies, occasionally one or two bad dragons can come to earth and wreak havoc on the people, though most act as our protectors.  “When Kim was born I was out walking,” Pa said a few nights ago. “All of a sudden, I looked up and saw these beautiful puffy white clouds moving toward me. It was as if they were following me. Then the clouds began to take the shape of a big, f1erce—looking dragon.Th€ dragon W35 CWEYWY OF thirty feet long, had four little legs, and wings that spread half its body length. Two curly horns grew out of its head and Shot 031“ °PP0Sit€ directions. Its whiskers were five feet long and  swayed gently back and forth as if doing a ribbon dance. Suddenly it swooped down next to me and stared at m  as big as tires. ‘You will have a son 3 St . ron grow up to do many wonderful things, An news about Kim.” Pa told me the dra  e with its eyes, which were 8 and healthy son who Will d that is how I heard of the  -When I ask what Pa (1035 at

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Silver jewelry neck finger

displaying gold and silver jewelry. Their ears, necks, fingers, and hands are heavy With yellow twen\ty—four-carat gold jewels as they beckon you over to their counters. A couple of feet across from the women, behind yellow, featherless chickens hanging from hooks, men in bloody aprons raise their cleavers and cut into slabs of beef with the precision of many years’ practice. Farther away from the meat vendors, fashionable youths with thin Elvis Presley sideburns in bell—bottom pants and cor- duroy jackets play loud Cambodian pop music from their eight—track tape players. The songs and the shouting vendors bounce off of each  Other, 2111 Vying for your attention.  Lately, Ma has stopped taking me to the market with her. But I still '  wake up early to watch as she sets her hair in hot rollers and applies her makeup. I plead with her to take me, as she slips into her blue silk shirt and maroon sarong. I beg her to buy me cookies while she puts on her gold necklace, ruby earrings, and bracelets. After dabbing perfume around her neck, Ma yells to our maid to look after me and leaves for the market.  Because we do not have a refrigerator, Ma shops every morning. Ma likes it this way because everything we eat each day is at its freshest.The pork, beef, and chicken she brings back is put in a trunk—sized cooler filled with blocks of ice bought from the ice shop down the street. When she returns hot and fatigued from a day of shopping, the first thing she does, following Chinese culture, is to take off her sandals and leave them at the door. She then stands in her bare feet on the ceramic tile floor and breathes a sigh of relief as the coolness of the tile flows through the soles of her feet.  At night, I like to sit out on our balcony with Pa and watch the world below us pass by. From our balcony, n1ost of Phnom Penh looms only two or three stories high, with few buildings standing as tall as eight. The buildings are narrow, closely built, as the city’s perimeter is longer than it is wide, stretching two miles along the Tonle Sap River. The city owes its ultramodern look to the French colonial buildings that are juxtaposed with the dingy, soot—covered ground—level houses.  In the dark, the World is quiet and unhurried as streetlights flicker on and off. Restaurants close their doors and food carts disappear into  Side streets. Some cyclo drivers climb into their cyclo to sleep while 

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The fantastic of phranom penh

above the ground floor. In Phnom Penh’ it see the more round level is unde 1e are always peeking in’ 50 Of course on]  evel. The truly impoverished live .3’ owed to wander‘ In  stairs you have to Climb to  apartments or houses sirable because dirt gets  that the more money your home. Ma says the 8 into the house and nosy p€0P  e live on the ground 1 where I have never been 311  to the market with Ma, I catch brif h with fascination as children Wit:  you have.  poor peopl makeshift tents in areas  Sometimes on the way 5 of these poor areas. I wat g old, dirty c bout the same size as me a g on their backs. Even from afar, 1 see ling in the creases of their necks and ll wooden carvings of the  o flutes with one hand  c lothes run up to our cyclo in the.  it  s they rush over Wth 1  glimpse oily black hair, wearin bare feet. Many look a naked younger siblings bouncin  red dirt covers their faces, nest  under their fingernails. Holding up sma Buddha, oxen, wagons, and miniature bambo  they balance oversized woven straw baskets on their heads or st ddl Y3 ed  on their hips and plead with us to buy their wares. Some have nothin Eofsell find appr1(:ach us murmuring with extended hands. Every timeg e ore can ma e out What they say, the C l ’ . . ’ forcing the children to scurry out Of our Vzacyg s rust)’ bell clangs noisily, There are many mark t ' Ph . . but their products are a1:V:y1SnSin£;::IiT1:pnh, some big and others small, Russian Market the Olympic Mark It :6 IS the Central Market, the ’ e go to shop depends on which marl\ 7 girl many 0thers.Where people told me the OlYmPic Mark t et 15 the closest to their house‘ Pa e . lackluster facade is gray from mwisi once a beautiful building. Now its 0 - . from neglect. The ground that and polluhony and its walls cracked bushes and flowers, is now deadwas Once‘ lush and green, filled with food carts, where thousands of h and burled Under outdoor tents and 5 O - Under the bright green and ilpers traverse everyday thing from fabrics with st _ ' ue plastic tents vendors Sen every- Khmer E 1- npeS’P3‘51€Y,andfl . 0 . ngish. and French. Crack Owers to books in Ch1n€S5: range mangoes, and pink dr ed green coconuts, tiny bananas, as silver squid\their be d agon fruit are on sale as are delicacies such ofbrown tiger Sh . 3 Y 6Y€s watching th . _ 15 “mp crawling in Wh- elf ne1ghbors—and teafl He plastic buckets. Indoors, Where  the temperature is usual] Starched 5},- Y ten de re irts and t)learnrl .L‘.\ p 8 ‘es cooler, welpgroomed I ..».IS 

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We have a big family

Aprn 1915  We have a big family, nine in all: Pa, Ma, three boys, and four girls. For- tunately, we have a big apartment that houses everyone comfortably. Our apartment is built like a train, narrow in the front with rooms extending out to the back.We have many more rooms than the other houses I’ve visited. The most important room in our house is the living room, where we often watch television together. It is very spacious and has an unusually high ceiling to leave room for the loft that my three brothers share as their bedroom. A small hallway leading to the kitchen  splits Ma and Pa’s bedroom from the room my three sisters and I share.  The smell of fried garlic and cooked rice fills our kitchen when the ’  family takes their usual places around a mahogany table where we each have our own high-backed teak chair. From the kitchen ceiling the electric fan spins continuously, carrying these familiar aromas all around our house—even into our bathroom. We are very modern—our bath- room 1S equipped with amenities such as a flushing toilet, an iron bathtub, and running water.  l know we are middle—class because of our apartment and the p03- sessions we have. Many of my friends live in crowded homes with only  0 or three rooms for a family of ten. Most Well—to—do famlhes hve m 

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Money in the pocket

have money in your pocket. 35 I do this morning-  “I’m full, can I go?” I ask, swinging rnY1eg5 even harder‘  “All right, you can go play,” Ma says with a sigh. I jump Out of the chair and head off to my friend’s house down the Street‘  Though IIIY stomach is full, I still crave salty Snack f00Cl. With the money Pa gave me in In)’ Pocket, I aPPr°ach 3 f00d cart selling roasted  crickets. There are food carts on €V€1'Y Comer’ Selling everything E0111 I  riPe mangoes to sugarcane, from Western Cakes to French Crepes-The  street foods are readily available and a1W3Y5 Ch°3p'These Stands are Very  Popular in Cambodia. It is a common sight in Phnom Penh to see people on side streets sitting in rows on squat 5t°°l5 ‘mung their food,  Cambodians eat constantly, and everything is theffi 30 be 53V0I‘€d ifyou  \X/rapped in a green lotus leaf, the brown, g13Z€d Crickets Smell of 4  smoked wood and honey. They taste like salty burnt nuts. Strolling  slowly along the sidewalk, I watch men crowd around the stands with ,  the pretty young girls at them. I realize that a woman’s physical beauty is important, that it never hurts business to have attractive girls selling  your products. A beautiful young woman turns otherwise smart men ‘  into gawking boys. I’ve seen my own brothers buy snacks they’d never usually eat from a pretty girl while avoiding delicious food sold by homely girls.  At five I also know I am a pretty child, for I have heard adults say to Ma many times how ugly I am. “Isn’t she ugly?” her friends would say ; to her. “What black, shiny hair, look at her brown, smooth skin! That heart—shaped face makes one want to reach out and pinch those dim‘  pled apple cheeks. Look at those full lips and her smile! Ugly!” I  “Don’t tell me I am ugly!” I would scream at them, and they W0uld laugh. donihat was before -Ma explained to me that in Cambodia people  outright comphment a child. They don’t want to call attention to  the child. It is believed that evil spirits easily get -Callous when they hear _ a child being complimented and J. child to the other world.  they may come and take away the H  I 

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Money in the pocket

have money in your pocket. 35 I do this morning-  “I’m full, can I go?” I ask, swinging rnY1eg5 even harder‘  “All right, you can go play,” Ma says with a sigh. I jump Out of the chair and head off to my friend’s house down the Street‘  Though IIIY stomach is full, I still crave salty Snack f00Cl. With the money Pa gave me in In)’ Pocket, I aPPr°ach 3 f00d cart selling roasted  crickets. There are food carts on €V€1'Y Comer’ Selling everything E0111 I  riPe mangoes to sugarcane, from Western Cakes to French Crepes-The  street foods are readily available and a1W3Y5 Ch°3p'These Stands are Very  Popular in Cambodia. It is a common sight in Phnom Penh to see people on side streets sitting in rows on squat 5t°°l5 ‘mung their food,  Cambodians eat constantly, and everything is theffi 30 be 53V0I‘€d ifyou  \X/rapped in a green lotus leaf, the brown, g13Z€d Crickets Smell of 4  smoked wood and honey. They taste like salty burnt nuts. Strolling  slowly along the sidewalk, I watch men crowd around the stands with ,  the pretty young girls at them. I realize that a woman’s physical beauty is important, that it never hurts business to have attractive girls selling  your products. A beautiful young woman turns otherwise smart men ‘  into gawking boys. I’ve seen my own brothers buy snacks they’d never usually eat from a pretty girl while avoiding delicious food sold by homely girls.  At five I also know I am a pretty child, for I have heard adults say to Ma many times how ugly I am. “Isn’t she ugly?” her friends would say ; to her. “What black, shiny hair, look at her brown, smooth skin! That heart—shaped face makes one want to reach out and pinch those dim‘  pled apple cheeks. Look at those full lips and her smile! Ugly!” I  “Don’t tell me I am ugly!” I would scream at them, and they W0uld laugh. donihat was before -Ma explained to me that in Cambodia people  outright comphment a child. They don’t want to call attention to  the child. It is believed that evil spirits easily get -Callous when they hear _ a child being complimented and J. child to the other world.  they may come and take away the H  I 

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Drip to peppers

drop To Wh the PePPers again“ the “dc °f‘he bowl looks on approving1Y- “us  d finall)’ my soup is ready t° taste the Way I like it. Vlithlml Slpoontli: broth and instantaneousl)’ my tongue bums and mi’ S ow Y, 5 WP  nose drips. A long time 350’  . use it makfi should eat spicy foods 13553 re W6 SW63  Pa told me that People living in hot Coumri“ 5 them drink more water. The  and sweating cleanses 0 more water we. drink, the m:derStand thiSt,’but I like the Smj 16 he giv: bodies cif ir:1:1ir:::;11 :Ij1:nCth:PSciCk5 toward the pepper dish, knocking  - a I01:/:,I‘St(l)'lC salt shaker, which rolls like a fallen log Onto the floor-  “Smp what you’re doing," Ma hisses. _  “It was an accident,” Pa tells her and srrules at me.  Ma frowns at Pa and says, “Don’t you encourage her. Have you for- gotten the chicken fight episode? She said that was an accident also and now look at her face.”  I can’t believe Ma is still angry about that. It was such a long time ago, when we visited my uncles and aunt’s farm in the countryside and I played with their neighbor’s daughter. She and I had a chicken we would carry around to have fights with the other kids’ chickens. Ma wouldn’t have found out about it if it weren’t for the big scratch that still scars my face.  “The fact that she gets herself in and out of these situations gives me hope. I see them as clear signs of her cleverness.” Pa always defends  me—to everybody. He often says that people just don’t understand how cleverness works in a child and t  do are actually signs of men right,I believe him. I believe everything Pa tells me  ' "lflllvla is known for her beauty, Pa is loved for his generous heart.At 55 , e weighs about 150 pounds and has a large, stocky Shape that  contrasts with Ma’s long slender fr - soft and big and easy to hug Pa .3316. Pa rermnds me of a teddy bear, _  ::1Cl has blacl; Eurly hair, a wide nose, full ups and a round face His‘ eyes e - 7 a warm an rown like the earth, shaped like 3 full moon what 1 love  hat all these troublesome thingsl V gth and intelligence. Whether or not P3 15  hili peppers in my b0Wl as pa ‘ 

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How she can do

think she cannot hear. Because I’m a child, they feel free to say what-  ever they want in front of me, believing I cannot understand. So while they’re ignoring me, they comment on her perfectly arched eyebrows; a1mond_5haped eyes; tall, straight Western nose; and oval face. At 5’6”. Ma is an amazon among Cambodian women. Ma says she’s so tall because she’s all Chinese. She says that some day my Chinese side will also make me tall. I hope so, because now when I stand I’m only 35 C311 as Ma’s hips.  “Princess Monineath of Cambodia, now she is famous for being proper,” Ma continues. “It is said that she walks so quietly that no One ever hears her approaching. She smiles without ever showing her teeth- She talks to men without looking directly in their eyes.What a gracious lady she is.” Ma looks at me and shakes her head.  “Hmm . . .” is my reply, taking a loud swig of Coca—Cola from the small bottle.  Ma says I stomp around like a cow dying of thirst. She’s tried many times to teach me the proper way for a young lady to walk. First, you connect your heel to the ground, then roll the ball of your feet on the earth while your toes curl up painfully. Finally you end up with your toes gently pushing you off the ground.All this is supposed to be done gracefully, naturally, and quietly. It all sounds too complicated and painful to me. Besides, I am happy stomping around.  “The kind of trouble she gets into, while just the other day she—” Ma continues to Pa but is interrupted when our waitress arrives with our soup.  “Phnom Penh special noodles with chicken for you and a glass of hot water,” says the waitress as she puts the steaming bowl of translucent potato noodles swimming in clear broth before Ma. “Two spicy Shanghai noodles with beef tripe and tendons.” Before she leaves, the waitress also puts down a plate filled with fresh bean sprouts, lime slices, chopped scallions, whole red chili peppers, and mint leaves.  As I add scallions, bean sprouts, and mint leaves to my soup, Ma dips my spoon and chopsticks into the hot water, wiping them dry with her napkin before handing them back to me. “These restaurants are not too clean, but the hot water kills the germs.” She does the same to her and Pa’s tableware. While Ma tastes her clear broth chicken 

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Directing. Traffic

2 nus‘! 1"“ “"’  ' f the intersections directing traffic. Yet the city alwfl s the m1dd1l)e one big mfl_1CJ.am_My favorite way to get around with M1 iseillf ttrgcld because the driver can maneuver it in frthe hefaVi:S.t traffic. Cyclo resembles a big Wheelchair attached to the ont (:1 a 1CYC1e.You just take a seat and P3)’ the driver to Wheel you aroun Wherever You want to go‘ Even though we own two cars and a truck, when M; takes me to the market we often E0 in 3 cyclo because We get to our destlnat tion faster. Sitting on her lap I bounce and laugh 35 thc driver pedajs through the congested city St1'CCt5-  This morning, I am stuck at a noodle sh0P 3 block from our apart‘ ment in this big chair. I’d much rather be playing hopscotch with In friends. Big chairs always make me want to jump on them. I hate the way my feet just hang in the air and dangle. Today, Ma has already warned me twice not to climb and stand on the chair. I settle for simply swinging my legs back and forth beneath the table.  Ma and Pa enjoy taking us to a noodle shop in the morning before I  Pa goes off to work. As usual, the place is filled with breakfast.The clang and clatter of spoons against the b0 the slurping of hot tea and soup,  Pe0Ple having ttom of bowls the smell of garlic, cilantro, ginger, anti beef broth in the air make my stomach rumble with hunger. Across  from us, a man uses chopsticks to shovel noodles into his mouth. Next to him, a girl dips a piece of chicken into a small saucer of hoisin sauce while her mother cleans her teeth with a toothpick. Noodle soup is a traditional breakfast for Cambodians and Chinese.We usually have this, or for a special treat, French bread with iced coffee.  “Sit still,” Ma says as she reaches down to stop my leg mjdswjng, but I enld up kicking her hand. Ma gives me a stern look and a swift slap on my eg.  “Don’t you ever sit still? You are five years old. You are the most troublesome child. Why can’t you be ljke ever grow up to be a  heard all this before.  It must be hard for her to  girl, to be so beautiful and have a daughter like me. Among her W°men fnends» M3 is admired for her  _ height, slender build, and porcelain White skin. I often overhear them talking about her beautiful face when ‘hey  your sisters? How will Y0“  Proper Young lady?” Ma sighs. Of course I have e  have a daughter who does not act like 3‘ ' 

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Phnom penh

Phnom Penh city wakes early to take advantage of the cool morning breeze before the sun breaks through the haze and invades the country with sweltering heat. Already at 6 A.M.people in Phnom Penh are rushing and bumping into each other on dusty, narrow side streets. Waiters and waitresses in black—and—white uniforms swing open shop doors as the aroma of noodle soupgreets waiting customers. Street Ven- dors push food carts piled with steamed dumplings, smoked beef teriyaki sticks, and roasted peanuts along the sidewalks and begin to set up for another day of business. Children in colorful T—shirts and shorts kick soccer balls on sidewalks with their bare feet, ignoring the grunts and screams of the food cart owners.The wide boulevards sing with the buzz of motorcycle engines, squeaky bicycles, and, for those wealthy enough to afford them, small cars. By midday, as temperatures climb to over a hundred degrees, the streets grow quiet again. People rush home to seek relief from the heat, have lunch, take cold showers, and nap before returning to work at 2 P.M. Myfamily lives on a third—floor apartment in the middle of Phnom Penh, so-I am used to the traffic and the noise. We don’t have traffic lights on our streets; instead, policemen stand on raised metal boxes, in 

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