A True Story
by Thea Khat
Cambodia had been going through a Marxist revolution. Seven years had passed and the country which was known for the beautiful ruins and architect looked like hurricane Katrina went through and wiped everything away.
The year was 1979, millions already murdered, and thousands were being executed each day for having financial independence or simply being educated. The whole country was forced to obey under the direction of one man, Pol Pot. What was left of the population was enslaved in large prison work camps. Husbands were separated from their wives, and children over the age of six were taken and trained to kill. Meals were given by the soldiers guarding the camp. Sometimes they were only given a small bowl of rice for their twelve hours of labor.
The entire country lived in this condition. Many had plans to escape and many attempted. The souls who made it to the border of Thailand would be free. Those who were caught were killed and their bodies were displayed to make examples of.
This particular day the Kingdom of Cambodia would be at its worst time. Word spread around that the Vietnamese were advancing, and they were told to take guard.
My parents lived in those conditions for seven years, during the process my mother attempted to raise two children, both of whom died of starvation. Early in September, at eight and a half months pregnant, my mother decided that she would not lose another innocent child to this inferno. My parents had heard rumors about a safe area in Thailand, and they planned their escape. Two families, my grandparents and my older sister, left that night. They lit incense and prayed to the great Buddha for a safe journey.
For one to escape Cambodia, at this time, you had to choose un-traveled routes; cutting through jungles, climbing mountains, and crossing rivers, that were filled with dead corpses. They even had to travel though these condition without shoes. They had no food to carry since all the food was held but the soldiers. They were all very hungry and ate whatever they could find. Each step was treacherous not knowing what might be underneath your feet. Landmines were a constant danger.
The stress was almost unbearable. At eight and a half months pregnant, it’s a surprise my mother didn’t give birth or even die on the first day. Somewhere along the way she had me. She gave birth to me underneath an abandoned house. My mother had wished that she would have given birth in Thailand, but she wasn’t so lucky. Their journey had become more dangerous with the arrival of me; it would be so much harder now to stay quiet. After many miles of walking, my parents and their companions decided to choose separate paths. My grandparents took my sister, since it was too hard to carry a newborn and care for a young child. They all agreed to meet again after crossing the border.
They proceeded with their journey for they were close to a safe zone. They weren’t moving as fast, my mother was sick, and I was also sick. My mother had to cover my mouth many times to muffle out the sound, as they continued on their path. Fear shadowed their every step. They would be killed if the Cambodian army patrol saw or heard them. They crept along quietly. Both my mother and father took turns carrying me. My mother was so exhausted, and my father had cuts all over his arm from pushing the leaves and thorns away from their walk way. Finally, after they passed a small hill, they were free. Seeing the end was a huge relief, their lives would be spared. As they walked closer, they saw a flag. It was white, with two red lines intersecting each other.
“It’s the American Red Cross,” my father sighed in relief. He remembered that some were talking about the flag back in the prison camp.
“Welcome,” said one Americans who was assessing the entrance. “We have...” he paused and took his hand and brought it to his mouth, then made a chewing motion.
My parents nodded their head, yes. They then asked if there was any milk to feed their newborn baby. A Thai solder came and gave my parents and others a few bags of food. They also gave them bamboo and wood to build their home. A recorder came and asked for their names so they could register them in. The recorder told them that by registering them in, it was a chance for them to enter any country of their choice; in Northern America or Europe. They would also be provided with food, medical attention as needed and vocational training. Unimaginable opportunities for people that were living off a bowl of rice a day before leaving a country that was on the edge of hell.
Now that I’m 26 years old, I can only imagine what my parents and others went through, and doubt that I could do the same. The stories they told me were of an unbearable place and time. Their long hard journey was all worth it. By leaving Cambodia my parents saved me from their other two children’s fate. Of my two living siblings, I am the only one that was born in Cambodia in the dirt under an abandoned house. My parents are my heroes. They were survivors; they walked through danger so their children could have a free life.
Wow. And we complain when our cable goes out...
Cambodia had been going through a Marxist revolution. Seven years had passed and the country which was known for the beautiful ruins and architect looked like hurricane Katrina went through and wiped everything away.
The year was 1979, millions already murdered, and thousands were being executed each day for having financial independence or simply being educated. The whole country was forced to obey under the direction of one man, Pol Pot. What was left of the population was enslaved in large prison work camps. Husbands were separated from their wives, and children over the age of six were taken and trained to kill. Meals were given by the soldiers guarding the camp. Sometimes they were only given a small bowl of rice for their twelve hours of labor.
The entire country lived in this condition. Many had plans to escape and many attempted. The souls who made it to the border of Thailand would be free. Those who were caught were killed and their bodies were displayed to make examples of.
This particular day the Kingdom of Cambodia would be at its worst time. Word spread around that the Vietnamese were advancing, and they were told to take guard.
My parents lived in those conditions for seven years, during the process my mother attempted to raise two children, both of whom died of starvation. Early in September, at eight and a half months pregnant, my mother decided that she would not lose another innocent child to this inferno. My parents had heard rumors about a safe area in Thailand, and they planned their escape. Two families, my grandparents and my older sister, left that night. They lit incense and prayed to the great Buddha for a safe journey.
For one to escape Cambodia, at this time, you had to choose un-traveled routes; cutting through jungles, climbing mountains, and crossing rivers, that were filled with dead corpses. They even had to travel though these condition without shoes. They had no food to carry since all the food was held but the soldiers. They were all very hungry and ate whatever they could find. Each step was treacherous not knowing what might be underneath your feet. Landmines were a constant danger.
The stress was almost unbearable. At eight and a half months pregnant, it’s a surprise my mother didn’t give birth or even die on the first day. Somewhere along the way she had me. She gave birth to me underneath an abandoned house. My mother had wished that she would have given birth in Thailand, but she wasn’t so lucky. Their journey had become more dangerous with the arrival of me; it would be so much harder now to stay quiet. After many miles of walking, my parents and their companions decided to choose separate paths. My grandparents took my sister, since it was too hard to carry a newborn and care for a young child. They all agreed to meet again after crossing the border.
They proceeded with their journey for they were close to a safe zone. They weren’t moving as fast, my mother was sick, and I was also sick. My mother had to cover my mouth many times to muffle out the sound, as they continued on their path. Fear shadowed their every step. They would be killed if the Cambodian army patrol saw or heard them. They crept along quietly. Both my mother and father took turns carrying me. My mother was so exhausted, and my father had cuts all over his arm from pushing the leaves and thorns away from their walk way. Finally, after they passed a small hill, they were free. Seeing the end was a huge relief, their lives would be spared. As they walked closer, they saw a flag. It was white, with two red lines intersecting each other.
“It’s the American Red Cross,” my father sighed in relief. He remembered that some were talking about the flag back in the prison camp.
“Welcome,” said one Americans who was assessing the entrance. “We have...” he paused and took his hand and brought it to his mouth, then made a chewing motion.
My parents nodded their head, yes. They then asked if there was any milk to feed their newborn baby. A Thai solder came and gave my parents and others a few bags of food. They also gave them bamboo and wood to build their home. A recorder came and asked for their names so they could register them in. The recorder told them that by registering them in, it was a chance for them to enter any country of their choice; in Northern America or Europe. They would also be provided with food, medical attention as needed and vocational training. Unimaginable opportunities for people that were living off a bowl of rice a day before leaving a country that was on the edge of hell.
Now that I’m 26 years old, I can only imagine what my parents and others went through, and doubt that I could do the same. The stories they told me were of an unbearable place and time. Their long hard journey was all worth it. By leaving Cambodia my parents saved me from their other two children’s fate. Of my two living siblings, I am the only one that was born in Cambodia in the dirt under an abandoned house. My parents are my heroes. They were survivors; they walked through danger so their children could have a free life.
Wow. And we complain when our cable goes out...
posted by Holy Grail Press at 8:58 AM
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