by Loung Ung
She is frustrated at being trapped in a body that refuses to move. When Ma leaves, Keav can only turn her head to watch her disappear. “Come back quickly, Ma,” she whispers. She knows Ma does not want to leave her, but Keav wants to see Pa one last time. She misses him and the rest of her family so much. A wave of sadness washes over her and seeps into every inch of her body, taking her breath away. A sadness so enormous and overwhelming she does not know what to do with it. A black fly buzzes over and lands on her hand. She is too weak to swat it off. A strange chill runs up her spine. She knows it to be pure fear. Her heart weighs so heavy, and it is getting more and more difficult to breathe. “Pa, I’m so afraid,” she cries into the thin air. “Please come see me soon.”
When, at last, I see their distant figures return, my siblings and I rush toward them. My heart breaks when I see my parents return without my sister. Their faces are drawn and long. I run to them for news of my sister’s condition, though in my heart I know she is already dead. Ma, having lost her oldest daughter, runs to her youngest daughter, four-year-old Geak, and clasps her tightly.
“Keav was already dead by the time we got there,” Pa speaks wearily. She died shortly before we arrived. The nurse said she kept asking if we had arrived yet, saying how she wanted to be home and nowhere else. We got there too late. I asked the nurse if I could take her body home, but they no longer knew where she was. They had thrown her body out because they needed her bed for the next patient. We tried to look for her among the dead on the floor but could not find her.” The nurse went on to tell Pa that more than a dozen girls died that day from food poisoning. She said it is lucky they were notified at all. Most of the time, they don’t know where to contact the parents. Those they have no contacts for, they bury right away. Keav’s body must have gotten mixed up with them. “They acted as if we should be thankful we were told. Now she’s dead, and we cannot find her.” Pa tries to control his anger but his face contorts. His shoulders shaking, Pa hides his tears from us and covers his face with his hands.
“I asked them if I could have Keav’s belongings,” Ma whispers hoarsely. “The nurse went to look for them but came back with nothing. When I saw her, Keav still had the gold watch, a gift from us that she kept hidden. When she knew she was dying she took it out and wore it for the first time. The nurse said she does not remember seeing a watch on her wrist and does not know where it is.” Most likely, someone had stolen it off her wrist.
I cannot listen anymore. I run and run, finding myself heading for the woods. There, beneath a large tree, next to a thick bush, I hide from the rest of the world. Hugging my knees tightly to my chest, I rest my head on my forearms. I cup my hands over my mouth and scream out in pain over the cruel death of my sister. The sound burns in my throat, fighting to be released, but I hold it in as tears stream out of my eyes.
People have always said that Keav and I were similar in many ways. We looked almost identical to each other and were also alike in personality. We were both headstrong and always ready to fight. Keav’s last wish was not granted; she did not get to see Pa before she died. I wrap my arms around my stomach and double over in pain, falling to the ground. In the thick grass, my tears pour out for my sister and seep into the earth.
That night, lying on my back, my hands crossed over my chest, I ask Chou what happens to people when they die.
“No one knows for sure, but it is believed that at first they sleep peacefully, not knowing they are dead. They sleep for three days, and on the third day they wake up and try to return home. That’s when they realize they are dead. They are sad but have to make peace with themselves. Then they walk to a river, wash the dirt off their bodies, and start their journey to heaven to wait for their next reincarnated life.”
“When will they be reincarnated?”
“I don’t know,” Chou replies.
“I hope she won’t be reincarnated here,” I say quietly. Chou reaches out for my hand and holds it gently as she wipes her eyes with her sleeve. I think about what Chou has just told me. I imagine Keav sleeping peacefully somewhere. On the third night she wakes up only to realize that she is dead. It saddens me to think of her pain upon finding out she cannot return home. I imagine Keav in heaven, watching over us, finally happy again. I picture her the way she looked before the war, and wearing a white gown and washing in the river. I see her the way she looked in Phnom Penh, not the way Ma described her.
The reality of Keav’s death is too sad so I create a fantasy world to live in. In my mind, she is granted her last wish. Pa gets there in time to hear Keav tell him how much she loves him and he gives her our messages of love. He holds her in his arms as she dies peacefully feeling love, not fear. Pa then brings Keav’s body home to be buried, to be forever with us, instead of being lost.
I wake up the next morning feeling guilty because I did not dream about Keav at all. Pa is already off to work. Ma’s face is red and swollen, and, as always, she is holding Geak. Ma and Keav never got along well. Keav was wild and temperamental. Ma wanted her to change, to be more ladylike, more subdued. I wonder about the regrets Ma must have over their relationship, regrets about all those times they fought in Phnom Penh over what music Keav listened to or the clothes she wore.
Ma turns and looks at me, her eyes cloud over. For a brief moment I want to reach out to her and give her some comfort, but I cannot and turn away from her staring eyes. Our lives will never be the same again after Keav’s death. Hunger and death have numbed our spirits. It is as if we have lost all our energy for life.
“We all have to forget her death and continue.” Pa tries hard to encourage us. “We have to go about our ways as if nothing has happened. We don’t want the chief to think that we can no longer contribute to their society. We have to save our strength to go on. Keav would want us to go on; it is the only way we will survive.”
pa
December 1976
Time passes by slowly. We are in the middle of our summer because the air is hotter and drier now. It seems to be about four months since Keav died. Though the family does not talk about her, my heart still weeps when I remember that she is no longer with us.
The government continues to reduce our food rations. I am always hungry and all I think about is how to feed myself. Each night, my stomach growls and aches as I try to sleep. Our family remains dependent on Khouy and Meng to bring us food whenever they can steal away from their camp to visit us. However, the Angkar keeps them so busy that they are unable to visit us as often as before.
We live under the constant fear of being discovered as supporters of the former government. Every time I see soldiers walking in our village, my heart leaps and I fear they are coming for Pa. They don’t know that Pa is not a poor farmer, but how long will it be before they realize we are all living a lie? Everywhere I go I am obsessed with the thought that people are staring at me, watching me with suspicious eyes, waiting for me to mess up, and give away our family secret. Can they tell by the way I talk, or walk, or look?
“They know,” I overhear Pa whisper to Ma late one night. Lying on my back next to Chou and Kim, I pretend to be asleep. “The soldiers have taken away many of our neighbors. Nobody ever talks of the disappearances. We have to make preparations for the worst. We have to send the kids away, to live somewhere else, and make them change their names. We must make them leave and go to live in orphanage camps. They must lie and tell everyone that they are orphans and don’t know who their parents are. This way, maybe, we can keep them safe from the soldiers and from exposing one another.”
“No, they are too young,” Ma pleads with him. Unable to stop my eyes from twitching, I roll over to my side. Ma and Pa become quiet, waiting for me to go back to sleep. Staring at Kim’s back, I force myself to breathe regularly.
“I want them to be safe, to live, but I cannot send them away. They are too young and cannot defend themselves. Not now but soon.” His voice trails off.
Beside Chou, Geak kicks and moans in her sleep, alm
ost as if she senses impending doom. Ma picks her up and puts her down between Pa and herself. I roll over once more, this time facing Chou’s back. I spy Ma and Pa asleep facing each other on their sides with Geak in the middle, their hands touching above Geak’s head.
The next evening, while sitting with Kim outside on the steps of our hut, I think how the world is still somehow beautiful even when I feel no joy at being alive within it. It is still dark and the shimmering sunset of red, gold, and purple over the horizon makes the sky look magical. Maybe there are gods living up there after all. When are they going to come down and bring peace to our land? When I focus my eyes back on the earth, I see two men in black walking toward us with their rifles casually hanging on their backs.
“Is your father here?” one of them asks us.
“Yes,” Kim answers. Pa hears them and comes out of the hut, his body rigid as our family gathers around him.
“What can I do for you?” Pa says.
“We need your help. Our ox wagon is stuck in the mud a few kilometers away. We need you to help us drag it out.”
“Could you please wait for a moment so that I can talk to my family?” The soldiers nod to Pa. Pa and Ma go inside the hut. Moments later, Pa comes out alone. Inside, I hear Ma sobbing quietly. Opposite the soldiers, Pa straightens his shoulders, and for the first time since the Khmer Rouge takeover, he stands tall. Thrusting out his chin and holding his head high, he tells the soldiers he is ready to go. Looking up at him, I see his chest inflates and exhales deeply, and his jaw is square as he clenches his teeth. I reach up my hand and lightly tug at his pant leg. I want to make him feel better about leaving us. Pa puts his hand on my head and tousles my hair. Suddenly he surprises me and picks me up off the ground. His arms tight around me, Pa holds me and kisses my hair. It has been a long time since he has held me this way. My feet dangling in the air, I squeeze my eyes shut and wrap my arms around his neck, not wanting to let go.
“My beautiful girl,” he says to me as his lips quiver into a small smile. “I have to go away with these two men for a while.”
“When will you be back, Pa?” I ask him.
“He will be back tomorrow morning,” one of the soldiers replies for Pa. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back before you know it.”
“Can I go with you, Pa? It’s not too far. I can help you.” I beg him to let me go with him.
“No, you cannot go with me. I have to go. You kids be good and take care of yourselves,” and he puts me down. He walks slowly to Chou and takes Geak from her arms. Looking into her face, he cradles her and gently rocks her back and forth before bending and gathering Chou into his arms also. His head high and his chest puffed out like a small man, Kim walks over to Pa and stands quietly next to him. Letting go of Chou and Geak, Pa stoops down and lays both hands on Kim’s shoulders. As Kim’s face crumbles, Pa’s face is rigid and calm. “Look after your Ma, your sisters, and yourself,” he says.
Pa walks away with a soldier on either side of him. I stand there and wave to him. I watch Pa’s figure get smaller and smaller, and still I wave to him, hoping he will turn around and wave back. He never does. I watch until his figure disappears into the horizon of red and gold. When I can no longer see Pa, I turn around and go inside our house, where Ma sits in the corner of the room crying. I have seen Pa leave the house many times in Phnom Penh, but I have never seen her this upset. In my heart I know the truth, but my mind cannot accept the reality of what this all means.
“Ma, don’t cry, the soldiers said Pa will be back tomorrow morning.” I lay my hand on hers. Her body shakes at my touch. I walk outside to where my siblings are sitting on the step and sit next to Chou, who holds Geak in her arms. Together we wait for Pa, sitting on the stairs, staring at the path that took him away. We pray it will bring Pa back to us tomorrow.
As the sky turns black, the clouds rush in to hide all the stars. On the steps, Chou, Kim, Geak, and I sit waiting for Pa until Ma orders us in to sleep. Inside the hut, I lie on my back, my arms folded across my chest. Chou and Kim breathe deeply, quietly, but I do not know if they are asleep. Ma is on her side, facing Chou. She has one arm around Geak, and the other rests above Geak’s head. Outside the wind blows in the branches, and the leaves rustle and sing to each other. The clouds part, and the moon and stars shine and give life to the night. In the morning, the sun will come up and the day creatures will wake. But for us, time stands still that night.
I wake up the next morning to see Ma sitting on the steps. Her face is swollen and she looks like she has not slept all night. She is crying softly to herself and is miles away. “Ma, is Pa back yet?” Not answering me, she squints her eyes and continues to look at the path that took Pa away. “The soldiers said Pa would come back in the morning. I guess he’s late. He’s late, that’s all. I know he will return to us.” As I speak, my lungs constrict and I gasp for air. Fighting for breath, my thoughts race and I wonder what this all really means. It is morning and Pa is not back! Where is he? I sit with my siblings, facing the road, looking for Pa. I think up reasons why Pa is late returning to us. The wagon is broken in the mud, the oxen would not move, the soldiers needed Pa to help them fix the wagon. I try to believe my excuses and make them reasonable, but my heart is filled with fear.
Telling the chief we are ill, we receive permission to stay home. All morning and afternoon, we wait for Pa to walk back to us. When night comes, the gods again taunt us with a radiant sunset. “Nothing should be this beautiful,” I quietly say to Chou. “The gods are playing tricks on us. How could they be so cruel and still make the sky so lovely?” My words tug at my heart. It is unfair of the gods to show us beauty when I am in so much pain and anguish. “I want to destroy all the beautiful things.”
“Don’t say such things or the spirits will hear,” Chou warns me. I don’t care what she says. This is what the war has done to me. Now I want to destroy because of it. There is such hate and rage inside me now. The Angkar has taught me to hate so deeply that I now know I have the power to destroy and kill.
Soon darkness covers the land and still Pa has not returned. We sit on the steps waiting for him together in silence. No words are exchanged as ours eyes search the fields waiting for him to come home. We all know that Pa will not return, but no one dares to say it out loud for it will shatter our illusion of hope. With darkness, the flies disappear and the mosquitoes appear to feast on our flesh. Ma holds Geak in her arms. Every once in a while, Ma’s arms fan Geak’s body to chase away the mosquitoes. As if picking up on Ma’s pain, Geak kisses her cheek softly and caresses her hair.
“Ma, where’s Pa?” Geak asks, but Ma only responds with silence.
“Go inside, all you kids, go inside,” Ma tells us in a tired voice.
“You should come in with us. We can all wait inside,” Chou says to her.
“No, I’d rather wait out here and greet him when he returns.” Chou takes Geak from Ma and goes into the hut. Kim and I follow her, leaving Ma sitting on the steps by herself, waiting for Pa to return.
Listening to Geak and Chou breathing softly, my eyes stay wide open. After he hid from the soldiers for twenty months, they finally found him. Pa always knew he couldn’t hide forever. I never believed he couldn’t. I cannot sleep. I worry about Pa, and about us. What will become of us? We have taken our survival for granted. How will we survive without Pa? My mind races and fills my head with images of death and executions. I have heard many stories about how the soldiers kill prisoners and then dump their bodies into large graves. How they torture their captives, behead them, or crack their skulls with axes so as not to waste their precious ammunition. I cannot stop thinking of Pa and whether or not he died with dignity. I hope they did not torture him. Some prisoners are not dead when they are buried. I cannot think of Pa being hurt this way, but images of him clawing at his throat, fighting for air as the soldiers pile dirt on him flood my mind. I cannot make the pictures go away! I need to believe Pa was killed quickly. I need to believe they did not make hi
m suffer. Oh Pa, please don’t be afraid. The images play over and over again in my head. My breath quickens as I think about Pa’s last moment on earth. “Stop thinking, stop or you’ll die,” I hiss to myself. But I cannot stop.
Pa told me once that the really old monks could leave their bodies and travel the world as spirits. In my mind, my spirit leaves my body and flies around the country, looking for Pa.
I see a big group of people kneeling around a big hole. There are already many dead people in the hole, their bodies sprawled on top of each other. Their black pajama clothes are soaked with blood, urine, feces, and small white matter. The soldiers stand behind the new group of prisoners, casually smoking a cigarette with one hand, while the other holds onto a big hammer with clumps of hair sticking to its head.
A soldier leads another man to the edge of the hole—my heart howls with agony. “It’s Pa! No!” The soldier pushes on Pa’s shoulders, making him kneel like the others. Tears stream out of my eyes as I whisper thanks to the gods that the soldier has blindfolded Pa. He is spared from having to see the executions of many others. “Don’t cry, Pa. I know you are afraid,” I want to tell him. I feel his body tense up, hear his heart race, see tears flowing out from under the blindfold. Pa fights the urge to scream as he hears the sound of a hammer crack the skull next to him, smashing into it. The body falls on top of the others with a thump. The other fathers around Pa cry and beg for mercy but to no avail. One by one, each man is silenced by the hammer. Pa prays silently for the gods to take care of us. He focuses his mind on us, bringing up our faces one by one. He wants our faces to be the last things he sees as he leaves the earth.
“Oh Pa, I love you. I will always miss you.” My spirit cries and hovers down over him. My spirit wraps invisible arms around him, making him cry even more. “Pa, I will always love you. I will never let you go.” The soldier walks up to Pa, but I will not let him go. The soldier cannot hear or see me. He cannot see my eyes burn into his soul. “Leave my Pa alone!” My eyes dare not blink as the soldier raises the hammer above his head. “Pa,” I whisper, “I have to let you go now. I cannot be here and live.” Tears wash across my body as I fly away, leaving Pa there by himself.