Lucky Child: A Daughter of Cambodia Reunites With the Sister She Left Behind
Page 25
“Who is it?” asks a familiar voice from the other side.
When he hears this, Khouy uncurls his fists and lets out a big laugh, then hollers, “Eldest Brother, it’s us!”
“Khouy!” Meng swings the door wide open and wraps his arm around Khouy’s shoulders. “My brother Khouy!” Meng’s tears spill as if a ten-year-old dam has just burst, flooding his face and cheeks. Khouy grips Meng’s arm, his eyes red and his jaws hard. “Chou.” Meng’s voice cracks like a teenage boy as he reaches out to her.
“Eldest Brother.” She takes his hand as her lungs choke for air. Meng puts his arm around her as she leans her head on his shoulder. While she sobs into her hands, Meng pats her hair with a gentleness that reminds her of Pa.
“Eldest Brother, you’re here,” Chou whimpers. Chang clings to her hip. Seeing her mother in distress, Eng runs over and holds on to Chou’s leg.
“Second Uncle, Second Aunt,” Meng greets them, his voice barely audible. “This must be Morm and Pheng. So good to see you.” Meng barely finishes his words when his face crumbles again.
“Meng, come sit.” Uncle Leang ushers the family into the room.
“Meng, it’s so good to see you, my nephew.” Aunt Keang takes his arm and leads him to sit on the bed. “Chou, Khouy, you sit with your brother.” The others find places on chairs and the floor.
On the bed, Khouy takes off his shoes, crosses his legs, and introduces Meng to all his nieces and nephews. When he gets to the last one, Meng’s smile quivers again as he rubs his eyes. As Meng turns his head to stare at each member of the group, Chou’s eyes never leave his face and absorb every detail of his hair, eyes, cheeks, and smile. Though he is older and a little heavier, he looks happier and healthier than the brother who left her ten years ago. Chou reaches out and again touches his arm, elbow, and hand as if to make sure he’s real. Each time her fingers pinch solid mass, she smiles more broadly.
“Eldest Brother has good flesh,” Chou exclaims, and the group agrees about his good health.
“Eldest Brother.” Khouy is the first one to compose himself. “When we received your message, we didn’t believe it was you!” When Khouy laughs, his children bellow with him from their corner of the room.
“I don’t blame you,” said Meng. “I can hardly believe it myself. It’s been a very long journey to come back here.”
On the day he received Khouy’s first letter in 1983, Meng started to plan his visit to Cambodia, but because of the U.S. boycott, he didn’t know of a way to get in. For eleven years, Meng read everything he could about immigration and talked to everyone he knew to see if they had any ideas about how he could get back in the country. No one did. Then six months earlier, a friend had introduced Meng to a man whose brother worked for the Cambodian government in Phnom Penh. For a fee, the man said, his brother would help Meng cross the border.
“Here’s what my brother said to do,” the man had said. “Buy your airplane ticket to Bangkok. In Bangkok, apply for a visiting visa at the Cambodian embassy.” Meng had pressed the telephone receiver to his ear, straining to catch every word. “You will not have any problems getting a visa if you bring plenty of cash to pay the bribes. Once you have the visa, buy your ticket from Bangkok to Cambodia. When you have all that, call my brother at his government job and he’ll take care of you.” The man made clear that the telephone number was for a government phone; therefore Meng had to call during business hours. He then told Meng that the first commercial telephone line in Phnom Penh only went up that year and that very few people or businesses had them.
For three months, Meng smiled and saved money and went to sleep dreaming only of Cambodia and the family’s reunion. When he received the approval from IBM for extended time off, he vacuumed the house and took out the trash without any prompting from Eang. The day he purchased his airplane ticket to Bangkok, he spun Tori around the living room until they were both dizzy with joy. The next morning, with Maria peering over his shoulder, he called his Cambodian connection to confirm his plans. When Meng told the man he was about to send a letter to Khouy to let the family know of his visit, the man told him not to send it.
“Why?” Meng had asked as his hands went cold. “Is it not safe to go?”
“No, no,” the man replied. “It’s safe if you’re careful. The political situation there is unstable now but UNTAC [United Nations Transitioning Authority for Cambodia] is there to keep order. It’s probably safer if you don’t announce your visit and make it a surprise.” Then the man gave Meng a long explanation as to why he should keep his visit a secret to his Cambodian family until he got there.
He told Meng that when the Vietnamese pulled its troops out of Cambodia in 1989, it created a power struggle between the various Cambodian parties, one of which was the Party of Democratic Kampuchea, or the Khmer Rouge, to assume control of the country. To solve this problem, the United Nations had recently agreed to organize and fund an election in Cambodia to take place in 1993. Under the UNTAC, thousands of UN peacekeepers had already arrived in Phnom Penh to work with election experts from around the world to meet this goal.
“So what’s the problem?” Meng had asked.
“In this transitional period,” the man continued, “there may be more kidnappings and fighting, and that might force the government to deny visas to visitors, even with bribes. But I don’t know.”
Meng stops talking and looks around the room, still not quite believing he is sitting with Khouy and Chou. Again, a rush of emotion overwhelms him and his eyes tear up.
“So four days ago, I left Eang, Maria, and Tori at the airport. It took one day of flying to get to Bangkok and another day to get my visa. When I arrived in Phnom Penh, the man’s brother picked me up in a car and dropped me off at this hotel. I then hired a hotel worker to deliver my letter to you and waited in the room.”
“Eldest Brother, you haven’t left the room in two days! What have you been eating?” Chou glances around the room and sees that it is filled with only the bed they were sitting on, two chairs, and nothing else. In the bathroom, she sees two clean bowls in the sink.
“I’ve paid another hotel worker to buy and deliver my meals to the room,” Meng chuckles. “It’s wonderful. For two U.S. dollars, he buys two bowls of noodles, delivers it, picks up the plates when I’m done, and leaves thanking me many times.”
“Eldest Brother, that’s too expensive!” Morm declares. “He cheated you.”
“No, no,” Meng’s eyes soften. “I was grateful for his help.”
“Eldest Brother,” Chou asks quietly. “How are Loung, Eldest Sister-in-Law, and the girls?”
“They are well. Loung is in college and has to study very hard every day. Eang is well and busy with the girls. The girls, they are very American and spoiled!” Meng laughs softly but Chou can see the pride in his eyes. “At eleven and six years old, they already speak Chinese, English, and Khmer!”
“Eldest Brother, how’s Kim doing in France?” Khouy asks.
“He’s living with Aunt Heng and her family. I went to see him just six months ago and he looks well and is happy.” Meng pauses and Chou watches his face fall. “I am filling out all the papers to bring him to America but it may take many years for this to happen.”
“Meng, we know you’re doing all that you can to reunite your family,” Aunt Keang tells him gently as the rest of the family nods.
“When I spoke on the phone with Kim before I left, he sent his greetings and best wishes. He hopes to visit soon.” When he finishes his story, Meng delicately pulls out a batch of small sealed red Chinese envelopes, each stuffed full with U.S. dollars.
“Khouy.” He puts one in Khouy’s hand. “In difficult times, I hope this will help.” Khouy accepts it with a quiet thank-you.
“Chou.” Meng turns to her. “This is to help you raise your children.”
“Thank you, Eldest Brother, but there’s no need. It’s enough that you are here,” Chou says as Meng presses the envelope into her hands.
That night while the women, children, and Uncle Leang dream on the floor in a relative’s home, Khouy and Pheng stay with Meng in his room. In the dark, Meng listens to his brother and brother-in-law breathing quietly in their cots and whispers his thanks to Ma and Pa for looking after his siblings when he could not. Now that he knows they are all safe, he sleeps peacefully for the first time in over ten years.
The next morning, fearing that Meng is unaccustomed to long bike rides and hot sun, Khouy hires a car to take him to the village. While Chou, Aunt Keang, and the children join him in the car, the rest follow on their motorbikes. Meng takes out his video camera and begins to film the family, the roads, the city, and the countryside. But a quarter of the way to the village on the bumpy road, Meng has to take a pill to stop him from throwing up. When they arrive at the village two hours later, Meng swallows two more pills to get rid of his headache. In the village, Meng meets Amah and the adult cousins and relatives whose names and faces he struggles to put together with the children he remembers.
“Chow Pang Ka-la!” he shouts out a cousin’s Cambodian nickname, which translates to mean “thief who steals tiger balm oil.”
“And you, A-gow” He shouts a boy’s Chinese nickname meaning “the Dog.” In the grown-up faces of the cousins, Meng soon recognizes “O-kuoy” the black ghost; “Lol-lai,” the whiner; and “Thor-moi,” the fat sister. When he walks the short distance from Khouy’s house to the village market, many more friends, relatives, neighbors, and strangers come out to meet him. Standing beside him, Chou happily introduces Meng to everyone and follows his every word as he delights them with tales of snowstorms and eight-lane highways. And when he shares news that a college is paying Loung to study at their school, and tells them also about her two smart nieces, Chou’s eyes shine with pride.
When they return from the market, Khouy chops open a green coconut for Meng while Chou boils his water and lets it cool under the tree. Once it is cool enough, Meng comes over and dissolves a blue pill in the pot. Afterward, Pheng pours the water into a pail and carries it into the outhouse for Meng to shower. When he comes back out, all clean and smelling medicinal, like soap and shampoo, the young nieces and nephews climb all over him and jump on his lap until he’s dirty again.
When the sun sets, the family sits together for dinner and Meng asks many questions, never tiring of hearing about the most basic details of their lives. Like a foreign child, he asks for descriptions of how they farm, what crops they grow, and where they catch the best fish. While the others talk, Chou fans Meng with her palm-leaf fan and keeps a vigilant eye on the mosquito coil next to his feet.
And thus, in one full moon cycle, Meng lives ten years’ worth of family reunions and gatherings. When not at Khouy’s house, he is accompanied by family members as he walks the short distance on the red dirt road out of the village to stare at the swaying palm trees and green rice paddies. With each passing day and house visit, Chou watches Meng’s face become even fuller and Chou notices that the darkness under his eyes is fading away. But too soon, their days together come to an end.
As they gather together at a cousin’s house in Phnom Penh, Meng sets up his video camera and asks the family to speak their messages, greetings, and anything else they want to say for him to take back to America.
Wearing a big grin, Khouy is the first to sit in front of the camera.
“Kim, Eldest Sister-in-Law Eang, Loung—I hear you don’t like the cold over there. So come to visit. If you want hot, come in April!” He laughs, knowing that April is the hottest month of the year, with temperatures reaching well over one hundred degrees Fahrenheit.
“Khouy, don’t joke like that!” Morm laughs, and lightly slaps his arm. “Kim, Loung, Sister-in-Law Eang, please come and visit us. When you get here, no need to worry or do anything because the nieces are big enough now to do all the cleaning and I will do all the cooking.”
“Morm, you will not get them here with your cooking. You’re a bad cook!” Khouy guffaws next to her.
“Stop!” Morm grins. “Sister-in-Law Eang, Kim, and Loung. We send our greetings and wish you happiness and good health. That’s all. I don’t know what else to say.”
When Meng turns the camera on Chou, she breaks into tears. As her shoulders shake, she bites her lip and looks down at her feet. Then she stares into the camera intently. “Loung, come visit—it’s been over ten years,” she urges. “I miss you very much. Loung, you have many nieces and nephews here who want to meet you.” Unembarrassed, she wipes her eyes and nose with her forearm. “I also miss brother Kim and Eldest Sister-in-Law Eang. Eldest Sister-in-Law, thank you for raising Loung all these years by yourself. Eldest Brother Meng tells us that Loung is a good student and very respectful to her elders. She is lucky to have you to teach her these things. I send my helios to Maria and Tori. I pray I will see you all one day soon.” As she speaks, her cheeks stream with tears and her voice becomes hoarse. When she cannot go on, her daughter Eng comes up behind her and wraps her arms around Chou’s neck.
“Chou, don’t cry anymore,” Aunt Keang urges her. “No need to cry.”
At that moment, Chou’s eyes flare with anger. “Don’t tell me not to cry,” she says. “It took ten years before I could meet with my brother. It may be ten more before I see him again. I don’t know when I’ll see him next. I don’t know if I’ll ever see Loung or Kim again.” Then her eyes and voice soften and she bows her head, her shoulders heaving up and down.
Meng leaves the camera and walks over to sit next to her. Awkwardly, he puts his arm around her back. As she swallows air and tries to compose herself, he moves his hand from her back to smooth her hair.
“Don’t tell me not to cry,” she whispers softly. “I only cry because I miss them so much.”
25 seeing monkey
May 1992
I’m sitting at a table at an outdoor patisserie, sipping my cappuccino and staring out into the deep blue Mediterranean Sea. In front of me, a stream of Audis, Porsches, and Lamborghinis inch along the road. Every few minutes, the traffic stops to let beautiful, gorgeously dressed women cross the street to the beach, where skimpily clad sunbathers lie half-naked on the sand, soaking up the sun’s warm rays. I’m in the south of France, studying at the Cannes International College as part of Saint Michael’s College study abroad program. And although I do regularly attend my cooking, art, and international politics classes, the majority of my time is spent sunbathing on the beach, visiting museums, going clubbing, and having wonderful cups of coffee in Paris, Marseille, Aix-en-Provence, Corsica, and many other French towns. After two more cappuccinos, I arrive back at the college and plop myself on the grass in the beautiful courtyard. Suddenly, my Swedish friend Pernilla is beside me.
“We have tickets to see the Strictly Ballroom premiere tonight. Want to come?”
“Yeah, but I’m running out of evening dresses to wear,” I sigh. Because the school is just a few minutes’ walk to the Cannes Film Festival, the students were given special passes to attend the screenings. To get the passes, we had to sign papers promising to dress in evening wear when attending night events.
At six P.M., I meet my friends in the lobby. In our colorful dresses, we look like we’re going to a European prom. We make our way to the festival and maneuver ourselves through the crowd, over a sea of expensive dresses and black tuxes. When we arrive at our theater, I spot my favorite American actress, Jamie Lee Curtis. Quickly, I run up to her. Though my palms are wet, I calmly say to her, “Ms. Curtis, I love your work. Thank you.”
“Well, thank you.” She smiles as we part ways.
“She is even more beautiful in person,” I gush to my friends about my brush with fame. In front of the theater screening Basic Instinct, we walk past
a large mass of fans heaving and ballooning up like a blowfish. When the movie’s stars, Michael Douglas and Sharon Stone, appear, the fish blows out its air in gasps and screams.
In our theater, I tap my feet through Strictly Ballroom and leap up in the end to give it a standing ovation. “That was awesome!” I scream at my friend. “Let’s go dancing!”
We are laughing and about to enter a loud, darkly lit club when I hear someone shout, “Loung?”
I whirl around to see a tall, handsome blond European man staring at me. “Paul? Oh my gosh, it’s you!” I scream at meeting a friend from Saint Michael’s who had recently graduated. “What are you doing here? I thought you lived in Sweden.”
“I do live in Sweden. But I’m studying car design in Switzerland and am vacationing here at my family’s villa.”
“Wow. How amazing! I can’t believe I actually know someone who lives like the people in the movies!” I gush and reach out to give him another hug.
After a round of introductions, we move the party into the club where Paul buys bottles of champagne for everyone to share. As I sip my champagne, the music beats on and bodies gyrate and grind on the dance floor. Toward the end of the night, Paul and I make plans to see each other again the next day. When our group stumbles back to the school in the early hours of the morning, my lips are stuck in a permanent grin.
“Loung.” The dorm attendant stops me as we walk in the lobby and hands me a folded piece of paper. I open it up and read the scrawled message: “Your brother Kim called. He is coming to see you next Saturday.” My grin dissolves.
A week later, I sit in the lobby and try to calm myself. I haven’t seen Kim since I left Cambodia eleven years ago. As I massage the base of my skull, I search the slippery ridges of my brain for suitable excuses as to why I haven’t called or visited Kim in the four months I’ve been in France, since he’s only a three-hour train ride away. I glance at the clock on the wall—9:55 A.M. Kim is only a few minutes away now. I get up and tuck my blue shirt into my black pants. When Kim’s car pulls up, I brace myself and exit my fantasy world to come face-to-face with Ma’s monkey.