First They Killed My Father: A Daughter of Cambodia Remembers

by Loung Ung

  “What happened?” Met Bong asks the girl who screamed.

  “I felt … it was a big hand. I was leaning against the wall. A hand reached through the straw and grabbed my arm, then my throat. It was wet and cold. I know it’s a Youn coming to get us.” The girl’s lips tremble, her face is yellow in the light, looking very much like an apparition. Met Bong turns to the older girls and tells them to go look.

  “Take the guns—make sure they are loaded. Shoot anything that moves.” After the older girls leave, the group huddles together in the middle of the room, facing the walls. Images of the Youns attacking and killing us run in my mind, filling me with fear. In Phnom Penh, Pa once told me the Youns are just like us but with whiter skin and smaller noses. However, Met Bong describes the Youns as savages who are bent on taking over our country and our people. I do not know what to believe. The only world I know beyond this camp is the one Met Bong describes to me. Sitting in the dark, I find myself starting to believe her message about the enemies.

  A few minutes later, the girls return and report that whatever was out there is now gone. In the moonlight, they saw large footprints around the compound. “The Youns are attacking us,” Met Bong informs us. Her hands grip the rifle tightly to her chest. “When they take over the towns, they infiltrate them and open up the prisons. The Youns are running around raping girls and pillaging towns, and the prisoners who are against Pol Pot are with the Youns. We have to protect ourselves,” Met Bong rambles on frantically. After that night Met Bong institutes a new policy and we now take turns guarding the camp at night.

  I am asleep when a hand roughly jerks my shoulders. “Wake up, it’s your turn to stand guard,” a voice says to me from the dark. Grumpy, I sit up and rub the sleep out of my eyes. She puts the rifle in my hand, which is heavy, and I cradle it against my chest because my fingers are not long enough to wrap around its stock. I walk over to the doorway and sit down.

  The sky is dark and cloudless, allowing the full moon to shine through, giving everything an eerie, silvery glow. The cool wind blows quietly. All is quiet, except for the crickets. I live with forty others, but I am so alone in this world. There is no camaraderie among the children, no blossoming friendships, no bonding together under hardship. We live against each other, spying on one another for Pol Pot, hoping to win favors from Met Bong. Met Bong says Pol Pot loves me, but I know he does not. Maybe he loves the other children, the uncorrupted base children with their uncontaminated parents. I came to this camp under false pretenses and lies. They think I am one of them, one of the pure base children.

  I have never seen Pol Pot in person or in pictures. I know little about him or why he killed Pa. I do not know why he hates me so much. In the night when my defenses are down, my mind flashes from one member of my family to next. I think of Ma, Keav, Chou, and my brothers. My throat swells when Geak’s face floats into my mind. “No,” I tell myself, “I have to be strong. No time to be weak.” But I miss Pa so much it hurts to breathe. It’s been almost a year now since I held his hand, saw his face, felt his love.

  The night sky looms ever more black in front of me. “Oh Pa,” I whisper to the air. As if answering me, something rustles loudly in the tall grass. I hold my breath and look around the compound. I know I heard something! My heart races. Everything out there is moving toward me. The tree trunks expand and contract as if they are breathing. The branches shake and swing, transform into hands. The grass sways like waves heading toward me. They are coming at us! My finger squeezes the trigger and the shots go everywhere! The rifle jerks back, hitting me hard against my ribs. “I’ll kill them! I’ll kill them!” I scream.

  Then a hand grabs the rifle from me while another slaps my face. With my eyes open wide, I put my arms up to shield against another assault.

  “Wake up!” Met Bong screams at me. “There’s nothing out there! We have no bullets to waste!” I flinch as she raises her hand again but then decides against hitting me.

  “But Met Bong, you said—” I plead in a small voice.

  “I said shoot when you see something real, not ghosts,” Met Bong interrupts me as laughter erupts from the girls.

  “Don’t forget about the bodiless witches,” a voice calls out to me as they all head back to sleep.

  Many claim she’s only a myth—the bodiless witch, an ordinary person by daytime and a witch at night. The only way to tell if someone is a bodiless witch is by the deep wrinkle lines around her neck. At night when these witches go to sleep their heads separate from their bodies. Dragging their intestines along, they fly around to places where there’s blood and death. The heads fly so fast that no one has ever seen the faces, only their shiny red eyes and sometimes the shadow of their heads and entrails. Once she finds a dead body, the bodiless witch nestles against the corpse all night. Their tongues lick blood and eat flesh while their innards writhe around them.

  That night I clutch the gun tight to my chest, my finger resting on the trigger, alternately aiming at the sight of the Youns and up in the sky for the witches.

  gold for chicken

  November 1977

  Seven months have passed since I left Ro Leap. My fingers tremble as I button my new black shirt. I want to impress Ma with my new clothes. I wish I had a mirror, but there isn’t one around. Since there are no hairbrushes or combs, I run my fingers through my greasy hair to smooth it out. Nervously, I walk out of the compound of the camp; in a couple of hours, I will be with Ma.

  The Youn scare is over for now and all is quiet again at the camp. Every few months, Met Bong allows all the children to have a day of rest. Many take the opportunity to visit their families. My breath quickens as my feet take me closer and closer to Ro Leap. Since Met Bong believes I am an orphan, I say I am visiting Chou but instead will go see Ma. Ma does not know I am coming; she might not even be home. She told me not to come back. What if she doesn’t want to see me or won’t see me?

  Following the same path Chou and I took out of Ro Leap, I march crisply toward the village. The surroundings seem to have changed very little since I last saw them. The red dirt trail winds and dips behind small foothills, shaded by tall teak trees. When I left I was a scared kid who cried and begged Ma to let me stay with her. Though I tried to be strong, I was weak and did not know how I could fend for myself without Ma’s protection. But I am no longer that scared child. My only fear now is that Ma will not be happy to see me. The memory of her hand swatting my behind to make me leave Ro Leap still burns in me. On today’s journey, the trees look smaller and less haunted, and the path has an end—a destination.

  Finally I see the village. It looks familiar yet it’s changed. The town square is deserted and quiet as I cross it to face the rows of huts. My lungs expand and contract rapidly as I remember Pa lifting me off the truck when we first arrived. I freeze his face in my mind, his warm eyes beckoning me to him, his arms holding me, protecting me while a base person spits at him. Inhaling deeply, I force myself closer to our hut. Like entering a ghost town, images of Keav telling Pa she will survive, Kim’s swollen cheeks, my hand reaching into the rice container, earthworms writhing in a bowl float before my eyes. The memories haunt and follow me like my shadow as I climb slowly up the steps to our hut. Ma is not there. My knees ache as I force my feet to move to the village’s garden.

  There I see them. Their backs are to me. Ma’s squatting in the garden, pulling out weeds. Her black pajama clothes are gray and faded. The noon sun burns down on her, but she keeps working. Stiffening my back, my eyes skip over to Geak, who is sitting under a tree, watching Ma. She is still so little, so thin. Her hair is growing out again, but it is still very fine. She is almost five and looks much smaller than I did when I was that age. Ma says something to her, and she laughs a small, frail laugh. My heart leaps. They have each other. They will always have each other.

  “Ma,” I call out loudly. Her back stiffens. Slowly, she turns her head, her eyes squinting in the sun. It takes her a few seconds to recognize me, then she sta
nds quickly and runs toward me. Tears fall from her eyes as she puts her hands over me, touching my head, my shoulders, my face, as if to make sure I am real.

  “What are you doing here? What if you get caught?”

  “Ma, it’s okay. I have a permission slip.”

  She takes the slip and quickly reads it. It is only a piece of paper saying I can leave my camp and no mention of a designated location.

  “All right, you stay here with Geak while I take this to the chief and ask for some time off.” Before I can say anything she’s gone, leaving me standing there by myself, already missing her. I feel a gentle hand tug on my little finger and I look to see Geak’s face staring up at me, her eyes big and wet. She barely reaches my chest. Though she is five, I always think of her as a baby. Maybe because she is weak and does not fight. I smile and reach my hand out to her. Together we walk to a shady tree and wait for Ma’s return.

  Sitting under the tree, I hold on to Geak’s hand. It is small in my palm, brown from the sun with black dirt burrows in her nails and the wrinkles around the knuckles. Her nails are brittle. I continue to stare at her hand, too afraid to look at her face and see my guilt in her eyes. I do not know what to say to her. She has never been a talkative child; she is the sweet-natured one and I am the cranky one. Leaning over, I put my arms around her tiny shoulders and rest my cheek gently on her head. She does not move or struggle but allows me to hold her.

  Ma comes back with a bowl of rice and permission to take a few hours off. “It’s past lunch, but I got this for you from the chief.”

  I take the bowl and we walk back to our hut.

  “The chief gave you time off?”

  “Only a few hours. He is not a bad man.”

  “Ma, Geak still looks really sick,” I say once we are sheltered in our hut.

  “I know, I’m very worried about her. I’m afraid she won’t grow anymore. We are given plenty of rice now, but we had all those periods of virtually no food.

  Pangs of guilt gnaw at my stomach.

  “She needs meat,” Ma continues. “Last week, I tried to trade a pair of my ruby earrings for a small chicken …” Her eyes are sad as she recounts her story to me.

  It was dusk and the sky turned red as it phased into night. When she and Geak finished their meal of rice and fish, Ma went to her secret hiding place under the small pile of clothes and took out one of Pa’s old shirts. Reaching into the pocket, she took out a pair of ruby earrings. Sadness overcame her as she remembered Phnom Penh, a place long ago where she collected expensive antique jewelry. She shook her head as if to chase away the memory. No time for that now. She had to get going before it got too dark. She told Geak she would be back soon and quickly left.

  As she walked the twenty minutes to a nearby village, her body grew weak. Her joints ached with every step. She hated leaving Geak alone. She knows Geak cries for her whenever she leaves, even for only a few minutes. Her poor baby girl. “Seng Im,” she whispered to Pa, “I’m so tired. I’m thirty-nine and growing old, so fast and so alone. Remember? We were to grow old together. Seng Im, I’m too old to live like this.” The memory of Pa brought tears to her eyes. She knows it’s no use, but still she talks to him.

  Ma approached the village. Her heart raced, pumping the blood too quickly and making her dizzy. “Act casual,” she thought. “They cannot suspect.” If they knew what she was doing here, if she got caught, there would be big trouble. She shuddered when she thought of what they would do to her. Pa had traded inside the village with the base people for rice and other grains. But Ma wanted to trade for meat to feed Geak. The other women assured her the operation is completely discreet and safe. Slowly, she walked into the village. No one stopped her to ask questions. If they did, she would tell them she was visiting a friend. A sigh of relief escaped her when she saw the house. In it lives a certain woman who works in the chicken farm. Other women in the village told Ma this woman had stolen chicken for them in exchange for jewelry. They described in detail the woman and her hut, so it was easy for Ma to pick it out. She walked over and called out, “Good evening, comrade sister. It is your friend visiting you.” The woman looked out of her hut, and though she did not recognize Ma, she invited her in.

  Once safely inside Ma whispered to her, “Comrade sister, I have come to ask for your help. I am told that you work in a chicken farm. I have a young daughter who is sick. She needs some meat. Please, comrade sister, help me.” Ma unfolded her scarf and showed the woman the earrings. “If you are able to help me, I will give the pair to you.”

  “Yes, yes, I can get you a small chicken, but I cannot do it now. You have to come back tomorrow. Come at the same time tomorrow.” With that, she hurriedly sent Ma away.

  The next night Ma returned to the village with her earrings. Her steps were faster and lighter tonight, a smile spreading over her face as she thought of giving Geak the chicken to eat. Ma can’t even remember the last time she and Geak had meat. Ma walked to the house and the woman invited her in. As she sat down across from the woman, Ma realized the woman was agitated and nervous. Then Ma heard the sound of footsteps behind her, coming from a dark corner of the room. Her heart lurched and fear took over her body as she stood. “What’s going on?” she managed to whisper to the woman.

  A man emerged from the shadows and blocked her escape. “Please comrade, I have a daughter—”

  His hand came down hard across Ma’s face.

  Ma’s hand blocked her face, her eyes blinked back tears.

  “Give me the earrings,” the man commanded. With shaking hands, Ma reached into her pockets, found the earrings, and put them in his open palm.

  “Give me everything you have,” he demanded her.

  “Comrade, please forgive me for I do not have any more. This is all I—” her voice trembled. He balled up his fist and punched her in the stomach. Ma doubled over and fell to her knees. His foot kicked her thighs, then many more kicks landed on her body. She was lying on the floor now, gasping in pain.

  “Please comrade,” she begged, thinking of Geak, “have mercy, I have a young, sick daughter.”

  His foot dug into her stomach. White spots flashed before her eyes. She felt as if her insides had been ripped out. She gasped for more breath as his hands pulled her to her feet. He dragged her to the door and pushed her out the steps.

  “Don’t come back, ever!” he yelled at her. Her knees buckled on the steps. She fell, her body slamming against the stairs. Landing in the dirt, she picked herself up and ran.

  Back at Ro Leap, Ma lifts her shirt and shows me the bruises where the man beat her. The marks look raw. Black and blue, they run across her protruding ribs. She lifts her skirt up and shows me the big red and purple patches covering her white thighs. Looking at her face, a rage rises up in me. The image of some stranger beating my mother brings to life such hate in me. And all for a chicken!

  “Ma, I want to kill him!” I tell her.

  “Shh … Don’t talk crazy,” she shushes me. “Don’t say it out loud or we will be in trouble. I am lucky to be alive at all. I feel sad Geak did not get her meat.”

  Hearing her name, Geak walks over to Ma and sits on her lap. Ma smoothes her hair and kisses the top of her head.

  “I’ll have to be more careful from now on,” Ma continues. “I worry about who will take care of Geak if something happens to me.” Ma stares at Geak and sighs. Her biggest worry is that her sick child does not get what she needs. I look at Geak; she is quiet in Ma’s arms. It strikes me then how she does not have much command over the language to complain about her hunger. How does a five-year-old tell us about her stomach hurting, her heart aching for Pa, and her fading memories of Keav. I know she hurts and feels pain. It is rare when she does not thrash and cry in her sleep. Her eyes look lost. “I’m so very sorry,” I say to her with my eyes. “I’m sorry I am not good like the rest of the family.”

  “Chou visited us a few weeks ago,” Ma says. “She was able to get permission slips to visit every o
ther month now. She said the old Met Bong was taken away by soldiers and the new one is nice. She tells the new Met Bong she has a younger sister at this camp living with another family. Being a cook, she is able to sneak rice out of the kitchen and dry it in the sun. She brought us a feast the last time she came.” I flinch with shame as Ma’s voice trails off. I cannot listen anymore. I did not bring Ma and Geak anything. I am tormented by the knowledge of how much my family is willing to sacrifice for each other. If Chou gets caught sneaking food she will be severely punished, but she risks it. Kim stole corn for us and was brutally beaten. Ma was assaulted trying to get Geak a bit of chicken meat. I have done nothing.

  I look at Geak and choke back my sadness. She was so beautiful when we lived in Phnom Penh. She was everyone’s favorite. Her big brown eyes were always so full of life. She had two of the world’s rosiest, chubbiest cheeks, which no one could keep from touching. Now she has lost all her color; her face is sunken and hollow. There is always sadness and hunger in her eyes. I stole her food and now I’m letting her starve.

  “A lot has happened since you left.” Ma’s voice brings me back. My eyes stay on Geak. She does not talk anymore. She is so thin it is as if her body is eating itself up. Her skin is pale yellow, her teeth rotten or missing. Still she is beautiful because she is good and pure. Looking at her makes me want to die inside.

  When the sun falls behind the hut it is time for me to leave. The camp is a few hours walk and I need to reach it before dark. Ma and Geak walk to the road to see me off. With Geak hanging on to her leg, Ma takes me into her arms. She smells of sour body odor and dirt. My hands hang awkwardly to my side as I lift my face from her breasts and push myself away.