So over the weekend, I talked to my dad and he told me a story about when he was in Cambodia during the Khmer Rouge.
At the time, there were different factions of Khmer rouge. East, west, north , south. Each faction had their own scarfs to show to which ones they belonged. At the time, the strongest Khmer Rouge claimed that the others have strayed from the "true beliefs" of the Khmer rouge and started attacking and killing the people of the villages to which each faction belonged. At a point, it was too time consuming and difficult to kill entire villages of khmer rouge factions. So the strongest khmer rouge, decided to bring people to the mountain where it was a lot easier to kill a large group of these people. My dad was forced to work for the strongest Khmer Rouge to bring supplies from the river to the soldiers in the mountains who were fighting. These supplies were heavy and required an ox cart to bring these items. On his first trip from the river to the khmer rouge, he would see entire families and farmers with kids, singing songs about how they were going to get more supplies and food at the mountain where he was going. My dad, would pass these people and arrive way before the villagers. By the time he got there, he witnessed soldiers killing and disposing these people into these "killing fields". My dad was horrified but was even more afraid to show it in front of these soldiers. It was obvious that the families that he passed were going to get killed. So he would quietly unloaded his supplies, picked up what he needed and returned to the river. It killed my dad, as he drove his ox cart pass these families and villagers. He wanted to tell them but was afraid that by telling them, a spy or a soldier working for the stronger khmer rouge nearby would hear him and kill him instead. Even those these villagers supported these khmer rouge, they really had no part to play except grow crops and supplies from their khmer rouge armies. At night, he couldn't sleep, no matter how tired he was from driving the ox cart. He had to think of some way to tell them without alerting a spy or soldier for the khmer rouge. On his trip bringing more supplies from the mountain, he stopped at a local village to give his ox a rest in the river. While he washed them, he realized, that out here, no one could really hear him except for the villagers of these places who also came to bathe in the river. So, slowly, he got as close to one of the families, he started to talk to his cows. He started talking about how there weren't any food for them and that it wouldn't be a great place for them to be stuck at. Some of these families laughed at my father, thinking he's a country bumpkin, a farmer who spent too much time with his animals. As some of these family members started to leave and head back in the direction the mountain, one of the older members of the village got close and asked where they should go instead? My father, realizing that this man is too old to be a spy or soldier, nonchalantly said that the river where he was returning would be a great place to start. The old man went back to the rest of the group and my dad, hoping that he didn't just get himself killed, finished taking care of his cows start back on the road back to the river. As he traveled down the road towards the river, a few people started to follow him 20 meters behind. As he passed other villages, that small group began to grow pretty large. When he finally made it to the river, the old man asked them where they should go? My dad looked around and saw how large this group has gotten and realized that the stronger khmer rouge wouldn't be able to do anything against such a huge crowd. So he told them to head into the city nearby where only a handful of khmer rouge soldiers would be. They thanked my dad and entered the city where they were able to get to safety. After my dad unloaded his supplies at the river, the viet kong had started to invade and my dad used the opportunity to join his family at the capitol city where he met up with my mom.
I don't usually document stories but I think, I will now from now on. Some of these stories I can see myself in my father and others I can see myself become more like him.
At the time, there were different factions of Khmer rouge. East, west, north , south. Each faction had their own scarfs to show to which ones they belonged. At the time, the strongest Khmer Rouge claimed that the others have strayed from the "true beliefs" of the Khmer rouge and started attacking and killing the people of the villages to which each faction belonged. At a point, it was too time consuming and difficult to kill entire villages of khmer rouge factions. So the strongest khmer rouge, decided to bring people to the mountain where it was a lot easier to kill a large group of these people. My dad was forced to work for the strongest Khmer Rouge to bring supplies from the river to the soldiers in the mountains who were fighting. These supplies were heavy and required an ox cart to bring these items. On his first trip from the river to the khmer rouge, he would see entire families and farmers with kids, singing songs about how they were going to get more supplies and food at the mountain where he was going. My dad, would pass these people and arrive way before the villagers. By the time he got there, he witnessed soldiers killing and disposing these people into these "killing fields". My dad was horrified but was even more afraid to show it in front of these soldiers. It was obvious that the families that he passed were going to get killed. So he would quietly unloaded his supplies, picked up what he needed and returned to the river. It killed my dad, as he drove his ox cart pass these families and villagers. He wanted to tell them but was afraid that by telling them, a spy or a soldier working for the stronger khmer rouge nearby would hear him and kill him instead. Even those these villagers supported these khmer rouge, they really had no part to play except grow crops and supplies from their khmer rouge armies. At night, he couldn't sleep, no matter how tired he was from driving the ox cart. He had to think of some way to tell them without alerting a spy or soldier for the khmer rouge. On his trip bringing more supplies from the mountain, he stopped at a local village to give his ox a rest in the river. While he washed them, he realized, that out here, no one could really hear him except for the villagers of these places who also came to bathe in the river. So, slowly, he got as close to one of the families, he started to talk to his cows. He started talking about how there weren't any food for them and that it wouldn't be a great place for them to be stuck at. Some of these families laughed at my father, thinking he's a country bumpkin, a farmer who spent too much time with his animals. As some of these family members started to leave and head back in the direction the mountain, one of the older members of the village got close and asked where they should go instead? My father, realizing that this man is too old to be a spy or soldier, nonchalantly said that the river where he was returning would be a great place to start. The old man went back to the rest of the group and my dad, hoping that he didn't just get himself killed, finished taking care of his cows start back on the road back to the river. As he traveled down the road towards the river, a few people started to follow him 20 meters behind. As he passed other villages, that small group began to grow pretty large. When he finally made it to the river, the old man asked them where they should go? My dad looked around and saw how large this group has gotten and realized that the stronger khmer rouge wouldn't be able to do anything against such a huge crowd. So he told them to head into the city nearby where only a handful of khmer rouge soldiers would be. They thanked my dad and entered the city where they were able to get to safety. After my dad unloaded his supplies at the river, the viet kong had started to invade and my dad used the opportunity to join his family at the capitol city where he met up with my mom.
I don't usually document stories but I think, I will now from now on. Some of these stories I can see myself in my father and others I can see myself become more like him.
No comments:
Post a Comment