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Monday, November 30, 2009

Passport to National Identity:

("Excuse me; do you have The Quiet American?")

As I waited in line along the Thai-Cambodian border portal, I walked with my head high, North Face backpack on my back—you know, the one that many 20-some years old westerners carry with them while traveling in a developing country--and a United States of America passport. If you were to stereotype me, you would probably guess me as someone from the western part of the world. However, once I take out my passport it is a whole new story, and even more so when you see what is written behind the cover of my U.S. passport. Then you know that my identity has been modified to fit your foggy eyes.

Yes, so I carry a U.S. passport with me. Does that make me American? My birth place indicates that I was born in Thailand. My bloodline determines I’m full Khmer through both parents. But my father’s homeland is no longer known as Kampuchea Krom. It is now Vietnam, and although I have searched there is no where that states that the place my father and his family came from--the ethnic Khmer Krom people’s homeland now located in South Vietnam—was once called Kampuchea Krom. Nor is there anything in American’s history that talks about the Americans secretly bombing Cambodia in the 1970s. I leave what happens when your home is being bombed to your imagination.

When I was waiting for my turn to receive a stamp on my U.S. passport from Thailand along the Thai-Cambodian border portal in Poipet, a Thai officer with a big warm smile started to speak with me in Thai. He was very surprised when I only spoke English to him. He started to question me while staring at my U.S. passport under BIRTH PLACE. “Is your father Thai? Or is it your mother? Which one of your parents is Thai?” he curiously asked. With a quick response I said,” Neither.” He was still confused but stamped my U.S. passport anyway, and allowed me to go though the Thai border portal.

I made my way to the Cambodian side of the border. The Cambodian border control person spoke to me in English because of my U.S. passport. However, like his Thai neighbor, he was surprised when I responded fluently in Khmer. With excitement he said, “Wow! You can speak Khmer! Are you Khmer?” I responded proudly, “Yes, I am Khmer. My mother is from Prey Veng and my father is Khmer Krom from South Vietnam.” The next question was a given, “So, which camp were you born?” For a moment we were sharing a common history. However, when I asked for a special ‘K’ aka Khmer visa, I was denied. Why? I did not understand why. I was definitely Khmer!

When I first arrived in Cambodia at Phnom Penh international airport, I did not know about visa ‘K’ which would allow me to stay as long as I wanted in Cambodia, at least until I renewed my U.S. Passport again. I learned about this in the third month when I was getting ready to renew my visa in Poipet. Visa ‘K’ would allow me to leave Cambodia whenever I wanted and return. Instead, I was required to leave each month to renew the visa I had and was paying $25 every time! Besides, the ‘K’ visa is only given to Khmer and for me, this would be another proof that I am Khmer blooded and that I had a homeland. Having a visa ‘K’ is like having two passports! It would also relieve the burdens of traveling each month, the cost, and the time I had to take away from my studies--not by choice but to renew my visa.

After an hour of debating with the various border portals and them making few calls, I did not get the ‘K’ visa. In other words, they did not ACCEPT me as KHMER. One of the chiefs said, “We know you are Khmer. You speak Khmer better than most Khmer living abroad that we have granted a ‘K’ visa for. Since your passport stated that you were born in Thailand, we cannot grant you a ‘K’ visa.”

My heart was broken as if someone has betrayed me. I was upset that the one thing about myself that I was so sure of--my bloodline, my root--was DENIED to me as KHMER. The officials had to follow the law, since I had no proof that I am Khmer. Besides my look and language ability, they cannot easily give me a ‘K’ visa. Knowing the history of Cambodian and Thai relationship helped me calm and be more understanding of why they had to do what they did. In the past few weeks, months, and years, Thai and Cambodia have fought for many political reasons. Therefore, they don’t like each other. Since I have a U.S. passport with a Thailand birthplace, they were a little worried.

They recommended that next time I renewed my visa to make sure to bring copies of my parents’ birth certificates. I told them that their birth certificates were either lost or burned during the Vietnam War and Khmer Rouge regime. After learning what I needed to receive the status, I GAVE UP. With a hopeless, “There goes my ‘K’ visa. There goes me being known as KHMER." For a moment I badly wanted to be accepted as Khmer. The thought ran through my little mind, “How am I going to get a ‘K’ visa when the one thing that they needed FROM ME to show that I am Khmer, is no longer in existence?”

Later, I went Saigon, Vietnam, (where my father’s homeland is located) to get my visa renewed again. As usual when traveling in and out of Cambodia’s borders, the border official did a double take on my U.S. passport. I never know what they were going to say next. You wouldn’t guess what the Vietnamese border guard said to me once he looked inside my U.S. passport. “Ahhh, so you’re Vietnamese?” I smiled and said, “Yes.” This is due to two reasons. One my name is in Vietnamese. Secondly, I didn’t want any long conversation since people on the bus were waiting for me. I continued to say, “This is my father home country,” in English. He asked with a big warm smile, “Do you speak Vietnamese?” I responded sadly and disappointed with this answer, “No.” He continued to smile as if he was very proud that one of his people has returned from living abroad. “It’s ok. Enjoy your stay in Vietnam,” with broken English. I kindly responded with one of the few words that I picked up from my childhood Vietnamese friends in one of the refugee camps, “Camon” which means “Thank you.”

Ironically, the only proof that I have of my national identity is a U.S. passport. Should it be ironic that the U.S. government accepts me for what I am or that I am a naturalized U.S. citizen and have lived in the state for 20 years now. What has made me American? Is it the fact that my grandfather had fought side by side with the Americans during the Vietnam War that has made me American? Could it be that I speak perfect English like an American? Or that I value the American dream? When do I start to call America my country? How long do I have to live and how many things should I know about America in order for me to call myself American? This is the only country I would call HOME and that I know of. It is the only country where I did most of my growing up and the only country by far that has ACCEPTED ME. What is really ironic, is that I had to live in Costa Rica, European countries and Southeast Asia to make me realize that, yes, I am an AMERICAN!


If I don’t have my U.S. passport, or a green card, does that make me a stateless person? Then which country would I define myself with? What rights would I have? Thanks goodness that I have a U.S. passport and that I have rights as any natural born American.

This question of who am I is a misty, open wide, endless window. With all the daily questions I receive in the U.S. asking, “What is your nationality? No really, where are you from? No, your parents, where are they from?” I was surprised to have it continue in Southeast Asia. The only difference is that these people look like me, could be my relatives or have crossed path with me in one of the refugee camps I lived.
My nationality, my birthplace, my language ability, my physical features, my bloodlines and history have all determined ME. However, sometime I question myself, “Who am I?” Who is the person named behind my U.S. passport cover page: Yenly Thach.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Americanized Me





I realized although my bloodline indicate that I am full Khmer, my personality and characteristic proven that I am not. This is what I mean.

Americanized me who walk on Cambodia soil so fearless and carefree. I am very independent and like to go or do thing on my own; at times this challenges and/or creates conflict with Cambodian culture. They are overprotected of me my relatives. One time my cousin Thon explained to me that Cambodian actress nowadays have body guards to protect them. I laugh and told him that I have a body guard with me everywhere I go as well. Although he did not get the joke, at times I feel trap and don’t have any privacy. For example, my aunt makes sure that my cousin is with me everywhere I go and he would wait for me too! Sometime when I go to the villages, my aunt's husband would also go with me! So in a way I do have my own body guard to protect me!

Americanized me always wearing hamlet especially riding my bike. Most Cambodians don’t wear hamlet while driving a motorcycle. The thought of wearing a hamlet while riding a bike is asinine. Besides, it makes you stand out as either silly in my case or foreigner as those of you with blond hair and blue eyes.

Americanized me would bring toilet paper with me everywhere I go and only use western toilet type style. Cambodians don’t wipe their butt, they wash them. In all the restroom I been in so far in Phnom Penh has a small shower head near the toilet so you can wash with it once you done doing your thing. Of course after living in the states for almost 20 years, I’m used to wiping my butt and with papers. Therefore, I would have to bring toilet paper with me everywhere. Besides, in the rural country side there is no toilet! You have to find your own place to do your business. I don’t think wiping with leaves would help.

Americanized me talk back to authority figure. In America we are taught to challenges teachers, professors and any authority figures towards ours believes, desires and choices. However, in Cambodia this could get you in trouble and even get you kill. During the water and moon festival early this month, both of my aunts from my parents’ sides, one of my cousin and me were setting on a nice soft green grass along with 50 something others Cambodians. We were enjoying our mango and fry banana on a stick. Meanwhile, an annoying high pitch noise and a young police man was yelling at us to get off the grass. So I said with a sassy attitude in Khmer of course, “Excuse me, there is no need to talk to us that way. We are leaving. It is your fault for not putting up a sign that say ‘no setting on the grass’ we can read you know. Otherwise, we won’t bother to set here.” Everyone was in shock! Their eyes were wide open and mouth drop as I said that. However, the police continue to harass the next victim and we continue to find another grass spot to sit.

Americanized me with my big sunglasses which cover almost my entire face and wear a t-shirt that said ‘I love Cambodia’ make me stand out as someone with a lot of money from the Cambodians’ perspectives of Americans. The matter of fact is I’m under the false consciousness of wanting to be in the middle class society. Therefore, I take out thousands of students loans just like many of my graduate colleagues to fulfill the American dream of the middle class life style through higher education. However, the truth is, by the time I’m done with my Master, I will be in thousands of dollars in debt. How does this help my image of desire to be in the middle class group when decades later I still continue to pay off my student loans!

Americanized me hanging out with the boys and want to be treated equally with them. My father told my aunt the other day that in America, we have female pilots, doctors, lawyers and mechanics. Women here are treated equal to men more than Cambodia he stresses while trying to teach my aunt why I’m so different from Cambodians in Cambodia.

Although there are pros and cons of how Americanize I am, there are some traits in me that show I am Cambodian such as my features. Today my Khmer teacher was teaching us how to say color in Khmer. He explained the word for full Khmer skin tone is called ‘tan.’ Few Korean and Japanese were trying to claims that they were tan but he pointed out to me, “No, this is tan.” Everyone look at me and said, “Ohhhh.”

The dance struggle that I been battling with myself of who I am and fitting into this so called my root, my people I thought, in a way is not accepting me. In some way I do want to be accepted but other times I just like being the way I am. So I continue to pick and choose my battle of when to be American and when to be Cambodian.