Before I arrived to Cambodia four months ago, the word ‘luck’ to me was winning a lottery or that you did well on an exam for not studying. After today, ‘luck’ has reform to a new meaning, shape, color and perspective of life. Through the eyes of former refugees who returned to their homeland in Cambodia from Thai-Cambodian border about twenty years ago have taught me the new meaning of ‘luck.’ Now, ‘luck’ to me, mean freedom, the opportunity to education and access to health care. So they said, “You are very lucky.”
Have you ever had one of those days that you didn’t want to do anything due to lack of sleep the night before? Worrying keep you up all night? Today was that day for me. I didn’t want to go on this particular Sunday morning to do interview and especially on a two hours motorcycle drive. Today, I was sad and wanted some time alone. Besides, my friend said two out of three of his friends might not be available to do interviews. Because I planned this trip to the village about three months ago and my friend was willing to take me to his hometown, I was motivated enough to go.
Although my friend told me that it was going to take about two hours on a motorcycle, I didn’t realize how a long drive a two hour was until then. Most of the way to and back was very uncomfortable. My bottom and legs were numb and was in pain. However, I bear with it and distract the non sensation feelings by observing the surrounding.
I noticed all the houses look alike. On every street we turned the traditional home wood-frame, which is similar to traditional Southeast Asian houses from Burma to the Philippines. Most of the houses have few cows in front or underneath along with rice grain drying. They must have just heaviest rice nearby or behind their backyard. The houses are most often built few feet above the ground level, supported by heavy wooden posts or concrete pillars. The kitchen is sometimes a lean to attached to the main house down stairs know as pteach biay. Cooking is done with a transportable charcoal stove that can be placed on the porch or under the house depending on the weather. The bathroom, if they are lucky to have one, separate from the outbuilding. Sometime it is combining with the kitchen. My friends’ mom house does not have a restroom or toilet. Therefore, I had to use the neighbor.
My friend pointed out to his high school as we passed by. I thought, “Oh great we’re almost there.” The roads were endless. It just kept going and every turns seemed to be the same. I thought we were in a puzzle maze and were trying to get to his village.
When we arrived 6km later from his high school, my friend’s mother was expecting us setting underneath the house. I gave her bag of goodies includes; pencil, noodles and notebooks. She cut up some coconuts and fruits for me to drink and eat. Right away I wanted to get started with the interview. My friend told me to relax and rest for a bit before I get started. I should wait until after lunch. Meanwhile, my friend’s older brother was preparing us traditional farmer meal for lunch. We left around 8:00am from Phnom Penh this morning and did not arrive to Takeo until 10:00am. I was a little hungry but more than anything I was relief to relax my legs and bottom.
Right when we finish eating lunch, my friend and few of his childhood friends were gathering and discussing about something. I was curious of why they were in a private circle meeting and making calls on their cells. Next thing you know one by one people were showing up to his house. He came back with a big smile and said, “We found you some returnees to interview.” I was delighted! First it was just three or four people shows up. But it didn’t stop there; they just kept coming one by one.
When I finish my first interview around 1pm, there was a line of people waiting to be interview! They were mostly women with small children. They seemed to be in their late 30s and mid 50s. I started out thinking that I was going to get at least two or three interviews, instead I felt like a liprechaun who just found a pot of gold! Some even rode their bikes from miles far into the rural area of the village! I guess the news spread pretty fast when people have access to cell phones. Also my friend had mentioned that I will be coming today few days ago to do some interviews. Although only three respond to his requested, I was very pleased with the results. It was such an honor to be in their present, learned about their experiences and how they contributed to my research, words couldn’t describe how thankful I am.
Since I was up stair of the wood-frame house to have some privacy, I didn’t know how short the line was or who I’m suppose to interview next. When I finished with one interview, they would tell the next person to come and see me. When 5:30pm came around, I thought I was finish. I was so tired and my throat was starting to get sore. I still had at least six to eight left to interviews. One lady actually wanted me to interview her badly. She wanted me to take picture of her little bamboo house as well. She wanted her experience and voice to make a difference and be included. So I interview her along with two other ladies as my last interviewees.
Before I started my interview with the three ladies, one of them express honestly and sincerely, “It has been 20 years now since we had any contact with local NGOs, government officials, foreigners or anyone besides the regular people who lived here and their relatives. You don’t know how happy I am to have you here. Within these last 20 years, no one has ever came to do a follow up or asked to see how we are doing. No... one. But today, you give us all hope. This makes me extremely happy. Thank you for caring about us, those who left behind like a wild cow. We don’t even have to go to you to meet you in the city. You come to our village and see how we live. It shows that you really care about us. Because of this, I want to help you and current refugees.”
Although I thought I did a great job of not sharing a drop of tears from hearing such courage and sacrifice stories, a moment like this deserves some. I told them that I’m not from any NGOs or organizations. I’m just a graduate student who cares and concerns about refugees issues especially children and women. They told me that it didn’t matter. They have hope in me and that is all matter to them. Through sharing their stories and experiences, they hope to help others that in situation like they were. They want me to tell the truth of everything and how their lives have been since they returned.
I was sad to hear from them from all these years they felt betrayed and worthless because no one took the time to care for their concerns and needs. This perspective of group will most likely to give me more honest answers because they haven’t been explore to interview before. I think they were so excited that someone actually cares enough to interview them and ask for their input.
Most of my interviewees today were mostly women who are widow due to husband left them, death, or disabilities lead them to take over as the head of the house hold. The sun was setting and the moon was rising, my brain couldn’t function but my emotions started to creep on me. I told myself not to cry but to be professional and strong. I was doing a great job of not showing my emotions and didn’t end up crying...well not until I interview these strong three ladies.
Sockheata is in her early 50s like most of the people I interview tonight. She has seven children. Her husband passed away few months after returning to her homeland due to an illness that needed urgent medical care. She had no choice but to sale the land that was given to her and her family as one of the choices upon the return. She used the money to buy medication and hospital visited. When he left her with seven children all alone, with no land or a house, she was hopeless and life was very difficult for her. Since her husband death, Sockheata does labor work and farm for other people. Just to make enough to get by. Sometime, life is so hard that her and seven children goes days without food. As she open up to me, her voice cracks and tears pouring down her cheeks. I couldn’t help it but feel her pain and share some tears too while the other two ladies as well. They told me of all the people in the village, Sockheat suffer the most and the town try to help her out every now and then.
My next interviewee, Sanie is in her late 30s but seems to me in her late 60s. Her skin and face are so tiresome and dry from hard filed labor work outside harvesting rice for many years. Her teeth are almost gone. Her eyes are half blind. She just got back from a clinic which provided her eyes drops that cost $4 per small bottle. If she lucky this year she would make $1 per day. Since she already used the money she earns last month, she had to borrow some money for future works from the people she works for in order to buy some medication. Sanie like Sockheata, her husband passed away from old wound since living the camp but was not properly heal. She and her three children sell vender food in the village. She is sad that her children could not go to school because she doesn’t have the money to send them so school. She is trying to have some food on the table. Although she dreams of a better future for her children especially the younger one, at times that seem unrealistic.
I noticed most of my interviewees tonight has husband whom passed away upon returned due to old wound from either land mind or bullets. I wonder how badly their health condition were? There were no health service to assisted them at least until they were fully heal.
Back to my interview, Nen’s husband left her for a younger woman with six children on her own about 10 years ago. Life was too hard for him since returning to Cambodia with no jobs and opportunities that he left his suffering and painful life with his wife for something new and exciting. Nen have three children. Lucky for her, she stressed, “My eldest daughter works in a factor in Phnom Penh. She has her own family now but when she does make some extra money she sent it to us.” Since her husband left, she has no mean of financial or emotional supports. She depends on her daughter income to supports her illness son and younger daughter who are still living with her.
I was not in shock with their stories and experiences. I actually thought about my mother of how much she gone though. How lucky she is in relations to these women, to have my father by her side especially through the toughest times.
As they were fighting for my attention, they asked if I could share their stories to people. Besides the fact that they wanted to help me find the answers to my research, they wanted to let the world know what they been through and what is best for their children future such as education. If many people read this, maybe something can be change? In hope of course that is all they can do.
Before I end my interviews, I gave them the opportunity to ask me any questions or concerns that they have of me being there. I thought it was fair for them to ask since I just asked them very personal information of their experiences. Since most of them dreamt of living in a third country when they were living in the camps but by forced return to their homeland, they were curious of my life has been growing up in the state as much as I am about their returned to Cambodia. They wanted to meet the one who is very “lucky” too resettled in America.
They end up asking me very common questions. One, they asked me about how was life growing up in America. Two, they wanted to know is it true that America is wealthy and easy. My answers took some thinking into it. I didn’t want them to feel that I am any better than they are. That they have missed out or something. No matter what my answer is, to them, America is a better choice. As a global and international studies student, I try to compare everything from a global perspective.
I shared with them about my experience and the many the Cambodian American who can share similar struggles and pain on a day to day in America. I told them that not everyone is rich in America especially Cambodian. They didn’t understand why that is. So then I told them a situation that could relate to so they could understand what their fellow Cambodians goes through in America. "Imagine you are in America but do not speak English. I was interrupted, “I don’t even know how to read or write in Khmer “said someone. I continued on explaining, “How are you supposed to help your children or yourself in a country where you don’t even know their language or how their cultures are like? So, you become withdrawals from your reality into the Khmer Rouge, Life in the camp and Civil war. Don’t even have time to express with your children these feelings of anger, hate and pain inside all these years. Your children don’t understand you. Your new society doesn’t accept you. People are discriminated against you and call you lazy. Basically, what most Khmer returnees have been sharing with me about their experiences in Cambodia. Everyone cope with the genocide differently. Some do well and most don’t survive well. The sad part is that it still haunts you.
It took them few minutes of silent before we went on to something else. Cambodian in American are poor and goes through similar experience as we do? I said yes most but different situation and environment. The nightmares are still there. The pain and suffering both do share. Like most people, they don’t like to hear sad stories so they direct questions back at me again. They were curious and impress, “We are very honor to have your present here with us as someone who is well educated and bright. We want to know how, so our children can follow your footsteps.” I told them with hard work, determination, the right opportunity at the right time and network of supports from family, friends and the community. I also shared with them that not all Cambodians end up with a four years or with a full scholarship, even goes on to graduate program or get into college the first place. Some don’t even graduate from high school. Just like it here? So they said, “You are very lucky.”
As I wave goodbye to my new friends, I told them, “Thank you all for making this the best day ever for me hearing your amazing stories and experiences. I appreciate every minutes of it.” They were sorry that they didn’t have anything for me to take home on the road. This is how pleasant and genuine they are and yet they are usually the one get left behind.
Tonight, I left with 18 interviews, more amazing smiley wonderful people to love, crash a wedding and a happy camper!
