First They Killed My Father (16 page)

“No, they are too young,” Ma pleads with him. Unable to stop my eyes from twitching, I roll over to my side. Ma and Pa become quiet, waiting for me to go back to sleep. Staring at Kim’s back, I force myself to breathe regularly.

“I want them to be safe, to live, but I cannot send them away. They are too young and cannot defend themselves. Not now but soon.” His voice trails off.

Beside Chou, Geak kicks and moans in her sleep, almost as if she senses impending doom. Ma picks her up and puts her down between Pa and herself. I roll over once more, this time facing Chou’s back. I spy Ma and Pa asleep facing each other on their sides with Geak in the middle, their hands touching above Geak’s head.

The next evening, while sitting with Kim outside on the steps of our hut, I think how the world is still somehow beautiful even when I feel no joy at being alive within it. It is still dark and the shimmering sunset of red, gold, and purple over the horizon makes the sky look magical. Maybe there are gods living up there after all. When are they going to come down and bring peace to our land? When I focus my eyes back on the earth, I see two men in black walking toward us with their rifles casually hanging on their backs.

“Is your father here?” one of them asks us.

“Yes,” Kim answers. Pa hears them and comes out of the hut, his body rigid as our family gathers around him.

“What can I do for you?” Pa says.

“We need your help. Our ox wagon is stuck in the mud a few kilometers away. We need you to help us drag it out.”

“Could you please wait for a moment so that I can talk to my family?” The soldiers nod to Pa. Pa and Ma go inside the hut. Moments later, Pa comes out alone. Inside, I hear Ma sobbing quietly. Opposite the soldiers, Pa straightens his shoulders, and for the first time since the Khmer Rouge takeover, he stands tall. Thrusting out his chin and holding his head high, he tells the soldiers he is ready to go. Looking up at him, I see his chest inflates and exhales deeply, and his jaw is square as he clenches his teeth. I reach up my hand and lightly tug at his pant leg. I want to make him feel better about leaving us. Pa puts his hand on my head and tousles my hair. Suddenly he surprises me and picks me up off the ground. His arms tight around me, Pa holds me and kisses my hair. It has been a long time since he has held me this way. My feet dangling in the air, I squeeze my eyes shut and wrap my arms around his neck, not wanting to let go.

“My beautiful girl,” he says to me as his lips quiver into a small smile. “I have to go away with these two men for a while.”

“When will you be back, Pa?” I ask him.

“He will be back tomorrow morning,” one of the soldiers replies for Pa. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back before you know it.”

“Can I go with you, Pa? It’s not too far. I can help you.” I beg him to let me go with him.

“No, you cannot go with me. I have to go. You kids be good and take care of yourselves,” and he puts me down. He walks slowly to Chou and takes Geak from her arms. Looking into her face, he cradles her and gently rocks her back and forth before bending and gathering Chou into his arms also. His head high and his chest puffed out like a small man, Kim walks over to Pa and stands quietly next to him. Letting go of Chou and Geak, Pa stoops down and lays both hands on Kim’s shoulders. As Kim’s face crumbles, Pa’s face is rigid and calm. “Look after your Ma, your sisters, and yourself,” he says.

Pa walks away with a soldier on either side of him. I stand there and wave to him. I watch Pa’s figure get smaller and smaller, and still I wave to him, hoping he will turn around and wave back. He never does. I watch until his figure disappears into the horizon of red and gold. When I can no longer see Pa, I turn around and go inside our house, where Ma sits in
the corner of the room crying. I have seen Pa leave the house many times in Phnom Penh, but I have never seen her this upset. In my heart I know the truth, but my mind cannot accept the reality of what this all means.

“Ma, don’t cry, the soldiers said Pa will be back tomorrow morning.” I lay my hand on hers. Her body shakes at my touch. I walk outside to where my siblings are sitting on the step and sit next to Chou, who holds Geak in her arms. Together we wait for Pa, sitting on the stairs, staring at the path that took him away. We pray it will bring Pa back to us tomorrow.

As the sky turns black, the clouds rush in to hide all the stars. On the steps, Chou, Kim, Geak, and I sit waiting for Pa until Ma orders us in to sleep. Inside the hut, I lie on my back, my arms folded across my chest. Chou and Kim breathe deeply, quietly, but I do not know if they are asleep. Ma is on her side, facing Chou. She has one arm around Geak, and the other rests above Geak’s head. Outside the wind blows in the branches, and the leaves rustle and sing to each other. The clouds part, and the moon and stars shine and give life to the night. In the morning, the sun will come up and the day creatures will wake. But for us, time stands still that night.

I wake up the next morning to see Ma sitting on the steps. Her face is swollen and she looks like she has not slept all night. She is crying softly to herself and is miles away. “Ma, is Pa back yet?” Not answering me, she squints her eyes and continues to look at the path that took Pa away. “The soldiers said Pa would come back in the morning. I guess he’s late. He’s late, that’s all. I know he will return to us.” As I speak, my lungs constrict and I gasp for air. Fighting for breath, my thoughts race and I wonder what this all really means. It is morning and Pa is not back! Where is he? I sit with my siblings, facing the road, looking for Pa. I think up reasons why Pa is late returning to us. The wagon is broken in the mud, the oxen would not move, the soldiers needed Pa to help them fix the wagon. I try to believe my excuses and make them reasonable, but my heart is filled with fear.

Telling the chief we are ill, we receive permission to stay home. All morning and afternoon, we wait for Pa to walk back to us. When night comes, the gods again taunt us with a radiant sunset. “Nothing should be this beautiful,” I quietly say to Chou. “The gods are playing
tricks on us. How could they be so cruel and still make the sky so lovely?” My words tug at my heart. It is unfair of the gods to show us beauty when I am in so much pain and anguish. “I want to destroy all the beautiful things.”

“Don’t say such things or the spirits will hear,” Chou warns me. I don’t care what she says. This is what the war has done to me. Now I want to destroy because of it. There is such hate and rage inside me now. The Angkar has taught me to hate so deeply that I now know I have the power to destroy and kill.

Soon darkness covers the land and still Pa has not returned. We sit on the steps waiting for him together in silence. No words are exchanged as ours eyes search the fields waiting for him to come home. We all know that Pa will not return, but no one dares to say it out loud for it will shatter our illusion of hope. With darkness, the flies disappear and the mosquitoes appear to feast on our flesh. Ma holds Geak in her arms. Every once in a while, Ma’s arms fan Geak’s body to chase away the mosquitoes. As if picking up on Ma’s pain, Geak kisses her cheek softly and caresses her hair.

“Ma, where’s Pa?” Geak asks, but Ma only responds with silence.

“Go inside, all you kids, go inside,” Ma tells us in a tired voice.

“You should come in with us. We can all wait inside,” Chou says to her.

“No, I’d rather wait out here and greet him when he returns.” Chou takes Geak from Ma and goes into the hut. Kim and I follow her, leaving Ma sitting on the steps by herself, waiting for Pa to return.

Listening to Geak and Chou breathing softly, my eyes stay wide open. After he hid from the soldiers for twenty months, they finally found him. Pa always knew he couldn’t hide forever. I never believed he couldn’t. I cannot sleep. I worry about Pa, and about us. What will become of us? We have taken our survival for granted. How will we survive without Pa? My mind races and fills my head with images of death and executions. I have heard many stories about how the soldiers kill prisoners and then dump their bodies into large graves. How they torture their captives, behead them, or crack their skulls with axes so as not to waste their precious ammunition. I cannot stop thinking of Pa and whether or not he died with dignity. I hope they did not torture him. Some prisoners are not dead when they are buried. I cannot think
of Pa being hurt this way, but images of him clawing at his throat, fighting for air as the soldiers pile dirt on him flood my mind. I cannot make the pictures go away! I need to believe Pa was killed quickly. I need to believe they did not make him suffer. Oh Pa, please don’t be afraid. The images play over and over again in my head. My breath quickens as I think about Pa’s last moment on earth. “Stop thinking, stop or you’ll die,” I hiss to myself. But I cannot stop.

Pa told me once that the really old monks could leave their bodies and travel the world as spirits. In my mind, my spirit leaves my body and flies around the country, looking for Pa.

I see a big group of people kneeling around a big hole. There are already many dead people in the hole, their bodies sprawled on top of each other. Their black pajama clothes are soaked with blood, urine, feces, and small white matter. The soldiers stand behind the new group of prisoners, casually smoking a cigarette with one hand, while the other holds onto a big hammer with clumps of hair sticking to its head.

A soldier leads another man to the edge of the hole
—
my heart howls with agony. “It’s Pa! No!” The soldier pushes on Pa’s shoulders, making him kneel like the others. Tears stream out of my eyes as I whisper thanks to the gods that the soldier has blindfolded Pa. He is spared from having to see the executions of many others. “Don’t cry, Pa. I know you are afraid,” I want to tell him. I feel his body tense up, hear his heart race, see tears flowing out from under the blindfold. Pa fights the urge to scream as he hears the sound of a hammer crack the skull next to him, smashing into it. The body falls on top of the others with a thump. The other fathers around Pa cry and beg for mercy but to no avail. One by one, each man is silenced by the hammer. Pa prays silently for the gods to take care of us. He focuses his mind on us, bringing up our faces one by one. He wants our faces to be the last things he sees as he leaves the earth.

“Oh Pa, I love you. I will always miss you.” My spirit cries and hovers down over him. My spirit wraps invisible arms around him, making him cry even more. “Pa, I will always love you. I will never let you go.” The soldier walks up to Pa, but I will not let him go. The soldier cannot hear or see me. He cannot see my eyes burn into his soul. “Leave my Pa alone!” My eyes dare not blink as the soldier raises the hammer above his head. “Pa,” I whisper, “I have to let you go now. I cannot be here and live.” Tears wash across my body as I fly away, leaving Pa there by himself.

Back in the hut, I slide next Chou. She opens her arms and takes me in. Our bodies cradling each other, we cry. The cool air chills the beads of sweat on my skin, making my teeth chatter. Beside us, Kim holds on tight to Geak.

“Pa, I cannot bare to think that you struggled for breath lying on top of the others in that hole. I must believe the soldier took pity and used one of his bullets on you. I cannot breathe, Pa. I am sorry I had to let you go.” My mind swirls with pain and anger. The pain grows larger in my stomach. The pain spasm convulses as if it is eating away my linings. Turning on my side, I dig my hands into my stomach and squeeze it violently to make the physical pain stop. Then the sadness surrounds me. Dark and black it looms over me, pulling me deeper and deeper into it. And then it happens again. It is almost as if I am somewhere else for the moment and I simply black out the part of me that feels emotion. It is as if I am alive but not alive. I can still hear the faint noise of Ma’s muffled cries outside, but I do not feel her pain. I do not feel anything at all.

Ma is up before anyone else the next morning. Her face is all puffy, her eyes are red and swollen shut. Chou gives Ma some of the very little food we have left, but she will not eat. I join them on the steps, daydreaming about our lives back in Phnom Penh when I was happy. I cannot allow myself to cry because once I do I will be lost forever. I have to be strong.

By the third day, we all know that what we feared most has happened. Keav, and now Pa, one by one, the Khmer Rouge is killing my family. My stomach hurts so much I want to cut it open and take the poison out. My body shivers as if evil has entered it, making me want to scream, beat my hands against my chest, and pull out my hair. I want to close my eyes and blank out again, but I don’t know how to do it at will. I want my Pa here in the morning when I wake up! That night I pray to the gods, “Dear gods, Pa is a very devout Buddhist. Please help my Pa return home. He is not mean and does not like to hurt other people. Help him return and I will do anything you say. I will devote my entire life to you. I will believe you always. If you cannot bring Pa home to us, please make sure they don’t hurt him, or please make sure Pa dies a quick death.”

“Chou,” I whisper to my sister, “I am going to kill Pol Pot. I hate him and I want to make sure he dies a slow and painful death.”

“Don’t say such things or you will get hurt.”

“I am going to kill him.” I do not know what he looks like, but if Pol Pot is the leader of the Angkar then he is the one responsible for all the miseries in our lives. I hate him for destroying my family. My hate is so strong it feels alive. It slithers and moves around in the pit of my stomach, growing bigger and bigger. I hate the gods for not bringing Pa back to us. I am a kid, not even seven years old, but somehow I will kill Pol Pot. I don’t know him, yet I am certain he is the fattest, slimiest snake on earth. I am convinced that there is a monster living inside his body. He will die a painful, agonizing death, and I pray that I will play a part in it. I despise Pol Pot for making me hate so deeply. My hate empowers and scares me, for with hate in my heart I have no room for sadness. Sadness makes me want to die inside. Sadness makes me want to kill myself to escape the hopelessness of my life. Rage makes me want to survive and live so that I may kill. I feed my rage with bloody images of Pol Pot’s slain body being dragged in the dirt.