First They Killed My Father (37 page)

In 1995 Loung returned to Cambodia for a memorial service for the victims of the Khmer Rouge genocide and was shocked and saddened to learn that twenty of her relatives had been killed under the Pol Pot regime. This realization compelled her to devote herself to justice and reconciliation in her homeland. Upon learning about the destruction caused by residual land mines in the Cambodian countryside, Loung also set about publicizing the dangers of these indiscriminate weapons (which number in the millions).

First They Killed My Father: a Daughter of Cambodia Remembers,
her first book, became a national bestseller and won the 2001 Asian/Pacific American Librarians Association award for “Excellence in Adult Non-fiction Literature.” The memoir has been published in eleven countries and has been translated into German, Dutch, Norwegian, Danish, French, Spanish, Italian, Cambodian, and Japanese.

Loung describes her writing process this way: “I handwrite the story in my journal, then flesh it out on the computer.” She relies on an improbable source of inspiration while writing: “Long grain, white rice. Rice is my homing device and my security blanket. When I travel or work on a book I must have at least one bowl of rice every day. Where there is rice, I feel at home.”

A featured speaker on Cambodia, child soldiers, and land mines, Loung also serves as spokesperson for the Cambodia Fund—a program that supports centers in Cambodia that help disabled war victims and survivors of land mines. She has been the spokesperson for the Campaign for a Landmine Free World (1997–2003) and the Community Educator for the Abused Women’s Advocacy Project
of the Maine Coalition against Domestic Violence.

Loung has spoken widely to schools, universities, corporations, and symposia in the United States and abroad (including the UN Conference on Women in Beijing, the UN Conference Against Racism in Durban, South Africa, and the Child Soldiers Conference in Kathmandu, Nepal).

She was named one of the “100 Global Leaders of Tomorrow” by the World Economic Forum.

In her spare time, Loung makes origami earrings for her friends. “I have tiny hands and fingers, which allow me to fold little paper cranes and other creatures,” she says. “When my fingers get tired, I go out and ride my purple Huffy bike around the neighborhood. My bike has a very cool bell that looks like a huge eyeball. I like to ring my bell a lot.”

Lucky Child,
her second book, was published in 2005 and is now available in trade paperback from Harper Perennial. She is working on a historical novel.

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W
HEN
I
DECIDED TO WRITE
First They Killed My Father,
I knew right away I would tell the story in a child’s voice and from a child’s point of view. In the twenty-six years since the Khmer Rouge’s defeat, I have grown older, learned other languages, traveled, and lived in different countries. When I dream about the war, however, it is as if time has never passed. Through the years I have lived many lives, and with each incarnation my war child is there beside me—giving me strength, urging me on, and inspiring me to live life to the fullest. But when I visit her in the Khmer Rouge’s Cambodia, none of my new adult incarnations can travel back with me. In
First They Killed My Father
I relived the Khmer Rouge’s Cambodia with a child’s love, hate, rage, and wounds.

By telling my story through a child’s eyes I had also hoped to dispel the myth that children suffer less than adults in their traumatic experiences. While growing up in Vermont I used to get so angry when I heard people say to my brother Meng, “Isn’t it lucky she was so young when she went through the war? Maybe she won’t remember at all. She’ll adapt faster and heal faster because she was so young.” Oh how I wanted to scream out: “I remembered! I saw! I hurt!”—but I did not have the words to explain what I felt. When the words came to me, I found I did not then have the courage to say them out loud. I feared once I started the tears would not stop. In
First They Killed My Father
I tried to channel the physical feelings and emotions of the child who had to lose her voice—become dumb, deaf, mute, and blind to survive. I wanted
readers to know the confused mind, lost soul, lonely life, and angry heart of the child I was when my charmed life and family were taken from me by the Khmer Rouge and I did not understand a single thing that was going on. It was very empowering to write the book and relive my childhood after having gained the vocabulary to express many of the things that had long been imploding inside me.

With the narrative style and point of view selected, I sat down and wrote the first three chapters of
First They Killed My Father
in the past tense. But it did not feel authentic. I knew I was protecting myself by writing in the past tense. I knew I would have an easier time writing this way, but that the book would not have the impact I wanted. I felt (and still strongly feel) that war is hard, heartbreaking, and painful. Writing in the past tense allowed me to distance myself from that pain, but it distanced the reader as well. I knew I had to use the present tense. When I made the switch from past to present tense, the emotional toll of writing was exponentially harder. For months I listened only to Cambodian music, ate mostly Cambodian food, read books about the Khmer Rouge genocide, and covered my apartment floor with pictures of my father, mother, sisters, family, Pol Pot, Khmer Rouge soldiers and their victims. As I relived the raw anger, searing pain, and ripped heart of the child I was when my family started to disappear one by one, I found that the pain did not defeat me but only made me hungrier for peace. By the time I had finished the last line of
First They Killed My Father,
I knew I would come out stronger for having written it.

Note to reader: minor editing for clarity was performed on the following letters. Most of the writers’ language—misspellings and all—has been preserved. Writers’ names have been changed to protect their identities.

March 21, 2000

Ms. Ung,

While flipping through the TV channels on Sunday, I bumped into the interview on CSPAN in which you talked about your book. The TV program has awakened my memories that had been subsided over the years. With refreshed memories and a new perspective, I’d like to share a few words.

Finally we Cambodians have someone who is articulate enough to bring the tremendous sufferings of the Cambodian people during the four murderous years to the American Media and possibly the world as well. Among all the Indochinese refuges, the Cambodian has suffered the most and yet has not gotten our share of attention. In America, we heard of Viet Cong Death Camps but rarely heard of Tuol Sleng Slaughter house. At one time, I happened to overhear at Vietnamese woman said that staying in her country would have no future for her children—what a joke! To us, thinking about a future with good education for fancy houses is a luxury beyond reach. To all of us, coming to the U.S. or other countries was not a matter of choice. We went to whatever country that was willing to accept us. Some non-Cambodians refugees picked countries of their choices like they shopped for houses. I knew of some fellow Cambodians
families went to Ivory Coast in Africa. I bet nobody knows or cares about how many nightmares have awaken up us and made us think we are still laboring under the watchful eye of the Khmer Rouge cronies.

It looks like I won’t be able to limit myself to one page. Interestingly enough, I’m also Cambodian of Chinese descent. I stayed in Lam Sing refugee Camp in Thailand for almost one year. We arrived in Wichita, Kansas in the bitter colder winter of 1978. After shoveling snow for almost three years in Kansas, my folks moved to Los Angeles and eventually settled in Orange County. I attended and graduated from CA. State Long Beach in the late eighties in engineering. Well, it’s going to take at least a few more pages to go over the journey after we left Cambodia and made our way to the west. I guess I have made my point for now.

At your leisure, please drop me a note or so.

Thanks for taking the time to read out of your busy schedule.

D.P.

California

March 12, 2000

Loung Ung,

Please accept this letter as a thank you note for a very inspirational book. I’m sure like many, it has touched my life deeply. Though reading it, I have found strength and peace within myself.

Let me start by introducing myself. My name is L.P. I was born in Cambodian on May 1st, 1975. About two weeks after the invasion of Phnom Penh. This I’ve learned from your book. My family, mom, dad, two younger sisters and I came to the U.S. in 1981 as refugee.

I was still a baby then but my parents have never speak of their past with me. The only memories I have is of my childhood here in the U.S. I guess now I can understand why they choose not to. But I believe my life would have taken a different course if I knew it then. For most part, I grew up wondering.

It was only through the conversation my parents had with friends of our past in Cambodia that I overheard bits and pieces, but not enough to understand. One day I overheard something I would remember for the rest of my life! That I had an older sister and she died of some type of illness. I’ve always wanted an older brother or sister and to find this out I felt a lost without quite understanding it all! I’ve always kept my feeling suppressed and somehow through that I grew up feeling lonely.

While reading your book I imagined my life as an infant; bombs dropping, bullets flying, and everything around me is struggling to survive. Me, I wasn’t aware of what was going on and around me cause I was still so little. Honestly, I don’t know whether I should feel lucky or guilty for having such an easy way out while everyone is suffering. From your book I was able to understand a lot of my and family’s past.

Maybe I should talk to my parents about it now that I am older. I know it was a horrible and terrifying time. They have been through enough and I have contributed to some of that because of my incarceration. It’s all the more reason for me not to see them sad again.

I am incarcerated now, also facing a possible deportation ’cause of my crime. I would loose much sleep worrying. I have never been back to visit, but if worst come to worse, I’m not sure if I should be afraid. I
guess I am afraid. Being able to obtain your book is one of the best things that happened to me in here. My hear goes out to you and “Awh-koon” Loung Ung. It’s through your book that I am grateful to be alive today.

“‘Unlike you, Bong srei, I’ve never got the chance to get to know my father and other brother whom my family and I lost in the hands of the Khmer Rouge.’”

If given a chance I would like to tell you a little about my life and why after reading your book I become renew! Once again, thanks!

L.P.

Chump reap sour, Bong Srei,