Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge rose to power in 1975. Pol Pot, the leader, desired a totally self-sufficient agrarian society. Anyone that was a threat to his new regime was executed.
Most people that were considered ‘traitors’ were ordinary people that had done nothing wrong – teachers, doctors, lawyers, even people with soft hands or who wore glasses were considered a threat. These people were tricked into believing they were being relocated to a new house in a different district and were loaded on trucks and brought to the Killing Fields. The night they arrived, they were executed one by one under bright fluorescent lights and the sound of revolutionary music blaring loudly to cover the sound of their deadly screams.
Chou sat rigid in the truck as it bumped and roughly tossed its passengers side to side. She had been evacuated from Phnom Penh that morning and was told the home she shared with her parents and younger siblings no longer belonged to her, but Angkar (the state).
Before leaving the city, her family was told to identify themselves and their professions. Chou neatly wrote she was a teacher and was placed on a separate list. From there it was chaos. Her parents were shoved into a truck while her younger brothers were forced to continue walking with a group of other boys their age. It all happened so quickly and violently, Chou didn’t have a moment to say goodbye or gather her thoughts.
She was placed with a group of other men and women and was told to wait. She looked around in shock and tears filled her eyes. Women were sobbing and holding their children close. Men stood firmly, fists clenched and jaws tight as they looked on at the devastation that gathered around them. The world as they knew it was coming to an end. The loss of what had been and the uncertainty of what was to come left the air heavy with sorrow and pain.
After some time, a soldier approached Chou and snapped that she was to get on the next truck. He quickly turned on his heel to leave. Fear filled her but she managed to whimper out,
“Where am I going? Where is my family?”
The soldier twisted around and firmly looked at her with dead eyes,
“Your family is Angkar. You will serve Angkar. You will be placed in a new district to better serve your state.” And with that he whipped his back to her and marched away barking orders at people as he passed.
Her ears rang with his words. A new district? Where am I going? Where is my family? Will I ever see them again? Before allowing the realities to overwhelm her, she choked back her tears and swallowed hard. If she was going to survive whatever this was, if she was ever to see her brothers or parents again, she needed to obey. That much she knew to be true.
She looked up with a hard face as the metal truck that would be transporting her to her new home and future, clamored down the road. Dust swirled about her feet as she tried to step inside the bed of the green rusted machine. A hand reached out and she quickly grabbed it. His skin was soft but his grip was firm. She looked through the spectacled eyes of an older man who gave her a half smile and shrugged her over to an empty space indicating she should take her seat. She took a deep breath and squeezed herself between two women who were quietly trying to muffle their sobs.
The truck slowly filled with far more people than could comfortably fit, and Chou counted herself lucky to have a seat on the hard wooden bench. Before everyone could find a place to sit or stand the truck lurched forward with a creak sending those who didn’t have their footing to fall into others, creating more confusion in the chaotic atmosphere. The truck continued forward without care for the passengers in the back, only desiring to be at its final destination.
Chou settled in and spent the next hour or so looking around at the others who were crammed the truck bed with her. She saw the man who had helped her inside standing with his back hunched under the roof of the truck. His awkward stance made him appear much older than he was, but she guessed he was in his 60’s. He was speaking quietly with the men pressed near him about something she couldn’t make out. Occasionally she would get a word, military, defectors, regime, but couldn’t piece together what was being said.
She watched the people who were seated around her. There were single women like herself, and men lost in their own thoughts. Some had their heads hung low while others stared off with firm determined faces. There was a married couple sitting on the floor whispering with their heads pressed together in hushed tones. The husband had his hand on his wife’s back obviously trying to console her as she squeezed his hand and nodded in agreement to whatever he was saying. A mother sat on the bench across from Chou with an infant cradled in her arms and a young boy on her lap. Her eyes were red and brimming with tears, but she continued to push a smile to her lips and nudge her son with a chuckle, encouraging him that the ride would not be much longer.
Chou looked around at these misplaced people and longed to know their stories. Who were they? Where were their families? Why were they here? Her thoughts were broken when the truck abruptly slowed and made a turn down a long dirt road. Chou craned her neck to steal a glance out of the flapping canvas roof and watched as they continued slowly along the road, avoiding the large pot holes that created frustrating obstacles for the driver.
They were in the middle of the jungle but Chou judged they were not far from Phnom Penh where she was separated from her family earlier in the day. The sun was now setting behind the trees and the red glow it created gave her an unsettling feeling. In the distance, Chou saw glowing white lights rising above the trees and could make out music echoing through them. As they drew near, she felt her chest tighten at the sound of the revolutionary music being played. The eerie tonal sounds vibrated off the truck and made her skin crawl. She couldn’t shake the haunting feeling that was beginning to consume her as the truck creeped down the road.
The truck pushed through the last grouping of trees into a fenced base. Then, with a couple more bumps and a metal groan, the truck made its final stop. Military officers rushed around them and started shouting orders in rough harsh tones. Everyone was yanked from the truck and forced to stand in a line as they shouted off names from a list.
When Chou’s name was called she stepped forward like the others had done and was firmly escorted down a dirt path by an official. She tried to look at her surroundings as she was led to a sturdy and simple wooden structure. The path she was walking on was surrounded by sugar palm trees. From the treetops bright fluorescent lights beamed, blinding her from seeing beyond the path and into the jungle. The revolutionary music was now coupled with the hum of generators scattered throughout the base. The mechanical sound infiltrated her thoughts and made her unable to think of anything else. A soldier opened the door to the wooden building and she was shoved through its opening into total darkness.
The room had no windows and thick walls which she was thankful for because the nauseating music was dulled once she was inside. Chou shot her hands out in front of her and felt her way along in the darkness trying to gain some semblance of where she was. As she edged along the wall, she felt a familiar hand reach out and touch hers. She didn’t need light to know she had found the man from the truck. His voice broke through the muffled music playing outside,
“Why don’t you sit with us?”
Chou nodded in the darkness and took a seat on the matted dirt floor next to the man with the glasses and the men she assumed he was speaking with in the truck. She couldn’t see them, but the tension in the room suggested they all were making similar fearful expressions. Breaking the silence a small figure ran into the back of Chou startling her and making her turn.
“I’m sorry.” The voice of the mother broke the almost silence, “Stay close to me, sweetheart. Hold my hand.”
Chou could make out the sound of the mother and her son reuniting in the darkness as she firmly grabbed his hand.
“It’s dark,” Chou heard herself saying, “Come sit with us. There’s plenty of room.”
Chou could feel the relief of the mother in her sigh. She was welcome to the idea of not moving about in the darkness any longer. The small family settled in and the silence continued.
Chou was once again left to her thoughts. As her eyes began adjusting to the darkness she looked about the room. It was not a large space, but the group she was with from the truck was able to easily fit. Chou wondered to herself how many more people would be joining them. As if answering her thought, the door swung open admitting more people she did not recognize from her group into the room. The horrible music was quickly silenced again by the slam of the door. Chou sighed audibly revealing the anxiety that was building up in her. She felt a hand reach out to touch hers and give a comforting squeeze. She looked up toward the mother’s face and gave a shallow smile, tapping her hand lightly acknowledging their mutual predicament.
“How old?” Chou asked the mother, pointing to the now sleeping boy in her lap.
“4 years.” Shrugging the bundle her arms lightly she smiled saying, “And she’s 9 months.”
“They’re beautiful,” was all Chou managed to say.
They sat in silence for some time before the man with the glasses began talking in low tones to the man sitting next to him. It didn’t take long before Chou realized the man in the glasses was talking to an old government official. They were talking about Angkar, the state of the country and the madness of the new regime. Speaking in this way was forbidden and Chou began to feel fearful sitting near them wondering if their conversation could be overheard.
Breaking her thoughts, the loud door swung open and a list of names were called out. People stood up and were quickly escorted out of the structure. The door slammed shut once more. This continued on for the longer part of the night. The door would swing open either letting in a new group of people, or with a hardened man barking names out from a list. The people called would stand up on shaky legs and be hurried from the room by men with machetes, bamboo rods and knives.
Chou wondered where these people were being taken and if, or when, her name would be called. As time passed, the tension in the room continued to increase. People started to become frantic as couples were split up, and children were taken from mother’s and father’s who were left behind. But one thing was certain – once they left, they never came back. The room was filled with quiet sobs and fear and Chou wondered what was happening, wishing for some sort of answer.
The door swung open, once again admitting the mechanical sounds from the jungle and the stern man. He rapped off a list of names and Chou heard a sharp intake of breath next to her. The mother’s name had been on the list, as well as her children. She couldn’t stand up and a broken cry escaped her lips. Two men marched over to her and shouted at her to be quick. She tried to stand but fear was consuming her. They grabbed the boy by his arm and yanked him hard to his feet dragging him toward the door and the awful music.
The mother cried out after her son. The panic she felt of being separated from him must have been enough to stir her to her feet. The boy screamed after his mother and she fell towards him, still clutching her baby girl in her arms. They quickly grabbed hands with each other and Chou heard a small cry come from the mother. Their quick reunion was the last thing Chou saw before the door slammed shut once more, cutting off the piercing music.
With the space now empty beside her, Chou noticed that she was shaking uncontrollably. The fear she had been holding in was unbearable and she felt the tears start falling from her eyes. She rolled to her side, unable to keep her body from sitting upright as she sobbed loudly in the darkness. She felt the familiar hand of the man with the glasses touch her shoulder in a comforting way. She choked back a cry and wiped the tears from her face. The man with the glasses looked at her with sad eyes and helped her sit up again.
“What’s going to happen to us?” Chou cried out brokenly. The man shook his head and said honestly,
“I do not know the answer, but I do know that all lives matter and all lives have purpose. There will be purpose and justice in the end.”
Just then the familiar sound of the door opened, and as Chou sat crying she felt the man stand up next to her. She looked up through bleary eyes and saw the man with glasses smile. He touched her shoulder once more lightly and then walked though the door.
The night seemed to drag on, Chou sat in the darkness crying and thought about her life. Did her life really matter? Would there be justice for what her people were doing to one another? She didn’t have any answers and her mind ached. She missed her brothers and longed to see her parents faces one last time. She imagined her father’s smiling face and wondered what he would tell her if he were with her. Don’t be so sad, my little bird, she heard him whisper in her mind. Soon we will be together again. Be brave now for me and for our family.
She breathed deeply as the last tears fell from her eyes. Chou straightened up and held onto those words. Be brave. Her life matters. This matters. As she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath of strength, the door of judgement opened and she heard her name loudly shouted across the darkened room. She stood, stronger than she imagined she would be, and walked out of the door and into the blinding fluorescent lights and wicked music.
A soldier stood on either side of her with a machete directing her down a long path. In the distance, Chou heard a scream and her blood went cold. The man with the clipboard and names was close behind making sure everything was in order. Chou wanted to run away. She wanted to fall to the ground. She wanted to be back in the wooden house. How her body was continuing forward amazed her, for her mind was frozen with fear.
They approached what appeared to be a large hole dug in the ground and she felt chills run up her arms. The fear overtook her and a scream escaped her mouth. She felt pain explode from the back of her head and lights flash in her eyes. The soldier next to her had hit her over the head with the handle of his machete and yelled something inaudibly at her. The pain was unbearable and she dropped to her knees. The soldiers grabbed her under her arms and dragged her across the dirt to the side of the hole. Chou kept her eyes shut, afraid of what she would see when she opened them.
The men continued talking behind her, but she couldn’t think straight to comprehend what they were saying. She heard a loud shout that startled her back to reality and she opened her eyes. Instant regret, fear, horror and sadness flooded her brain as she saw hundreds of bodies fallen brokenly on top of each other. She cried out loudly but was unable to make any other sound as she stared at a figure laying coldly beneath a heap of bodies. The kind eyes of the man with glasses locked with hers and the reality of her fate stunned her. She had no time to think further of her awaiting death when a grunt and a loud crack stunned her ears. The pain washed over her body quickly and she felt the light fall from her eyes. Her knees buckled under her weight and she fell to join the man with the glasses. Her last thought was of her father and his voice, Be brave.
And then everything went black.
Over 300 Killing Fields have been discovered in Cambodia, most being inaccessible due to buried land mines or their deep jungle locations. Choeung Ek is located outside Phnom Penh and is the largest of the Killing Fields, where 20,000 people were brutally murdered.
Vietnam eventually established the new government in Cambodia, but they were not recognized by most first world countries. The Khmer Rouge continued to be seen as the legitimate leaders of Cambodia, having a seat in the UN, given financial aid and even continued to send representatives to New York.
Pol Pot continued to lead the Khmer Rouge for the next 20 years before he was finally put under house arrest. He lived a good life and died in his home when he was 73.
The story of Chou is not true to my knowledge, but it’s not far from truth. Nearly 20% of the population died under the Khmer Rouge, most being middle class citizens that had done no wrong. Women watched their children be beaten and murdered in front of their eyes simply because they came from the wrong family name.
This history cannot be forgotten because their lives mattered and their stories still matter. Be thankful for what you have, hug your families a little tighter today and never forget how important it is to love each other well.
