Bamboo Promise
Prison without Walls
by
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MURDER OF CROWS
On a hot morning, April 17, 1975, the day after our New Year celebrations in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, artillery bombing shook our house like a thunderstorm carried in on a monsoon wind. My little Pekinese dogs barked and raced around the house, alarmed by the sounds that had been far away before this day. Mimi, who rarely barked at anything, was frightened by the loud noises and came to quietly sit by me with his tail between his legs. The other dogs soon gave up challenging the sounds of war and ran to hide underneath the table and chairs. They all sensed something ominous was afoot.
We had endured those distant sounds during my wedding barely four months earlier, but now it seemed as if the war was next door. Mid-morning, the guns gradually fell oddly silent and I went to the garden and peeked out the gate. Neighbors were leaving their houses heading towards the main street, edging past cars backing down our street. When I stepped outside, I saw others waving homemade white flags, dancing, hugging each other and cheering, “Hurrah, Hurrah! We finally have peace. The war is ended! No more rocket shells! No more killing! No more corruption! We are socialist. We are equal.”
These people were trying to convince whoever might be watching that they were happy, but in reality, they were as terrified as I was. We had all smelled danger coming. We didn’t know what would happen, but many, like my Papa, still had hope that the KR rebels would settle the regime in a peaceful way when they took over. Papa had left for his job in the national government earlier in the day, so he was not home to help us understand what was happening and we were very worried about him. I felt panic begin to rise in my throat with all the confusing activity in the street. Was it true the communist rebels (Khmer Rouge) had taken over the government? Where was Papa? Who would protect us?
Black-clad KR soldiers began to arrive in the main street. They wore the same hard expressions I had seen when Papa, in his capacity as a top government minister, had invited some KR representatives to our house for a negotiating dinner. My heart dropped at the sight of them. My hands and my feet felt paralyzed. When I recovered from the initial shock, I ran back inside - right into Stepmother who was frozen with panic in the doorway. Soon we began to hear vehicles speeding down the street. Riding on them were very young KR soldiers, some as young as ten, and all with the same cold and angry faces.
To my relief, Papa then drove up. He also seemed confused with what was going on. He told us that he had changed his mind about trying to get to work and that he had sent Un, our chauffeur, home to be with his family. As Papa stood in the gate, we were surprised to see a man we knew among the black-uniformed KR soldiers. It was Sambath, a man that Papa had hired at his pharmaceutical plant. The truck slowed down a little at the gate and Papa caught Sambath’s eye and called to him, “What is going on, Mit Yeung – Comrade?”
It seemed Sambath was no longer Papa’s employee, since he did not answer but merely gave Papa an ironic smile. “Why did you call him comrade?” I asked, as we walked back to the house.
Uncharacteristically, Papa ignored my question and instead told our servant, Kilen, to close and lock the gate. He told all of us to get into the house and be quiet. Our family all gathered in the living room – my father and Stepmother, my paternal grandparents and my grandaunt, my uncle Sunthary, my husband and I, as well as Kilen and her toddler son.
Papa appeared very worried, even though he didn't say anything alarming. He couldn’t call anybody to get information as the phone had been dead for hours. He impatiently turned on the radio to hear the news, but there was no sound and this seemed to increase his anxiety. However, it soon became clear that the KR had indeed taken Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s capital city, when the radio crackled and we heard a very shaky and defeated voice, “I am Hem, Ket Dara. Lon Nol’s military are ordered to put down their guns while they are in negotiation with the KR. We…..”
Silence.
At that moment, we could hear mechanical sounds of the speaker in the background – clicking noises but no words. Then, the sounds of a struggle …sounds that were quickly interrupted by an angry, aggressive and disrespectful shout, “We are not here for negotiations. We have won the war by force of arms!” We exchanged silent and terrified looks as we waited for whatever might come next.
Now the KR music, very aggressive, fast, sharp and violent, began to play. Following, we heard that Mr. Long, Boreth, the foreign minister and acting prime minister of the Khmer Republic, and Prince Sirimatak (Prince Sihanook’s cousin) had been arrested and possibly executed.
“Why did Sambath ignore you Papa? What happened to all the KR leaders that you invited to have dinner at our house to negotiate the peace?” I asked, unable to make sense of it all.
Before Papa could answer there was a loud, aggressive banging on the gate door. I followed Kilen as she went to open it. There stood a child soldier, about ten, in a black uniform with the signature KR krama – scarf around his neck and a black hat. He was holding a very large gun which looked heavy but the boy held it with confidence.
“Leave this house immediately!” he ordered in an angry voice that hadn't yet changed. If it hadn't been for our fear and the gun, it would have been funny, like my cousins playing a war game.
“Why, Mit Yeung?”
“We must search for enemies.”
“Enemies? What enemies?”
“Americans!!”
“We haven't seen any Americans. Where are they hiding?”
“They are hiding among you!”
“They are not in our house. Why must we leave?”
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About the Book
http://jsaaea.coehd.utsa.edu/index.php/JSAAEA/article/view/186/175
Cambodia is a country with beautiful temples and art, and steeped in the Buddhist religion. Despite this, the once-civilized society turned to violence and proceeded to destroy itself. People betrayed their parents, their children, and their friends. In the process, they extinguished everything that represented the truth and beauty of Cambodia.
How does an individual withstand such experiences and resume life after having fought for a single grain of rice and witnessed unbelievable cruelties, such as mothers crushing their babies, young children willing to kill for a morsel of food, and the entire decimation of normal urban life? Bamboo Promise is author Vicheara Houn’s story of her survival. This is the remarkable and intensely personal autobiography of a woman raised as the sheltered and privileged only child of a prominent Cambodian family. As a young bride, she and her entire family were swept up in the Cambodian genocide of the 1970s. Houn recounts how she adapted and survived in the harsh killing fields of the Khmer Rouge terrorists in this compelling narrative.
Although the author survived many horrors, Bamboo Promise is not a horror story. It is the story of the evolution of a human spirit as she endured a tumultuous upbringing and an unspeakable tragedy. The insights into life after Pol Pot’s defeat and Cambodia’s subjection by the Communist Vietnamese are particularly unique. Bamboo Promise is also a story of hope, as Houn found lasting happiness in the United States.
About the Author
Vicheara was born in Phnom Penh, Cambodia in the peaceful days before the Khmer Rouge communist rebels engulfed this small Southeast Asian nation in four years of death and destruction. As the only child of a wealthy and politically prominent father, her young life was one of great contrasts. She went to University of Phnom Penh to study pharmacy and met her husband there. Their forbidden romance caused much conflict but eventually they prevailed and married in Janurary,1975 , four months before the Khmer Rouge took over and their lives turned upside down.
All the residents of Phnom Penh, including Vicheara’s entire family, were forced out of their homes and expelled from the city in a mass exodus by the Khmer Rouge rebels. One by one, every member of Vicheara’s family starved to death. Her young husband was murdered.
Emaciated and alone, she managed to survive until 1979 when the Khmer Rouge was defeated by the Vietnamese and the survivors were liberated. Vicheara returned to her paternal home. She finished her pharmacy degree and made a daring escape to a refugee camp in Thailand. There she met the man who would become her second husband and they made their way to the US in 1984, where they had two children, a boy and a girl. She received her bachelor’s degree in chemistry. She later divorced and met her current husband in Portland , OR.
Later, they moved to Arizona where Vicheara finished writing this first book, Bamboo Promise, to share her amazing story of survival with the world. She is now working on her 2nd book.