Introduction: I wrote down my short story
"Hope: a Cambodian journey" in November 1993, one
month before my return to Cambodia after 14 years
away from it. By reading this short story, one
will understand the reasons behind PHIC. Mardi
On the evening of Monday,
October 18, 1993, I was listening to a National Public Radio
program about Angola. The report stated that the Angolan
political factions adapted a widely used military strategy
among "Third World" countries; the strategy is to starve the
innocent Angolan people so that the opposition would
surrender because of this act of animosity. The reporter
estimated that about 1,000 people die every day from
bullet-wounds, diseases, and hunger related causes. In the
report, a blind five year old boy was crying; his blindness
was caused by severe hunger. Compassion overwhelmed me; I
wept.
In my world of peace and
affluence, I am removed from the horror of war, of hunger,
and of disease. But I share the pain, the horror, the
anguish of children and of innocent people who live in
war-torn countries like Angola, Somalia, Rwanda, Bosnia, and
Cambodia. In the first fourteen years of my life, I had
seen, experienced, and tasted the horror of war which will
stay with me for eternity. I would like to take this
opportunity to share with you my story of war, hunger,
suffering, and death but also of peace and hope and life.
My name is Mardi Seng. I
was born in Cambodia in 1965. My father, Im Kao, was a
junior high school teacher even though he only finished the
ninth grade. My mother, Chen Id Seng, was a tailor. They
were the proud parents of four sons and a daughter. I am the
oldest child.
In late 1968, the war in
Vietnam began to spill into Cambodia. Americans bombed the
Cambodia-Vietnam border. The once not-well-known communist
insurgent group, the Khmer Rouge, gained support and took
control over many remote villages. In March 1970, Cambodia
was pulled into the conflict, when General Lon Nol succeeded
in a coupe d'état with the American support. My father was
drafted by Lon Nol's army.
My father spent many
months at the battle front; he came home about three to five
weeks during a year. Sometimes my mother would take us to
visit my father at the front. On the first visit, my
siblings and I were so excited about seeing the
weapons--artillery, rocket launchers, bazookas, and M-16's.
But that night, the excitement turned into terror and fear
as the Khmer Rouge bombarded the camp with rockets and
artillery. My mother comforted us in a misty earthy trench
while my father left to command his company.
Beginning in May 1974, my
father, his company and three other companies were under siege
by the Khmer Rouge for eleven months. For eleven months, they
lived in trenches which spread over one square mile. They were
bombarded day and night and could not walk on the level ground.
One day in late March 1975, the Khmer Rouge army left the
stranded Lon Nol's army to assist their comrades in capturing
the capital city, Phnom Penh.
Four days later my father was
reunited with us in Phnom Penh. He was wounded. He could not
see with his right eye. But thank God, my father was alive.
On April 17, 1975, two weeks
after my family was reunited, the Khmer Rouge toppled the Lon
Nol Regime. On that same bright, warm, glorious and victorious
day, a new era not of peace and tranquility, nor of hope and
prosperity but of suffering, torture, hunger, diseases, work
camps, reeducation, and systematic killing began.
On April 17, 1975, the Khmer
Rouge evacuated people from all of the cities and towns in
Cambodia. They told us that the Americans would drop bombs in
the city, so everyone had to leave. The streets were crowded
with people. Traveling was slow; everyone walked; occasionally
people had to step off the street to let a GMC army truck pass
by. Sadness reflected on the adults' faces. Children were
crying because of hunger and of exhaustion from the tropical
heat. My father was weak because of his wound. My mother was
carrying my five month old brother; my two other brothers and I
assisted my grandparents and three aunts in carrying our
belongings. Continue..
