A Boy Named Rindy, page 28
Mteay safely delivered a tiny baby girl, with the help of a few doctors who had, indeed, survived the Khmer Rouge. She named the baby Selay. Our country was slowly rebuilding. The new leader, Hang Samrin, had apparently been a former Khmer Rouge official before defecting to the Vietnamese. Nobody trusted him, but we didn’t have any other options.
With medical care and the little bit of food the hospital offered, Mteay began to regain strength, but they could only keep her for a short time. The hospital halls crawled with the sick and dying.
Rumors of rapes and looters were almost as common as rumors of rice. So, when Mteay left the hospital, Khan watched over the females as they camped inside the jungle and gathered whatever food they could find. We all took huge risks to find food because we had little left to lose. Those risks took us behind Vietnamese lines, amidst bullets, through minefields and mass graves—all to no avail. The area of the rumored rice was too entrenched in fighting between the Khmer Rouge or Vietnamese for us to reach it or, in most cases, when we reached the storehouse, it had already been swept clean.
In our pursuit, we found a sugar cane field the Khmer Rouge hadn’t destroyed. Vuthy and I cut the stalks, then extracted and boiled the sugar cane. We remembered our aupouk doing this when we were children. We were thankful for this skill to help our family. When the process was complete, we brought the sugar to Mteay. She took it to sell at a market that had resurrected in Battambang. Slowly, the remnants of old Cambodia began to emerge—although in a broken and limping form.
For several months we made our way, by harvesting and processing sugar. In the evenings, Vuthy and I carried sacks of our amber-colored product over one shoulder, to our family’s campsite, a shabby, makeshift tent. Inside the ragged walls, my sisters and Mteay would sit anxiously waiting for that day’s yield. The sugar had become our lifeline.
Ducking inside the tent one evening, I was met with sullen faces. Even Khan was sullen rather than combative. I knew they had news to share. I glanced at Vuthy. His eyes held the same questions.
“Come sit with us,” Mteay whispered, reaching her hand toward mine.
I obeyed, dropping the bag of sugar at her feet. Vuthy followed my lead, and we sat down beside her.
“We don’t want to stay here anymore.” She measured each word carefully before letting them escape her thin lips.
I took in a long breath.
“We want to leave,” she continued. “Khan has heard that the camp on the Thailand border has rice and they are helping refugees. We paid smugglers we met at the market for a map through the Dangrek Mountains and into Thailand. There is no more rice to be bought at the market, but we have some gold left from the sugar we sold. Khan can’t find any more game in the jungle, not even wild roots. There are too many others looking for food. There is nothing left for us here. We must all go together.” She looked first at me, then at Vuthy. “Please.”
I chewed on the edge of my lip. It was at least a hundred miles to the border, through an area infested with Khmer Rouge. I knew the rice for sale in Cambodia would eventually disappear, but I didn’t know it had already happened. I had blindly hoped that if I did my part to get the sugar, the rest would sort itself out. Mteay was right, but I dreaded heading back into danger and the unknown.
“We’re leaving tonight. We want you both to come too. We’ll all be so much safer together,” she said the words with finality. She stood, strapping the sleeping Selay to her chest with a cloth krama, and took the sugar cane to the market to sell.
I looked at Vuthy, and we both rose and exited the tent to talk privately.
“We could stay here and try to live off what we earn. We can replant the paddies.” Vuthy’s words sprang out quick and eager.
“With what rice seed, Vuthy?”
“They only want us now because they need us for protection,” he spat the words, bitterness lacing each one. “Even Khan, with all his pride, knows he can’t take care of everyone on his own. He’s not done fighting either. I can see it in his eyes. He’s desperate to join the freedom fighters at the border. As soon as we get there, he’ll leave us with the women.”
“You may be right.” I nodded. “But is it such a bad thing that we’re needed?”
He was silent—looking at the dirt at his feet, brooding.
“It’s taken seventeen years, but we’re now a family,” I said. “Mteay depends on us. We must go.”
Vuthy shook his head, unconvinced.
“Besides Mteay is right.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “There isn’t anything for us here anymore.”
At two o’clock the next morning, we left. We headed northwest, expecting the rising sun to confirm our direction by day. We hoped to make it to the thick jungle surrounding the Dangrek mountains along the border of Cambodia and Thailand in two days. Everything we owned was strapped to our backs, but Mteay had a little gold concealed in her clothes. As we ran through the rice paddies, the shadows danced with other refugees fleeing their country, nameless faces, clinging to life. Their company gave me comfort because others were following the same route.
One day later, after running through the rice paddies at night and resting during the day, we reached the safety of the jungle on the edge of the Dangrek mountains. We trudged over the uneven ground, following the path snaking through the trees. The red clay had been worn down and smooth; many had gone before us. There was a tangle of vines and in some places it was overgrown, but we hacked our way through, helping the women over the difficult places. As we retreated deeper into its heart, relief bubbled up within me like cool water. I closed my eyes, hearing the birds overhead chirping and trilling in an endless melody. I brushed through the vegetation, rich and supple, feeling water on the leaves. I felt like I had come home.
The jungle took on a new form at night with the songs of tree frogs, crickets, and cicadas. The noise swelled, becoming deafening. It was relentless, throbbing through the air. And, eventually, its constant, deafening thrum became the same as silence to my ears. Our movements disappeared into that rhythm of sound, becoming one with it. It protected us. The jungle nurtured us. Fear evaporated from me like the sweat leaving my pores.
The nightmares I had of jungle tigers in my childhood had long been replaced by even worse realities: the human animals I had encountered.
Spider webs clung to us as we brushed past. The lemon eyes of rats stared at us from holes and trees, not running and not afraid. Vuthy and I had caught some to roast and eat the day before, but it was now night, and at night they were king. At night the vines came alive and slithered upwards at our approach, making Sotha scream.
After a few hours, the jungle melted into a river. It ran dark and deep and peaceful. We stood on the bank staring at the water gurgling past. There was no other way onward, so we waded through. Khan led the way, holding Mteay’s hand. She clutched Selay. Then Ly and Sotha waded in next, their eyes reflecting the moonlight cascading through the opening the river made through the jungle canopy. They searched the water as they crossed. I knew what they were looking for and I hoped they didn’t find it: a crocodile. As the water deepened, uneasiness mixed with the water licking at my slowly submerging body.
I continued to wade, until the water began to lap at my neck. I didn’t like deep water. Stopping to listen, I distracted myself by joining my sisters in keeping watch for crocodiles. While I didn’t necessarily want to encounter one in the dark, if I could catch one, it would provide meat. Not hearing the croaking noise that baby crocodiles make, I continued onward. My heartbeat quickened as I felt something against my shoulder, then my leg. My mind raced and I lost my footing. I wobbled, before regaining it.
“It was just me,” Vuthy whispered with a chuckle.
Letting out my breath, I continued onward. One step after another, my bare feet sank into the silty bottom, then over slippery bamboo poles and rocks until the water finally started to shallow.
I watched as the others climbed out, liquid shadows onto the bank. I counted them as they emerged. Mteay, Vuthy and I were the only ones still crossing. Although the water was down to my waist now, I couldn’t get out of it fast enough. In my peripheral, I caught movement several feet down river. It was graceful, a skilled swimmer, intent on its prey. In a rush, we pressed forward, propelling Mteay with the gold and the baby onto the bank, Vuthy and I scrambling behind.
“What was it?” Vuthy panted.
I searched the black water again, closer to the edge, but it flowed past peacefully without any sign of a crocodile. “Nothing, I guess.”
We were out of the water, back in the embrace of the jungle. We rested for a few hours, our backs resting against the moss covered stones and tree trucks.
I awoke to sunlight tunneling through the canopy, illuminating circles on the jungle floor. Everyone appeared to be asleep. I counted, finding everyone but Ly. Where was she?
I pushed myself from the ground and went in search of her. She knew better than to wander off from the rest of us. I ran down the path, my feet pounding. My head swiveled. Was I going in the right direction? She wouldn’t have gone back to the river, would she?
“Rindy, I’m here.” I spun around, seeing Ly kneeling beside a small waterfall. Relief dripped from me.
“You really shouldn’t have left the rest of us.”
“I know, but I just had to come a little farther to relieve myself. Did you see the sunlight through the canopy?”
I nodded, looking around us. The jungle was aglow, following the stream trickling down its rocky path. I had never seen so many shades of green before, and I breathed in the musty, earthy smell. I never wanted to leave this place.
“Look at this.”
I turned back around, to face Ly. She crouched next to the waterfall, pointing at the crevices. There were several tiny, orange flowers that looked like drops of glowing sunlight hidden in the shadow.
“What are they?” I moved in closer for a better look.
“They’re orchids I think, just smaller than the ones sold at market.” She reached out to pluck one.
“They never get sunlight here. I didn’t know things could survive in complete darkness.” I looked around at the thick underbrush.
She looked up at me, her eyes shining with tears. “Yet somehow, they do.”
I smiled at her and wiped a tear from her cheek.
“We’re going to make it, Rindy, aren’t we?”
"Yes, you've all come too far for it to end here."
"We've come too far, Rindy. Don't forget yourself."
I looked away from her searching gaze. "I don't deserve to be here."
"Why would you say that?"
"There is much you don't know, Ly. It's better if you don't."
She was silent for a moment. "Well I know we wouldn't have made it this far without you, Rindy. Your whole life you've been looking out for Vuthy and now you're looking out for the rest of us too. I always feel so much safer with you around."
I met her gaze and smiled, before helping her to her feet. “We have survived, and we will keep surviving. Come, we better rejoin the others.”
We walked until the darkness evaporated into light and the sun swallowed up the sounds of the night. We came upon a large group of refugees led by a smuggler who was kind enough to sell us a little rice with the gold we had brought— still safely concealed inside Mteay’s clothes. We bowed gratefully in a sompeah, our hands together at our foreheads in the once outlawed gesture of respect. How could anyone share such a gift with us?
A group of girls with ragged clothes and tear-streaked cheeks huddled close to someone who appeared to be their chidaun.
“Did you make it through without”—the old woman’s voice faltered—“harm coming to your women?”
“We all made it through safely.” I responded, as understanding washed over me. Not all had been as fortunate as we had been. The realization caused me to shudder.
“Just know, the freedom fighters are nothing but bandits who rape and steal what they want. Keep away from them.” The old lady lifted a shaky finger.
I instinctively stepped closer to my sisters. Vuthy and I exchanged glances, relief written across his face. We had not run into any trouble like this group had. We were a small group compared to theirs and had traveled mostly at night. Was that why we’d avoided detection? We had been spared, protected in the heart of the jungle.
“I’ve led many groups through the Dangrek Mountains,” a thin man said, his eyes wild and black. “The closer you get to the border, the more you better watch your step.” He paused for effect. “It’s filled with landmines. More than you’ve ever seen. Watch for tiny, nearly invisible threads.”
We stumbled forward into the unknown. We hadn’t made it. Not yet.
49
The Border Camp
“It wasn’t very bad, besides starving.” — Rindy
Two days later
As we emerged from the density of the jungle and onto a road, land mines appeared on either side and sometimes in the middle, their coin-sized detonator buttons exposed by previous rainstorms that had washed out part of the road. I had heard about them and their tiny nylon threads, but we could not go back now.
“I’ll take up the rear.” Khan motioned us forward. Vuthy looked at me, and I stepped forward slowly and carefully.
“Wait till I get several paces in front.”
Vuthy followed me, then came Mteay and Selay, then Ly and Sotha. Lastly, Khan. My eyes roved back and forth across the ground before each step. Pausing, I turned and made sure everyone was still with me. Their eyes were wide. Mteay clutched the crying baby. I couldn’t see Khan, but hoped he wouldn’t stumble on his bad leg and blow us all up.
Let me get blown, not the others. The words played in my mind over and over again as I took each gritted-teeth step.
We passed huge craters filled with bits of bones and shards of supplies, some appeared fresh but most were months old. Many had gone before us. Many had not made it. Someone stumbled. I held my breath. Nothing exploded and we continued on.
Let me get killed, not them, not them, not them.
We continued to walk, until the craters lessened and everyone breathed easier. I knew we weren't entirely safe yet, but I felt a whole lot better getting this far.
At last, Khan shouted and pointed. I stopped walking and lifted my eyes from my feet to see a hundred blue tents stretching through the trees along the road for as far as I could see. We walked towards them. Groups of soldiers walked by us, speaking a language I didn’t fully understand. I caught only a few words here and there, recognizing the Thai language. They held guns and wore mismatched camouflage uniforms. They must be Thai soldiers.
“What’s going on here? Is anyone allowed into Thailand?” Khan asked a group of congregated men squatting in the shade of the trees, smoking cigarettes made of rolled leaves.
“This is Nong Chan. We’re stuck at the border,” an emaciated man answered, his words flowing from a toothless mouth. “We’re not welcome in Thailand.”
“The Thai government has planted landmines all along the border so we can’t cross, and just a couple of months ago they came in and fired on us, killing about a hundred people,” another man said, gripping a bandaged arm, covered in dried blood.
“Why?” We all looked at one another, fearing we had made a terrible mistake in coming.
“Some rogue soldiers killed a Thai soldier because he raped a Khmer woman, and the Thai military commander Colonel Prachak Sawaengchit”—he took a break to curse—“retaliated by firing on a bunch of unarmed refugees. The Thai would be happy if we all died right here.”
“We’re stuck,” the first man repeated in monotone.
“I’ve heard of these soldiers fighting for the refugees,” Khan said, his eyes bright and every muscle tense and alert. “Where are they now?”
“I think they’re digging a bunker,” one of the onlookers responded, spitting hard into the dirt. “They call themselves freedom fighters.”
“Why a bunker?” Mteay asked, swaying nervously as she patted sleeping Selay’s back.
“In case we get bombed again.”
“What are the freedom fighters doing about this?” Khan asked.
“Besides digging a bunker?” The man shook his head. “Well, they’re probably shooting at the Thai or the Vietnames and then running to hide in our midst, drawing the fire right to us.”
“Where can I find them?” Khan didn’t appear to have heard all the man had said. I looked sideways at Vuthy.
The man pointed down the road and grumbled, turning back to the others.
Vuthy had been right. Khan had obviously intended to join these soldiers and fight the injustices inflicted on the refugees. Despite all he had been through, he still had a fire in his belly that only killing would quench. Joining the freedom fighters was his way of spitting in the face of the Vietnamese and the Khmer Rouge at once, but to me it was like spitting into the wind. Everything we could do was useless against a greater force.
Leaving the group of men behind, we continued, walking deeper into the jungle and closer to the border, weaving our way through the makeshift camps of war-torn refugees. People were everywhere, under trees and beneath shabby shelters built with blue tarps. They were huddled together and stared at us with sunken eyes as we passed. I didn’t see anyone eating, and that worried me because we had been told there was rice in this camp. I hoped we had not left our country of starving people to beg food from the starving.
“Are they handing food out anywhere?” Mteay asked a thin woman, who sat on the ground cradling her limp infant. I closed my eyes to avoid that image, only to be haunted by the memory of Mteay holding limp Tang in her lap as the hands of starvation tore her from us. I had seen this picture before, and once was too many times. The woman merely shook her head slowly as if she was mute. Sorrow veiled her face, along with strands of oily, black hair. At one time the woman had been beautiful, but her struggles had etched themselves into her skin, until nothing else remained. We walked and walked, taking in the scene at this border. Why had so many stayed after the massacre of their companions? No one said a word. We continued to weave through the mob of people. It felt like every time we went someplace new, it was a mistake.
