The boys looked at one another, and then at their distraught father, who continued. Pedalling frantically, I veered off the road, and headed across fields, and into the jungle. I rode until the track became too rugged for the bicycle, and ran into thick undergrowth and hid behind a clump of trees. I waited for what seemed like ages. After not seeing any sign of the Khmer Rouge, I retraced my steps, picked up my bicycle, and rode home.
Whats the Khmer Rouge? Ravuth asked.
Tu shook his head. Unaware of events happening in Cambodia, he only knew they should be afraid and make themselves scarce, so replied, I dont know son, but we need to stay hidden until we could find out whats happened. We will be safer deeper in the jungle and tonight we can organise our belongings and find a new site. In the morning we will break down our dwellings and rebuild elsewhere, said Tu. The boys could see how concerned, confused, and afraid their father appeared.
Whats this? interrupted Rotha, holding up the plant that Ravuth had placed on top of the tror bek.
I dont know mother. We found it along the track and thought you would know. Maybe we could eat it, right Oun? said Ravuth, looking at his brother for backup.
Yes, said Oun paying scant attention and looking inside the camera bag.
Ive seen nothing like this before, said Rotha, who held the strange plant and inspected it.
Rotha went ignored; the two youngsters seemed more interested in the instruction and demonstration their father was giving on the Polaroid camera.
Rotha went over to their clay rainwater trap, filled a bowl of water, and placed it alongside a bubbling pot containing vegetables and a small broiling chicken. She studied the plant and knew by the leaves shape and colour that the plant was edible, so she plucked a leaf, tasted it, winced, and put the rest into the boiling pot. She pierced the gold seed pod and it oozed a milky white sap which she tasted. Rotha couldnt understand why it tasted sweet and delicious with the leaf tasting so bitter, but she would experiment with it later. Rotha noticed that the round seedpod had a strange sheen and its gold colour appeared as a lustrous mosaic of vivid shades; the effect created with motor oil on water.
Disturbed by a sudden bright flash, she looked up to see the smiling faces of her two mischievous sons and her even more mischievous husband holding the Polaroid after taking a flash photograph of her. The cameras machinery whirred as a film popped out of the front. Tu removed the photograph, peeled away the first layer of film, and put the picture on the table to develop.
Rotha glowered at her husband as he once again focused, pressed the button, and took another snapshot of her, and repeated the development process. Tu then motioned them all to get together to take a picture of the three of them. They alternated and took turns at taking pictures until they finished the six remaining films in the cameras cartridge.
They watched the photographs developing under their solitary light bulb and looked amazed as the images appeared. The family gazed at the first photographs they had ever seen, forgetting for a moment about the tragedy that had befallen the village. Rotha removed a banana leaf woven box from a shelf and placed it onto the table. Everyone in the village had several of these boxes. These interwoven strips of dried banana leaf, coated with a resin from the sap of palm oil bark, gave the box a hard-wearing varnished sheen. The small shoe size boxes, apart from selling to tourists, the villagers used them to store knick-knacks and anything unusual. She opened the box and placed the photographs inside.
You can look at these again after we have eaten. Ravuth, get the dishes ready and I will serve supper, she said.
Rotha was about to close the boxs lid when she saw the plant on the table. She cut away most of the stem and put the golden-brown pod into the box, closing the lid.
The family sat down to eat. Rotha served the strange plants leaves in a broth and they all agreed it tasted horrible, it was too bitter. Fortunately, the chicken and tror bek went down well, and after supper, they packed away their meagre belongings for the next days move. The villages noisy two-stroke generator went off at 8:00 pm., whereupon they went to bed.
Shouting and gunfire abruptly woke the family at sunrise.
Panic ensued, Tu, Rotha, and the boys went onto the balcony and saw a group of young Khmer Rouge soldiers marching through the village, firing AK-47s into the air and hollering at the villagers. They stomped to the dwellings, whose residents now stood either on their balconies or at the foot of their steps.
A girl, about the same age as Ravuth, came to the foot of their steps and yelled for them to come down and go to the villages communal hut. She pointed her rifle at Tu.
Immediately! she screamed.
The family did as ordered and went to the communal hut along with the other frightened villagers, and commanded to kneel. A Khmer Rouge soldier, who looked around 18-years-old, walked to the front. The villagers gasped. Dragged along on a rope leash was Dara, a middle-aged villager who had gone into Koh Kong along with Tu and the others to sell trinkets the previous day.
Daras alive, Rotha, whispered Tu. I thought theyd all been killed.
With swollen cheeks and eyes, dried blood staining her lips and nose, Dara looked badly beaten. The villagers watched as the Khmer Rouge commander tugged her like a dog. The other Khmer Rouge paced back and forth behind the audience as their commander spoke.
He explained about Pol Pot: Brother Number One, their leader, and how the Khmer Rouge now controlled Cambodia, saying, Every *Khmer citizen now belonged to Angka, (The Organisation.) You are our property and if you want to live, you must prove your value.
He told them about their childrens role within this new order and would be trained and taught by Angka to become soldiers for the organisation and honoured by all. They would no longer need parents, as adults were menial workers, therefore beneath them. Angka would now be their family. The commander continued for over an hour with his well-rehearsed speech.
The terrified villagers listened but felt bewildered by this indoctrinated youth. Dara swayed as she struggled to stand up in front of him. Occasionally, the boy tugged at her rope, and she snapped back to attention.
Once the commander finished, he focused his attention on Dara and said to the villagers.
This woman led us to you. She is weak and we do not accept weak. He tightened the noose around Daras neck and dragged her towards him. Taking hold of the knot, he lifted her chin to extend her throat and sliced it open with a small sharp knife. Dara was too weak to put up any fight, and as sputum, blood, and air gurgled from her throat, she went limp. The commander threw her body to the ground, bent over, and wiped his knife on her clothing before sheathing it. He shouted orders to his soldiers, pointed to Daras corpse, and issued a stark warning to the villagers,
Obey Angka or die!
The villagers stared in horror as the other Khmer Rouge screamed at them to get their belongings and to meet back there.
The stunned villagers left the communal hut and went to their respective residences to pack, with the Khmer Rouge buzzing around the terrified families, hurrying them along.
Rotha, Tu, Ravuth, and Oun went into their hut. Tu spoke to Rotha, who, although shaken by the events, agreed with him. Tu, his voice quaking, told the boys
The stunned villagers left the communal hut and went to their respective residences to pack, with the Khmer Rouge buzzing around the terrified families, hurrying them along.
Rotha, Tu, Ravuth, and Oun went into their hut. Tu spoke to Rotha, who, although shaken by the events, agreed with him. Tu, his voice quaking, told the boys
You two need to escape and hide in the jungle. When weve gone, come back, and stay here. When we find out what is going on and when its safe, we can return for you,
The boys, although frightened, agreed, and hoped it would only be for a short while.
Rotha looked outside, saw a Khmer Rouge walking away from their hut to check on another family, and she could not see any others close by.
Quick, Ravuth! You go first, she whispered.
Ravuth gingerly made his way down the steps and ran the short distance to the jungle, hiding behind the first clump of trees and looking back to await his brother.
He saw Oun at the foot of the steps, but marching towards him was a Khmer Rouge soldier, who stopped at Ouns side. The boy waved his rifle towards Rotha and Tu, ordering them to come down immediately. Ravuths heart beat wildly and he hid behind the thick tree trunk.
The Khmer Rouge shouting faded, so Ravuth peered out. He saw his mother, father, and brother led away with the others to the communal shack. Realising that he had gone unnoticed, Ravuth skirted around behind the village, using the jungle trees and foliage for cover as he observed what was happening within the village.
The villagers stayed inside the communal hut for another hour before emerging and corralled outside the hut.
The Khmer Rouge went into the crowd of people and dragged out four elderly villagers. Ravuth hoped that they would let them remain in the village. He thought they would take care of him until his parents and Oun returned.
The commander smirked as his soldiers pushed the four elderly villagers to the ground and shot them in the head.
The villagers screamed as the Khmer Rouge pointed their rifles at the panic-stricken crowd, screaming. Silence or die!
The commander addressed the crowd, Be quiet! he yelled and waiting until he had their attention. These people were old so cannot produce anything for Angka. Their lives are of no benefit to Angka and their deaths are of no loss.
Trembling and afraid, the crowd appeared a dejected and broken group of refugees. They shuffled along the trail that led to Koh Kong to join the exodus of the rounded-up populace to be processed and sent to work camps.
The Khmer Rouge let the villagers carry their meagre belongings, which they would take off them at the end of their journey.
Two Khmer Rouge soldiers remained. Ravuth watched as they dragged Daras corpse from the communal hut and dumped it with the four others. Taking a can of gasoline from the generator shack, they doused a little over several of the shacks and the corpses. They giggled as they ignited the incendiary, setting fire to several huts and incinerating the bodies. These merciless, ruthless killers were teenage children, who showed neither emotion nor remorse. One soldier, having fun beating the heads of the burning corpses with a stick, looked up and saw movement in the jungle. He shouted to his comrade, who grabbed his rifle, and ran towards Ravuths hiding place and stopped.
You imagined it. Theres nobody here, said the youth.
Im sure I saw someone, said the other, sounding indignant.
Do you want to go further into the jungle and look?
Not likely. I dont know whats in there, maybe a wild animal. Come on lets get back and catch up with the others.
Okay. Because youre afraid, we will go, mocked the other youth. They turned and ran back through the village and onto the track.
Ravuth trembled. He backed his way further into the thick foliage. The Khmer Rouge had been standing only inches from his face.
Ravuth returned to the village at sunset. He had been too afraid to move throughout the long, hot, humid day. Dazed and confused, he walked into the deserted village. Passing the smouldering corpses, he made his way to his home. Although the Khmer Rouge had burnt down some shacks and the communal hut, they had left his hut relatively unscathed. He went inside but nothing remained, having either been ransacked or took by his parents. Ravuth crouched down and wept. He stayed there throughout the night, wondering what had happened and what to do. Daybreak came, and as the room got lighter he saw the banana leaf box sticking out of a hole in a floorboard in a corner of the room. He realised that his parents must have been trying to hide it from the Khmer Rouge. He took the box and opened it. The strange plant was inside, along with a few small trinkets underneath the photographs of his family. He took out the photos and with tears in his eyes, stroked the individual images, wondering what was happening to them.
Ravuth felt alone, afraid and confused. He replaced the photographs in the box, left the hut, and wandered around the village searching for food, water, or useful items left behind. Passing the grisly remains, he went from hut to hut, scavenging and collecting anything useful. He found a machete, ate, and drank a little water. Wrapping food in a banana leaf, he collected water from rain-catching containers and filled gourds. His knowledge of edible plants and sources of fluid would assure his survival in the jungle terrain. Taking the box, machete, and other items he had found, Ravuth walked through the village and along the track that led to the road to Koh Kong.
Ravuth had been walking along the jungle track for two hours. He had trekked this route several times with his brother and father, but once Tu went onto the road along with the other villagers and rode away, the brothers would return to the village. He left the jungle, went to the unfamiliar road, and walked along the verges in case he came across any Khmer Rouge patrols. His long walk into the outskirts of town was uneventful, seeing neither traffic nor people. He saw several wooden homes along the roadside destroyed and plundered.
Making his way to the outskirts of Koh Kong town, Ravuth headed toward the town centre, which felt eerie without people. He continued for a few kilometres until he reached the border patrol hut. He hid behind the hut after seeing Khmer Rouge sitting against a newly constructed fence covering the border into Thailand.
The child soldiers lifeless features put a renewed fear into Ravuth. He crept away from the border post and walked back into the deserted town centre. Ravuth went inside a small abandoned café and replenished his food and water from the small scraps that remained. He sat and pondered his situation.
Night fell and Ravuth had still not figured out what to do. He heard a vehicle approaching. Terrified, he hid under a table as an old truck stopped in front of the café. Six Khmer Rouge came in and sat at a table.
Quaking with fear, Ravuth remained motionless as the young soldiers started up a small generator to illuminate the café and sat down. Ravuth trembled as he hid under a table in a dark corner of the café.
One soldier brought in several bottles of Mekong whisky and they drank.
Ravuth listened while the young Khmer Rouge bragged about their daily atrocities, who they had slaughtered, and descriptive details about how they did it. They spoke of their spoils of war and what items they had pilfered. One of them said something that Ravuth wanted to hear.
My group went straight to *Choeung Ek, but we picked out the ones who will make young Khmer Rouge citizens and good fighting comrades, he said.