When Broken Glass Floats: Growing Up Under the Khmer Rouge Paperback by Chanrithy Him Read Free Book Online Page B

forcibly evacuated virtually the entire population of Phnom Penh soon after they took power in the capital early last month.
     
     
    T wo days after the New Year, April 15, 1975, Uncle Seng comes home, brusquely shoving the gate open. Without a word he scurries into the house. He rushes to his bedroom, dropping a camouflage bag onto his bed, and crams clothes inside it. I dash to the kitchen, where Mak is.
    “ Mak, Poo * Seng is acting strange. Just came in and shoved his clothes in his bag. Mak , go and look at him.”
    Mak frowns. She pauses, then bends toward me and says, “Go tell your father. Go, koon !”
    I tell Pa exactly what I told Mak , except this time I speak at a rate twice the speed of my pulse. Pa gets up quickly and strides through the house to see Uncle Seng. He’s already on his way out. Pa and I intercept him near the gate.
    “Seng! Where are you going?” Pa demands.
    “I’m leaving Cambodia,” Uncle Seng replies. He avoids Pa ’s eyes, and stares at the ground as if there’s no need for discussion.
    “Aren’t you going to see Yom ?” * Pa sputters, indignant that he would leave without consulting an elder.
    Uncle Seng sadly replies, “ Lok bang ! † The Khmer Rouge are my first enemy. I won’t stay to see their faces.” His words tumble out like flat stones. He speaks decisively. “I’ll fly to Kampong Chhnarng and meet my friends, then fly with them to Thailand. Lok bang , I’m going.”
    Uncle Seng walks out. Pa is speechless. He looks at me, and in his eyes I see tears. It is hard for the oldest brother to lose control, and yet in the face of war he has none.
     
     
    Like many families whose houses are built close together, we don’t have any space for a bomb shelter. We count on Aunt Nakry, Mak ’s younger sister, who has a bomb shelter about two houses down. In the stark moment after bombs have fallen elsewhere in the city, children, men, and women run outside their homes, craning their necks to watch the danger. We do the same, including my siblings, my parents, and Uncle Surg, Pa ’s younger brother (who is older than Uncle Seng), whose family has been staying with us for a few months. Where is the danger? Our eyes survey the surroundings. Little is said. Glancing at our neighbors, we wonder where the bombs will hit. Will there be more? Which part of the city will the Khmer Rouge bomb? No one knows. For now, I’m relieved that the bombs have missed us.
    The next morning, April 16, 1975, Pa goes to his office. It is a desperate bid to be normal. Although he doesn’t think many of his subordinates will come to work, and there will be no ships coming to the port, he feels compelled to oversee the facility. While Pa ’s at work, everyone else stays home. There’s been no school for a month now.
    When night shadows stretch between the houses and spill onto the streets, Pa still isn’t home. Then it’s completely dark, and still he’s not home. Suddenly a hollow boom explodes behind our home. A chatter of artillery shakes the foundation of our home, sending shrapnel almost simultaneously onto the roof, as if rocks are showering down on us like rain. Mak comes running from the kitchen with my baby brothers, “ Koon , hide somewhere! Hide! Under your uncle’s bed. Take your brothers!” Mak screams to Ry and Than.
    We hide under Uncle Seng’s mattresses, sliding under it swiftly. Another boom and I bump my head, jerking against the bedsprings. Then another, and it sends me into a cramped huddle with Ry, Than, Avy, Vin, and Map. The sounds are deafeningly loud. I am too scared to pray even the Buddhist wish.
    The shelling stops. A while later Mak tells us it’s okay to come out. I’m relieved and feel I can breathe normally again. Mak , Chea, and Ra peek in at us, and reach out their hands to help us unfold our stiff bodies, which are clenched into tight little balls.
    The next morning, April 17, 1975, I awake to a voice. The radio blasts. My legs involuntarily slap