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Authors: Nawuth Keat
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downtown area. Vietnamese soldiers had roped it off to prevent Cambodian people from entering. I think the soldiers grabbed all the valuables,like televisions and radios, and held them there until they could take them to Vietnam.
In the Khmer Rouge-controlled countryside, there was not enough food. But in Battambang, there was plenty of food—that is, for people who had money to buy it. Like many other families who had escaped the Khmer Rouge, we wanted to work, but how could we find jobs? The city was filled with people like us, and we had no way to make a living. Van Lan had an idea. He thought we might be able to make and sell incense to Buddhists, who used it when they prayed. Incense is made from powder. How could we get some?
A few blocks from our house, Vietnamese soldiers were living in a factory that had once been used to produce incense. When I walked by one day, I noticed bags of powder leaning up against the back wall of the building.
I told Ang about them. “Do you want to come with me to try to get some of those bags?”
“You bet,” he said.
Hackly and Chanty overheard my question, and they begged to come too. I said okay.
When we got there, we saw soldiers talking and smoking cigarettes by the front door.
“Follow me,” I said. I led Ang and my brothers around the side of the building, hoping the soldiers wouldn’t notice us.
At the back door, I whispered, “I’m going to open the door as quietly as I can. Follow me in. Grab as many bags of powder as you can, and don’t make any noise.”
We all sneaked quietly through the back door. The bags of powder were just where I had seen them before, lined up along the back wall away from the soldiers’ cots. We each grabbed a bag in both hands. I held the back door open, and one by one we sneaked out of the factory.
At that point, Ang started running. My brothers and I took off too. That’s when the soldiers spotted us. They fired their guns, but they aimed way high in the air. They didn’t really want to hurt us. They had no use for the powder, so they didn’t care if we took it. As we ran, the bags got jostled, spilling clumps of yellow stuff on the ground, on our hands, on our feet, on our clothes. By the time we got back to my house, we were out of breath from running. Panting, we stared at each other. We were covered with powdery yellow splotches. We looked ridiculous! We laughed and laughed. I had almost forgotten what it was like to think something was funny. I laughed some more.
We put all the powder that hadn’t spilled into two full bags. Later that day, I handed the bags to Van Lan. I said, “The Vietnamese shot at us, but they missed on purpose.”
“Good job,” he said. “But we don’t want you to be shot at. This is enough incense powder.”
I’m not sure what Van Lan did with the powder. As for me, I still wanted to explore, but I knew I should be more careful. I would go into vacant buildings, not ones with soldiers living in them. A couple of days later, Ang andI came across a building with a sign that said “Theater.” The place looked abandoned.
“Should we go inside?” Ang said.
“Sure, nobody’s here,” I said. I had never seen the inside of a theater before. We cautiously entered through the front door and saw that the building was almost empty. It seemed like lots of people had done the same thing we were doing, taking anything that might help them survive. Then I spotted a small doorway.
“Let’s look,” I said.
I opened it slowly, and we found ourselves in a dark, little room. It was filled with shelves, each lined with large, round metal containers about two feet across and two inches tall. I wondered what strange things they could be.
I lifted one off the shelf and set it on the floor. Ang helped me pull off the lid, and inside was a metal spool holding a long roll of shiny, see-through material of some kind.
“That’s a movie,” said Ang.
We pulled it out and unrolled a few feet of it. It
In the Khmer Rouge-controlled countryside, there was not enough food. But in Battambang, there was plenty of food—that is, for people who had money to buy it. Like many other families who had escaped the Khmer Rouge, we wanted to work, but how could we find jobs? The city was filled with people like us, and we had no way to make a living. Van Lan had an idea. He thought we might be able to make and sell incense to Buddhists, who used it when they prayed. Incense is made from powder. How could we get some?
A few blocks from our house, Vietnamese soldiers were living in a factory that had once been used to produce incense. When I walked by one day, I noticed bags of powder leaning up against the back wall of the building.
I told Ang about them. “Do you want to come with me to try to get some of those bags?”
“You bet,” he said.
Hackly and Chanty overheard my question, and they begged to come too. I said okay.
When we got there, we saw soldiers talking and smoking cigarettes by the front door.
“Follow me,” I said. I led Ang and my brothers around the side of the building, hoping the soldiers wouldn’t notice us.
At the back door, I whispered, “I’m going to open the door as quietly as I can. Follow me in. Grab as many bags of powder as you can, and don’t make any noise.”
We all sneaked quietly through the back door. The bags of powder were just where I had seen them before, lined up along the back wall away from the soldiers’ cots. We each grabbed a bag in both hands. I held the back door open, and one by one we sneaked out of the factory.
At that point, Ang started running. My brothers and I took off too. That’s when the soldiers spotted us. They fired their guns, but they aimed way high in the air. They didn’t really want to hurt us. They had no use for the powder, so they didn’t care if we took it. As we ran, the bags got jostled, spilling clumps of yellow stuff on the ground, on our hands, on our feet, on our clothes. By the time we got back to my house, we were out of breath from running. Panting, we stared at each other. We were covered with powdery yellow splotches. We looked ridiculous! We laughed and laughed. I had almost forgotten what it was like to think something was funny. I laughed some more.
We put all the powder that hadn’t spilled into two full bags. Later that day, I handed the bags to Van Lan. I said, “The Vietnamese shot at us, but they missed on purpose.”
“Good job,” he said. “But we don’t want you to be shot at. This is enough incense powder.”
I’m not sure what Van Lan did with the powder. As for me, I still wanted to explore, but I knew I should be more careful. I would go into vacant buildings, not ones with soldiers living in them. A couple of days later, Ang andI came across a building with a sign that said “Theater.” The place looked abandoned.
“Should we go inside?” Ang said.
“Sure, nobody’s here,” I said. I had never seen the inside of a theater before. We cautiously entered through the front door and saw that the building was almost empty. It seemed like lots of people had done the same thing we were doing, taking anything that might help them survive. Then I spotted a small doorway.
“Let’s look,” I said.
I opened it slowly, and we found ourselves in a dark, little room. It was filled with shelves, each lined with large, round metal containers about two feet across and two inches tall. I wondered what strange things they could be.
I lifted one off the shelf and set it on the floor. Ang helped me pull off the lid, and inside was a metal spool holding a long roll of shiny, see-through material of some kind.
“That’s a movie,” said Ang.
We pulled it out and unrolled a few feet of it. It
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