Long Beach Cambodians Hope Stories Heal Lasting Wounds From Khmer Rouge's Terror

In Cambodia, skulls at memorials in the Killing Fields serve as reminders of the devastation. (Creative Commons)

April 15, 2011
Dan Watson
Senior Staff Reporter
NeonTommmy.com (USC Annenberg, School of Communication & Journalism)

Over the course of four years in Cambodia, Saoran Pol La Tour learned that three of her sons, and her husband, had starved to death.

During the Khmer Rouge’s horrific reign, she never mourned their deaths.

“You had to be strong,” she said, because “crying wasn’t allowed.”

Otherwise, “You were killed.”

Today, she mourns them in a different way: Saoran Pol La Tour and her daughter, Sara Pol-Lim, share their story to others.

In Long Beach, home to the word’s largest Cambodian community outside of Cambodia, it is the story of many — but few are telling it.

Many Cambodians in Long Beach escaped the horrors of the Killing Fields — a genocide of torture, murder and starvation perpetrated by the Communist-following government regime known as the Khmer Rouge; one that, by some estimates, killed 2 million people in a country of 8 million from 1975 to 1979.

But most still suffer in silence, Saoran said.

On Monday night, the story of the Killing Fields was told onstage; a free staged reading of “Sweet Karma” to coincide with the Cambodian New Year at Long Beach’s International City Theatre.

Few Cambodians attended the event, but Sara and Saoran saw hope in the two-hour reading, which they hope is added to the new theatre season. Monday’s event was only an evaluation.

“Imagine if we have a lot more community members come to see it,” Sara said. “If they see it and recall back to their own story, that would be so powerful. That could have a gigantic community of healing going on.”

A 2005 study by the National Institute of Mental Health found that 62 percent of Cambodian refugees who have resettled in America suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and 51 percent from depression.

“You’re suppose to just forget about it,” Sara said. “And hope all your memory and pain will supposedly just go away. And that doesn’t happen. When you have such anger and pain, it creates an exhaustion in your body. It’s like your body has no immune system.”

At the age of 7, Sara was separated from her mother when the Khmer Rouge took control of the country. Viewed as pure and uncontaminated by capitalism, children were torn away from their families, forced into labor camps and brainwashed with fanatical communist ideas.

“By the end of the regime, something in my head said that I HAD to have her back,” Saoran said.

By chance, a co-worker spotted Sara in a passing camp. They stole her away from the group.

One year later, Saoran had saved enough money to come to America, where she could ensure her daughter “an education.”

Today, Sara is executive director of United Cambodian Community, a group trying to help Cambodians reconcile with the past.

Some still fear retaliation.

“If you talk about it or bring up awareness, the government will do something over there, or hire a hit on you,” Sara said about many Cambodians’ fear.

For others, the language barrier keeps them from talking.

“They don’t go anywhere, they don’t do anything, contribute anything, and that needs to change,” Sara said.

Her mother found healing in writing. Nine years ago, she published “Vantha’s Whisper,” a memoir of her time spent surviving the Killing Fields.

“At least my grandchildren have proof, and can read and know,” Saoran said. “It’s taken me a little too long to finish it, but I had to sometimes put all my strength into writing it down.”

Henry Ong wrote “Sweet Karma” with the Cambodian community in mind. The play is based on the life of Haing Ngor, who survived the Khmer Rouge before coming to America.

Once in America, it was by chance that he earned an audition for a part in the film titled “The Killing Fields.”

Despite having no former acting experience, Ngor won the part, and later, the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor.

But a little more than 10 years after that astonishing win, Ngor was murdered outside his home in Chinatown.

Ong hopes the Buddhist theme of “karma” — meaning “destiny or fate” — will connect with Cambodians.

That connection, and support from Saoran and Sara, might “galvanize the community,” he said.

He too recognizes the need for Cambodians to talk about their past.

“I wondered why people are so reticent about discussing the topic, and it’s because a lot were perpetrators too,” Ong said. “They were forced into that. So it’s a shameful thing.”

In the play, the main character, Dr. Lam, is modeled on Ngor and played by Francois Chau. Dr. Lam must re-examine his life in the after-life, and deal with the death of his wife. Fearful that he will be killed if it is revealed he is a doctor (the Khmer Rouge killed most intellectuals), Dr. Lam remains silent while his wife dies in childbirth. She needed the aid of a doctor for a C-section. The guilt eats at him for the rest of his life.

“It was something that was deep, and buried inside of him, and it was hard for him to express it,” Ong said. “So, I was hoping this play was a vehicle for him to express it.”

He hopes it’s a vehicle for many Cambodians to express how they feel.

“If this play prompts people to re-examine what happened during the Khmer Rouge, I will consider my job as done,” he said.

The star of Monday’s staged reading was Chau — who is widely acclaimed in the Cambodian community for his role on the TV show “Lost”.

Chau was just a kid when he left Cambodia in 1965.

“Sometimes, I think about it, and wonder — if I hadn’t left at that age, at that time, I either would have been killed, or worse, I would have been one of those Khmer Rouge kids,” he said. “So whatever karma, or destiny is out there, it’s a lot to think about.”