Deportees from US struggle for acceptance in Cambodia

21 March 2012
Ellie Dyer

Phnom Penh (dpa) – Bunnoeun Ong landed at Phnom Penh airport with 11 dollars in his pocket. He had no family, no friends and no shelter in Cambodia. One thing was certain: he could not return to the United States.

The 31-year-old television repairman from Chicago, convicted of attempted home invasion, is one of a growing number of criminals deported to Cambodia each year by US authorities since a repatriation agreement was signed a decade ago.

Although many US citizens support such action, the legacy of the deadly 1975-79 Khmer Rouge regime has left some of those sent “home” in an alien world.

Many deportees in their 20s and early 30s were born in Thai refugee camps after their families fled the violence of Cambodia. They arrive now in the capital Phnom Penh with little to no native language skills, having never set foot in the country before.

Others, like Bunnoeun, moved to the US as young children and have few memories of Cambodia. With no family in the country and little financial support, he faces an uphill battle to gain documentation, employment and social acceptance.

“I didn’t know they could deport us,” he murmured.

“The whole scene is different. I’m trying to fit in with people,” he said in a soft American twang while sitting in his temporary home at the Returnee Integration Support Centre (RISC), a non-governmental organization that helps deportees to adapt.

“When I got here it was hard,” said Chhoeuth Chhan, who arrived in Cambodia in 2009. “I had lost my hopes and dreams. I had a house and a car. I thought this American pie is not what it’s cracked up to be,” he said.

He was deported after being convicted of violence during a family dispute. More than two years later, he says it is still difficult to be accepted by Cambodians who immediately detect his accent.

“This is not home for me,” he said.

At least he has his wits about him. RISC has often dealt with people suffering from mental health problems like schizophrenia.

At least two returnees have committed suicide.

“It is very tragic to see these people,” co-director Kem Villa said. “We don’t have many resources to help them.”

He said it was difficult for deportees to gain acceptance in Cambodia when, for many, the US is “all they know.”

The authorities in charge of the deportations were not responsible for the provision of medical or mental health care once the deportees were out of their custody, spokeswoman Nicole Havas said.

The US was, however, “committed to providing all individuals in our care with timely, safe, humane and appropriate treatment, which includes medical and mental-health care,” she said.

The deportations to Cambodia have risen each year since 2006. They nearly doubled in 2011, to 97 from the previous year, and are on track to exceed that in 2012, reaching 36 in the first four months.

For some, a return to Cambodia can be an opportunity to start afresh. Thea Som, 31, was convicted of assault and battery before being deported in 2009. He realized he had no choice but to keep positive.

“You have to be able to think on your feet,” said Thea, who now works in television and recently participated in a short film called My Asian Americana, that highlighted the deportation issue and reached the final of a White House video competition.

“Staying positive is the only way you can move forward.”