Echoes of the Khmer killings fields

By Greg Mellen, Staff writer
Long Beach Press Telegram

LONG BEACH — As she held the microphone, sniffling and struggling to find words, Vandy Chin looked as if she would shrink into herself as she told her tale of grief.

And then, suddenly, the slight woman's voice erupted, filling the room with her anger and horror.

"My husband was killed in front of my eyes," she shrieked.

Sadly, her message wasn't unusual on this evening. Chin merely showed the rawer side of the emotions that flowed forth.

On Monday night at MacArthur Park, Chin was one of about 50 residents who participated in the vigil to mark the 31st anniversary of April 17, 1975, a date that is generally accepted to represent the beginning of the Cambodian genocide.

It was a day for memories and mourning for the local Cambodian community. It was also a day in which past horrors and current problems were tackled. It began with a national video conference town hall meeting about mental and physical health problems survivors face and concluded with a candlelight vigil.

On that day 31 years ago, Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge marched into Phnom Penh, the capital of Cambodia, and launched a four-year campaign of atrocities that left between 1 million and 3 million Khmer people dead.

The Killing Fields Memorial Foundation of Long Beach remembered the dead in prayers led by Buddhist monks, in poems recited through tears, in film footage, in heart-wrenching testimonials from survivors and, finally, in a candlelight procession and moment of silence.

Particularly moving were the memories of the survivors. Some told their stories in Khmer, others in English, some in both languages. Emotions ranged from weeping memories to angry denunciations.

Chin described despair that nearly drove her to suicide before her sister, the only other member left alive in her family, brought her to the United States.

Steve Meng recalled his memories as a 6-year-old who suffered 10 years of deprivation in a Thai refugee camp and returned to Cambodia years later vainly hoping to claim the bones of his grandfather.

Keo Chetra poured his emotions out through a poem entitled "April 17, I remember," which described his father and brother drowning in the Mekong River and another brother dying of starvation after escaping to Vietnam only to be traded back to the Khmer Rouge for an ox.

Bryant Ben talked about how, to this day, his worst nightmares are when he dreams of the Khmer Rouge coming for him.

Earlier in the day, about 40 residents gathered at the Cambodian American Association offices to take part in a national video conference that included community meetings in Lowell, Mass.; Portland, Ore.; central Connecticut and Chicago. It was also Webcast to 25 sites nationwide.

The event, which had simultaneous translations in Khmer and English, was advertised as a Cambodian-American Town Hall. The aim was to allow Cambodians from across the country to share their stories of suffering under the Khmer Rouge and to discuss the ongoing struggles many have with health issues.

According to a study by the RAND Corporation, more than 60 percent of Cambodian immigrants suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder, more than 50 percent suffer from severe depression and more than 40 percent suffer from both. This compares with the general population where 3 percent suffer from PTSD and 7 percent from severe depression.

In addition to mental illnesses, many Cambodians also suffer from hepatitis B and C, diabetes, obesity, elevated blood pressure and heart disease.

Although the video conference tended to wander well off-topic at times and may not have covered its ambitious agenda, organizers said it served an important goal nonetheless.

"I think it went very good for a first time," said Kimthai Kuoch, associate executive director for the Cambodian American Association and the event's Long Beach moderator.

As the evening vigil was winding down and teen pop-lock dancers were waiting their turn to take the floor in the MacArthur Park Homeland Cultural Center, Paline Soth took a moment to talk to those not of Khmer descent.

"We did not come here to entertain or be entertained. These are true stories. This is a time for sharing our grief," Soth said. "Even if you don't share our heritage, pass the message that (the genocide) happened. And it broke the spirit of a nation and its people."

Greg Mellen can be reached at 499-1291