Free First They Killed My Father by Loung Ung Page A

nightfall, we arrive at our destination. The village chief takes all five families to his house and gives us rice and fish for dinner before the adults leave to hear further instructions. Afterward, he leads us to a little hut behind his house that is to be our new home. The hut sits on four wooden legs raised three feet off the ground. Its roof and walls are covered with bamboo leaves and straw.
    “This village is called Anlungthmor and we will live here for the time being,” Pa informs us that night. “Depending on when the truck arrives with the supplies, every week or two the chief will ration each family salt, rice, and grains. To supplement these rations, we will grow a vegetable garden in the back of the hut. Remember, do not talk about Phnom Penh. There are Khmer Rouge soldiers patrolling the village, reporting our activities to the Angkar. From now on, we are country folks just like everybody here.”
    Our whole family sleeps together lined up like sardines under a big mosquito net in the house. We huddle together to keep warm. On the second night, I become sick and have a terrible fever. My body aches all over and I throw up a lot. I feel hot and cold. I cannot sleep and have no appetite. Ma wraps me up in many layers of blankets, but still I cannot get warm. When I am very hot, I see ghosts and monsters coming to kill me. My heart races, causing searing pains to shoot up my spine and burn my flesh. I am scared of the monsters and run and run to get away, but no matter how fast or how far I run, I can never escape them. When I come to, Ma tells me that Kim and Chou were also sick and had the same nightmares of being tracked down and killed by monsters.
    “It’s the mountains and the weather,” Pa tells us. “We will get used to it eventually. We have to watch what we eat. There are no doctors or medicines here, only homemade remedies.” Pa should tell the mosquitoes to watch what they eat for they are the wicked things that make us sick.
    We are not the only new people here. Khouy tells us that of the eight hundred people at Anlungthmor, approximately three hundred are new arrivals. But the village population changes every day because the Angkar constantly moves people in and out of the village, which is how we ended up in an empty house. Every day, Pa, Khouy, and Meng wake with the sun to work and when the sun sets come home. They work very hard, some days planting rice and vegetables and cutting lumber,and other days building dams and digging trenches. No matter how hard they work, after the first month there is less and less food to eat. We survive on the fish my brothers catch each day. We can no longer afford to eat plain rice but have to mix it with mushrooms, banana stocks, and other leaves. After a few weeks, even the leaves are becoming scarce. Ma tells us only to pick the old dark green leaves and not the light green ones in our garden. She says that we need the light green leaves to grow, thus giving us more food. When we catch animals, we eat everything—feet, tongue, skin, and the innards.
    One day, Kim comes home grinning from ear to ear because he has caught a small wild bird. Ma smiles widely and pats Kim’s head before taking the bird from him. Kim has tied its legs together, but it struggles and tries to peck at Ma’s hand.
    “Go fetch a bowl and a knife quickly,” Ma tells Chou. She takes the bird’s wings and crosses them against each other on its back. With its wings secure, Ma instructs Chou to place the bowl under the bird. Holding its body between her knees, Ma takes its head and bends it backward, stretching its neck. As if sensing danger, the bird croaks louder and struggles to get away but to no avail. Ma’s free hand picks up a knife and in one swift moment, the sharp edge slices into the bird’s neck, silencing it. Thick blood spews out from the bird’s open gash and drips into the bowl.
    “Catch it all,” Ma says anxiously to Chou. “It’s good blood.” Chou picks