Not MY father. Mine is alive and well.
This is the title of a book I finished reading last night. It’s a woman’s gut-wrenching story of how she was orphaned during the Khmer Rouge, saw people die around her constantly, and was trained as a child soldier. I had already anticipated reading this book through tears but surprised myself with heavy, heavy sobs.
I’m left wondering – why did I not learn about this tragedy in history class? I had Hitler and the second world war shoved down my throat during my school years…but I’d never heard of Pol Pot or the Khmer Rouge until I was in college. And in a drama class, no less.
Nearly a third of the Cambodian population was killed during this time and it was only about 30 years ago!
It was just last week that the first verdict was made against a man responsible for thousands of deaths during this period of genocide. Although 35 years imprisonment hardly seems like justice.
I visited the Killing Fields. I saw the stupa of skulls. I saw the trees that babies were swung against until they died. I walked the halls of Toul Sleng Prison where thousands were tortured. I saw victims of land mines hobble around the streets of Cambodia. It’s haunting.
I’m almost embarrassed that I didn’t know more about this history beforehand. And as painful as it was, I’m glad I read this book. Not only for a deeply affecting story but for a bit of an education. I highly recommend it.