Cambodia & Khmer Rouge: Heng Sokphanna, "My Husband's Shadow"

In collaboration with the magazine "Searching for the Truth," initiated by DC-Cam, Cambodge Mag brings you a series of raw testimonies from those who lived through the Khmer Rouge regime. Today, the story of Heng Sokphanna's husband.

I was very lucky to marry a devoted and attentive man. If I had married a selfish man, I would probably have starved to death during the Khmer Rouge regime. He was a handsome man and many girls were attracted to him.

We had gone to school together for four years before we married. He always waited for me at the school gate and sometimes left a letter or a flower on my desk. My parents didn't like him much. One day, my father sent me to live with my elderly uncle in Kampong Cham province, hoping I would forget him, but I stopped eating and drinking until I became very ill. My father then allowed me to return to Phnom Penh and agreed to let me marry him.

After our marriage, I went to work in an office at Preah Monyvong Hospital in Phnom Penh. Although I learned some military tactics, I never went to the battlefield. My husband failed his high school graduation exam and decided to work for his father, who owned an auto garage.

My family members were evacuated separately on April 17. We reunited near Kien Svay and waited to be allowed to return to Phnom Penh. But my parents and siblings went to live in Battambang province, while my husband, our children, and I went to Banteay Meanchey.

The Angkar told us one day that Vietnamese people could return to their country. So I asked an elderly Vietnamese woman who didn't speak Khmer well to pretend to be my mother. My husband and I changed our names to Vietnamese names. He became Kvang Huot and I became Kim Lang.

Later, 20 Vietnamese families were taken out of the village. I heard that they were put on boats; once the boats reached the middle of the river, the Angkar sank them. They played loud music to make it seem as if nothing had happened. After that, we resumed our original names.

When I was hungry, my husband was the only one who tried to find food for me. I remember telling him that I wanted to have coffee. Without saying a word, he went out. A little while later, he came back home with a smile. He lit a fire and fried two handfuls of crispy rice until they were burnt, then added a spoonful of palm sugar. Then he washed about five kravanh root bulbs, crushed them, and added them to boiling water. After pouring the mixture into a coconut shell, he gave me my "coffee."

Once, when I was in the middle of labor contractions, my husband ran through the night to find the Khmer Rouge midwife. But she was busy; the village chief's wife was giving birth at the same time. Moreover, she didn't want to come because my husband hadn't given her a bribe.

Nevertheless, I gave birth to a healthy baby boy with the help of my neighbor. The next morning, my husband prepared chicken porridge for the woman who had helped me.

Before leaving for work, my husband always told me not to wash the baby's diapers, saying he would do it when he got back. But I ignored him and washed the diapers in an irrigation canal. I got beriberi from spending too much time in the water. My husband massaged my legs for an entire week. He then carried me on his back to the hospital, along with our baby boy. It was 5 kilometers away and it took forever.

I had a nightmare one full-moon night. I felt that something terrible was about to happen and I couldn't fall back asleep. The next morning, a cadre asked my husband to plow a rice field. I handed him a lighter in case he needed it, then I went to work.

While I was transplanting rice, a Khmer Rouge cadre mocked me, saying:

"Comrade, you've become a widow at a very young age. I really feel sorry for you."

"You must be mistaken, comrade, my husband is still alive," I replied. I later saw that same cadre; he was using my husband's lighter. That's when I understood that my husband would never come home.

Three of my children also died under the regime. My first son, Pheak, died of starvation in 1978. My second daughter, Srass, died of illness in 1975. My third son died at three months old; he had an abscess near his kidney. If my husband had lived, he would have found enough food for them and they would not have died.

In 1979, I met a friend and told her that I was still waiting for my husband. She told me that I must have walked over his head every time I crossed the rice field on my way to work. She was trying to tell me that my husband was dead and probably buried along the road I often took during the regime.

This story is based on an essay written by Heng Sokphanna entitled "My Husband's Shadow." It won first prize in the winter round of a contest sponsored by the Khmer Writers Association and the Documentation Center of Cambodia in 2004.

Acknowledgments: Bunthorn Sorn