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95 12 Up in the branches, a flock of long-tailed macaques screamed in the calm January morning. Light danced through the leaves to the wet floor of the Prey Roniem, the flooded forest of the north estuary of the Tonle Sap Lake. I looked up as the monkeys screeched loudly. Did they want me out of their turf or were they warning each other of danger? Did they see a snake or my pursuers? I sprang up only to fall in dizziness and throbbing pain. I stayed still, holding my breath, fighting the pain, keeping screams from bursting out of me. I hissed and puffed in my failed attempt to control the awful, throbbing pain radiating throughout my skinny body. Tears filled my eyes as raw nerves amplified the excruciating pain. After I calmed down a bit, I heard a communist song coming from Ta Source Hill where I had last eaten a long two days ago. I thought to myself, they must be using the cassette player on the shortwave radio we had given up earlier to play that music. That radio must be the reason they butchered my family and friends. We had hidden that precious radio for years, finally giving it to the new Khmer Rouge cadres in Tapang and hoping for some return favor. Instead, I reasoned, death met us for hiding contraband—a radio with no batteries. It was only much later when I realized that the radio had had nothing to do with the massacre; Angkar killed Mith Thmey as a matter of course. With the help of a crude walking stick that I named “Caveman Club,” I made my way on shaky feet out of the tangle of sharp thorns, cutting myself in many places. Using the sun and the distant music as guides, I moved away from the place of death in the forest. In a few hours, I reached the edge of the forest by the flood plain of Viel Smeth. In the rainy season the smeth (wild rice) grew abundantly here. However, Kill or Be Killed Krobey Riel, Dorn Swar, and Prey Roniem Angkar had transformed Viel Smeth into a vast rice paddy to grow srov vear, a native rice variety unique to this region. This type of rice grows at an average rate of 12 to 18 inches per day, up to 15 feet in height, following the rapidly rising water from the lake. Indeed, srov vear grows as fast as the water rises in the rainy season. Now it was the dry season; the lake had receded and this unique crop was ready for harvest. Unable to support its grains without the water, the rice lay down neatly, following the water’s flow to the lake. Workers were in the field now, quickly harvesting the srov vear before the water rose again. I rested against a tree and looked out across the open field between the dense forest and the northern villages of Kok Poh. To get to Aunt Samon’s house, I would have to cross this vast rice field to its northern edge. Only a few bushes here and there broke the field of srov vear. There was no place to hide. To calm myself, I washed my shirt several times. The bloodstains would not wash away so I buried the shirt in the mud. There were some things I wanted to forget quickly. As I walked across the open field, I became dizzy from the heat. I needed food and water but I walked casually as though I were one of the farm workers. In front of me were trees by ponds of cool water filled with fish, but the ponds were unreachable no matter how hard I tried. I soon realized that I was hallucinating. I found myself lying in the wet sludge, not knowing how I got there. I must have passed out a few times along the way. I scooped up some water to drink but I got mostly mud and leeches. I washed myself to cool down, but the water dried and left a layer of mud on my skin. As it turned out, it was great protection against sunburn. I thought to myself, no wonder water buffaloes love to wallow in the mud so much. Despite my fear and pain, I had a big smile for the workers. I must have looked awful to them: bruised black and blue, dried blood in my hair and wearing just a pair...

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