From Sky of the Lost Moon

Editors' Note

Known for his novels and his scripts for traditional theater, Ty Chi Huot is one of the most celebrated authors of the 1980s. His works include Back to the Nest (1984) and Sky of the Lost Moon (1985), which was broadcast on national radio. Sky of the Lost Moon tells the story of a young Laotian man, Bophan, sentenced to time on the harsh French prison island of Poulo Condor (Koh Tralach in Khmer) and then imprisoned in Phnom Penh. After being released, he finds refuge with a Cambodian fisherman family and falls in love with their daughter, Mealea. In one of the most moving passages of modern Cambodian literature, their story ends when Bophan returns from fighting in Laos in the 1970s and discovers that Mealea and her father have been killed by the Khmer Rouge.

Chapter 2

Floating like duckweed

In Phnom Penh Prison, I was separated from Chan, my Cambodian friend, as they placed the inmates from Koh Tralach into cells with existing prisoners. The mosquitoes and intense cold kept me from sleeping. Families of the Cambodian prisoners had brought them mosquito nets, but my hometown was so far away, and no one in my family even knew I was imprisoned here. I didn't own another set of clothes—let alone a mosquito net or a blanket.

One evening, when it was almost dark, as I was lying on the prison's floor feeling sorry for myself, a bundle dropped in front of me. I turned to see where it came from and saw a female prison guard smiling outside of my cell. She waved to me and spoke softly in Khmer, "Don't tell anyone…"

Then she left. Her words were short, but from her gesture I understood that the bundle was for me. Not wasting any time, I opened it up, and my heart filled with happiness. I never expected a prison guard to be so charitable. The guard, who was in her thirties, was the same one who supervised the inmates and brought them from the cells to the work site. Without me noticing, she had seen and understood what I needed most right now, and provided it.

In the bundle was a change of clothes. They were not new, but for me at that moment, they were worth more than an emperor's robes.

I embraced the clothes and thought about the actions of the prison guard. Despite being a woman in uniform, she behaved like other Khmer women I had observed: sweet and gentle. She must have realized that I spoke only a little Khmer, as she often used sign language to direct me in my work tasks. She never cursed or used foul words with me. However, I never expected her to be so kind as to secretly give me clothes.

I wore my new shirt over my ragged one and covered myself with the krama, which had been used to make the bundle. I leaned my back against the wall and bitterly recalled my past.

I am a Phuthai from Khammouane, which lies along the Lao-Vietnamese border. I was born to a poor farming family with many children. When I graduated from high school, I was supposed to study at a college in Vientiane. However, since the trip to the capital took about two weeks and staying in Vientiane would be expensive, my father decided to send me to Hue, in Vietnam, instead.

At my university in Hue, I was studying with Lao, Vietnamese, and Cambodian students. At the time, the revolutionary movement had exploded in Vietnam, but I did not yet know what a revolution was. In 1945, as the revolutionary movement was spreading all over the three countries of Indochina, I returned to Laos. Then the French colonial administration lost the war and withdrew, but Indochina was soon occupied by Japanese Fascists.

The war raged as Cambodians, Laotians, and Vietnamese rose up and fought against the foreign powers. Outraged by the invasions and caring about the fate of my country, I began to realize my...