Channary is Lost
April 19, 1975
It has been four days since my family was taken from me. My parents, killed. My brother, Sotear, along with the thousands were herded some place very far away. I could have gone with my brother and tried to protect him, if I hadn’t tried to save my parents, in vain. On, my own I am forced to scavenge for food amongst millions of dead bodies, that once held the minds of great intellects, and souls of the religious. I have found my way to wealthier part of town. The food supply will only last me for a month and then my struggle for survival will commence. I have found paper and pens to record the last days of my life in hopes my brother will find them one day. I doubt that now. Ever since Sihanouk joined forces with the Khmer Rouge, everything took a turn for the worst. He began, along with the menacing Pol Pot, killing everyone he governed. “His People”. His cattle, the fools who trusted him when he said that all he wanted was our safety. All of it was communist lies. But it is not all of their faults. We must have done something wrong for God to punish us like this. My parents, my family were not the brightest but God was everything in house, home and our hearts. That is why their veins are cold with silent blood. The very God that they had protected was nothing. He couldn’t have caused this if he does not exist. I must be on my way now. The sun will be going down soon and I do not want to be outside in the dark. I can only hope for a slow ending.
May 3, 1975
It has been two weeks since my first diary entry. Looking at it now I feel old. It feels as if an old friend broke a promise, and went away forever. THe worst part about it is that I will never live to see the day of the promise being fufiled. Here in this house the feeling is bittersweet. This family was quite wealthy, compared to others. Even now that is still not saying much. I’ve heard stories of how life is free in America. Even though the trauma of the cold war has left the world divided and scarred, they still protect their people, instead of sheltering them like an unborn fetus. Vietnam, Cambodia, and Loas were bombed by the U.S., in order to protect us. They failed and Vietnam became the Socialist Republic of Vietnam. I believe they are at war, or will be very soon. The food is beginning to rot I will slowly die begin to die. In the house I have found stories of the previous owners. Apparently they knew what was going on. You work for four years and the you die. My brother is ten. If he he does not survive, if there is no salvation he will die before he can see his fifteenth birthday. A lost wild boar cub has stumbled its way into the house. It won’t be long until he is fully grown. I will raise him and earn his trust and when the time is right I will kill him, for my own survival. The irony makes my skin crawl.
May 23, 1975
All of the food is spoiled and I cannot bring myself to kill Arun. Partly because I am too weak and sick, and because he is the only friend I have. “Channary, you foolish girl! You cannot kill what you have named!”. I can hear my mothers voice now. This is the most I’ve slept in my entire life. It is easier to sleep because when I am sleeping I can’t feel my stomach pains. I feel sick also. I guess I should have tried to find another food source, but I’ve become well acquainted with the idea of dying. Reading more of the diaries I’ve found that my brother has been taken to the rural parts of the country. There he will work in camps, and with everyone else there who was issued in record will be killed. Their bodies stripped of clothing and layed next to each other. I still have hope that he will escape, somehow. It will be from him though. No god, no government, no parents, no me. Sotear who is so kind, and full of compassion you are the very last person who deserves to go through such tragedy (that’s what his name means, actually). It gets harder to write, my eyes are blurry and my stomach is crying, telling me it’s time to sleep. I will dream of a free world with my boar and my brother, and maybe even the one who owned this house. I just hope I have the will to wake and venture for food. Arun should be strong enough to carry me. Shouldn’t he?
It has been four days since my family was taken from me. My parents, killed. My brother, Sotear, along with the thousands were herded some place very far away. I could have gone with my brother and tried to protect him, if I hadn’t tried to save my parents, in vain. On, my own I am forced to scavenge for food amongst millions of dead bodies, that once held the minds of great intellects, and souls of the religious. I have found my way to wealthier part of town. The food supply will only last me for a month and then my struggle for survival will commence. I have found paper and pens to record the last days of my life in hopes my brother will find them one day. I doubt that now. Ever since Sihanouk joined forces with the Khmer Rouge, everything took a turn for the worst. He began, along with the menacing Pol Pot, killing everyone he governed. “His People”. His cattle, the fools who trusted him when he said that all he wanted was our safety. All of it was communist lies. But it is not all of their faults. We must have done something wrong for God to punish us like this. My parents, my family were not the brightest but God was everything in house, home and our hearts. That is why their veins are cold with silent blood. The very God that they had protected was nothing. He couldn’t have caused this if he does not exist. I must be on my way now. The sun will be going down soon and I do not want to be outside in the dark. I can only hope for a slow ending.
May 3, 1975
It has been two weeks since my first diary entry. Looking at it now I feel old. It feels as if an old friend broke a promise, and went away forever. THe worst part about it is that I will never live to see the day of the promise being fufiled. Here in this house the feeling is bittersweet. This family was quite wealthy, compared to others. Even now that is still not saying much. I’ve heard stories of how life is free in America. Even though the trauma of the cold war has left the world divided and scarred, they still protect their people, instead of sheltering them like an unborn fetus. Vietnam, Cambodia, and Loas were bombed by the U.S., in order to protect us. They failed and Vietnam became the Socialist Republic of Vietnam. I believe they are at war, or will be very soon. The food is beginning to rot I will slowly die begin to die. In the house I have found stories of the previous owners. Apparently they knew what was going on. You work for four years and the you die. My brother is ten. If he he does not survive, if there is no salvation he will die before he can see his fifteenth birthday. A lost wild boar cub has stumbled its way into the house. It won’t be long until he is fully grown. I will raise him and earn his trust and when the time is right I will kill him, for my own survival. The irony makes my skin crawl.
May 23, 1975
All of the food is spoiled and I cannot bring myself to kill Arun. Partly because I am too weak and sick, and because he is the only friend I have. “Channary, you foolish girl! You cannot kill what you have named!”. I can hear my mothers voice now. This is the most I’ve slept in my entire life. It is easier to sleep because when I am sleeping I can’t feel my stomach pains. I feel sick also. I guess I should have tried to find another food source, but I’ve become well acquainted with the idea of dying. Reading more of the diaries I’ve found that my brother has been taken to the rural parts of the country. There he will work in camps, and with everyone else there who was issued in record will be killed. Their bodies stripped of clothing and layed next to each other. I still have hope that he will escape, somehow. It will be from him though. No god, no government, no parents, no me. Sotear who is so kind, and full of compassion you are the very last person who deserves to go through such tragedy (that’s what his name means, actually). It gets harder to write, my eyes are blurry and my stomach is crying, telling me it’s time to sleep. I will dream of a free world with my boar and my brother, and maybe even the one who owned this house. I just hope I have the will to wake and venture for food. Arun should be strong enough to carry me. Shouldn’t he?