Trip Down Memory Lane

Writing serves as my therapy to escape the psychosis and melancholia of living. I don’t have particular subject, I deal with anything that I can see, feel, touch, observe or even imagine. I was told that writers are born and not created. Maybe. What matters most is not whether you write well or not, but you, should write bravely at all times.

Sometimes, my thoughts traveled to certain times in my life, a time that I want to go back. I always feel that there are things left undone, and I need to finish it. Way back then, I worked as humanitarian consultant for South Asian food security program. I was stationed in the State of Cambodia in most times. The year was 1990.

What a 24-year old woman doing in a country with no diplomatic relation to the rest of the world? People around me questioned my judgment. I should be enjoying a successful government service or lucrative corporate life, but I opted to accept the challenge of making a difference in a country I never dream to be a part of.

The world was too busy to notice what is happening on the other side. What happened in 1990? Lithuania got its independence, McDonald opened in Moscow, Russia, collapsed of the Soviet Union, Microsoft released Windows 3.0 operating systems, pilot episode of Seinfeld premier, Bush and Gorbachev signed a treaty to end chemical weapons, Asteroid Eureka was discovered, East-West Germany united, a stampede in Mecca resulting to thousands of deaths, Iraq invaded Kuwait and US got involved in the Gulf War, earthquake in the Philippines measuring 7.7 Richter Scale killed more than 1600 people, released of Rocky V, the last and final Rocky. These are among the events that captured the headlines all over the world day after day. The world too busy.

I was scared. Gunshots greeted me on my first night. I crawled under the table, closed my eyes and thought for a moment that I was dead. It was the longest night of my life. Surprisingly, the night went well after that, the sun was shining the next day as usual. I was surprised I feel good and excited. I have no idea that on that very day my life will change forever. It started as an ordinary day, courtesy call to Cambodian officials, security briefings and tours around scenic spots in Phnom Penh. Later that day, it became tougher; we were escorted to the Killing Fields, I saw soiled clothes in the shallow graves, bones and human remains. Then the finale was the Toul Sleng Genocide Museum, a school converted into a prison and interrogation facility during the period of control of the Khmer Rouge. There I saw the "instruments for tortures": the metal bed where prisoners are chained and interrogated before burning alive, the death chambers, blood stained on the floors and walls. There I was wandering in long endless rooms of death chambers. The map of Cambodia composed of skulls from victims of the killing fields, this apparition is mounted on the wall of the museum. I knelt down and cried, my hands were shaking as I lighted the candles. I ran to the courtyard sick to my stomach. I feel a piece of the horror that the Khmer Rouge inflicted on Cambodian humanity. That night I have nightmares. Overnight, I grew old.

I don’t use an interpreter. I studied the Khmer language. Later I made lots of friends but there was only one that truly touched me. She was my house helper.

One day I am going to go back and find her. I always remember her. She was an inspiration at that time when I don’t know if I am doing the right thing. She gave me strength to face the dangers, confronted my fears, and above all she changed my views in life. I wrote a poem for her. This is her story.

" If it is Fair to Be Alive"

Once there was a little girl, she lived by her faith, in God above
Life was so simple then, little foods, old clothes, worn-shoes all she got
She live in poverty but brimming with love
A father plowing the field from sunrise to sunset
A loving mother that takes cares of her
Two brothers and two sisters
To her the, the world is full…

But then the nightmare advanced her way
Armed men came; there were gunshots, and her paradise ablazed
Shelling of bullets drawing near, she went rigid and still
Two young men pulled his father and two brothers
Shot her mother and sisters…

In the calmness of the night, lit with sparks from burning shanties
half-moon shadows
She heard sobs, screams and cries of men, women, children and babies
She ran, she stumbled, corpses soaked with blood
A pain, pains, pains until she can feel no more…

At a quick flash she was isolated, in a world with her faith, in God above
With her faith to God she knelt down
She can see the golden rays in the sky, a signal of a new day
It was worship day
She does not care; there are no more old clothes, no worn shoes
No more errands and laughter
Ashes they are all ashes, along with her faith she thought
She was alone
Blankly staring the dead bodies, she asked God
"Are you real, why you allowed this to happen"
No answer, the humming of the crickets getting louder
The sounds of the wind seem teasing and torturing her…

She thought of her prayer, the worships, and devotions
the litanies she used to pray, the rituals
her faith, the agonies and her wounds
She numbed, She said: "I am dead"
"Divine Master reincarnates my soul to the bird"
Let me fly away, so far away…
Darkness, darkness, darkness…

It was not so long ago
And the world is too busy to notice
The girl is now a full-grown woman
But, there was something about her… the scars
Through time it refuses to heal
She was a victim, she survived, but the ghosts constantly hunt her

And she for the first time since that tragic night, prayed
Asking God if He is fair in letting her live….
No answer…