INDEX(back to beginning)
ISSN: 1530-5775
July 2008, Vol.10 #7
Hitting the Bricks by Mary C. Wickner
Back At Work from Georgia Jones
Your Own Tree of Dreams, by Lynn Andrews
Lose Weight With Smart Thinking
a special series by Richard Kuhns
by Irma Hudson
The Combing of the Hair
Poems from Shimon Weinroth
The next installment from
Flying Lessons for Butterflies by Sheila Whitman
An Extraordinary story
from the Killing Fields of Cambodia
Other Cloaks—Our Hosts Are Versatile
First oil then food-Who starves?
A Review of The Kindness of Strangers
It's Not Over
Be Afraid
Last Month Our Exceptional Women Were You
About Partners in Publishing at LadybugBooks.com
July 2008! —
We have a new poetry book from a new author to introduce next month... Watch for it!
From Georgia Jones!
Were some things meant to last forever? |
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Lane Willey (Ms. Elani) doesn't just talk books;
A killing with overtones of a racial nature greets Olivia as she moves to her new town. Needing to flee the large city, she has come to the country to start a quiet life, one without problems. But that is not to be. Through no fault of her own she moves into a house intended for other purposes and finds herself unsure of whom she can trust. The result will threaten her life.she writes them!  Give Fireflies in Baldwin to the reader in your house,
or buy it for yourself!
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34 Million Friends
34 Million Friends, an honorable mention in the IPPY (small publishers) book awards!
34 Million Friends A memoir of Jane Roberts' fight for social justice for women through the organization she founded with Lois Abraham, 34 Million Friends. This book is in its thrid printing. You better get your copy now! |
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Winds of Change.
Read about her! Winds of Change is a Signature Series Audio Book, read and sung by author JoAnn Vickers Wilburn. |
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Winds of Change is an interweaving of stories and songs, which deal with a relationship as it moves through changes that lead toward divorce — from a fairy tale beginning through the nightmare of abuse and betrayal, to a new understanding and a new beginning. These stories are complete within themselves and also tell a complete story in their entirety. Stories and songs are written and performed by the author herself.
"I've heard it said that change is invevitable but growth is optional. This book will bring about both change and growth in the most positive ways." ~Monica Schmelter "Thank you for asking me to review your project! You are very talented, and I was very impressed. What a great singing voice, and I really enjoyed the songs. Your ablilities as a narrator are fabulous. I was going to listen to half of it in the morning and then finish it after dinner. Once I started the disk I did not move until it was finished...I was captivated as those who listen will be as well...Good Luck." ~Brent Aitchison |
A new series... collections from LadybugFlights!
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Ms. Elani's Recipe book.
You will find Ms. Elani's Recipe book in our book store. |
The View from Anywhere.
The View from Anywhere is a Signature Series Audio Book plus text, read by author Shimon Weinroth. |
On the Money by Beatrice Spreadmoore.
You have read her good advice, now have it in your book case.. in our book store. |
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Delight by Dr. Barbara Becker-Holstein In this unusual book which features both audio and visual effects, Barbara Holstein reflects on her value system and the lessons of her own life through stories.
The Truth
Over the Edge by G. L. Gerber JuneBug Winner! This collection of short stories was chosen for the 2003 best short story collection!
4 Part Harmony by Marcie Brown
The "quilt book" Lives in Process: The Second fifty Years by Dottie Moore with portraits by Michael Harrison |
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and SPECIALS from LadybugPress!
It is sometimes easy to forget with all we do that we are also part of a business that has to support all of these efforts...
One of the things we have learned here at LadybugPress is that if women want to be heard they need to step up and help create a process that makes that possible. As we've said before, that means buying books that represent this thinking. As most of you understand without being told, it means writing books that represent your thinking. But it also means shouldering some of the financial burden. With those three things in mind, our efforts will be aimed at developing Partners in Publishing, a publishing program for writers who are willing to work with us to see that their voices get heard. We hope some of you will take advantage of this opportunity to work together. LadybugBooks.com Partners in Publication!
Printing, registering for copyright and Books In Print. Partnering in Publication packages include marketing through a marketing specialist, and Use of our imprint.
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a book every woman should own
Screaming Quietly by Hadassah Bat Haim,
Also from Hadassah Bat Haim: Off the Rails
A multimedia book on CD —
Start Writing!The perfect tool to fire that urge, focus your efforts, and improve your writing. A perfect gift for some other writer in your life as well! A Writers Adventure with Georgia Jones
Our Extraordinary Women Series!
by Alice Hellstrom Anderson You are an extraordinary woman and won't want to miss this one!! available to order NOW!!
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If you have a favorite e-zine you would like to see us cooperate with, link to, or share information... a story, poem, or article to be published, please let us know!
You've got to hear it to believe it! Once you do you will keep coming back for more.
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Dear Jane, Thank you so much for your donation of a copy of 34 Million Friends of the Women of the World. It's generous donations like yours that make it possible for our library to exist, and your enthusiam is heartwarming. I'll make it our featured book to help spread the word about www.34millionfriends.org.
Sincerely, |
Books to buy, read, donate, and get a discount. It is a circle we are proud of. To purchase a discounted book send information on your donation to Georgia Jones |
You will find a special section of the LadybugBooks.com site devoted to information about domestic and workplace violence. Ending Violence is an important issue all year!
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THIS MONTH:
Shimon Weinroth
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Shimon Weinroth
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If you were engaged by Shimon's poem listen to his MooseMeals.com program The View From Anywhere. If you would like to chime in, go listen and send him your comments!
Read this feature from past issues.
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print this article separately
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We are serializing Flying Lessons for Butterflies by Sheila Whitman. Sheila Whitman is a Professional Counselor and Life Coach, with a private practice in CT. She has done agency counseling with pregnant and postpartum women, and coordinated a residence for women and children in a domestic violence program. Sheila strives to nurture the potential of her clients, and understands that past or current abuse is incredibly detrimental to this goal of self-actualization. The lessons contained in this book invite the reader to challenge old beliefs, and make concrete changes in self-esteem and creative risk taking. Emphasis is on strategies for altering perceptions and behaviors that may have been distorted during childhood, and the development of a healthy integration of mind, body, and soul. The underlying message is that every individual has great value and can eventually soar to discover his or her best self. Sheila completed her B.S. at Temple University and M.S. at Southern CT State University. She is a Licensed Professional Counselor in Connecticut and a Registered Professional Counselor in California.
Information about Sheila Whitman's counseling and life coaching can be found on the web site http://www.counselorlifecoach.com/.
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How to free yourself from the effects of abuse
CHAPTER 4
Lesson 1-Selfish or entitled? Whose life is this, anyhow? If you have spent most or all of it responding to and worrying about other people, you probably have very little energy left for yourself, and may have forgotten how to listen to your own voice. You may behave in ways that don't raise questions or emotions, and prefer to assess the situation and blend in, without attracting attention. One exception to this, when taking the initiative does feel natural, might be in people pleasing. This can be a strong value for survivors, and may appear to be a positive trait that is noticed and enjoyed by others. Ultimately it leaves the helper depleted, resentful, and further disconnected from his or her own needs. Some of the deepest feelings and dreams may be neglected, either out of fear or in an effort to gain acceptance. The cycle of pleasing yields a debilitating sense of doing too much and receiving too little reward. A corollary to this states that it's selfish to do what is best for oneself. Which brings us back to the question "Whose life is this?" You were born with many potential abilities, with dreams to be realized, strengths to implement, and a finite time frame in which to manifest them. Look around and observe the panoply of talents and initiatives, all of which are products of people using their gifts. The range of possibilities is daunting, from science to art, from ministry to bridge building, individuals just like you are concentrating on their lives and interests, rather than shadowing others and catering to their whims.Lesson 2-What are you afraid of? If you are reluctant to move out of familiar, though restrictive, patterns, it may become a little easier once you understand the root of your fears. If, in the past, your ideas and reactions were invalidated, you may doubt yourself and be reluctant to take action. Some people who have grown up this way have little sense of what they would do with freedom: they've lost touch with Me after years of doing the work of You. If you are currently living with abuse, you probably check the attitude of your partner more than your own needs. You are coping with a bad situation, and doing what is necessary for emotional, and perhaps physical, survival. You know what has worked to keep you safe, and it is wise to protect your body, mind, and heart while crafting a plan to move away from that relationship. If you are no longer with people who are harmful or obstruct your development, but you continue to be fearful and indecisive, it's important to understand that you are using old tools in your new situation. These previously rational survival strategies are now preventing you from becoming fully you. What you fear may no longer be present, and it may be time to shed these ghosts, and walk into a sunlit world of your own design. Lesson 3-Trust yourself You are entitled to take back your life as a personal treasure. The portal to comfort and clarity in your inner world may have been closed during your early years, and you will need to claim responsibility for development in this area. You can become the parent to yourself, perhaps with some help from caring friends and advisors. Consider a toddler, just beginning to take the first steps. We hope that she is allowed to keep trying, without restraint, but with loving care that protects her from danger. Similarly, you will take exploratory steps that may have been impossible when you were that age, and may finally rediscover the perceptions and emotions that are your source of authentic values and decisions. In this process of liberation, you might want to create a space where you can relax your body and mind, and increase your sensitivity to sensations and feelings, as they occur. This moment to moment awareness is just one method of reaching inward, quieting distractions, and reclaiming your ability to recognize the truth. Some people find that a journal is very helpful: it is a place to put your thoughts, and becomes a resource for review, as you deepen your insights. Other techniques for opening the door are meditation, yoga, walking, drumming, or doing creative work. The important element in each of these is to settle into your own quiet peace and allow yourself to emerge. If your explorations are artistic, let the process unfold without judging it. This is not a contest, but a bridge to your soul. If you are meditating, focus on your life giving breath, and gently push intrusive thoughts aside. Your goal is to access and accept yourself. If you pay attention, both your awareness and your native ability to discern the world around you will return. You can become more competent in anticipating both good and danger, and in understanding what exists beneath the surface of what you encounter. You can become more proficient at distinguishing between the inner and outer worlds, and acting with wisdom and clarity. You have a personal voice, which provides your hunches and gut feelings. The more that you allow this to guide you, the greater your trust will become. Via this process, you begin to discover the distinction between Self and Other. Your truth resides within your heart and mind, rather than in the rules and sanctions of others, and there is a clear separation between the two. As you achieve more comfort with this, it will become easier to know what is right for you, and you will become the expert on how your life should be.
Next month: Lesson 4 - Create a free zone, pull it all together and take off |
To order Flying Lessons for Butterflies: How to free yourself from the effects of abuse:
Contact the author at 860-945-1111 or WhitmanLPC@aol.com
We invite any of you to contribute on this subject. We feel it is important to continue the discussion of domestic violence.
Read this feature from past issues.
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Exceptional Women are Our History and Our Future:
My Four Years with Angkar
Part I of III
Cham Yean 
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Before April 17, 1975
I was a student attending a two-year program for a Teacher's Credential at the Faculty of Pedagogy (Train the Teacher College) in the great city of Phnom Penh. I was also in my second year at the university of Phnom Penh majoring in General Biology. Born and raised in a small village in Sisophon Battambang, I came from a very poor family and was the youngest child of four sisters and one brother. My father passed away when I was in my early teens and my mother was not in a position to keep me in school because she was so poor. A cousin on my father's side helped raise me for four years so that I could finish my elementary school and go on to middle school. After five years, I went to live with another cousin on my mother's side to finish my high school education. For all those years, I helped my cousins by doing baby-sitting and other housework as much as I could. I was very lucky to be able to stay in school as many kids in my situation could not. I was determined to graduate from college and have a better life, which meant becoming a nurse or schoolteacher with a good salary. I went to Phnom Penh, in late 1972, to continue my education and seek a vocational school that taught nursing or teaching. It was an adventure, living in a big city where I had no relatives. I shared a rented room with two girl friends who had gone to the same high school as I had. My mother, sisters and brother sent money to help when they could. I was expected to go to "Train the Teacher" college in the fall of 1973, while I was attending my entry level at the University of Phnom Penh, Science Department. My goal at that time was to graduate as a schoolteacher, then finish up my four years and become a science/biology professor. All of my dreams ended abruptly three months before my graduation when the hopeful new government replacing Lon Nol republicans came to power in April 17, 1975.
The 17th day of April, 1975 My roommates, Sarap and Le-Heoung, were also my close friends in high school. Sarap and I went to the same college. Later, she went to the Veterinary school and planned to graduate in 2 years. Ly-Heoung was a nursing student. She and I were supposed to graduate about the same time. The three of us were very close for the nearly three years we lived together. We hoped to go our separate ways with promising futures. A few days before the 17th, Sarong (Sarap's boyfriend) came to visit and attended the New Year celebration with us. Sarong was a nurse, recently graduated, and worked at one of the remote towns, 50 miles east of Phnom Penh. Savuth, one of our friends from high school also came to visit. Savuth had just graduated from the Army Academy as a pilot. It was just a coincidence that he came to visit on his vacation. So, our number had grown to five. In the early morning of April 17, we suddenly heard the voices of victory from the nearby boulevard as Khmer Rouge soldiers marched into the capital. It was actually not surprising news since we were in a long era of civil war. The white flags were raised to respond to the victory. Everyone was happy that the long civil war was now over, and that the new government would bring peace and freedom to its people. Our hope was suspended when we heard the sounds of people forced to leave town very early in the morning of April 18. Hearing this my friends and I began to pack our belongings. Very soon, three armed Khmer Rouge soldiers, dressed in their black outfits, and red and white scarves, came to our doors and told us to get out of the house and the town immediately. The soldiers said the city would be bombed by the enemy, and that we would be killed— The new government would also need to reorganize the corrupted old government. We bagged our clothes, food, and some important personal items and dragged them to our motorbike and bicycles and left around mid-day with our landlord and her family, and my boyfriend, who lived next door to us. My landlord was my cousin's mother-in-law. I had known her family for years. On the way out of town we saw many dead bodies alongside the roads. It was hard to describe how we felt. We stayed overnight not too far from the town. The next day we reached a suburb, about 15 miles away from the city. Many people from the city were stopped by the soldiers, to camp out while the soldiers decided what to do with us. When we met the uniformed soldiers during our first couple of days on the lost journey, they took away my friends' bicycles and motorbike without reasons. They also took away our wrists-watches. We had to hide some valuable belongings during that time. We stayed in the suburb nearly one week, camping out. Many people were sick, particularly the elderly and the children and many of them died. There was no way to reach help from the authorities. Instead, we were forced to find a way to leave the camping area as soon as possible.
The destination fields During the stay at the campsite, the Khmer Rouge authorities often came to check and asked if any of us were members of the old government's army. If so, they said we would be allowed to go back to the city to work for the new government. It was strange that our friend Savuth asked me if I would join him to go back to the city by telling the Khmer Rouge we were a couple. I thought that it would not be fair to my other friends if I alone went back with Savuth, so didn't accept his offer and he remained with us. It was fortunate. Going back to the city was a trick used by the Khmer Rouge to try to catch any Lon Nol government soldiers. Those who went back to the city were transported to the Tuol Sleng prison where later on they were tortured and executed. We met one of the colonels we knew from the city. He hinted to us to be very careful not to say too much and it would be safest if we hid our identities wherever we went. This kind of advice saved our lives more than once. It was hard for me to say goodbye to my landlord's family, especially to my boy friend whom I loved dearly. He had no choice but to leave me with my friends while he went with his family to his parent's village. He told me that it was just a temporary trip, and soon we would return to normal. I was hoping that this was true. My friends and I decided to continue our journey and go back to Siemreap, to our families, where all of us came from (where I had stayed with my cousin's). Our journey began by our walking along the highway toward the Siemreap province, which is approximately 200 miles north of Phnom Penh. Other people left the camp, going their separate ways on the same day. To begin with, Khmer Rouge tried to evacuate people out to different places and locations of their own choosing. There were no specific instructions as to where they wanted us to go and what they want us to do, except for saying that we were to get out of Phnom Penh as soon as possible. The walking was very hard on everyone especially for families that had little children and elder members. Many were sick and passed away on the way due to lack of food, medicine, dehydration, and the shock of being evacuated. The hot temperature in mid-April caused many health problems for those who had never been active or led an outdoor life. My friends and I walked as much as we could for the next few days. We stopped and rested when there were water ponds or a river near the highway. Sometimes we found vegetables in the fields to supplement the meals we had brought with us, which were slim after a week. We bought some rice and fishes from other people (money was still good) and managed to get by each day. When we reached a nearby village, we were lucky to catch a Khmer Rouge army truck full of other passengers. They took all of us to a small village, which was at the intersection of Kompong Cham province and Kompong Thom province. They told us to stay there overnight and that the next morning we could catch another truck to where we wanted to go. There were many other people traveling like us. Sure enough, in the morning after we ate, we got a ride in another truck. This time the route going to Siemreap province seemed to have changed to another route. We were not really sure where we were because we were not familiar with the route. One hour later we got dropped of in another small village with many other people. At that moment we knew exactly what the Khmer Rouge would want to do with us. The next thing we knew, we were told to get into an ox-cart driven by a middle-aged man. We did not learn his name until a few days later when he gave us food to eat then took us on a wild and exciting ride on his ox-cart, traversing many fields of trees and forest. Other ox-carts also carried people we had met before to the same destination, we assumed. We passed by many populated villages welcoming their new companions. After about three hours ride on the ox-cart, we reached our final destination, but had no clue where we were. We were shocked and numb and sensed that the Khmer Rouge had planned this from the minute they evacuated us from the city. The man dropped us off at the Buddhist temple (pagoda), an open area where many other evacuees were already gathered, and many more were to come. This was a village along the Mekong River. The Khmer Rouge authorities, calling themselves "Angkar" (the first time we heard the word), took our names and family names and asked us to identify ourselves. We knew better than to say too much, remembering the colonel's advice. We registered ourselves as students, which we were, and that we were relatives. Savuth did not dare tell them that he was a pilot. Sarong did not tell them that he was a nurse, either. We decided that claiming all of us students was safer than saying we were career professionals since we were all about the same ages, in our early twenties. Sarong and Sarap told them they were husband and wife since Cambodia did not recognize that boyfriend and girlfriend could live together. To be together, we told Angkar that Savuth, Sarap and I were cousins; and so were Sarong and Le-Hoeung. Our families changed and extended many times over the next years, sometimes to help each other and sometimes to recognize help that had been received. As soon as they got our identities, they started placing us for temporary stays with a village family. We were chosen by a family of seven with a big enough house. At that point we knew there was no chance we could find our way back home to our parents and relatives. We were stuck at "Prek Roluos" village, "Stung Trong" commune of Kompong Cham province. Kompong Cham was well known for its rubber plantation and rich resource of tobacco. Where we had been taken was 20 miles north of Kompong Cham city. We had noticed that the men and ladies in their blacks outfits with scarves around their necks and watches on their wrists were generally the ranking officers in that region. It was hard to tell who the big bosses were, since the uniforms were all black. The women were not allowed to keep long hairstyles and wore their hair cut above the neck. Their black sandals were made of used automobile tires.
Our new life I started to feel very depressed from being transported to a place where I was a total stranger. I missed my mother and sisters and brother. I missed everyone I loved, and wondered how they were. My dreams of being a schoolteacher were completely gone. I hated the Khmer Rouge communists. I hated "Angkar" and thought I was condemned by God. It was not fair that I was born to a poor family and that I tried to dig myself out of poverty and, when I had seen the light, that light was taken away from me by that "Angkar." Why would I have to go back and work in the rice fields as my parents were doing? All of those "why" questions in my head never got answers. My friends and I began our new lives with the villagers' family by going to go to work in the corn fields with many other people. The routine was to go to work early in the morning with a bag of cooked rice and fish for lunch, and come back home in late afternoon. There were different types of jobs for guys and gals. The villagers were already divided as groups. They, too, did not know what would happen next in terms of their property and lands. They called us the "newcomers". They were told to treat us fairly, but we could understand the feelings they had toward us by their actions, especially when we began to share their crops. Angkar placed each newcomer family with a villager family to begin with, then a couple of months later they built small houses for us to live in. We were working as a group of about ten village families, including us. The families chipped in rice and corn crops for us while we were sharing the place, but, again, they only allowed a certain amount of rice, which was not quite enough for all of us. The five of us were trying to get through our daily life quietly and were learning new things every day from the villagers and Angkar. Colored clothing was not allowed. We started wearing black outfits and black tire sandals. The villagers showed us how to blacken our colored clothes with dye from fruit trees. Our hair was clean cut above our necks (female). We had to stop using words and terms we used to say to each other. We had to listen to new Angkar songs. We had to get used to going to meetings and listening to new rules and laws. The things we used to do were prohibited. It was very tough to begin with, but we learned quickly. By the time we were settled in, it was early May. The rain started to fall and that was when farmers started to plow the rice fields to begin their crops. None of us were very good at working in the field cultivating rice and corn but we tried our best and it seemed good enough at the time. Two weeks after we settled in, I started to get a bad fever and became worse very rapidly. Sarong gave me some medicine he had brought along, but that did not help me much. We ran out of the medicine after a week. I was then given some tart tasting mix of green leaf juices to help reduced the fever, but this only helped temporarily. The prolong fever became a very serious stomach flu without the right medicine. I was separated from my friends and sent to stay with another family due to some kind of belief everyone in our group had in regard to me. I could not walk and was barely able to get up on my own. Sarap and Le-Hoeung took turns from work to stay and take care of me. Later on, the village families invited the monk from the Buddhist pagoda to come and help by blessing me to drive away the illness. I was invaded by evil and my dead ancestors were trying to locate me, the monk said. Thinking that the evil was inside me, the monk started his prayer and hit me hard five or six times with his spiritual wood stick (3 feet long solid wood and 1-1/2 inch diameter!) to try to get the evil out of my body. I was in so much pain from the wood stick striking my weak body, but I tried to understand what the monk was doing. After he left, my friends and I looked to see if my skin would be blackened from the wood stick. Amazingly there were no marks on my body where he had hit me, and the five of us have always wondered why. Note that Angkar still left the Buddhist monks in the pagoda for a couple of months after April 17. Buddhism was a major religion in Cambodia. I was raised to believe in God Buddha in my family. Later, all monks were forced to abdicate and all Buddhist temples were closed. Angkar destroyed any symbol of God Buddha including the temple building. Since we were not familiar with the villagers' pagoda and their monks, we did not know where they went.
Angkar health care I was reported to Angkar as having been ill for more than one month. There was a young woman that Angkar assigned to be a nurse (she was just barely trained to be one). "Ny" was her name. We called her "Mitt Neary Ny" (Mitt and Mitt Neary, synonym for friend, were used to address a man or woman in the Angkar government). She came and gave me injections. When she opened her medical pouch (case) to get her medicines out, I was startled to see liquid medicines placed in the coke bottles. These were vitamin C (red), vitamin B12 (yellow), and other liquids clear in color. She gave me brown tablets for headache and explained that these medicines were the original pure ingredients found by Angkar health care. I dared not ask any questions. Angkar claimed that Cambodia had its full natural resources of medicine so did not need any imported products from abroad. They produced their own medicines and pharmaceutical materials for their health care systems. Doctors and nurses were locally trained to handle their local hospitals. There was no improvement in my illness with Mitt Ny's help, so she sent me to a small commune hospital about 3 miles away from my village. My friends, with the help of our villagers, took me by water canoe and paddle away to "Stung Trong" commune hospital. I was so helpless and exhausted, I had no idea if I would to live or die. The hospital was very dirty. Each room was small. I had to share a small room with other patients. There was no bedding except a piece of matt and mosquito net. I had my own blanket and pillow. It was hopeless to see the place. Sarap was allowed to stay with me for the first week because I could not get around and feed myself. Every day I was given injections from the coke bottle liquid medicines. Amazingly, I got better after staying there for two weeks. My friends took turns coming to visit me at least once a week. On the third week, I found my left hip, where the injection needles were repeated, had become very badly infected. It was an abscess caused by non-sterilization of serum and needles that Angkar nurses were handling because they were doing their job without properly training. I was in pain from the new infection, although I felt a bit stronger and better. The infection took another three weeks to get better. By the time they released me to go back home, it had been two whole months that I had stayed in the hospital. I went home with my friends, carrying with me another abscess on my right hip, which were not as bad as the one on my left hip.
Our new home I found that we were living in a newly built, small, shake home made of small pieces of wood and bamboo covered by braided hay. There were just twenty houses built by Angkar for all of us as newcomers from the city to live in. The houses were close to the village near a creek with running water and next to the acres of cornfields. They called our homes the "New Village". I got the chance to meet 20 new families, which added up to nearly 200 people including the elderly and children. Our next-door neighbors were a family of eight who used to be rich when they were living in Phnom Penh. For nearly four months we coped with this way of life. By that time I had become strong enough to go back to work and it was the flooding season. The Mekong River was very full and the spreading water nearly covered the villages. We began going to the nearby green mountains to look for extra food such as wild potatoes and vegetables. Angkar and the villagers grew vegetables during the flooding season. All adults who were able to work from our new villages were divided into groups to work in the mountains. The villagers instructed us to look for large root wild potatoes. These potatoes were good to cook with rice and helped supplement the insufficient amount of rice that was available. But the wild potatoes needed to be bleached very carefully, by pressing and soaking in water for a few days, to kill off the poison before cooking. Many people in the new village got sick from eating the potatoes, including our family. Food was the number one problem for the new villagers under Angkar's regime. They expected us to get our own food with very limited resources, but we knew how to get the food with our bare hands. Many families exchanged their leftover valuables and belongings, such as gold or precious stones or good quality clothing, for rice and other food items available from the Angkar's villagers. But the villager's supply ran out very fast, after just six months. One day Savuth and many other guys in the village brought a dead 50-foot long, 12-inch diameter python snake from the mountain. When they spotted the snake along the road on the mountain, Savuth said that all the boys encouraged him to snap off the snake's head. They all claimed that this big snake would help making good meat for the hungry folks in our new village. At that time no one thought about the right or wrong of doing this, but just about filling our stomachs. Savuth was courageous enough to kill the poor snake for food because he felt sorry for everyone going through the hard time of hunger. We were thinking about how we would fill our stomach the next day as we ate each meal. Animals such as dogs and cats were sometimes killed for food. It was tough to even think of killing the village animals for food. The native villagers were very upset knowing that the mountain pets they were used to seeing were killed by the newcomers for food. We were told by one of the villagers that all of the newcomers would be spiritually condemned and later destroyed for killing the sacred snake, as told by the fortuneteller. I personally thought that was just a wild, good guess. Working at the mountains lasted for the entire duration of the flooding season. There were a few elderly men and women in our village who passed away during the first few months from lack of food and medicines. |
Read this feature from past issues.
Shimon Weinroth