BEBEU

NOT A FATHER DAY BUT I MISS MY DAD JUST THE SAME: By Sokha Ou-Uun 03/17/23

As I was watching a Western movie about migration from the East to the West Coast, I recall similar story told by my dad about my family moving from the Central part of Cambodia to start a new life in another town by the sea.

 

Khmer Vietminh

It took place in 1955 when I was three and my brother was just a couple of months old. Three years earlier, Cambodia had just gained its independence from France, but internal conflicts between different factions of Khmer nationalist ensued for several years. Without France authority presence, those Khmer nationalists were duped by our neighbors to continue their fighting in order to destabilize the country. One of them was called Khmer Issarak Vietminh (KIV). As the name implied, they were supported by Communist Vietnam. Because of the conflicts, major roads and bridges connecting cities and town were destroyed, not that Cambodia had good infrastructure to begin with anyway.

Public Transportation

No, we were not part of a large group traveling in wagons, crossing deserts, climbing icy mountains, attacked by Indians, or anything like that. It was just my dad, my mom, my younger brother and me. Whenever possible, we would take commercial buses, but as we got further away from towns, bicycle was our mode of transportation. My dad attached a small basket to the front of the bicycle, and that was where I spent most of my time during the journey. My mom carrying my brother was on the rear of the bicycle. My dad talked about the encounter with the KIV, but they always let us go because my dad didn't have anything, plus they seemed to take pity on my brother and me. There were no snow, but unpredictable rains did give us problems since my dad was not prepared for the different weather patterns in coastal areas. 

Typical Bike 

One time we had to cross a river. The bridge that used to be there was almost completely gone. Villagers had put some makeshift woods across several spans, but the path was very narrow, not wide enough to accommodate two people side by side or anything heavy either. So my dad carried the bicycle across first, then he came back for me, then my brother. Now, we had the bicycle, my brother and me on one side of the river and my mother on the other side. My mother was scared to walk across by herself, so my dad had to go back for her. Before returning to my mom, my dad took off the basket from the bicycle, put my brother in it and told me to protect him. My dad said I was a good big brother; I hold on to the basket with both hands and would not let go until he and my mom got back safely across.

The rest of  the journey was done with my dad pedaling the bicycle, me in the front basket and my mom carrying my brother in the rear. Finally, we made it to a village somewhere in Kampot, a coastal village of Cambodia where my dad's uncle lived. He was a fisherman and my dad took up fishing while there as well.

My Dad Before He passed Away

Note: My dad and I were not close, typical among poor family where it is difficult to meet end's needs. However, I am very grateful that he had a chance to tell me this story before he passed away many years ago. But I do regret  very much that I did not have a chance to hear more stories like this about his life growing up.