Saphor Paitra Chhour
I have interviewed Saphor Chhour who was able to escape Cambodia in 1979. This is her story as told to me:
WHEN I WAS YOUNG: I grew up in Phnom Penh, which is the capital of Cambodia. My family was wealthy and my father worked for the government in a village called Kampung Cham. Sihanouk was the leader of Cambodia in but then Lon Nol took over in 1970. When I was 5 years old I moved to Kampung Cham. In 1971, when I was 8 years old, the Khmer Rouge began to fight the village. The Khmer Rouge came after my father because he was a government official. The only choice that he had was to escape to Phnom Penh or to be killed. I saw many people killed by the Khmer Rouge. One man I saw killed, the Khmer Rouge took out his liver. This was when I was 8 years old.
A DEATH: My parents fled to Phnom Penh leaving me and my siblings with some keepers. In April 1975, me and my sister went to live with an aunt in Polpehin. By 1975 the Khmer Rouge had completely taken over the country. My parents were in Phnom Penh and my brother was separated from us. We were all separated. The Khmer Rouge came to the village to round up the people and force them to work in the fields. Me and my sister walked from village to village. In 1976 I was separated from my sister by the Khmer Rouge. At the end of 1976, I was sent to work in a camp. My sister and brother were also in this camp. But, we lied and pretended that we did not know each other for fear that we would be separated again. We pretended to be friends. I saw many people killed in this camp probably 200 or 300. The Khmer Rouge would slit throats, hit people in the back of their heads, or hang people. They had different bells. If the bell rang once, it meant a meeting and we all had to drop our work and come together. If the bell rang three times, it meant that there was a killing, and if the bell rang five times, it was dinner. We always prayed that the bell would not ring three times. One day when the bell rang three times, We were all lined up to see the killing. I thought to myself that this is the last killing that I can see. I felt very uncomfortable. The Khmer Rouge always called the people they were about to kill "the enemy". We were all made to stand in a line and watch the killings. When we got to the place, my sister started to scream. Her friend held her mouth shut and when the Khmer Rouge asked her friend why she screamed, she said that it was because she saw a bug. I heard her friend say "are you crazy, they will kill you too". When I looked at the man who was digging the hole in which he was about to be killed in I said "oh my god, I know him, that is my father". I prayed to Buddha and asked why. My father never hurt anyone and never did anything bad. The soldiers hit my father three times in the back and he fell into the hole. The whole time, I was blaming myself for not having stopped it. That night I could not sleep and it was raining. I tried to get in my fathers grave because I believed that he was not dead. There were soldiers there though, and I knew that if I was found, I would be killed. I wanted to die with my father, but I knew that he would not have wanted that. I stayed there for 2 hours.
THE CAVE: 6 months later, I saw an old woman who told me that we must escape because the Khmer Rouge knew who I was. I told my brother and sister that they had to leave before lunch to save themselves. I would stay because if we all went, the Khmer Rouge would know and we would all be found and killed. They ran away. The Khmer Rouge took me and asked me who I was, I lied and told them that I was from Battambong and that I never knew my father. They tied my hands and took me to their leaders house where they tied me to a column all night. In the morning, the leader found me and took me inside. I was scared and was sure that he was going to do something bad to me. He was nice though and asked me questions. He said that I reminded him of his daughter that he had left in Battambong. He asked me what my name was and I said Tuite. I don't know why I said that name, but it saved my life. His daughter was also name Tuite and so he thought that I was his daughter. I lived with this man as his daughter until another party took over the village and killed him in 1977. They thought that I was his daughter so they threw me in a cave. I stayed in the cave for one week, only living off of the one meal a day they gave me. There were other men in the cave who had been there for 7 years. They could not speak. One man had been in the old government. I did not know day from night. On about the seventh day, we heard bombing outside. It was the Vietnamese. I was so thirsty and weak that I went outside. I didn't care if I was killed anymore. My eyes hurt so badly. I climbed a tree and saw a green patch which meant that there was water near. I walked a mile and found the water. I drank for hours little by little, then I tried to bring some water back to the men using leaves and my shirt. When I got to the cave, the men came out. I almost ran a way because they looked like ghosts. They were nothing but skin and bone. I had to remind myself that they were still men. I had to carry these men to the water because they were too weak to walk there by themselves. One of the men died outside the cave and I blame myself because I should have carried him first. I left the men at the cave and went to find help. When I was walking, I saw many children crying in a field and I ran away because I could not help them. Then I came to a baby that was crawling all over its dead mother who had blood every where. I took the baby. I had to crawl on the ground because of all the shooting. A land mine exploded next to me and I fainted. When I woke up I was on the other side and the baby was gone I saw many Vietnamese, but I could not communicate with them, finally I found a woman to tell about the children in the field and the men. I never saw the men again.
REFUGEE: I stayed in Battambong for 8 months under Vietnamese control. When I say 5 Vietnamese men rape a Cambodian woman, I decided that I had to escape. I left with a group of people to go to the Thai border. We were caught by the Khmer Rouge and made to turn around. They bound our wrists together. When we were crossing a bridge, I realized that the rope was not tied and we could free our hands. I told the men next to me. We all freed our hands and then jumped into the river below. The Khmer Rouge began to fire at us. I held on to a big rock for 5 or 6 hours. That night, I saw the chicken star which meant that it was 8:00. I got out of the water and went into the forest. I stayed there for 7 days. Then I fled to the Thai border where I was put in a refugee camp. I lived there for 2 years and then I was sponsored by my brother to go to California. Later we found our sister. They both live in California right now. I moved to Boston in 1987 where I attended Cambridge College. There I was able to write down my story and talk to other people with similar experiences. This is the best way for me to deal with the pain and guilt. I am not able to talk about it with my brother and sister because it is too painful. I went back to Cambodia in 1991 and in 1995, my mother came to America also. The best way for me to deal with all of this is to just keep telling my story.
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