About the Editor...
Greetings to all fellow Khmers,
It is such a delightful feeling whenever I hear that Khmer is "trying" to constructively help other Khmer(s) or somebody is doing something for the benefit of Khmer people.
MiSoKun
Occupation: Janitor, Baker (Donut), Environmentalist...can-collector, and a (volunteer) freelance editor for Khmer Voice.
Born around mid 1960s to a peasant family in the village of Tro-Ngène, in Battambong province. Spent my early childhood walking around naked in the village. Occasionally, helped out my parents taking care of oxen and buffaloes in the farm and playing Khmer Rouge soldier. Never had any formal schooling. The only education I had was life itself and my will to survive, and...I am still learning!
Khmer Rouge took over Cambodia in April 17, 1975. Not even close to the turn of the century yet but it was the turning point of the Khmer history. Red Khmer, they called themselves but they only wore black uniform, krama (Cambodian traditional, multi-purpose scarf) around their neck, and a Maoist-style cap. How colorful! I thought that was cool so I joined them. Until 1978...until I lost my family, my cows, my oxcarts, my ploughs, my barns, man! I can go on. I didn’t cry. I thought it was our karma. In 1980, I sailed along with most of my fellow country folks in the winds of uncertainty. We were drifted all the ways to refugee camp along the Thai-Cambodian border. Then I realized that I lost everything including my country. Oh Buddha, I cried and cried incessantly. Now I still do sometimes. But you know, right now I am more hopeful than ever to see some of my Khmer people trying to help each other.
A few years later, I was taken from the refugee camp to the white man’s country called America. But before that, I was asked all sorts of questions such as where I was born, when I was born, etc. I never knew when I was born! Well, the only thing I knew was that I was born during the rice harvest season around mid 60s. You know what else they did to me? They even took me to one room and undressed me. They had me stood in front of them and checked all over and around me. I was so ashamed. I wanted to cry but I couldn’t. So I smiled at them instead. Can you imagine that? They won’t let you come to America until you are "clean!"
I came to America around the same year the challenger was exploded in space. I spoke some English but people never understood what the hell I said. Here in the states, I never knew what school is like. My sponsor suggested an adult school where I could learn ESL. I agreed and was enrolled afterward. While in the class room, I met a lot of white folks but what I couldn’t understand was why do these white people have to learn ESL like me? I thought it must be a very difficult level. I felt intimidated so I lasted only a week . Later on, I found out that those white people were Romanians, and Polish whose native tongue is not English. Now and then, I look back and I would laugh though sometimes I cry. School was no good for me so I had to find myself a job. I became a baker, one of the noble professions I ever had. I bake and sell donut everyday ever since. Why is it noble, you may ask? Well, I am able to bake good donuts and feed my customers before they start their daily chores. I learned English with my customers. In addition, my niece teaches me how to read and write. Now I have three part-time jobs. They keep me busy. I bake donut and sweep floors at night, collect cans during day time, and write whenever I can. Ah, what a life! Maybe you should try it sometimes. It's a living...