The story of my life
The year was 1994. It was Fall. The leaves started to change
colors. Some fell off the trees while others hung on as long as they could
before the next season took over. This was the time plants and trees got
ready to sleep. People too, started to hibernate for the winter. As for me,
I was excited about the way my body was changing but worried about the cold
days ahead. Everything had always been new to me; new problems, new
responsibilities and a new environment. All of my life, I have been trying
to adjust to new things.
It has almost been four months of marriage and I was two months
pregnant. I hadn’t been feeling well lately, a lot of throwing up in the
morning and cravings for certain foods. I was trying to be a "good
wife " but it was such a difficult job. I figured since my
husband brought home the money, I'd try to please him as best as I could.
I prepared his favorite foods, ironed his clothes, did laundry, cleaned
the house, and was a good daughter to his family. In spite of this, the
relationship between my husband and I wasn’t good ever since he found
out that I was in a gang. Our communication became more difficult. My
husband regretted accepting our pre-arranged marriage. If he had known
this about me before, he wouldn’t have made the decision. I, on the other
hand, didn't regret it. I did it out of respect for my mother and my aunt.
I had failed at many things before so accepting an arranged marriage
couldn’t be any worse. I sensed a certain sympathy from my husband.
He’s educated but very conservative, intelligent but sometimes naïve.
* * *
My sister-in-law glared at me. She
had a lot to say about me. She is an "eloquent woman," of
course!! She came from a well-to-do, well-mannered, educated family. Her
father, half-Chinese, was a wealthy man. She was proud of her half-Chinese
father. She was proud of her half-Chinese blood with her fair, yellowish
complexion. But her mother is a dark-skinned, wavy-hair woman!
She worked in the rice paddy all of her youth until her husband
married her and took her to the capital city. As a matter of fact, my
mother in-law and my mother came from the same village.
Jacqueline had so much pride that when she saw any dark skinned
Cambodians she would think they were peasants and uncivilized.
If you eat rice
with your fingers, wear sarong
to go to the mall, and are dark-skinned then you are peasant, not
civilized, according to Jacqueline.
Volume 1 Issue 4 October/November 1996