The story of my life
A few months had already passed.
Things weren’t any better. It was December and it was cold ! My mother’s
visits had become more regular but my siblings seldom came to see me. I was five
months pregnant, my belly was big. There was a life inside me moving and kicking
anxiously. But I understood, sometimes I had wished it stayed inside my womb and
never came out to live in this cold world. Other times, I wished it would come out soon so I could
have a companion, someone to talk about
problems with; happy and sad things
about life, someone to laugh with and to care for. I wanted to teach it good
things, not the bad things I did but the good things I was trying to do. I desperately wanted my baby to see how
confusing it felt sometimes to be a Cambodian girl living in America; a child of
the “peasants”. I was already used to this
world, a world of hypocrisy and narrow-mindedness.
I couldn’t wait to tell it all about life, about grandmothers and
grandfathers, about aunts and uncles, and about how this world is living their
lives. I couldn’t wait to see who this little thing inside of me
was going to look like.
I was doing the same things
as always: cooking, cleaning, and trying to be a good wife and in-law. Nowhere
to go and not many friends to visit,
the only place that I was familiar with was library. I
visited this interesting place a lot recently. I
read and studied at home when I could. Books were my friends and
reading was my only escape from my cold little world. I traveled to many
different places and saw many different people and cultures, and explored new
ideas through my reading journey.
The communication between my mother-in-law and I was never a problem but
it was getting better. I guess time heals all wounds. As for Jacqueline, she
didn’t talk to me excepted if she needed to, then she would either yell at me
or snicker at me. Most of the time, she did both, time heals some wounds!
Jacqueline was enrolled at University of Minnesota studying to be a doctor. She
was quite popular on campus, everybody knew her. She was very active and joined
many different clubs on campus; such as the ski club, science club, and Chinese
club. But definitely NOT the Cambodian students club. Of course, she had a lot
to say about Cambodian student club. She said “Cambodian students never
respect each other at meetings, they don’t
know how to organize a meeting. They
look down on one another.” In fact, she never told her new “friends” that
she was Cambodian.
* * *
Ding! Ding! Ding!
I met Jane Hauer through Ruth Moores, one of our neighbors, about three
months ago while I was raking leaves in the back yard. Mrs. Moores introduced me
to Jane Hauer who had been living
in the neighborhood for forty years. Mrs. Hauer was a retired
school teacher. She had been helping me
with reading, writing, and math. She always taught me how to take care of
my body, especially when I was pregnant with Veasna. She always asked me to
write about my life in Cambodia, the
refugee camp, and my experience in America. Sometimes she brought stories about
her life. We would exchange papers. She read my paper and I read
hers. She often told me that my story was very similar to her parents’.
They did not speak English at all when they first came from Germany. They came
to America to seek freedom. As Jews, they were not welcome
in Germany. Sometimes I wondered why she is so good to me. I guessed it
was because she had nothing else to do.
Volume 1 Issue 5 December 1996
Samnang Tho Journals Khmer Voice Homepage Authors and Their Works Table of Contents Poetry New Submissions Short stories & Essays