[The following is an excerpt from Loung Ung’s amazing memoir about her experiences as a young girl who survived the Khmer Rouge atrocities in Cambodia during the late 70s. Here, Loung has been forced into a work camp for young girls that also serves to train them to be child soldiers for the Angkar, the name given to the Khmer Rouge government body. The ages of the children in the camp range from 10 to 15.]
After our first evening meal, Chou and I are told to gather around the bonfire for nightly lessons. When we get there we see that all the other children are already there. We squat on the ground waiting for the Met Bong [a title given to the matriarchical administer of the work/training camp] to read the latest news or propaganda from the Angkar. In a voice full of fury and adulation, Met Bong yells out, “Angkar is all-powerful! Angkar is the savior and liberator of the Khmer people!” Then one hundred children erupt into four fast claps, their fisted arms raised to the sky, and scream “Angkar! Angkar! Angkar!” Chou and I follow suit, though we do not understand the propaganda of what Met Bong is saying. “Today the Angkar’s soldiers drove away our enemy, the hated Youn [a derogatory term for the Vietnamese], out of our country!”
”Angkar! Angkar! Angkar!”
”Though there are many more Youns than Khmer soldiers, our soldiers are stronger fighters and will defeat the Youns! Thanks to the Angkar!”
”Angkar! Angkar! Angkar!”
”You are the children of the Angkar! Though you are weak, the Angkar still loves you. Many people have hurt you, but from now on the Angkar will protect you!”
Every night we gather to hear such news and propaganda, and are told of how the Angkar loves us and will protect us. Every night I sit there and imitate their movements while hatred incubates inside me, growing larger and large. Their Angkar may have protected them, but it never protected me – it killed Keav [her older sister] and Pa.
Source:
Ung, Loung. “Leaving Home, May 1977.” First They Killed My Father: A Daughter of Cambodia Remembers. Harper Perennial, 2017. 125-26. Print.
Further Reading:
Good read, thanks. It always amused me that the name of the town Siem Reap tranlates as death to the Thais.