Posted on 29 November 2012.
By Stacy Nguyen
Northwest Asian Weekly
Northwest Asian Weekly
Phnom
Penh Noodle House owner Sam Ung (center white) with his family
including wife Karen (left from center) and daughters (from left)
Darlene, Diane, and Dawn. (Photo by George Liu/NWAW)
In 1975, after five years of civil unrest and increasing cruelty, the Khmer Rouge became the ruling party of Cambodia.
Battambang, the city where Sam Ung was born and where his family
lived, combusted on April 15. The Khmer Rouge launched missiles into the
city center, and Ung, then 20 years old, remembers the smoke, the
chaos, the wounded, and the dying with grisly detail. It’s a scene from
his life that he revisits in his autobiography, “I Survived the Killing
Fields: The True Life Story of a Cambodian Refugee,” which he wrote with
his friend, Thomas McElroy.
Ung witnessed the death of loved ones, genocide, the loss of his country, and underwent a life of extreme hardship.
When he talks about the past, Ung refers to the fact that he had died, many times over, and he came back from death.
He thinks it’s important to record history. “But — it’s kind of hard.”
“During those times, we used to have some things — it was not a great
life — but our family was a lot better off than a lot of others,” Ung
said. “In 1975, when the Khmer Rouge came, they push everyone out of
city. In those years, no people lived in city. No currency. No market.
No nothing. So everyone was forced to work on farms, so whatever they
give you to eat, you eat, otherwise you get nothing.”
As a teen, before the Khmer Rouge took power, Ung was combative,
sometimes tough and sometimes a hustler. In his novel, he describes his
youth with a fondness. He was fascinated by the way Clint Eastwood held a
cigarette between his lips in movies, fascinated by the line it made
against his face. Ung was enamored with surfing, even though he didn’t
really know what it was. He just knew it was cool.
But after the Khmer Rouge came to power, he starved and was forced clean human waste out of sewage ditches.
“These days, when we feel alone, when we’re shorted food or kind of
broke — it doesn’t compare to what I’ve been through. It’s nothing. Back
then, we couldn’t find anything to eat. We had to eat the wild
vegetation in the fields. And when the bell rang, we’d go get food. If
the bell didn’t ring, we didn’t get food. I’ve been through so many
things in life. Today, I know of a different, harder life.”
The Khao-I-Dang refuge camp on the Thai–Cambodian border held
approximately 160,000 Cambodians refugees in 1979, one of them Ung.
After the Khmer Rouge fell in 1980, Ung arrived in Seattle.
“When I came here, I had two separate [sets of] clothes. We landed.
[My wife and I] walked off the plane. The first thing — when we got here
— the 747 was full of refugees. The pilot said, ‘Welcome to America.’
Everyone cheered. We were so happy.
We were in the greatest country in the world. We told ourselves,
‘It’s a great country.’ So we got out of the plane doors — and that’s
when I said, ‘I don’t know nobody. I don’t have nothing. What am I going
to do?’”
When the Ung arrived in the States, his wife Kim was eight months
pregnant. Their daughter Dawn was born four weeks later. It was with the
birth of his daughter and the weight of the responsibility on his back
that Ung made a promise to himself. He was going to eventually write his
story, so that Dawn and his future kids, Diane and Darlene, and his
grandkids, Derin and Devin, would know what he survived.
“I had a wish when I came to the States in 1980. I said, ‘One day, I
will write the story.’ I just wanted to record history for my
grandchildren, so they know why we came here. It was the biggest thing
I’ve accomplished in my life.”
It was a goal that he reached 30 years after coming to the States. He
and McElroy started the book in 2009 and took 25 months to complete it.
In the time between publishing the book and coming to the United
States, Ung built a family and a beloved restaurant, Phnom Penh Noodle
House, in Seattle’s Asian community.
“I grew up in the restaurant. I have passion. I didn’t have a
teacher. I grew up in my country in a restaurant. I always look at how
cooks cook, how they cut the vegetables. It was something I had to
watch. Before they sent the food out, I tasted them, so I get the
flavor. My mom said if you want to be a good cook, you have to have a
good [ability to] taste.”
“He works a lot,” said Ung’s eldest, Dawn Cropp. “So many hours.
Every day of the week. If he’s not taken away out of town, he’s here. …
He is like a machine. I’m so afraid of the machine not working. Because
you can only go so hard so long before it breaks down. He’s so amazing.”
Ung is quick to say that he may not have the most money, but he has
heart and skill sets. He became known for donating his time and talents
in support of social causes and community fundraisers.
“I only got educated six years, but I always use my common sense.
That’s how I survived. During the Khmer Rouge, they took me once. They
tied me up. When they tie you up, you don’t come back. I’ve been there —
what they call the slaughterhouse, where the army is. I talked my way
out. … A lot of people come by and tell me they appreciate the stories
[in my novel]. They say they understand what really happened. There’s a
lot of stuff in the book. It’s more than just how I survived. I also
look at life differently now.”
Since the book’s publication, Ung has been tapped as a lecturer and
presenter at educational institutions across the country, a process he
finds cathartic.
“Growing up, he never spoke about it,” Cropp said. “Now, this has
given us a different outlook. Growing up, we got bits and pieces. And he
always said, ‘One day, when you have your own kids, you’ll understand
why I am the way I am.’ I used to think my dad was crazy. Just being the
first generation here was really tough for my dad. All he wanted to do
is guide and protect. It’s hard to deal with sometimes, when there are
two different cultures. But as an adult, knowing what my parents have
gone through has given me a great appreciation for him. I always feel so
indebted to him.”
“People always talk about passion, compassion,” Ung said. “I always
say, especially to college-aged kids, I tell them: I didn’t have much
chance in my life. I had only six years of grade school. And I worked
like a dog all my life. You all must help educate. You have more chance
at success than anyone. We should support our community. When you
support, you build a stronger community.”
“Sometimes when I lecture, I say, ‘Sorry I break down when I
speak,’ ” Ung said. “I’ve lost a lot of people. Family. But I think it’s
a good thing for me, because every time I break down, I release that
young man inside me, out.” (end)
Stacy Nguyen can be reached at info@nwasianweekly.com.
1 comment:
Mr. Sam Ung, I know you loss friends and families went through tremendous hardship and unbearable life during the Pol Pot regime, as my family went and thousands of families went through just like you. By now no-one really want to hear that story many thousands of time again and again. There is nothing else that you can say that had not been said many thousands times by millions of people just like you, and for sure your story not anymore dramatic than millions of others.
What you need to tell right now is, that Yuon are all over our country, every villages bordering Yuon being robbed by Yuon, along Tonle Sap Yuon had been taken over, that is the stories that you should be preaching to the world and to all of our innocent Khmer, and should be supporting them along the border with Yuon.
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