nafadda
08-30-2003, 01:25 PM
this is not a joke with a funny ending,so if that's what you want....move on......
“Do you want to see my piglets?", I asked Tha.
“ You have piglets?” Her big eyes lit up as she spoke.
I held up my hands displaying all of my fingers.
“ Ten of them. They‘re one month old.” I answered.
” I love piglets. ” Her voice sounded excited.
As we walked back to my house, I noticed her blouse’s pockets badly torn from the fight.
“ Hey, your pocket ripped.” I told Tha.
She gave a quick glance and said, “ I’ll mend it later.”
“ You can mend?” I was surprised.
Later I learned that Tha not only can mend clothes, but she also can wash, cook and help take care her house. Her father was a farmer. He was working for someone else. The only time Tha saw her dad, when the sun set. He usually left for work before she awake. Tha told me that, her father was trying to save money to buy back a piece of land, which was belonging to their family, but the Vietnamese took away. Her father didn’t like to work for other people and he was very bitter with life as a farmer with out land.
Her grandmother worked fourteen hours a day, peeling off octopus skins, and picking crabmeats by hand at one of the local Seafood Company. Her grandmother was trying to pay back the money, which they had to borrow for her grandfather operation. He died from some kind of complication right after the surgery.
Her mother worked as a housekeeper for a wealthy family, which her grandmother borrowed the money from. Her mother also tried to help pay back their debt and save money for her father to buy land.
Tha had not seen her mother since Bonn Chole Chnam (Cambodian New Year), which takes place in mid April, and at that time it was the end of June. Tha was looking forward to see her mother at Bonn Donta (Cambodian Memorial Day) in late October. For over two years, they left Tha tending home alone.
My grandmother handed Tha a set of my cleaned clothes and a towel.
“ Di tam!” (Go shower!) Grandmother spoke to her in Vietnamese and pointed to the bathroom. I translated to Khmer for Tha, but she told me she understood Vietnamese.
My maternal grand parents speaks only Chinese and Vietnamese. I’d speak all three languages at home. I’d speak Chinese, Vietnamese to my mother and maternal grandparents, and Khmer to my father. He always said,” Khmer neveay Khmer.” (Khmer speak Khmer). Some times, I got mixed up with all the languages. I got upset because I didn’t know how to expressed in either Khmer, Vietnamese nor Chinese. Most of the time, I spoke half-Khmer, half-Vietnamese or half-Vietnamese, half-Chinese to my family. It was not easy for growing up in a family with multi-cultures and languages.
“ Ooooooooooooo. Saat nassssssssssssss. ” (So pretty)
Grandfather exclaimed in broken Khmer, as he saw Tha entered the kitchen. She beamed a smile at grandfather, looking down at her bare feet and swirled her toes on the floor. Her cheeks was red from blushing, she looks beautiful. ” My grandma is going to give you more clothes.” I told her.
“ Are you giving me this outfit? “ Tha asked me.
” Yes, grandma said so.” I answered her.
Tha was quiet at the dinner table, politely nipping on plain rice.
“ Eat!” Grandfather commanded.
She smiled and said “ thank you,” when grandmother placed some meat on her bowl.
“ Don’t be shy or you’ll be hungry.” Grandma told her.
I was chirping through out lunch. I was very happy with Tha presence; there was something about Tha that made me happy. That day I’ve found my best playmate.
Tha was three years older than I was, but she was petite comparing to me. Since the incident, Tha became the big sister that I never have, my guardian angel and my best friend. We were inseparable. As our friendship grew stronger, at daytime, Tha came and stayed at my house. For months, each morning, she’d walked to school with me, and was waiting to walk me home after school. She was trying to protect me from the Vietnamese Kids, and the Khmer Kids that called me Youn.
I learned Tha had never been in school. She couldn’t read, or write, neither Vietnamese nor Khmer. She said her father wouldn’t let her learn Vietnamese language. According to her father, there was no need to learn Vietnamese. He told her that Kampuchea Krom soon would be back to normal, and no more Vietnamese on our Cambodia land. Unfortunately, her father was illiterate man. He was unable to teach her Khmer either.
There was no Khmer school in our province. The only schooling offered to us is in Vietnamese. The poverty kept Tha and many other Khmer Kids in my new neighborhood from attending school. I also found out that a lot of Khmer Kids were child laborers. Some worked alongside with their parents and some were working as cowboys tending cow and water-buffalo. Many spent all day, under the hot sun, in bare feet walking from house to house, selling lottery tickets and homemade snacks. They were very hard workers.
I taught Tha how to read, and write Vietnamese after school. She was very smart. Most of the times, I only had to show her once, and she picked it up rapidly. My mother gave her a personal black board and white chalks to practice writing. I remember one early morning. We were still asleep and awoke by the sound of crying in front of our house. Grandfather got up, he opened the door and he saw Tha sat on the hammock, weeping. She looked so sad, her hair was messed up, and her eyes were swollen reds. She told my grandfather that she has been crying since last night, after she realized someone had stolen her personal black board. Grandma said to her in Vietnamese. ” Tro`i da’t oi, tao nghe ma`y kho’c m`a tao he’t ho`n, tao tuo?ng o? nh`a ma`y c’o ai che’t. ” (Oh my God, it scared me to hear you cry, I thought you had a death in your family). However, my grandfather was more sympathized toward her. He told her that he understood what she went through. He would cry too if someone stole his favorite hat. He told Tha to go wash up and promised to replace with a new one.
Later that day, grandfather took us to the market, he bought Tha a brand new black board and a box of chalks. He also bought us identical backpacks. Tha was very happy, she kept said thank you and “sompeas”(tradition Khmer bows with both hands clasp together) to grandfather. On the way home, we wore our new backpacks. “ I look like a real student.” Tha said, grinning and pointing to the backpack on her back. Tha loved that backpack, it was packed with her treasures dried flowers and dried death butterfly, pressed neatly between the pages of old books that I gave to her, along with the black board and chalks. Everywhere Tha went she’d carry the backpack with her. She loved writing. Unlike mine, her handwriting was very neat. She got a lot of compliment from my family.
I learned a lot from Tha. She taught me how to mend clothes, how to start a wood burner stove without getting hair, face on fire. She was the first one, who taught me how to cook rice, and gave me a few street-smart survivor tips. Back then, I was taught to stay away from trouble. I didn’t like to get in an argument or fight with anyone either and that bothered Tha. She said in order to survive we needed to be strong and tough. She spent hours preaching me and teaching me how to become one. She told me that I should never be afraid to stand up for our right, and always speak up for what we beliefs.
She said, “ Make sure your voice heard. You’re going to die anyway, but don’t die in silence.”
“Do you want to see my piglets?", I asked Tha.
“ You have piglets?” Her big eyes lit up as she spoke.
I held up my hands displaying all of my fingers.
“ Ten of them. They‘re one month old.” I answered.
” I love piglets. ” Her voice sounded excited.
As we walked back to my house, I noticed her blouse’s pockets badly torn from the fight.
“ Hey, your pocket ripped.” I told Tha.
She gave a quick glance and said, “ I’ll mend it later.”
“ You can mend?” I was surprised.
Later I learned that Tha not only can mend clothes, but she also can wash, cook and help take care her house. Her father was a farmer. He was working for someone else. The only time Tha saw her dad, when the sun set. He usually left for work before she awake. Tha told me that, her father was trying to save money to buy back a piece of land, which was belonging to their family, but the Vietnamese took away. Her father didn’t like to work for other people and he was very bitter with life as a farmer with out land.
Her grandmother worked fourteen hours a day, peeling off octopus skins, and picking crabmeats by hand at one of the local Seafood Company. Her grandmother was trying to pay back the money, which they had to borrow for her grandfather operation. He died from some kind of complication right after the surgery.
Her mother worked as a housekeeper for a wealthy family, which her grandmother borrowed the money from. Her mother also tried to help pay back their debt and save money for her father to buy land.
Tha had not seen her mother since Bonn Chole Chnam (Cambodian New Year), which takes place in mid April, and at that time it was the end of June. Tha was looking forward to see her mother at Bonn Donta (Cambodian Memorial Day) in late October. For over two years, they left Tha tending home alone.
My grandmother handed Tha a set of my cleaned clothes and a towel.
“ Di tam!” (Go shower!) Grandmother spoke to her in Vietnamese and pointed to the bathroom. I translated to Khmer for Tha, but she told me she understood Vietnamese.
My maternal grand parents speaks only Chinese and Vietnamese. I’d speak all three languages at home. I’d speak Chinese, Vietnamese to my mother and maternal grandparents, and Khmer to my father. He always said,” Khmer neveay Khmer.” (Khmer speak Khmer). Some times, I got mixed up with all the languages. I got upset because I didn’t know how to expressed in either Khmer, Vietnamese nor Chinese. Most of the time, I spoke half-Khmer, half-Vietnamese or half-Vietnamese, half-Chinese to my family. It was not easy for growing up in a family with multi-cultures and languages.
“ Ooooooooooooo. Saat nassssssssssssss. ” (So pretty)
Grandfather exclaimed in broken Khmer, as he saw Tha entered the kitchen. She beamed a smile at grandfather, looking down at her bare feet and swirled her toes on the floor. Her cheeks was red from blushing, she looks beautiful. ” My grandma is going to give you more clothes.” I told her.
“ Are you giving me this outfit? “ Tha asked me.
” Yes, grandma said so.” I answered her.
Tha was quiet at the dinner table, politely nipping on plain rice.
“ Eat!” Grandfather commanded.
She smiled and said “ thank you,” when grandmother placed some meat on her bowl.
“ Don’t be shy or you’ll be hungry.” Grandma told her.
I was chirping through out lunch. I was very happy with Tha presence; there was something about Tha that made me happy. That day I’ve found my best playmate.
Tha was three years older than I was, but she was petite comparing to me. Since the incident, Tha became the big sister that I never have, my guardian angel and my best friend. We were inseparable. As our friendship grew stronger, at daytime, Tha came and stayed at my house. For months, each morning, she’d walked to school with me, and was waiting to walk me home after school. She was trying to protect me from the Vietnamese Kids, and the Khmer Kids that called me Youn.
I learned Tha had never been in school. She couldn’t read, or write, neither Vietnamese nor Khmer. She said her father wouldn’t let her learn Vietnamese language. According to her father, there was no need to learn Vietnamese. He told her that Kampuchea Krom soon would be back to normal, and no more Vietnamese on our Cambodia land. Unfortunately, her father was illiterate man. He was unable to teach her Khmer either.
There was no Khmer school in our province. The only schooling offered to us is in Vietnamese. The poverty kept Tha and many other Khmer Kids in my new neighborhood from attending school. I also found out that a lot of Khmer Kids were child laborers. Some worked alongside with their parents and some were working as cowboys tending cow and water-buffalo. Many spent all day, under the hot sun, in bare feet walking from house to house, selling lottery tickets and homemade snacks. They were very hard workers.
I taught Tha how to read, and write Vietnamese after school. She was very smart. Most of the times, I only had to show her once, and she picked it up rapidly. My mother gave her a personal black board and white chalks to practice writing. I remember one early morning. We were still asleep and awoke by the sound of crying in front of our house. Grandfather got up, he opened the door and he saw Tha sat on the hammock, weeping. She looked so sad, her hair was messed up, and her eyes were swollen reds. She told my grandfather that she has been crying since last night, after she realized someone had stolen her personal black board. Grandma said to her in Vietnamese. ” Tro`i da’t oi, tao nghe ma`y kho’c m`a tao he’t ho`n, tao tuo?ng o? nh`a ma`y c’o ai che’t. ” (Oh my God, it scared me to hear you cry, I thought you had a death in your family). However, my grandfather was more sympathized toward her. He told her that he understood what she went through. He would cry too if someone stole his favorite hat. He told Tha to go wash up and promised to replace with a new one.
Later that day, grandfather took us to the market, he bought Tha a brand new black board and a box of chalks. He also bought us identical backpacks. Tha was very happy, she kept said thank you and “sompeas”(tradition Khmer bows with both hands clasp together) to grandfather. On the way home, we wore our new backpacks. “ I look like a real student.” Tha said, grinning and pointing to the backpack on her back. Tha loved that backpack, it was packed with her treasures dried flowers and dried death butterfly, pressed neatly between the pages of old books that I gave to her, along with the black board and chalks. Everywhere Tha went she’d carry the backpack with her. She loved writing. Unlike mine, her handwriting was very neat. She got a lot of compliment from my family.
I learned a lot from Tha. She taught me how to mend clothes, how to start a wood burner stove without getting hair, face on fire. She was the first one, who taught me how to cook rice, and gave me a few street-smart survivor tips. Back then, I was taught to stay away from trouble. I didn’t like to get in an argument or fight with anyone either and that bothered Tha. She said in order to survive we needed to be strong and tough. She spent hours preaching me and teaching me how to become one. She told me that I should never be afraid to stand up for our right, and always speak up for what we beliefs.
She said, “ Make sure your voice heard. You’re going to die anyway, but don’t die in silence.”