SURVIVAL IN THE KILLING FIELDS

The books I read so far were mainly fictional; usually literature. I prefer humour, tragedy, books with sentences cleverly interwoven, albeit subtle, brought out their innermost meanings, and occasionally, biographies. When I was still in primary school, I devoured the entire collection of Famous Five (in Malay), Alfred Hitchcock and biography on Mahatma Ghandi.

I had a glimpse of the China Revolution via Wild Swan by Jung Chang. Since then, I was already harboring hatred towards any political agendas; which deprive basic human rights. The books I read while working in the library during my college days further ingrain my detest for wars.

Pictures of slain Jewish piling up after the gas chamber massacre in Auschwitz, the horror of learning that they use human fat tissues as soap, and the imaginary smell of decomposed bodies sipping through my nostrils as I flipped through the pages with my trembling fingers. We don’t have to be there to feel the incomprehensible pain.

Then, I only felt pity and horrified for those who had passed on and didn’t give much thought about whatI had read. Probably, I was still young and dumb.

Last week, I read Survival in the Killing Fields; a true account of Ngor Haing, who was also a survivor of Khmer Rouge holocaust himself, an academy award winner for the best actor in the movie: The Killing Fields.

I have never felt such tremendous sadness in the books I had read before. I had to take a few days break in between before I continue reading. It stirs your emotions to the max.

The detailed descriptions of the torturous acts committed by the Khmer Rouge were despicable. However, it wasn’t the description that made my eyes swell with tears and feeling of overwhelming pain in my heart.

It was the human bond and ability to accept the gruesome fate that had me breaking down in tears. The basic human instinct on staying alive; even if they are walking on a tiny thread of life, how they persevere to hang on to dear life even when there was nothing there to live for except for each other.

I truly admire their courage that they still managed to live in agony of loss of lives of their dear ones. The helplessness and desperation in everyone, when there were unfairness and oppressions, surrendering all to fate... Their perseverance was stretched to the limits, to take one day at a time... not knowing their destinations or what's gonna bring them tomorrow.. yet.. they plod on and on.

And how love managed to grow in the hearts of the people, to truly cherish the people that they had taken for granted for so long, till they were either taken away or died of disease or starvation. I guess the love formed during dire situation like this is the purest of all. It was love that spur Ngor Haing and his beloved wife, Huoy to keep on living for each other. It was love that saw them through their ordeal and hardship beyond anyone’s understanding. It was love that kept them alive throughout the four years of inhuman torture.

I do not see any benefits derived from declaring wars, other than pursuing selfish agendas; to monopoly oil rigs or other natural resources, the powerful and the rich keep being more powerful and richer, the poor getting poorer, to get more lands, control more resources, etc.

There is not much difference now than it is in the yesteryears. Even with the global scrutiny, big forces still abuse their power discriminatively, endless struggle between two great nations, both claiming they are God’s chosen people, ethnic cleansing, despicable acts of torturing prisoners of war, stripping them off their dignity, treating them worse than animals, etc.

This is all karma. It will never end till all human realize that, the cycle will never stop if they keep on having vengeance and unforgiveness in their hearts. Cambodians call it “Kum”. Evil begets evil, good begets good.

Before I read this book, I would usually chuckle at the shirts depicting Chairman Mao or any politicians for that matter, at Bangsar Shopping Village. Now, I found it rather disturbing of having a communist political head on the shirt, as if the wearer is endorsing what he had done was right, even if it was a thing of the past.

As much as I felt sorry and horrified of what happened during wars, they were already history. “Kum” has been created. It is going to start all over again. I just pray that the world would learn from the stories in order not to repeat them, but it is indeed beyond our control that it might. That is when, everyone would wish; they never had parents, they never had children and they were never born.