Breaking Free (2 page)

All the children in Bou Sra got to run through the forest naked or in clothes they made out of leaves and vines. Somaly was a great forager. She knew which mushrooms were safe to eat, which insects were the meatiest, and how to follow a bee to its honey source without getting stung. Whenever she caught a woodland animal, she brought it to a kind man named Taman so he could cook it for her.

Taman and his wife and children always made room for Somaly in their one-room hut. They called her Non, or “Little One.” Somaly treasured those nights in their cheery home. She loved it when Taman’s wife bathed her. After the bath, Taman’s wife rubbed pig’s fat into Somaly’s hair so it felt smooth and warm. She also sang beautiful songs that Somaly tucked deep inside her skin. Those nights were Somaly’s only memories of being loved and held by a mom. Even if it wasn’t her own.

Somaly lived in Bou Sra for around nine years. In the rest of Cambodia, the civil war kept gaining steam. Most Cambodians called this time The Troubles. The Khmer Rouge political party and a brutal dictator named Pol Pot took over with their loyal soldiers. About one in five people were executed or starved to death. Practically everyone was forced into some sort of labor camp. Pol Pot closed schools and hospitals. He forbade anyone to read, drive cars, or even wear glasses—anything that he thought of as too modern or threatening to his complete control. Bou Sra wasn’t modern at all. The people of Bou Sra had no money, no medicine, nothing connecting them to the Western world. So Pol Pot left them unharmed.

Somaly wasn’t fighting in any war, but she did have a vicious enemy called loneliness. Besides the harvest festivals and nights with Taman’s family, it was hard always fending for herself. When the other children were called home in the evening, Somaly had to invent her own playmates and games. She played hide and seek with small animals. She climbed to the highest limbs of each tree in one swoop. Sometimes she just stood still under the waterfalls for hours as the water pounded into the rocks and the sky tumbled by in a rush of speckled sunlight.

At night, in her hammock under the inky sky, Somaly asked the birds to tell her bedtime stories. She told her deepest secrets and hopes to the treetops. She liked to imagine their branches were her mother’s arms. Their leaves fluttering in lullabies sang just for her.

“I always feel hope even in the darkness, because I think when you are still alive, even for [a] few more minutes, you have a chance to have hope. Without hope, how can you survive?”

~ Somaly Mam

Blue Rubber Flip-Flops

When Somaly was about nine years old, Taman introduced her to an older man who said to call him Grandfather. This was a way of showing him respect as an elder, and Somaly believed he could in fact be her grandfather. Grandfather also said he would return Somaly to her parents if she followed him out of the forest. He seemed kind, and Taman said it was a good idea because nobody in Bou Sra could really look after her. So, Somaly left with him.

Grandfather was completely silent as they walked together for days. She didn’t know if she should try to talk to him or ask him how he knew her parents. She wanted to be respectful, but she was also very eager to know where they were going and to get there already.

Pretty soon, Grandfather made it clear even without words that this trip was not what she’d expected. They came to a crowd that was gathering around a logging truck. Somaly had never seen a truck before and she backed away. Grandfather scowled at her and swung a fist into her face. Then he hauled her onto the truck as if she were nothing more than a stack of logs, too.

As she rubbed her sore cheek, she began to realize what was really going on. This man was no grandfatherly figure, and he was not here to help her. She was days and miles away from anyone or anything familiar, and getting farther by the minute.

When they got off the truck, they arrived at a crumbling bamboo hut in a village called Thlok Chhrov. Grandfather told her she was his servant now. She had to cook, clean, wash his clothes, and fetch his water from the Mekong River in heavy metal buckets. The buckets cut into the backs of her legs, making them hot and swollen. Grandfather also made Somaly cook and clean for his neighbors, so he would have money for drinking and gambling.

Sometimes at night, Somaly woke up to find Grandfather’s hands climbing up her chest. Whenever this happened, she bolted out the door. She ran to the riverbank to hide in a docked fishing boat or under a pile of dry rice stalks. She didn’t dare tell anyone what was going on. Most of the people in Thlok Chhrov shouted insults at Somaly because her skin was darker than theirs and because she was too thin from not having enough to eat. She waited until the deep of night to talk to her new best friend, the river.

Somaly asked the river to guide her and protect her. The water babbled back but it gave her no answers. She knew she could not give up hope, but who would come to rescue this raggedy orphan with dark skin and no name besides Little One?

She found her first flicker of hope in a pair of blue rubber flip-flops with thorns and rocks poking through the heels.

One of the old women who hired Somaly to fetch her water from the river every morning saw Somaly’s sore feet and put the blue flip-flops by her door. When Somaly showed up one morning, the woman didn’t say a word. She just pointed to the shoes and smiled. There were two big holes in the heels and the flip-flops barely stayed on Somaly’s feet, but she loved them.

Pock, pock, pock
.

Somaly marched along the woman’s mud floor and laughed at the silly sound of the bottoms slapping against it. Somaly didn’t know how to thank her. Servants were supposed to stay silent always. She hoped her smile was enough.

Pock, pock, pock, pock
.

It was the most noise she made from the day Grandfather brought her to this miserable village. Visiting the old woman and wearing those flip-flops even for an hour each morning became the highlight of Somaly’s day.

FICTION:

An “orange woman” is a young girl who sells oranges in the public gardens of Cambodia.

FACT:

Whenever a man buys an orange, he also buys the right to fondle the girl. Add another twenty-five cents and he can have sex with her, too.

The Sagging Birdhouse

Somaly was very careful not to get in anybody’s way in Thlok Chhrov. She did her work diligently and talked only to the Mekong River about how homesick and lost she felt. But there was a boy who worked in the fields nearby, and he often hid in the rice stalks, too. One day he told Somaly in whispers that he knew a place where they could get rice and broth and the people were so kind. Somaly had to swear to keep it a secret before he would let her come.

He took her to a hut that was built on stilts. It leaned over like a giant sagging birdhouse. Inside was a schoolteacher named Mam Khon and his wife, Pen Navy. The floor of their home was covered with children chatting, giggling, and slurping soup. Mam Khon and Pen Navy welcomed Somaly. They didn’t ask her any questions. They didn’t make her fetch their water or wash their clothes. Pen Navy dished out a bowl of rice for Somaly. She ate it so quickly and gratefully, she felt her whole body hiccup.

Soon Somaly went to Mam Khon’s hut every day. Grandfather never knew because Somaly was always careful to get her work done first before slipping through the rice stalks to the sagging birdhouse. Pen Navy was a baker and let Somaly help her with the cakes she sold. Sometimes she even let Somaly eat one on the way to market.

Somaly didn’t know how to thank this beautiful, generous family. Mam Khon said she could call him Father and Pen Navy, Mother. They had six children of their own. Somaly shyly began to call them sisters. The family clothed her, fed her, and took care of her when she was sick. She dreamed of hiding under the stilts of their house so Grandfather could never find her again. But he expected her home every morning and evening to cook his meals and bring her earnings to him. She could not bear the thought of getting her new family in trouble.

One day, Pen Navy asked Somaly if she wanted to go to the school where Mam Khon taught. It wasn’t much more than a floor with a thatched roof to keep out the rain; there weren’t even any walls on the sides. Somaly knew it was near their home because she heard children singing and laughing there all the time. She wanted to go very badly. She wanted to dress in the blue skirt and white shirt that all the other girls wore. Somaly told Pen Navy she didn’t know how it could ever work, but that she would love to go.

That was all Pen Navy needed to hear. Somaly never found out how he did it, but Mam Khon persuaded Grandfather to let her go to school. The rules were that she had to get up and finish her work before seven each morning. She went to school from seven until eleven. Then she had to go back and either work in the fields or do military training. She washed her uniform in the river, prepared Grandfather’s supper, and did his cleaning and chores. Then she willed her eyes to stay open as she studied her schoolbooks under the last shred of moonlight. (Grandfather rarely had enough money for an oil lamp.)

School was the greatest gift for Somaly. For those four hours of school each day she was free. Free to speak out loud and learn new words. Free to read books and write numbers in a line. Free to open her mouth and her eyes and her mind in a thousand new directions.

Best of all, on the first day of school, Mam Khon told the other teacher, Mr. Chai: “She’s my daughter. I lost her in The Troubles, but now I’ve found her. She’s mine.”

Somaly was shocked when she heard him. She didn’t think it was true, but she ached for it to be so. Mam Khon also told Mr. Chai that her name was Mam Somaly. Mam, because she was part of Mam Khon’s family. Somaly meant “The Necklace of Flowers Lost in the Virgin Forest.”

Somaly was so ecstatic about her new name she wanted to shout it to the skies. She was eleven years old, and for the first time, she knew who she was.

“Nobody is ready for everything. I always encourage the girls to prepare not only for good things, but also to be ready for failure, and ready to stand up and try again.”

~Somaly Mam

Lamp Oil and Candy

Grandfather finally saved up enough to buy lamp oil. Or at least that’s what he told her. He sent Somaly to pick up the oil at the Chinese merchant’s shop. When she got there, the merchant seemed confused at first. She didn’t have any money with her, or even a bag of rice to trade for the oil. But then the merchant nodded his head with a slow, strange smile.

Somaly didn’t know what it was about that smile, but it made her shiver.

Somaly knew this merchant pretty well. He and his wife were usually kind and gave her a small cake or a piece of candy when she came to buy oil for Grandfather. Only this time, the merchant’s wife was nowhere in sight.

The merchant gave Somaly a cake and told her to follow him into the storeroom. He quickly pushed her onto a pile of rice sacks, then held her down and beat her until she was bleary. Somaly lay there, frozen in shock. Then the merchant forced his body onto and into hers.