At the Eastern Transit

When a lot of Vietnamese and Cambodians come arrive here to Melbourne for the first time, I’ve noticed the shock they have upon arrival of the close friendships we have. Back home, fated stories often depict each other in an evil or ridiculed way. The surprise for them to see such discrimination has been abandoned for the exchanging of recipes, shared war stories and most beautifully of all, wedding vows.

Sometimes I wish like my cousins, I was half vietnamese and half Cambodian, I always felt at home in both cultures. It is why I have a tattoo on my writing hand of a Vietnamese woman in an ao dai It symbolises to me friendship despite history. My uncle himself is a Vietnamese man and my aunty was forced to fight with my grandmother for her to accept his proposal and eventual marriage. We win despite our odds.

Our cultures are so different yet so similar. The phrase, “same same but different” comes into context here because that is an underlying truth about our revived communities. We are still sharing the hurt and pain but through it we are rising from our burnt down homes, eradicated families, trauma to reclaim back what is ours. Peace.

My mother was born in a tiny village called Chnea near where she eventually resided in the rural out post known as Battambang. Known as a haven for where all the best of Cambodia’s singers hailed from, the area she grew up in was fortunate to also be the ‘rice bowl’ of Cambodia. It exceeded the usual supply of rice crops per year in comparison to over parts of Cambodia probably assuring my mother’s survival under the Khmer Rouge. The French villas adorn beside the markets, hustle and bustle of tuk-tuk and moto drivers scouring for their families, mothers selling vegetables while gossiping about what trouble their children had got up to. She escaped here, not knowing any English. My mother was the eldest of six children, she never went to high school and came here and ran a business. She once told me she was “dumb”, I hushed her and told her not to believe at. Look at what she created against all odds. It is reasons like this I cannot forget and shy away from Cambodia. Cambodia is family.

Basically I want to start a little project for Chhaul Chnam Thmey whereby we interview Cambodian Australians whether they were born or moved here asking them “What they love about Cambodia”.

The point of this is to focus on the positivity of our heritage. Too much do we hear just the bad side of it, and as a nation still mourning from such a history we need time to heal. But to heal, we need to take action.

Essentially I want to film a video compiling all these stories both in Khmer and English backed with some old Khmer tunes. I want funny stories, sad stories, encouraging stories, all stories. We have been hurting for so long, but while we should never forget we have a right to be happy.

As a child who did not see the warfare, it is my responsibility that I show I care about our country. That I am willing to create change, a change for the better. I hope some of you guys hear me out and can help me on this.