On Sunday morning last April, thousands of Cambodian Americans with bowls of white rice gathered around the ornate Buddhist temple in Silver Spring, waiting to donate food to five red-robed monks. They were here, at the Vatt Buddhikarama, for the Dak Bat Lok.
Nearby, on a stage above the temple lawn, musicians in starched-white, brass-buckled jackets and black slacks struck the first Eastern chords of the roneat ek and tro. The music flowed gracefully over the temple grounds.Along the driveway leading to the monastery, marinated meats sizzled on open grills, fish soup bubbled under flame, and bananas fried in deep steel cauldrons. Rich, sweet-smelling smoke shrouded the property.
The occasion was the annual Cambodian New Year celebration, held here, at the Cambodian Buddhist Society on New Hampshire Avenue in Silver Spring. The New Year, which marks the 2552nd year since the Buddha's day of enlightenment, unites a dispersed community.
According the 2006 American Community Survey, the U.S. Census Bureau estimates that some 4,500 Cambodian Americans live in the Washington area. There are roughly 200,000 nationwide. The largest communities are in Long Beach, Calif., Seattle, Wash., and Lowell, Mass.
The Cambodian Buddhist Society, said to be one of the largest Cambodian Buddhist temples in the United States, is one of the few in the Mid-Atlantic region. That's why the New Year celebration draws crowds from Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and New York.
“I don’t see that many Cambodians in school,” said Vorith Phlong, 16, of Damascus, Md. “This brings us together in one place.”
Others agree.
“Cambodians are scattered everywhere,” said Sam Man, 53, of Springfield. “In D.C. or at the mall or the store it’s hard to recognize who’s Cambodian.” This event, said Man, brings the community together.”
The Cambodian American community was formed in the early 1980s, when Cambodian refugees fled their homeland to escape a country ruined by the rule of Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge. Between 1975 and 1979, the Communist regime directly or indirectly killed an estimated 1.7 million Cambodians—one-fifth of the country's population.
"No Cambodian alive was not affected by the war," said Sovan Tun
According to a 2005 study in the Journal of the American Medical Association, 90% of Cambodian Americans report having lost a family member or friend during the Khmer Rouge years.
“They gave us three days to leave,” said Devi Yim, 38, referring to the Khmer Rouge order to evacuate Phnom Penh in 1975. Yim and thousands fled to the countryside on foot and at gunpoint.
Yim, five at the time, was separated from her family and forced to tend rice fields in the countryside. Her brother was killed.
Poly Sam, a radio broadcaster, lists the members of his family that were killed.
One dead brother. Two dead brothers-in-law. One dead nephew. "That’s just my immediate family,” he said.
Like many of the other immigrants, Sam escaped Cambodia shortly after the Khmer Rouge were driven from power.
“It’s a sad place to be because you were there,” Sam said of his homeland.
“I was sent to a prison camp called Tuek La-aok,” said Hassan Kasem, a Cambodian immigrant, former Huey pilot, and also a broadcaster at Radio Free Asia. “Male prisoners were ankle-cuffed at night,” he said. “We were not given enough food. No medicine was provided.”
Kasem lost his father, mother, two brothers, and two sisters to the Khmer Rouge.
Once the Khmer Rouge were driven from power, thousands of Cambodians came to the United States. Most came by way of Thailand, where refugee camps were established. The journey was a long and dangerous trip by bus, motorcycle and on foot.
“It took us 10 days,” Sam said. “We walked through mine fields both days and nights.”
Sam described other threats too: hostile government troops, angry remnants of the Khmer Rouge, trigger-happy Thai border guards.
“It was my nightmare on the way to the border,” said Nalen Smith, 38, of Vienna, who left Phnom Penh for Thailand in 1984.
But the camps weren’t open to all the refugees; many had to sneak in.
“The U.N. left at night,” Sam explained as he sketched the Khao I Dang camp on scratch paper. He drew a square surrounded by two circles. "Refugees caught between these fences," he said, "were shot at night by Thai guards."
Nalen Smith and her sister, Naly, hired guides.
Nalen’s sister crossed first.
“There were three guiders,” Nalen said. “One walked ahead, the second one walked with my sister, the third one carried her baby…It was too late for my sister and her guide. They both were shot immediately. The one with the baby ran away and hide in the forest.”
Nalen crossed next.
“I was very scared, frightened, and painful. I was told to crawl and to use the leaves of the tree to cover my body when I came close to the gate. My body shook. Finally, I got into the camp and found out that my sister got shot.”
Once in the camps, refugees filed for entrance into countries that would take them, including the United States.
The Southeast Asia Resource Action Center (SEARAC) estimates that nearly 139,000 Cambodian refugees came to the United States in the 1980s, based upon data from the Office of Refugee Resettlement. In 1981 alone 38,000 Cambodian refugees resettled in America.
Though the ordeal ended for most more than 20 years ago, few Cambodian Americans speak of returning. The country has still not healed from the wounds of the past.
"There's lots of bribery, corruption,” explained Sam, the radio broadcaster. “It’s very chaotic because of lack of enforcement of laws. You get crooks, child molesters, murderers. Children are imported from Vietnam,” he said. “It's unsafe. You can't go out after eight pm.”
“Cambodians here get over the hump,” he explained. “Others in Cambodia have a survivor mentality. People are just trying to survive”
“It’s not that I don’t like my country,” said Waddanak Sem. “If I go back I have no opportunity. There’s none for my kids, either.”
According to the United Nations website, Cambodia is among the poorest nations in the world, with an estimated 36% of the population living in poverty. In rural areas of the country, the U.N. estimates the number is 40%. The country’s per capita Gross Domestic Product (GDP) is just $438, also one of the world’s lowest.
"You'll see a $60,000 Lexus next to someone walking barefoot," said Sam of the income inequalities in Phnom Penh. "A five-star hotel next to shack”
Many Cambodian Americans also resent the current government of Cambodia, which is a Constitutional Monarchy with a King and Prime Minister.
“The King has the title of Head of the Country, but he does not have any real power,” said Jiahn-Yih Wuu, the 2nd Minister of Religious Ceremony at the Cambodian Buddhist Society. Wuu arrived in the United States six months after the Khmer Rouge took power in 1975.
"The current government is run by a mixture of Hanoi-leaning former Communist officials, former Khmer Rouge soldiers and cadres and former royalist fighters," said Kasem, the former Huey pilot. "All of them were at one point of another in the same Communist school of thought.”
In recent years, with United Nations assistance, Cambodia has established courts to prosecute former Khmer Rouge leaders for crimes against humanity.
But the process has been slow and frustrating. The trials have been over-budget, delayed, and hampered by procedural slowdowns. And there’s a heavy dose of hypocrisy: the current Cambodian government includes former Khmer Rouge leaders.
"The Khmer Rouge trial is a joke endorsed by culprits," Kasem said. "There are many more who are as guilty as the current leaders and who will never have to face their victims. This is a trial of selective prosecution."
America is home now, and community leaders work to keep the traditional Khmer culture alive, particularly among the younger generation.
"Our goal is to provide the younger generation with the knowledge of our culture in hopes that this carries on the tradition," said Sovan Tun, the President of the Cambodian Buddhist Society.
The children, some as young as three, come to the Arlington Mill Community Center and the Cambodian Buddhist Society every Sunday for dance and music lessons.
Jonathan Dos, a fifth-grader at Carlin Springs Elementary, patiently held two mallets above the dark hardwood bars of a curved wooden instrument known as a roneat ek, a xylophone-like instrument with a rich eastern tone.
He plays a simple tune, like a Cambodian version of “Chopsticks.”The instructor, Ngek Chum, watches his pupils while bowing a violin-like instrument called a Tro. There’s not a musical sheet in the room. “I use my ear,” Chum says.
In a room across the hall, Devi Yim, the Dance Master, stands on tip-toes, her outstretched arms moving gracefully in large circles to the music. Facing Yim for this, the Coconut Dance, are 30 girls clad av noy, a multi-colored, sequent-studded Cambodian dance dress.
“I want to keep my culture alive,” Yim said. “That’s why I do it every weekend.”That’s also why the parents bring their children here.
From a plastic chair on the side of the dance floor, Kathy Rafferty watched her adopted daughter, Grace, practice. Grace was born in Cambodia and brought to the United States by Rafferty, who is not Cambodian.
The dance lessons teach culture and help with identity, Rafferty explains. “She wailed at first, but when the kids get older they really start to appreciate the lessons.”Another mother, Nalen Smith, watches Meghan, 5, perform.
“My kids don’t know the culture yet,” said Smith. “I bring Meghan to dance because I want to keep the culture alive. It’s not easy.”
The children have practiced for months in preparation for recitals in April, including the big New Year celebration.
Step inside the massive Buddhist temple towering over New Hampshire Avenue and you'd think you landed in Southeast Asia: Massive painted murals. Brass Buddha’s. Ancient texts. A pictorial lineage of Cambodia's Supreme Patriarchs. And Buddhist monks.
It’s here that the New Year festival, a three day event, is held.
“It’s the biggest celebration of the year,” said Sovan Tun, the President of the facility. “We expect two to three thousand,” Tun said of Sunday’s crowds.
Each day of the festival starts with the Dak Bat Lok, or the "feeding of the monks."
Tun explained: “They put the rice in the rice bowl...the alms in the alms bowl,” he said. "Buddhist monks were beggars. They must beg for food from the people."
Bhante Sopheak Ngove, wrapped in a flowing red robe, moved slowly through the crowd, taking a spoonful of rice from the gatherers. "Bhante" means "Venerable," and is Ngove's title.
"People offer food to the monks to pray to the Buddha," said Sowattey Sem, 26, of Sterling. "In return, people get back all the good wishes, happiness, and protection."
Sem and her family, some of whom came from New York to attend the celebration, spent the weekend celebrating and preparing traditional Cambodian food.
"I cooked fried noodles and steamed fish," Sem said. "My family cooked a Cambodian salad with duck's foot called Ngoim Choeng Tea, and desert called Tape."
Saturday night, Sem and her family attended a fundraising dinner and late-night dance party in Falls Church.
Usually we don’t sleep on the night before, Sem said. “We’re up all night talking. It only happens once a year.”
Sunday morning, Sem and her family arrived at the temple early to feed the monks and prepare the food.
“On the Cambodian New Year it’s tradition to cook for the group,” said Chantha Beng, 47, of Silver Spring.
Beng and his extended family manned a trailer-size grill hissing with marinated beef ribs. A hungry line wrapped around Beng's booth. In other tents, families served noodles, rolls, soup, chicken, pork, rice, and fried bananas. Visitors meandered from tent to tent, tasting all that was offered.
As is tradition, the food is free to the community. “We’re not selling it,” Beng said.
“It’s pretty cool,” said Jasper Carr, 7, who was at the celebration with his brother, Bandith, 6, and their parents.Both boys were born in Cambodia and adopted by Arthur and Libby Carr, 51 and 49.
Bandith is still learning to speak English, so Jasper spoke for them both: “There’s lots of things that look so good that we don’t have at home," he said. "It’s way better than McDonalds.”
In addition to the food, venders sell Cambodian goods from overflowing display tents: Sequent-studded, elephant-embroidered pillows. Traditional Cambodian shirts and dresses. Stacks of DVD’s in Khmer, the Cambodian language.
And snow cones and ice cream for the kids.
By noon, the crowd gathered in the auditorium on the bottom-floor of the temple. Backstage, young girls wearing sparkling gold necklaces over bright-yellow Av Noy, a tradition Cambodian dance dress, waited excitedly to perform.
When the music started, the girls gathered in a circle on stage, perfectly choreographed. They moved in perfect unison to traditional the music under the bright stage lights. The audience cheered.
Despite events like these, keeping foreign culture can be difficult.
“We try to maintain our identity,” says Sam, who has three boys.. “But, we’re busy.” Circumstances don’t always allow, he says.
And, sometimes the culture feels foreign to the younger generation.
“It’s awkward because I’m not that used to celebrating this culture,” said Michelle Choeung, 17, of Falls Church.
“I’m pretty Americanized. It comes at you really hard.”
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