In 1976, I was eleven years old.  My mom was still alive but dying from starvation and lack of medical care under the Khmer Rouge’s heartless domination.  I prayed endlessly that the world would come to help us before I lost her forever. 

 

No one came.

 

In the summer of 1977, while she was still alive, the Khmer Rouge threw my mother into a well of corpses because she was too ill to be of any further use to them.

 

Today, I am a child no longer.  As an adult U.S. citizen, I can now pursue and achieve the goals that I set for myself.  And I haven't forgotten what that little girl wanted in 1977.

 

In 2005 I was invited to speak about When Broken Glass Floats at the University of Cambodia.  There I spoke to an audience made up of students and foreign professionals who helped rebuild Cambodia. 

 

When I finished, several students came to the podium.  They expressed shock at what they had just heard, and disappointment that they could not get this information from their elders.  The latter was no surprise to me.  I knew from my experience as a research interviewer for the Khmer Adolescent Project that those who went through the Khmer Rouge era still have great difficulty speaking about it.  As a result, those born after the end of the Khmer Rouge know little about this important piece of their history.  And they know little about what is really in the hearts of their family members who went through it.

 

Finally, one of the students spoke up on behalf of the others.  He fervently said in Cambodian, “We want to read ‘Elder Sister’s’ book in Khmer, but it’s only in English.  We don’t know much English yet.  What can we do?”

 

I remembered my own experiences in the Thai refugee camps, when I wanted so badly to learn English but didn’t have the money to pay an English teacher.  When I heard that the Thai soldiers were searching to destroy my English textbooks, I ran as fast as I could from my school to my quad to hide them.  I know well what a book can mean to someone who is hungry for education.

 

It is because of these experiences that I am inspired to make my book available in the Cambodian language to any Cambodian who wants to read it. 

 

Sadly, forty-one years after the Khmer Rouge were ousted, Cambodia still doesn’t have a professional publisher.  The English edition of my memoir can be purchased in Cambodia, but the book is pirated and mostly sold to tourists. (It was always ironic when one of these tourists graciously asked me to autograph a pirated copy.)  Many Cambodians cannot afford to pay the price of translation and printing costs for a Cambodian edition of When Broken Glass Floats. 

 

If you would like to help, and believe in this cause, please contribute to the “Golden Projects,” so I can make my book available to Cambodians at a price they can pay. 

 

Please empower me to help current and future generations of Cambodians to learn about and never forget what happened. 

 

To contribute via PayPal, please click on the gold "Donate" button on the left.  Thank you!