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A rude awakening came to me one night in a form of a storm To be precise, it was more than a storm; it was a hurricane whose name was that of one of my favorite person: Ike. Yes, indeed, Ike was strong and vicious as it wreaked havoc in the lives of many thousands, mine included.
Or was Ike a blessing in disguise? Yes, it was a wake-up call alright; a reminder to me, especially. It was as though it said to me “hey, Chumnith, complacency is over. Wake up and be reminded of the time that you did not have what you have today.”
Yes, indeed, it was mighty strong reminder. And Ike made sure I won’t ever forget the hard time again.
I felt Ike’s presence at 10:30 p.m. The howling of the wind, the swaying of the trees (which I had about 50 on my property), the twisting of branches, and the pouring of rain did not bother me that much. I had been through hurricane before. Nothing to worry about. Then out went the light. I told everyone to go to sleep and when we “wake up tomorrow the worse will pass.”
But the worst had not even arrived yet. I awoke to the crashing sound on my roof. A pine tree was uprooted and felt on my roof. It sounded like a grenade had exploded meters away from me; I tried to go outside to see for myself, but I found myself unable to open the door. The wind, with its might, pressed the door shut as if mine was a doll house.
You know, I use candles to “create” ambient whenever I throw a party at my house. Lots of them. Candles by the stairways, by the fire place, on the tables, bathroom, etc. They all were beautiful when you use them to achieve the desired effect. But not that night. And surely not the 15 nights that followed. I burned the candles very sparingly since there was not any electrical power to my whole neighborhood.
As I sat during these nights having dinners, I was reminded of the time that, not so long ago, my family and I sat on the cold, damped floor around the faintly lit lamp fueled by coconut oil in our thatched hut somewhere in the land of Angkar. We sat and whispered night after night as if the grim reaper is hovering around waiting to snatch our soul. Come to think of it, Angkar was not any different from that at all.
Aside from not having electrical power, we did not have other things that we normally take for granted: water and natural gas. Hence, to have potable water for cooking and drinking, we resorted to use all of our available pots and pans and coolers, etc. to catch the rain water. My little king (my three year old son) had a blast at first as we let him bathe in the rain water; he ran around butt-naked in the rain. After that he got tired of if after a couple of times, for the rain water were cold, as cold as ice water. Again, as I watched my little king danced in the rain water, I was taken back to the time of Pol Pot where drinking rain water was a luxury. I saw myself crouching on the ground trying to drink rain water that was collected in a little pond. I also saw the worried look on my parents’ faces as they knew that they could not and did not have any food for us to eat; my three-year old sister had to stop drinking her milk. It was painful to see their helpless faces. Now my face was probably like theirs as I was wondering where on earth I could get milk for my son. Since almost all gas stations and convenient stores were shut down for lack of power.
Thus 15 days and so many recollections later, the light came back on as if heaven suddenly said: “enough of this test for Chumnith already. Let there be electricity.” And “poof” the power came back on. My wife and I jumped with joy as we realized that the bad time had passed. We understood that we were reminded that there is always sunshine after the rain. We were reminded that one should never, ever take anything for granted, but the most important reminder of all was that one should not let his or her guard down and must never forget the past no matter how bitter that past may have been.
Or was Ike a blessing in disguise? Yes, it was a wake-up call alright; a reminder to me, especially. It was as though it said to me “hey, Chumnith, complacency is over. Wake up and be reminded of the time that you did not have what you have today.”
Yes, indeed, it was mighty strong reminder. And Ike made sure I won’t ever forget the hard time again.
I felt Ike’s presence at 10:30 p.m. The howling of the wind, the swaying of the trees (which I had about 50 on my property), the twisting of branches, and the pouring of rain did not bother me that much. I had been through hurricane before. Nothing to worry about. Then out went the light. I told everyone to go to sleep and when we “wake up tomorrow the worse will pass.”
But the worst had not even arrived yet. I awoke to the crashing sound on my roof. A pine tree was uprooted and felt on my roof. It sounded like a grenade had exploded meters away from me; I tried to go outside to see for myself, but I found myself unable to open the door. The wind, with its might, pressed the door shut as if mine was a doll house.
You know, I use candles to “create” ambient whenever I throw a party at my house. Lots of them. Candles by the stairways, by the fire place, on the tables, bathroom, etc. They all were beautiful when you use them to achieve the desired effect. But not that night. And surely not the 15 nights that followed. I burned the candles very sparingly since there was not any electrical power to my whole neighborhood.
As I sat during these nights having dinners, I was reminded of the time that, not so long ago, my family and I sat on the cold, damped floor around the faintly lit lamp fueled by coconut oil in our thatched hut somewhere in the land of Angkar. We sat and whispered night after night as if the grim reaper is hovering around waiting to snatch our soul. Come to think of it, Angkar was not any different from that at all.
Aside from not having electrical power, we did not have other things that we normally take for granted: water and natural gas. Hence, to have potable water for cooking and drinking, we resorted to use all of our available pots and pans and coolers, etc. to catch the rain water. My little king (my three year old son) had a blast at first as we let him bathe in the rain water; he ran around butt-naked in the rain. After that he got tired of if after a couple of times, for the rain water were cold, as cold as ice water. Again, as I watched my little king danced in the rain water, I was taken back to the time of Pol Pot where drinking rain water was a luxury. I saw myself crouching on the ground trying to drink rain water that was collected in a little pond. I also saw the worried look on my parents’ faces as they knew that they could not and did not have any food for us to eat; my three-year old sister had to stop drinking her milk. It was painful to see their helpless faces. Now my face was probably like theirs as I was wondering where on earth I could get milk for my son. Since almost all gas stations and convenient stores were shut down for lack of power.
Thus 15 days and so many recollections later, the light came back on as if heaven suddenly said: “enough of this test for Chumnith already. Let there be electricity.” And “poof” the power came back on. My wife and I jumped with joy as we realized that the bad time had passed. We understood that we were reminded that there is always sunshine after the rain. We were reminded that one should never, ever take anything for granted, but the most important reminder of all was that one should not let his or her guard down and must never forget the past no matter how bitter that past may have been.
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