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After enduring years of hunger, deprivation, and devastating loss at the hands of the Khmer Rouge, ten-year-old Loung Ung became the "lucky child," the sibling chosen to accompany her eldest brother to America while her one surviving sister and two brothers remained behind. In this poignant and elegiac memoir, Loung recalls her assimilation into an unfamiliar new culture while struggling to overcome dogged memories of violence and the deep scars of war. In alternating chapters, she gives voice to Chou, the beloved older sister whose life in war-torn Cambodia so easily could have been hers. Highlighting the harsh realities of chance and circumstance in times of war as well as in times of peace, Lucky Child is ultimately a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and to the salvaging strength of family bonds.
About the Author
Loung Ung was the National Spokesperson for the “Campaign for a Landmine Free World,” a program of the Vietnam Veterans of America Foundation, which was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for co-founding the International Campaign to Ban Landmines. Ung lectures extensively, appears regularly in the media, and has made more than thirty trips back to Cambodia. She is also the author of Lucky Child: A Daughter of Cambodia Reunites with the Sister She Left Behind and LuLu in the Sky.
Read an Excerpt
Lucky ChildA Daughter of Cambodia Reunites with the Sister She Left Behind
By Loung Ung
HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.Copyright © 2006 Loung Ung
All right reserved.
Welcome to America
June 10, 1980
My excitement is so strong, I feel like there are bugs crawling around in my pants, making me squirm in my seat. We are flying across the ocean to resettle in our new home in America, after having spent two months living in a houseboat in Vietnam and five months in a refugee camp in Thailand.
"We must make a good impression, Loung, so comb your hair and clean your face," Eang orders me as the plane's engine drones out her voice. "We don't want to look as if we've just gotten off the boat." Her face looms in front of me, her nails working furiously in their attempts to pick crusty sleepy seeds out of the corners of my eyes.
"Stop, you're pulling out my eyelashes! I'll clean my own face before you blind me." I take the wet rag from Eang's hand.
I quickly wipe my face and wet the cruds on my lids before gently removing them. Then I turn the rag over to the clean side and smooth down my hair as Eang looks on disapprovingly. Ignoring her scowl, I ball up the rag, run it over my front teeth, and scrub hard. When I'm finished, I wrap the rag around my pointing finger, put it in my mouth, and proceed to scrapefood residue off my back teeth.
"All finished and clean," I chime innocently.
"I do have a toothbrush for you in my bag." Her annoyance is barely contained in her voice.
"There just wasn't time ... and you said you wanted me clean."
Eang has been my sister-in-law for a year and generally I don't mind her; but I just can't stand it when she tells me what to do. Unfortunately for me, Eang likes to tell me what to do a lot so we end up fighting all the time. Like two monkeys, we make so much noise when we fight that my brother Meng has to step in and tell us to shut up. After he intervenes, I usually stomp off somewhere by myself to sulk over how unfair it is that he takes her side. From my hiding place, I listen as she continues to argue with him about how they need to raise me with discipline and show me who has the upper hand or I'll grow up wrong. At first, I didn't understand what she meant by "wrong" and imagined I would grow up crooked or twisted like some old tree trunk. I pictured my arms and legs all gnarly, with giant sharp claws replacing my fingers and toes. I imagined chasing after Eang and other people I didn't like, my claws snapping at their behinds.
But no, that would be too much fun, and besides, Eang is bent on raising me "right." To create a "right" Loung, Eang tells Meng, they will have to kick out the tomboy and teach me the manners of a proper young lady -- which means no talking back to adults, fighting, screaming, running around, eating with my mouth open, playing in skirts, talking to boys, laughing out loud, dancing for no reason, sitting Buddha-style, sleeping with my legs splayed apart, and the list goes on and on. And then there is the other list of what a proper girl is supposed to do, which includes sitting quietly, cooking, cleaning, sewing, and babysitting -- all of which I have absolutely no interest in doing.
I admit I wouldn't fight Eang so hard if she followed her own list. At twenty-four, Eang is one year older than Meng. This little fact caused quite a stir when they married a year ago in our village in Cambodia. It also doesn't help that Eang is very loud and outspoken. Even at my age, I'd noticed that many unmarried women in the village would act like little fluttering yellow chicks, quiet, soft, furry, and cute. But once married, they'd become fierce mother hens, squawking and squeaking about with their wings spread out and their beaks pecking, especially when marking their territory or protecting their children. Eang, with her loudness and strong opinions, was unlike any unmarried woman I'd ever spied on. The other villagers gossiped that Meng should marry a young wife who could give him many sons. At her advanced age, Eang was already thought of as a spinster and too old for Meng, a well-educated and handsome man from a respected family. But neither one cared too much for what the villagers said and allowed our aunts and uncles to arrange their marriage. Meng needed a wife to help him care for his siblings and Eang needed a husband to help her survive the aftermath of the Khmer Rouge war, Cambodia's poverty, and increasing banditries. And even though they got married because of those needs, I do think they love each other. Like the two sides of the ying and yang symbol, together they form a nice circle. Whereas Meng is normally reserved and quiet, Eang makes him laugh and talk. And when Eang gets too emotional and crazy, Meng calms and steadies her.
"Thank you for the rag," I smile sweetly, handing it back to Eang.
"Did you see what she did, Meng?" Eang crunches her face in disgust as she rolls up the wet rag and puts it in her bag. On my other side, Meng is quiet as he pulls a white shirt from a clear plastic bag and hands it over to his wife. The shirt gleams in Eang's hands, crisp and new. When Meng found out we were coming to America, he took all the money we had and bought us all new white shirts. He wanted us to enter America looking fresh and unused despite our scraggy hair and thin limbs. Eang kept the shirts in a plastic bag so they would stay fresh and unwrinkled for this very special occasion ...
Excerpted from Lucky Child by Loung Ung Copyright © 2006 by Loung Ung. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
|The Ung Family Tree||xv|
|Part 1||Worlds Apart|
|1||Welcome to America June 10, 1980||3|
|2||Chou June 1980||14|
|3||Minnie Mouse and Gunfire July 1980||21|
|4||War in Peace August 1980||32|
|5||"Hungry, Hungry Hippos" September 1980||42|
|6||Amah's Reunion September 1980||49|
|7||Square Vanilla Journal September 1980||57|
|8||Restless Spirit October 1980||70|
|9||Ghosts in Costume and Snow October 1980||77|
|10||A Child Is Lost November 1980||85|
|11||The First American Ung December 1980||91|
|Part 2||Divided We Stand|
|12||Totally Awesome U.S.A. March 1983||99|
|13||A Box from America August 1983||111|
|14||The Killing Fields in My Living Room June 1984||119|
|15||Living Their Last Wind April 1985||127|
|16||Sex Ed September 1985||135|
|17||Betrothed October 1985||143|
|18||Sweet Sixteen April 1986||154|
|19||A Peasant Princess July 1986||163|
|20||Write What You Know November 1986||173|
|Part 3||Reconnecting in Cambodia|
|21||Flying Solo June 1989||185|
|22||A Motherless Mother December 1990||192|
|23||No Suzy Wong January 1991||201|
|24||Eldest Brother Returns June 1991||211|
|25||Seeing Monkey May 1992||222|
|26||Khouy's Town 1993||238|
|27||Ma's Daughters May 1995||246|
|Epilogue: Lucky Child Returns December 2003||256|
|Resources and Suggested Reading||267|
What People are Saying About This
“I encourage everyone to read this deeply moving and very important book.”
“Ung is a masterful storyteller whose fresh clear prose shimmers with light and sorrow.”
“A unique glimpse into America’s “melting pot”a melting pot born of indescribable suffering but brimming with irrepressible life.”
“As piercing and poignant as its title.”
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Lucky Child is the sequel to "First They Killed My Father". Both books are the fascinating story of the children in the Ung family who survived the killing fields in Cambodia. Lucky Child is the back and forth comparison of Loung's growing up (she was the "Lucky Child" that got to come to America) with that of her sister who stayed behind in Cambodia. Both stories are moving and not always pleasant, but they are well written. If you want to read memoirs that are emotionally capitvating, I recommend both the original book and this sequel.
I asked for this book for Christmas not knowing anything about it other than it sounded interesting. I was not disappointed. Ung's tale of family strength, sacrifice and love was amazing. Lucky Child is one of the most well written memoirs I have ever read. I can honestly say that I thought I knew a fair bit about the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia but putting a human face and story to the atrocities made it really sink in. I have since ordered her first book and am eagerly awaiting her third. I admire her courage and how she is using her life and story to help others. This book will make you cry more than anything else you have ever read but it will also make you feel that there is hope that things can and will get better. Especially with people like Loung Ung in this world.
Ung really shows the bridge to the next stage in life for Cambodians who survived the Khumer Rouge atrocities.