Chapter 2 - ABOUT HAIR AND BANANAS

Loretta had warned about the first part of coming home. She explained how since this group was direct from the border, they hadn't even been processed in the real camps. They had just passed through a temporary camp set up near the border. They came almost direct from the jungles of Cambodia to us. This group would be less screened than normal for illnesses and hadn't been treated for foot fungi, or insect bites, or lice. She warned that we had to do this immediately. Before they could rest on pillows or blankets. Thank god it was summer. We had to have them all wash their hair now with the special anti-lice shampoo, and strip and change clothes, best to throw out the clothing.

I looked at this exhausted group. I thought “ how humiliating! After all, they have been through, now this? How can I ask them to do this, when they have been through so much, and are so tired? But if I must, I must.”

I got out the instructions, with a picture of head lice on it, and tried to tell Hout, our teenager with a bit of English, what must happen there in my ridiculously crowded kitchen. He looked puzzled until he saw the picture and the combs, then he seemed to understand. He spoke and there were a lot of discussions, and again I saw confusion, and rather embarrassed looks. Hout was asking someone to go first, but no one offered. A lot of talks, and then silence.

He looked at me a bit worried and tried again. Carol had gone to find something comfortable for the women to wear, and some pajamas for the children. Bert tried to put together some clothes for the guys and they brought them into the dining room. They then joined me in the kitchen

I had to break the ice. No one was stepping forward. I took the clips out of my long hair, and it tumbled down my back. I threw my head over the sink and used the spray nozzle to get it wet, grabbed the lice shampoo, and washed my hair. Carol handed me a towel from the pile, and I wrapped it and smiled. I helped my daughters next, Tess said she could do it herself, and my precocious two-and-a-half-year-old Annabelle sang “I love to squish bananas” in my hair, her own composition, and her favorite bath time song. This brought some giggles and people drew closer. Tess took Moi's hand and helped her climb onto the kitchen chair to reach the sink. Hout went next, and his brother, Seng, a bit younger, came close to watch as Bert took a turn. One by one we got them all shampooed, and using my pantry as a dressing room, we got them all into fresh clothes the church ladies had laundered and brought. Thoughtfully someone had brought several sarongs, and the ladies seemed happy with them, and there was a commotion with the younger girls, as they found some pretty nightgowns. Old Tek made them all laugh with a colorful vest and fedora he had found. We sealed up their old clothes in a large trash bag and took it out of the house.

One of my girlfriends had donated a large rice cooker with a timer. I had prepared food the night before, knowing nothing of the Cambodian diet, I made an Americanized oriental-style dish, called Hong Kong Chicken. Soy, garlic, ginger, and honey marinated on large trays, which I had popped into my ovens right before shampooing. Carol did a quick vegetable stir fry and we started dishing out the dinner.

They all seemed to enjoy the chicken, and Hout exclaimed, "We liking American style foods very much!" American-style Hong Kong chicken and stir-fried veggies, I chuckled to myself.

All seemed to be going pretty well. Bert said goodbye, right after the main course. He promised to be back in the morning. A man of his word, he was there and ready to help every day for the next few years. Carol helped me load the first load in the dishwasher, I said I could get the rest, and she left with my girls in tow. It had been advised that they sleep away for the first few days until we assessed the health situation.

I took a huge bowl and filled it with fruits and started to walk around and offer it. Plums, apricots, and nectarines were all scooped up, and the two boys grabbed the little baskets of berries, in delight. The three smallest girls had been looking out the window, and when they turned around I flashed a friendly smile, and lifted a banana, offering it to the youngest. To my horror, she burst into tears and crumbled to the ground crying in sobs there in front of me. The oldest daughter, Hoar came running to hold her, and Hout came over to help. The room went still.

The first of many stories began to unravel in hesitant, broken English. The same thing had happened on the plane, Hout explained. The stewardesses had walked with fruit, many kinds of fruit. But by the time they got all the way to the back, to the family, there were only bananas left. And little Moi had collapsed in tears then too, pleading for an apple. Hout was too frightened and shy to ask the stewardess. I listened to Hout, his youthful voice showed such empathy for his little sister. "We all very afraid in jungle. Big forest, many bad animal, and we have no food. We starving, we maybe die. Vietnamese soldiers here, Pol Pot soldiers there. They want kill us. We all the time very scary. We too scary go far look for more food. Anyway soldiers eat all food. Me and Pa only find to eat bananas for weeks, day every day were banana, until we all sick, sick from banana."

I ran and got a little basket of fruit for Moi and said " No bananas!" I started to smile and sang “Yes we have NO BANANAS, we have no bananas today!" Hout laughed at the tune and repeated "No Bananas". He explained to his family and the giggles started. I looked at Hoar, and said, “No bananas!”. She repeated as clearly as a bell. Soon I had them all screaming, "NO Bananas!” Their first English lesson.