រឿងខ្លីនេះបានសរសេរឡើងដោយខ្ញុំបាទ មួង ឌីយ៉ា ក្រោយដែលបានអានអត្ថបទពត៌មានភ្នំពេញប៉ុស្តិ៍ចុះផ្សាយកាលពីសប្តាហ៍ទីមួយក្នុងខែឧសភានេះ រួមផ្សំជាមួយការនិយាយសំណេះសំណាលផ្ទាល់ជាមួយបងស្រីម្នាក់ដែលធ្លាប់ឆ្លងកាត់បទពិសោធន៍ដ៏អាក្រក់ ហើយកំពុងរងវិបត្តិផ្លូវចិត្ត និងជាប់ជាមួយជម្ងឺប្រចាំកាយមកដល់សព្វថ្ងៃនេះផងដែរ។ ខ្ញុំសូមបរិយាយជាភាសាអង់គ្លេសតាមកំហឹងមួយឆាវរបស់ខ្ញុំដូចខាងក្រោម ហើយខ្ញុំនឹងបកប្រែជាភាសាខ្មែរជាបន្តបន្ទាប់ទៀត។
Being locked in a room, I know nothing but a blank in my mind. I asked myself many questions of why I am being treated differently unlike the other adults at my age. slavery doesn’t exist in this world anymore, but this house is an exception.
It’s been so hard for me even it’s just a few hours. I’m sure you know how it feels like when you hiccup. I begged them for water, but silent is the answer for me. I’m sure this time that there might be no one in this freaking house. My dry throat insists for water, and my tum pray for a piece of bread or both of them will die in the next morning. Perhaps I won’t know where i’ll be the next time I wake up. I wish I could be in heaven with my mom, my dad and my two brothers. Something is boiling in me, my anger, I meant. I can kill those people out there at the other side of this iron jail. Their intention to kill me is leading me to a point that I can even eat them alive.Don’t laugh at this! I’m so sure of what i’m talking. Oh! If this plan is possible, it’ll be like killing two birds with just one stone. First, I can blow out my anger. Second, my empty belly will be filled. I remember one quot from whatever book it is, says that “Do not just dream it, but put action into it”. Seriously, Scrutiny is what need to be done this time. While thinking of ways out of this beastly hole such as this attic, I’m distracted by this smell again, Condoms. That wild pig comes to me three or four times a week for sex. Maybe some people like it. As a human, I like it, too. Instead, with this beast, taking me to hell alive by his lust and cruel acts during sex with me. This was agreed by the lady of the house. They think that giving me animal’s food daily can make slavery out of me. In fact, monthly wage has not been given to me. They don’t give me food at times. Being poor in Cambodia is a heaven to me now.
With this gold chance in my hand, I break the glass of the window of the attic and jump off the roof. I climbed off that Malaysian’s hell which I was once thought that it was a nice mansion. I ran toward an Indian man who is a christian missionary from a church nearby with chains around my wrists. It’s a book full to tell you about my journey, but now I want to tell you that I’m in Cambodia.
Here are some words from Phnom Penh Post:
She says mistreatment began the moment she arrived in her employer’s household.
“She slapped my face. I could not eat and sleep enough. When I hurt so much, she put chili in my eyes and threw hot water on me,” she says, showing scars of burns and broken bones. Her employer has not been arrested, she says.
Beside her, Men Chan Veasna, 30, almost breaks down as she recounts her three years of abuse and unpaid labour in Malaysia.
Men Chan Veasna enlisted the help of CARAM and filed a suit against her employer after he allegedly faked her signature on slips acknowledging payment of wages. “I want to prove my honesty, that I did not sign to receive the money . . . please give the salary to me,” she says.