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Slick wrote

When I was 7 I was beaten by 7 older kids in the Malay refugee camp for fighting over dinner food. It was terrible to be a refugee on a strange land when you and your family had just survived a genocide. If it wasn't for a Malay old man that broke up the fight I would be dead. He brought me to the hospital, paid for my expense and let my family know. Later turned out he was a retired Silat master. That was also how I began to learn martial art.


leftous wrote

That's terrible. Your life sounds like the premise to a movie. How long were you in that camp?


Slick wrote

3 years and the Malay government refused to accept our plea for asylum. When the Pol Pot sent people to death camps the family was separated, each ran on their own path. My father fled to Hong Kong after escaping the death camp, and that was how he later brought us to the city. My mother moved back to Phnom Penh after the war, trying to find a purpose in life, brought my sister and I with her. But only a few years we moved back to Hong Kong again.

My life experience is neither unique nor worst. Every Cambodian have and had this story.