Denyse Betchov Gabioud - the savier of Vietnamese refugees

"When the ICRC people came, the women and girls used to run up to them, crying and begging to be rescued. One such morning, a Swiss woman named Denyse Betchov came to visit them. Seeing the girls had been gang-raped repeatedly and many were hemorrhaging, Denyse ordered them put on her truck and sent immediately to Khao I Dang, about fifteen km. away, for treatment. The Para protested and ordered the camp closed, refusing to let her truck inside the fence. The driver of the ICRC truck felt there was nothing he could do and watched the Para guarding both sides of the gate, wielding their guns threateningly. Without hesitation, this courageous woman leaped into the truck, shoved the driver aside and got behind the wheel. Then, stepping hard on the gas, she rammed the truck into the hedge surrounding Non Samet, knocking down one wall by the gate so she could run inside"
(From the report of Kim-Ha)

 

April 1980-Denyse rescued the refugees from the brutality of Cambodian soldiers

THE CAMP IN CAMBODIA–NON CHAN

Prior to March 25, 1980, refugees came to the temporary camps close to the Thai-Cambodian border. The Para “big man” made a namelist, which he gave to the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), to get, they said, five hundred kg. of rice for each person. When refugees were accepted by the ICRC (this includes Vietnamese and also those persons of other ethnic groups who pretended to be Vietnamese), they were transported to Khao I Dang and shortly afterwards they went to Sikhiu.

But the waves of refugees coming to Thailand increased dramatically at that time and on March 25th the Thai government closed its border to refugees. Anyone who came across after that date was considered an illegal alien.

My family was among the latter group (we arrived at the border on April 10, 1980). A number of families were broken up by this policy. You see, when we came to the border, everyone had to go to a place known as the “office of the Para big man”. There our names were written down, we were searched, and gold or money was taken away. Some families were caught in the middle of this when the Thais closed their border. A family may have come before March 25. After their money was stolen and the girls had been raped, the women were handed over to the Red Cross. The men were kept behind to suffer hard labor for the Para, such as digging bomb shelters, laying punji sticks, felling trees for construction, and so on. They worked the refugees hard; whoever was too slow or didn't work was beaten with a rifle butt. Some men died when they tripped on mines as they were working. They may have been kept there a month. When they were finally released to the Red Cross, their wives and children were alredy in Khao I Dang while they had to stay at Non Chan, on the other side of the border.

The number of refugees at Non Chan, Non Samet, Non Makmum and other camps rose by as much as thirty to fifty daily. The refugees included Vietnamese, Khmer (pretending to be Vietnamese), and Chinese-Khmer. Hundreds of thousands of Cambodians lived around the camps, getting provisions and medication that had been sent by the Red Cross for the refugees. When the fighting around them grew too intense and the water truck could not get through, the refugees fought for every mouthful of water available. There was not sufficient water for bathing. Children with diarrhea could not be washed properly.

The ICRC people came every day to take letters from the refugees to send to their relatives outside. The refugees were ecstatic when they saw the Red Cross coming. Any day that went by without the presence of Westerners, the people in camp would become fearful and begin packing, presuming they would soon have to flee. The only time the Red Cross did not come was when the fighting around the area made it too dangerous.

between the Pol Pot forces and the Viet Cong, Pol Pot and Para, and the Viet Cong and the Thai, were not uncommon. The refugees lived in constant worry and fear. They kept a little water and food ready to take with them just in case they had to run for it. There was no protection from the Para, who would enter the camp at night looking for the women and carrying them off like pigs, unmindful of their victims' screams and tears and the protests of the men who could do nothing to protect their loved ones. The ICRC was told of this, but what could that organization do, since it had no political power to intervene?

Besides fears for our security, the oppression continued from the Chinese-Khmer who ingratiated themselves with the people on top and abused those below them.

At Non Chan camp, most of the refugees were Chinese from Phnom Penh. There were so many because it was easier for them to travel, being familiar with the language and the roads. They had arrived a year earlier than we, but had been stuck there by the Thais. This time they came back claiming to be Vietnamese in order to avoid being sent back or detained at a temporary camp by the border (they said that Prince Sihanouk had requested they keep the Cambodians on their side of the border to await the day he would return to restore their country to independence). The Vietnamese refugees, on the other hand, were fewer in number and did not speak the Khmer language.

The Phnom Penh Chinese had free rein to do whatever they pleased. Because they could speak Cambodian, they flattered the Para and spoke bad of the Vietnamese so the Para would take out their anger on us. It was the Chinese who convinced the Para to forbid us to go to market so that we would have to buy food from them at inflated prices. Those of us who complained about this rule were beaten with rods like animals and put in jail. Our Camp Leaders had to ask a few of the Chinese-Cambodians to negotiate with the Para for the release of those thrown in jail. After that, the Chinese had a place in the Camp Leader Committee and they took advantage of their authority to bully us.

The Para lined us up each morning for roll call. They counted us many times and cursed at us, meanwhile preaching to us about good behavior and hygiene. They read laws and punishments to threaten us. The Chinese translated this all into Vietnamese. Their grammar was bad and they did not always get the correct meaning, but no one dared laugh.

At night the Para made us turn in early. We could not talk or light fires. Then they would come in, shining their flashlights, touching the girls' legs and making comments. They lifted the women's sarongs and snickered. Then fell the harshest punishment on innocent people. Perhaps I am being subjective, but it seems to me they took pleasure in degrading Vietnamese women.

They also hated the men. During the day, they made the men and boys sit out in the hot sun, or work digging trenches, setting up fences or cleaning cesspools. They beat the slower workers with a rod. Those who resisted were sent back into the jungle. We endured so much to maintain our position.

Sanitation was a problem. At first (after March 25) there were not many refugees in the camp, but the number increased by thirty to fifty and once as many as one hundred new refugees came. There was only one latrine for everyone to use. The stench was unbearable and the flies multiplied. And the Para cursed us for this every morning. They did not consider making more latrines for us, but preferred humiliating us in this way. If one of us stepped outside to relieve himself, he would be captured and punished. So, we could not go out by daytime and if we waited for nightfall, there was still a chance we might accidentally step on excrement. Before long, our clothes stank, but we had no water to wash them.

I had never seen so many flies in my life. They came in swarms, collecting in shady areas and by the water. All day they remained about our faces, arms and legs. We could maybe swat them if we had some pieces of cardboard. No matter how carefully we covered our food, they somehow still got at it. If one grain of rice fell, a hundred flies bore in on it. They might get in our mouths, too. Eventually, we learned to cover our faces with scarves for protection.

The heat was ruthless. We looked for shade, but that was also where the flies were. Day after day the same thing. We prayed for rain to cool us off and give us water to bathe. Once Heaven had pity on us and gave us rain. We had a deluge. Hut posts were washed out and we clung to each other in the storm. The flood rose steadily beneath our feet and the excrement from the latrine was carried into the camp. We stood in the flood all night. The wind thrust the rain against our bodies and there was no place to find cover. We did not have a chance to worry about each other, but sought any place of refuge we could for ourselves.

Fresh water for drinking and washing was scarce. There was one tank holding one thousand liters of water brought to the camp each day–this to serve five to six hundred refugees. Of course, the mess crew needed a lot of water for cooking and they were not shy to take as much as they wanted for their personal use. As for the rest of us, one group of nineteen people was given three pails of water, a pail holding ten to twelve liters each. On the average, every refugee got one and a half liters per day. The weather in Cambodia being hotter than in Vietnam, we needed all of this for drinking. We had to stand in line in the broiling sun to get it. We took anything that could hold water and brought it out to the locked water tanks, hoping to catch a drop or two that might yet fall. We would have to buy water to bathe and if you had no money you could go a whole month without washing. It was the clever ones who manipulated to sell water for money or cigarettes. Women kept their hair short, because washing it would have been impossible.

As for provisions, the ICRC issued food to us. It was the feeling of many that the Camp Leaders were taking the one hundred kg. sacks of rice to trade for food or money to use for themselves. There was not much in the way of other types of food. One small can of fish might serve six people for a week. What food there was available was sold by the Chinese-Khmer and you had to have quite a bit of money for that. The majority of us had our savings wiped out. There was nothing for us to eat but rice and salt. This was hard to swallow, so we cooked it into a gruel. The children did not understand the hardship and they clamored for more food, begging us to take them back to Vietnam, where at least we could eat better. They stood gaping at the Chinese-Khmer, who ate better than the rest of us. These poor children had already faced terrible trials, a heavy burden for their youth; now they were tormented by hunger, and lay fainting and gasping throughout the day. Their parents watched bitterly as they faded away. But who could help them? Who could they turn to? It was rare for anyone to lend them 20 baht (roughly a dollar) to buy a little milk. Weeping, a mother took her sick and starving child to the clinic to ask for milk. Instead, the nurse there gave her vitamins. Finally, a friend took the child to the ICRC storehouse and made a new request. He also was given a small piece of sugar, but to see the child you'd have thought he had been issued gold. That night, someone from the Camp Leader Committee came by to see how the child was doing and give the mother some powdered milk. A simple gesture like that would be remembered always. Later, we learned at NW 9 how milk was being sold to the Chinese-Khmer for three to four hundred baht ($25) per box by the clinic staff, who kept the money for themseles. They also sold medicine from the Red Cross. A box of malaria pills went for one hundred baht. The camp clinic people intercepted the medicines, food and other supplies provided by the ICRC.



HOW NW 9 WAS ESTABLISHED

All land refugees arriving at the Thailand border had to pass through the hands of the Para “big men” for “processing”, search and oppression. Afterwards, the refugees were given over to the ICRC at a price of five hundred kg. rice per person.

On March 25, 1980, the Thai border was closed since that country was no longer accepting refugees. Consequently, the refugees had to stay temporarily in camps inside Cambodia, such as Non Chan, Non Samet, Non Makmun, until they were permitted in by the Thai government.

During that waiting period, at Non Samet, each night the Para came to get the women and girls, carrying them off like pigs to take them to their trucks for sadistic rape, unmindful of their victims' pitiful cries. After one night of abuse, one woman collapsed unconscious after suffering a hemorrhage. Another was white as a sheet, with no emotion on her face as she went into delirium at times, howling like a pig getting its throat cut. One girl resisted and was shot; we did not see her return the next day. Perhaps her corpse had been hastily buried somewhere along the road. Another victim was brought back unable to walk, her face, arms and legs bruised because of the treatment she had received. Some families were able to hide their girls among the homes of local Khmer for a time. If the Cambodians protected you, you were that fortunate. But usually you had to pay for each day you stayed with them. If the Para found out, they would have killed all of us. The Para were covered with amulets they thought had magic and their faces were black and horrible looking. A girl who was having her period when they carried her away would be left alone while they cursed their talismans for losing their magic power.

When the ICRC people came, the women and girls used to run up to them, crying and begging to be rescued. One such morning, a Swiss woman named Denyse Betchov came to visit them. Seeing the girls had been gang-raped repeatedly and many were hemorrhaging, Denyse ordered them put on her truck and sent immediately to Khao I Dang, about fifteen km. away, for treatment. The Para protested and ordered the camp closed, refusing to let her truck inside the fence. The driver of the ICRC truck felt there was nothing he could do and watched the Para guarding both sides of the gate, wielding their guns threateningly. Without hesitation, this courageous woman leaped into the truck, shoved the driver aside and got behind the wheel. Then, stepping hard on the gas, she rammed the truck into the hedge surrounding Non Samet, knocking down one wall by the gate so she could run inside. The Para were furious and on future nights they took out their anger on the new refugees, treating them even more brutally than before.

But on this particular day, Denyse got in touch with her superiors in Bangkok, asking them to intercede with the Thai Ministry of the Interior for a solution to bring the refugees out of the grasp of the Para. Her courage and compassion brought new enthusiasm to the refugees. As a result of her actions, on April 18 more than three hundred refugees from Non Samet were transported by truck to a spot closer to the Thai border. After half an hour of twisting and turning through the jungle, they were dropped off in the middle of nowhere, since the Thai government still refused to permit the refugees inside the border.

At Non Chan, the oppression of refugees continued. On the night of April 20, six hundred of these refugees opposed the attack by the Para, raising their voices and causing a commotion to prevent the Para from taking any woman away. The Board of Camp Leaders tried to save the girls by having them stay in the innermost circle of tents while the men slept on the outside. When the Para came to the camp, their translator spoke to the refugees and ordered them to lie still and not get involved with what was to happen. One of the Camp Leaders, Mr. V., started a mock fight with another refugee. They went at it, chasing each other around the camp, shouting and waking everybody up. The whole camp was aroused. Mothers hid their children. Sisters covered the faces of the young ones. The Para-some twenty to thirty of them–waved their guns and shone flashlights into the tents. There arose cries and shouts. “Mama! Save me!” “No! Please! I'm married!” “Oh God! Let me go! What have I done that you treat me this way?” “Mama! I'm too young! Don't make me go!” “Oh, God! Oh, Buddha!”

Heartrending screams mixed with the bloodcurdling shouts of the Para to frighten us all. Then all at once, everyone began to shout in one voice. The Para became afraid and dropped the women, then went over to rough up the men. They cocked their rifles and pointed them at the men. They said something in their own language and had it translated into Vietnamese. Again, everyone was made to lie still, as they threatened to shoot anyone who moved. The men lay back down quietly, but kept watching from the corners of their eyes. As soon as the Para returned to the girls' tents, the camp jumped up again, screaming and crying. This went on a few times. Several of the young men were beaten for supposedly having a hand in the resistance.

Because we were united in opposing the Para, they were defeated that time. They stomped off without taking away a single girl. We were relieved. But how would they react the next night?

The refugees were like prisoners in the camps–no more, no less. They could be sent back across the border at any time and that was the greatest fear of all. The Para took full advantage of this weakness to act like animals. They got help, too, from the Chinese-Khmer.

The next day (April 21), two persons from the camp were sent to the ICRC base to request help before the Para could retaliate the next night. Around noontime, Denyse and Mr. Leon De Riedmatten came to visit us. Following an hour or so of discussion with the camp leaders, these two got on the radio and asked permission of their superiors to transfer the six hundred from Non Chan closer to the border. Permission granted, the order was announced. At once, everyone began to pack their meager belongings. The men were mobilized to take down the huts and clean up the area. Women and children were already lined up to go.

The Para were incensed. They charged in to steal the refugees' food and whatever else they could get their hands on. They vowed to kill any Vietnamese refugee who came by later. (The next day, in fact, some fifty refugees came out of the jungle. That night, all the girls–about thirty–were the victims of violent revenge for what had happened the previous day. Even a middle-aged woman was not spared, nor were those who were pregnant. They were there just one night. The following day, the Red Cross took them, too, to NW 9.)

But Denyse's efforts to help the refugees came to an abrupt end in May 1980 when she was suddenly transferred. We wept as we saw her off that last day with us. We gave her letters and notes written in Vietnamese, French and English. Even today we still recall the valiant and charitable actions of that woman hardly thirty years old who tried to rescue us. Emotion-filled songs were sung and someone gave her a pair of wooden shoes made at the camp. And we embraced and thanked her profusely. Denyse could not help but cry, too, as she went from hut to hut to say farewell and shake hands and wave goodbye. She had to leave, but the refugees would never forget her.

When the refugees were taken finally from Non Chan to the new camp in the jungle, no one wanted to get off the truck, for we were out in the middle of nowhere. We saw nothing but trees and the blue from tents of the three hundred Non Samet refugees who had preceded us. Our disappointment and anxiety grew. Wearily, we just sat where we were. Our hopes of being taken to Thailand were dashed. But finally, we did get out and joined NW 9, where the camp leader, “B”, instructed us in the rules of the camp.

That night, we lay on the grass in the tents we had just built, glad to be out of the hands of the Para, but sorry to be abandoned in the jungle. All at once there was a scream. We jumped, startled, and gave a shout. We had not forgotten the terrors we had just left and hearing a scream made us all fearful again. After checking it out, however, we discovered it was not the Para that caused the screaming, but snakes. One had crawled up beside a girl and she had been frightened. The snakes were everywhere in the jungle, coming out at night and creeping into the tents. Therefore, we made hammocks out of rice sacks so we could sleep above ground with greater security. Families had anywhere from two to six hammocks, depending on what they could afford. You might see a pair of bamboo posts from which hung two or three swinging rice sacks and hammocks. As time went on, the lives of the refugees became more and more associated with their hammocks. After eating, where could you go? We lay in the hammocks and gossiped or discussed matters important to us.

Each day after that, the ICRC brought more refugees into NW 9, sometimes a few, sometimes a hundred. They were all ragged and dirty, their feet bleeding from the walk, some leaning on others to complete the journey. They were pale as ghosts. No one escaped the net laid by the Para and Khmer Rouge. None the less, each refugee's eyes were bright for having reached his/her destination.

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