This photo provided by Jane Freiman Schanberg, shows New York Times photographer Dith Pran, left, in his room at Roosevelt Care Center in Edison, N.J., during a visit with Sydney Schanberg, his former colleague at The New York Times. Friday, March 13, 2008. Dith Pran's death from pancreatic cancer was confirmed Sunday, March 30, 2008, by Schanberg, his former colleague at The New York Times. Pran was 65.(AP Photo/Jane Freiman Schanberg) * NO SALES
This photo provided by Jane Freiman Schanberg, shows New York Times photographer Dith Pran in his room at Roosevelt Care Center in Edison, NJ, Friday march 13, 2008. Dith Pran's death from pancreatic cancer was confirmed Sunday, March 30, 2008, by Schanberg, his former colleague at The New York Times. Pran was 65.(AP Photo/Jane Freiman Schanberg)Monday, March 31, 2008
By Karen Lee Ziner and DAVID SCHARFENBERGJournal Staff Writers
PROVIDENCE — Dith Pran’s story, immortalized in the 1984 film The Killing Fields, symbolized that of thousands of Cambodian refugees who now call Rhode Island home. His death from cancer yesterday touched the hearts of people here who believe that if not for Dith, the world might not have recognized their suffering.
Dith, 65, a photographer for The New York Times, was the assistant to Times reporter Sydney Schanberg when Cambodia fell to the Khmer Rouge in 1975.
Schanberg helped Dith’s family escape, but Dith was captured by the Khmer Rouge and disappeared into the Cambodian holocaust. He was not heard from until he fled Cambodia and made his way to a Thai refugee camp four years later.
In the late 1980s and early 1990s, thousands of Cambodian refugees were resettled in Providence, Fall River and Lowell, Mass., whose Cambodian communities are among the largest in the country.
Pich Chhoeun, former president of the Cambodian Society of Rhode Island who spent nearly six years in Cambodian refugee camps, said he was delighted when Dith agreed to speak at the society’s New Year celebration several years ago.
“My impression of Dith Pran was that he was a person who was very passionate about the Cambodian community, and he was very committed to share the story of the Cambodian agony and suffering with the rest of the world, as well as the generations after the war,” Chhoeun said.
“Without Dith Pran, I don’t think people would be aware of the Cambodian struggle as much as they have for the last 30 years or so. His life, his story — certainly the movie — I think contributed to allowing people internationally to know what happened in Cambodia.”
Chhoeun said Dith advised him to use his leadership role to both serve and advocate for his community. That included encouraging Cambodians to become citizens and to get involved in the political process by casting their votes.
“I think it’s understandable why he stressed that,” said Chhoeun, “because back home in our country, before and after the war, this whole idea of being able to voice your opinion was not something that you could do without retribution.”
Sovan Chhouk, current president of the Cambodian Society of Rhode Island, said he was “very, very upset” to hear of Pran’s death and described an entire community in mourning.
In the late 1980s and early 1990s, The Journal began reporting on the Cambodian refugees’ struggles to assimilate, even as they remained gripped by trauma of war. Many refugees derived spiritual sustenance at a Buddhist temple on Hanover Street in the city’s West End, founded by The Venerable Maha Ghosanada, a monk who was nominated six times for a Nobel Peace prize before his death one year ago.
Dith made numerous visits to Rhode Island to speak on the Cambodian holocaust. In 1990, he received an honorary degree from Rhode Island College. In 2002, he spoke at a cultural event, “The Spirit of Cambodia, a Tribute,” cosponsored by the Rhode Island Foundation, the Rhode Island School of Design and Providence College.
Sina Bieu, a social worker for the Providence School Department, recalled meeting Dith when he came to speak at Butler Hospital in the late 1980s.
“When he came to Rhode Island, he met us and asked, ‘Why don’t you dress up in the Cambodian outfit?’ He wanted us to keep our tradition alive.”
In 1987, Dith expressed his hope that neither the Cambodian holocaust, nor any other, be forgotten, including by pushing to bring the Khmer Rouge before the World Court to find justice for the Cambodian people. He wanted a peaceful solution to his country’s problems.
“Let them help by diplomatic mission, not by gun,” Dith said. “I believe that if something is burning, you have to use water, not gasoline.”
Theanvy Kuoch, executive director of the Khmer Health Advocates, in West Hartford, Conn., in 1992 accompanied a Journal reporter to Cambodia for a series of stories on Cambodians’ return from Thai refugee camps to their homeland.
Kuoch said, “Perhaps what we will remember most about Pran is that despite his great suffering, he never wanted revenge. He understood that violence and war steals man’s ability to understand the suffering of others and that this disconnection can create monsters. He used his story to reach out to the compassion of others and to desperately try to melt the pain of the young generation of Cambodians who are the true victims of events for which they have no memories.”
Sokvann Sam, a longtime advocate for the Cambodian community, said, “Many of us feel he was a big part of that process for justice for all of us who were the victims of the Khmer Rouge. He was one of the strong advocates to try to bring the Khmer Rouge to justice.” To date, that has not happened.
“Many of us who have known him, we just kind of prayed for his health and hoping he would survive, but the disease was too profound and he could not be saved.” Sam added, “Without his story, the world would not know who we are.”
By Karen Lee Ziner and DAVID SCHARFENBERGJournal Staff Writers
PROVIDENCE — Dith Pran’s story, immortalized in the 1984 film The Killing Fields, symbolized that of thousands of Cambodian refugees who now call Rhode Island home. His death from cancer yesterday touched the hearts of people here who believe that if not for Dith, the world might not have recognized their suffering.
Dith, 65, a photographer for The New York Times, was the assistant to Times reporter Sydney Schanberg when Cambodia fell to the Khmer Rouge in 1975.
Schanberg helped Dith’s family escape, but Dith was captured by the Khmer Rouge and disappeared into the Cambodian holocaust. He was not heard from until he fled Cambodia and made his way to a Thai refugee camp four years later.
In the late 1980s and early 1990s, thousands of Cambodian refugees were resettled in Providence, Fall River and Lowell, Mass., whose Cambodian communities are among the largest in the country.
Pich Chhoeun, former president of the Cambodian Society of Rhode Island who spent nearly six years in Cambodian refugee camps, said he was delighted when Dith agreed to speak at the society’s New Year celebration several years ago.
“My impression of Dith Pran was that he was a person who was very passionate about the Cambodian community, and he was very committed to share the story of the Cambodian agony and suffering with the rest of the world, as well as the generations after the war,” Chhoeun said.
“Without Dith Pran, I don’t think people would be aware of the Cambodian struggle as much as they have for the last 30 years or so. His life, his story — certainly the movie — I think contributed to allowing people internationally to know what happened in Cambodia.”
Chhoeun said Dith advised him to use his leadership role to both serve and advocate for his community. That included encouraging Cambodians to become citizens and to get involved in the political process by casting their votes.
“I think it’s understandable why he stressed that,” said Chhoeun, “because back home in our country, before and after the war, this whole idea of being able to voice your opinion was not something that you could do without retribution.”
Sovan Chhouk, current president of the Cambodian Society of Rhode Island, said he was “very, very upset” to hear of Pran’s death and described an entire community in mourning.
In the late 1980s and early 1990s, The Journal began reporting on the Cambodian refugees’ struggles to assimilate, even as they remained gripped by trauma of war. Many refugees derived spiritual sustenance at a Buddhist temple on Hanover Street in the city’s West End, founded by The Venerable Maha Ghosanada, a monk who was nominated six times for a Nobel Peace prize before his death one year ago.
Dith made numerous visits to Rhode Island to speak on the Cambodian holocaust. In 1990, he received an honorary degree from Rhode Island College. In 2002, he spoke at a cultural event, “The Spirit of Cambodia, a Tribute,” cosponsored by the Rhode Island Foundation, the Rhode Island School of Design and Providence College.
Sina Bieu, a social worker for the Providence School Department, recalled meeting Dith when he came to speak at Butler Hospital in the late 1980s.
“When he came to Rhode Island, he met us and asked, ‘Why don’t you dress up in the Cambodian outfit?’ He wanted us to keep our tradition alive.”
In 1987, Dith expressed his hope that neither the Cambodian holocaust, nor any other, be forgotten, including by pushing to bring the Khmer Rouge before the World Court to find justice for the Cambodian people. He wanted a peaceful solution to his country’s problems.
“Let them help by diplomatic mission, not by gun,” Dith said. “I believe that if something is burning, you have to use water, not gasoline.”
Theanvy Kuoch, executive director of the Khmer Health Advocates, in West Hartford, Conn., in 1992 accompanied a Journal reporter to Cambodia for a series of stories on Cambodians’ return from Thai refugee camps to their homeland.
Kuoch said, “Perhaps what we will remember most about Pran is that despite his great suffering, he never wanted revenge. He understood that violence and war steals man’s ability to understand the suffering of others and that this disconnection can create monsters. He used his story to reach out to the compassion of others and to desperately try to melt the pain of the young generation of Cambodians who are the true victims of events for which they have no memories.”
Sokvann Sam, a longtime advocate for the Cambodian community, said, “Many of us feel he was a big part of that process for justice for all of us who were the victims of the Khmer Rouge. He was one of the strong advocates to try to bring the Khmer Rouge to justice.” To date, that has not happened.
“Many of us who have known him, we just kind of prayed for his health and hoping he would survive, but the disease was too profound and he could not be saved.” Sam added, “Without his story, the world would not know who we are.”
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