Dear All,
Juliet:"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."
Shakespeare - Romeo and Juliet (II, ii, 1-2)
I have been asked on several occasions about the origin of my name (or nickname) Heng Soy. One reader suggested that I must have been born from very confused parents, another one asked: ‘…are you between Lucky & Unlucky? You should call yourself "Misfortune"’. Several people sent me emails ending with something like this: “I hope today is Heng for you and not Soy”. Some even went on to claim that I must be related to one “soy sauce” family.
While I can’t claim to smell as sweet as a rose (far from it, I hope), let me give you here my version of the story and, in doing so, I hope I could entertain you somewhat.
According to my aunt who raised me, my mother was pregnant with me before the Vietnamese troops invaded Cambodia. With the wave of refugees traveling to Thailand following the Vietnamese occupation of Cambodia, my parents and my aunt’s family decided that they would leave to Thailand also. At first, my aunt was reluctant to travel with my parents because she was concerned about my mother’s pregnancy and how close she was to the delivery date. Nevertheless, my father who was always an idealist, decided that he did not want to see his child born in a country that is occupied by foreign troops, so off they went. As they were about to cross the border into Thailand, the travelers formed into a long single file, walking one after another. Somehow, somebody in the front row stepped on a landmine and the group was so startled that they all spread out in different direction. My father was only able to help his wife while his sister and her husband got separated from them.
Later that night, my parents’ group managed to continue their journey and arrived at a refugee camp in Thailand. With all the commotion of the day, it turned out that my mother started to go into labor as well. With that, I found myself born in the foreign land of the Thais. Right on the spot, my mother decided that my name would be “Heng” because she was lucky enough not to have to deliver me inside the jungle.
On the other hand, my father found himself very sad to be separated from his sister. About a week after I was born, my father asked his neighbors to help look after his wife and newborn child as he decided that he would go back to Cambodia to look for his sister and her husband. That was the last we ever heard of him, a week later, people whom my mother knew told her that my father stepped on a landmine and was killed during his trip back to Cambodia. Meanwhile, my aunt and her husband who were lost in the forest all this time, managed to arrive at our camp also to the delight and chagrin of my mother.
About six months after I was born, due to grief and malaria, my mother passed away, leaving me with my aunt and uncle. Being quite superstitious, my aunt believed that my name “Heng” had something to do with the misfortune that befell my parents. One day she told my uncle: “I think my sister-in-law defied the Tevodas and Neak Ta (spirits) that protect this region by daring to call her child “Heng”, that’s why they took revenge on her and her husband. So from now on, let’s change Heng’s name to Soy, that way, the spirits would not come near him anymore.” From that day on, my name was switched to Soy. However, when my aunt was applying to leave the refugee camp, my uncle urged her to keep both the name my mother gave me and the nickname my aunt called me. That is how I became to be known as Heng Soy.
Later in life, I learnt from Einstein’s relativity theory (I think) that “everything is relative”, therefore, Heng or Soy does not matter, it’s all “relative”, just like anything else in life, it’s 50-50, sometimes it’s Heng (lucky), sometimes it’s Soy (unlucky). Therefore, folks, don’t cry nor laugh at me should you meet me in person one day!
Thank you!
Heng Soy - The Lucky Unlucky fellow
While I can’t claim to smell as sweet as a rose (far from it, I hope), let me give you here my version of the story and, in doing so, I hope I could entertain you somewhat.
According to my aunt who raised me, my mother was pregnant with me before the Vietnamese troops invaded Cambodia. With the wave of refugees traveling to Thailand following the Vietnamese occupation of Cambodia, my parents and my aunt’s family decided that they would leave to Thailand also. At first, my aunt was reluctant to travel with my parents because she was concerned about my mother’s pregnancy and how close she was to the delivery date. Nevertheless, my father who was always an idealist, decided that he did not want to see his child born in a country that is occupied by foreign troops, so off they went. As they were about to cross the border into Thailand, the travelers formed into a long single file, walking one after another. Somehow, somebody in the front row stepped on a landmine and the group was so startled that they all spread out in different direction. My father was only able to help his wife while his sister and her husband got separated from them.
Later that night, my parents’ group managed to continue their journey and arrived at a refugee camp in Thailand. With all the commotion of the day, it turned out that my mother started to go into labor as well. With that, I found myself born in the foreign land of the Thais. Right on the spot, my mother decided that my name would be “Heng” because she was lucky enough not to have to deliver me inside the jungle.
On the other hand, my father found himself very sad to be separated from his sister. About a week after I was born, my father asked his neighbors to help look after his wife and newborn child as he decided that he would go back to Cambodia to look for his sister and her husband. That was the last we ever heard of him, a week later, people whom my mother knew told her that my father stepped on a landmine and was killed during his trip back to Cambodia. Meanwhile, my aunt and her husband who were lost in the forest all this time, managed to arrive at our camp also to the delight and chagrin of my mother.
About six months after I was born, due to grief and malaria, my mother passed away, leaving me with my aunt and uncle. Being quite superstitious, my aunt believed that my name “Heng” had something to do with the misfortune that befell my parents. One day she told my uncle: “I think my sister-in-law defied the Tevodas and Neak Ta (spirits) that protect this region by daring to call her child “Heng”, that’s why they took revenge on her and her husband. So from now on, let’s change Heng’s name to Soy, that way, the spirits would not come near him anymore.” From that day on, my name was switched to Soy. However, when my aunt was applying to leave the refugee camp, my uncle urged her to keep both the name my mother gave me and the nickname my aunt called me. That is how I became to be known as Heng Soy.
Later in life, I learnt from Einstein’s relativity theory (I think) that “everything is relative”, therefore, Heng or Soy does not matter, it’s all “relative”, just like anything else in life, it’s 50-50, sometimes it’s Heng (lucky), sometimes it’s Soy (unlucky). Therefore, folks, don’t cry nor laugh at me should you meet me in person one day!
Thank you!
Heng Soy - The Lucky Unlucky fellow
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