Backstory: Saying 'I do' - willingly, this time

When the regime fell in 1979, the couple already had one child and – along with the majority of forcibly wed couples – resolved to build a new life together. Roth Chheng decided to forsake his past career in law enforcement and became a teacher of Khmer literature instead, he says, because "the younger generation had no knowledge, and I wanted to share it with them."

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Whether bound together by their children, mutual survival, or an attachment that had grown from shared suffering, these couples have restored family ties the regime tried to destroy.

Mr. Heuveline's research shows that only 5 percent of Khmer Rouge-arranged marriages have ended in divorce or separation, a lower rate than for that of marriages since the revolution.

Because far more men than women were killed during the regime, "women didn't have that many alternatives...." says Heuveline. "It was better to be married at all than unmarried.... [Cambodians] got busy with reconstruction and centered on their families, whomever they were with."

Roth Chheng and Sem Sat's five children and two grandchildren were among the throngs at last month's six-hour group wedding in the rural village of Seiha. The 10 grooms lined up outside the wedding tent, their relatives bearing heaps of coconuts, fruit, Coca-Cola, and a pig's head to present to the brides' families. The couples' brothers and sisters stood in for the brides' parents, receiving each groom as he crossed the threshold.

Abridging the traditional Buddhist service, which can last up to three days, the wedding featured some of its most crucial rites: a blessing by monks, a symbolic hair-cutting, and a ritual in which relatives "tie the knot" for the couples by securing red string around their wrists.

The wedding was paid for by a group of American donors, led by Chuck Theusch, a Vietnam War veteran who'd returned to the region in the late-1990s in search of reconciliation. He started an organization that builds libraries throughout Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia as a way to "break the cycle of vengeance ... and keep the burden off the shoulders of the children."

While visiting Seiha last June, Mr. Theusch was shocked to discover that villagers here had been forced to marry by the Khmer Rouge without a traditional ceremony and proposed hosting a group wedding for the community.

"In the US, it's the same as Cambodia. Everyone should have a wedding, because it's a day of hope and future for a new family," says Theusch, who runs a real estate title business in Milwaukee.

But the wedding also evoked the specter of social judgment over the inauspicious beginnings of these marriages. Beang Pivome, a researcher at the Documentation Center of Cambodia, says some Khmer Rouge couples still fear that the circumstances of their marriages might affect their children's ability to wed or believe it might even spread bad luck to their neighbors.

Indeed, admits Phen Sary, who was forced to wed in 1978 and renewed his vows here last month, "I never told our children about how we got married.They just recently asked, when others [in the village] told them about the wedding."

But at a time of national reconciliation – with trials of surviving Khmer Rouge leaders to begin the year – a restorative atmosphere surrounded this local ceremony.

"The wedding makes me feel fresh," Roth Chheng explained at the ceremony. "Now nobody can say we didn't receive the khan sla" – the areca palm totem of traditional weddings.

The couple's eldest son watched them prepare for the monk's blessing. "I suffered a lot for my parents when I found out about their marriage," said Roth Savouen, 28, who was a teen when he discovered their history. "I feel honored for them today."

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