The name may not be familiar to those outside the NYC press corps or fans of mid-80s "issue" movies. But one term associated with Dith Pran, who died this morning of pancreatic cancer in New Jersey, will be. He is the man who coined the term "The Killing Fields" to describe the horrors of Cambodia under the Khmer Rouge in the 1970s.
Dith was key to the work of then NYT reporter Sydney Schanberg in Cambodia. He was fixer, photographer, translator, cultural & historical interpreter and, literally, a life-saver, to the American journalist, who won a Pulitzer for his Cambodia work, which became the basis of the book "The Death and Life of Dith Pran" and the movie "The Killing Fields."
Despite efforts by Schanberg, Dith was sent to the countryside to the deathly work camps and only managed to escape four and a half years later. He eventually became a photog for the NYT, where he worked for almost thirty years.
Dith's passing hit me because I remember him not as a hero, but as an incredibly decent human being.
Like I used to do in my days as a GA reporter, we'd been standing a long time in some godforsaken corner of Jamaica for hours on a crime story, chit-chatting about inconsequential things. The photog from my paper split early, I think to another assignment, and I was one of the last people there.
Without a car, in the dark and cold, I was bracing myself for the long ride home. The slight, soft-spoken brown man offered me a ride. Instead of taking me to the nearest subway, he drove me all the way home. I can't remember the details of our conversation, but I remember laughing a lot at his warm humor, so much softer than the macho pose I was used to from other photogs. When he dropped me off, he told me his name. I knew right away who he was, but just said thanks and went upstairs, feeling blessed.
We ran into each other occasionally, and always there'd be warmth, shop talk and joking. Sometimes another ride. What struck me about him was his humility, his softness in dealing with subjects, even for stories that would be deep in the Metro section. A real gentleman, and a real gentle man.
Unlike so many war correspondents and photogs who always seemed to find a reason to bring up their taste of action, Dith never talked about his horrible past. And instead of his deep scars, what he put forth was light and sweetness. Made me think twice about my temper tantrums, my anger at crappy assignments and bad placement and all the complaints of a tabloid career.
My deepest condolences to Dith's family, friends and colleagues. Check some photos of and by Dith here. And below is a short video of Dith discussing his illness from his bedside. It's hard to hear, because (of course) the news blaring in the background, but at the end, he says, "You cannot live forever. I'm satisfied because I returned to [UNCLEAR] my children, my family [PHONE RINGS]..."
[photo of Dith working at a Newark immigration rally in 2006 by Michael Nagle/Getty Images via NYT]
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