hong kong     ::     china     ::     tibet     ::     japan     ::     indonesia     ::     vietnam
  
cambodia     ::     thailand    ::     malaysia     ::     singapore     ::     australia
 

    
 
Ken's Travel Poll
In Cambodia, there are shooting ranges that offer up an impressive menu of weapon systems. Which should I try to shoot?
27.5%
AK-47 (1 clip, 30 rounds)
25%
B-40 rocket launcher (1 missile)
20%
M-60 machinegun (1 clip, 50 rounds)
15%
M-16 rifle (1 clip, 30 rounds)
12.5%
Hand grenade (1 grenade)

Total Votes: 40

 


 


Passing traffic on the road to Phnom Penh


Border gates between Vietnam and Cambodia


Strolling monk in Phnom Penh


Pagoda on the grounds of the Royal Palace in Phnom Penh


Over 8,000 skulls are on display in the Killing Fields of Choeung Ek


Wall of polaroids in the Tuol Sleng Museum (Museum of Genocide)


Center tower of the Pre Rup temple, Angkor


Legendary Angkor Wat


Ta Phrom temple, Angkor


Banyan tree envelops a Ta Phrom temple doorway


Stone Guards, East Gate, Angkor


Sun sets over Tonle Sap lake

Southeastern Cambodia

December 9, 2002

:: The Road to Phnom Penh :: 
Crossing the border from Vietnam into Cambodia is fun in a novel sort of way – there’s a no man’s land area of about 100 yards that you have to walk across that separates the Vietnamese border gate from the Cambodian border gate. The road that had been paved on the Vietnamese side picks up again on the Cambodian side, unpaved.

At the immigration desk, a stiff-lipped official – a High Panjandrum of the Gate – investigates my forms and documents with a squinting eye, occasionally glancing up at me suspiciously. Then, in a flurry of page flipping, he stamps my passport and visa, arrival and departure card, and at least 6 other documents that I don’t seem to remember giving him. Curious. Validated now in official red ink, I take my passport and bags to the bus and begin my long journey to the Cambodian capital of Phnom Penh.

The first hour on this potholed, loose-gravel, dust-clouded, dirt road is fun… again, in a novel sort of way. The second hour becomes a bit less fun as the high noon sun takes post in the sky and begins to cook me through the UV protection-less glass window. The third hour is even less fun – my ass is sore from bouncing on spring-less cushions. The air conditioning seems to have given out as the air becomes stale and uncomfortably warm. Everyone on the bus (most notably me) smells. The drive becomes slower as the road becomes congested with water buffalo and oxen. Also, there are too many people brandishing guns on the sides of the road for my liking. By the 6th hour, I’m really not having any fun at all. I no longer feel the nerves in my butt; they’ve gone numb. Sweat-soaked, I couldn’t be more wet if I had showered in my clothes. The left side of my face is sun burnt. I’m thirsty. I’m hungry. I’m tired. And... oh-my-god, I’m in fucking Cambodia!


Phnom Penh

December 9-12, 2002

:: Hope is the Province of the Unborn :: 
Politically, Cambodia is a wasteland that survives years of rampant lawlessness, war and genocide. Over the past sixty years alone, Cambodia has gone from being (1) a French colony, to (2) a puppet French monarchy, to (3) a Japanese colony, to (4) a French colony again, to (5) a monarchy, to (6) a parliamentary democracy, to (7) an autocratic dictatorship, to (8) revolutionary and tyrannical communist state, to (9) Vietnamese suzerainty, to (10) organization under UN Transitional Authority, to (11) democratic republic. Only in 1993 did Cambodia became a participatory democracy for the first time (at least nominally) when sham UN-monitored elections produced – get this – a king and three prime ministers! Throw in 3 coup d’etats during the last 30 years, a long standing absentee monarch, constant civil war, 490,000 metric tons of American aerial bombing, six official name changes for the country since French independence, unbridled corruption, and one of the worst cases of genocide the world has ever known and you begin to get a sense for the political turmoil that has ravished this country in recent history.

But Cambodia is not just an underdeveloped, misruled country like so many others. It is afflicted with the catastrophic cumulative effects of the destruction of its society in the four years of Khmer Rouge tyranny. In 1975, after five years of bloody civil war, the Khmer Rouge (native communist guerrilla movement) captured Phnom Penh, the capital of Cambodia, gained control of the government, and forced the whole population to evacuate the city on foot. Those who refused were shot, as were hospital patients who were unable to walk. The roads out of the city were clogged with bewildered people, clutching a few belongings. Children were separated from their parents; the old and infirm who could not keep up were left to die at the roadside.

The same thing happened in all the cities and towns, and the whole country was effectively turned into a vast forced labor camp. Pol Pot, leader of the Khmer Rouge, was achieving his dream of Year Zero, the return of Cambodia to a peasant economy in which there would be no class divisions, no money, no books, no schools, no hospitals. In January 1976, the Khmer Rouge officially banned money, land ownership, private property and literally all institutions, including stores, banks, hospitals, schools, religion, and even the family. Everyone was forced to work 12 - 14 hours a day, every day. Children were separated from their parents to work in mobile groups or as soldiers. Those who had had any connection with previous regimes were eliminated. People who were deemed to have been the lazy elite – in other words the educated and the skilled – were also disposed of. Every vestige of the former “corrupt” way of life had to be destroyed. Many people tried to conceal their identity or former occupation, but were eventually found out or betrayed. Whole families would be executed. To save bullets, babies in these families were typically killed by dashing their skulls against trees.

Pol Pot summed up the policies of the Khmer Rouge in 1978:

  "We are building socialism without a model. We do not wish to copy anyone; we shall use the experience gained in the course of the liberation struggle. There are no schools, faculties or universities in the traditional sense, although they did exist in our country prior to liberation, because we wish to do away with all vestiges of the past. There is no money, no commerce, as the state takes care of provisioning all its citizens. The cities have been resettled as this is the way things had to be. Some three million town dwellers and peasants were trying to find refuge in the cities from the depredations of war. We evacuated the cities; we resettled the inhabitants in the rural areas where the living conditions could be provided for this segment of the population of new Cambodia. The countryside should be the focus of attention of our revolution, and the people will decide the fate of the cities." [Grant Evans and Kelvin Rowley, Red Brotherhood at War, 1984]  

All told, two million Cambodians died – were executed – under the tyrannical Pol Pot regime – fully 1/3 of the population. As a percentage of the population, not just the raw number alone, this figure is as staggering as statistics get. One-third of the population killed in four years is a rate of extinction that matches the Bubonic Plague of the Middle Ages.

But these events and figures only begin to tell the story, the nightmare that Cambodians are still trying to wake up from. Take any tragedy, any evil that debases the modern world – prostitution, drug addiction, gun crimes, genocide, AIDS, illiteracy, poverty, famine – and Cambodia has it in spades. Worldwide, it is near the top of the list in all societal problems and epidemics: Half the population is under 18. Over 10% of all Cambodian children die before reaching their first birthdays. About 50% of all children under five are either stunted in growth or severely underweight. Life expectancy today is little more than fifty years. Cambodia has one of the highest incidents of tuberculosis, respiratory infections, diarrhea, and malaria in the world. 4% of the adult population is HIV-positive. Nearly 4% of the adult male population (between 20-49) has a land mine injury. 69% percent of Cambodians over 15 are illiterate.

More on education: The United Nations expects that of 1,000 Cambodians born today, 290 will never go to school, 390 will repeat the first grade, and 500 will not complete the primary education they began. Only 27 out of 1,000 who entered primary school will graduate from high school – or two percent of all children who survive birth. Part of the problem with education is that the teachers themselves are not educated – less than one percent of all teachers in Cambodia finished the eleventh grade. But perhaps the most shocking statistic to me is that after the Pol Pot years, in which schools were abolished and educated people executed, only three hundred Cambodians with a higher education were left in the country – only 300 people in all of Cambodia had ever even been to college! Imagine rebuilding a country with only 300 college-educated people.

But these are just statistics. They don’t tell a personal account of human tragedy. In the numbers, you won’t find the harrowing stories of the survivors, nor will see the grief and anxiety that hangs over the skittish faces of today’s Cambodian people. I have heard too many stories of corruption and torture, of prostitution and banditry, of death and maiming to relay them all here, but one story really horrified me: I was told by a guide at Angkor not to give any money to a young girl outside one of the temples whose face was severely scared and disfigured because her parents who paraded her there for tourists were suspected of having burned her face with acid to better evoke sympathy (and dollars) from tourists.

Cambodia may be one of the saddest places I’ve ever been to. It is a land of children and prostitution, illiteracy and disease, lawlessness and corruption. This is a place that views basic civility as a luxury. As a society, it may be as close to William Golding’s Lord of the Flies as a nation can get.

As Henry Kamm writes in his book, Cambodia: Report from a Stricken Land, “There is no hope for this generation.” Hope is the province of the unborn.


Angkor, Siem Reap

December 15, 2002

:: Dealing with "The Man" :: 
A police officer outside the Temple of Ta Prohm offered to sell me his badge. A bit dumbfounded and shocked, I searched for words. “Excuse Me?” I muttered finally, though having heard him perfectly well the first time.

“You, do you want to buy my badge? Here, look…” he repeated in a whisper, offering me a badge in an extended hand. “I sell you my badge.”

“Don’t you think you might need that?...” I began to question with more rationality than the situation warranted, and before remembering that I was in Cambodia where the police are more corrupt than the burgeoning mafia. I tried to hide my growing consternation and politely responded, “No. No, thank you.”

But, he wouldn’t let my now-captured attention go with just one offer. “Maybe you buy my hat?”

“Um… yeah, it’s a very nice hat, but I’m in a hurry. No thank you,” I spat out quickly as I backpedaled and turned away into the quiet safety of Ta Prohm temple. I knew that if I had lingered any longer he might have offered to sell me his gun.


 

 

 


 

Copyright © 2002 Ken Exner. All Rights Reserved.