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Cambodia, oh so lovely, so sad
There is a bustling industry in Cambodia (and Vietnam, and anywhere in Asia, really) where locals photocopy novels and sell the ubiqitous Lonely Planets at wildly reduced prices to us turistas. Like, it breaks my heart that I am buying cut-price Lonely Planets, right?
Amongst these, next to the endless stacks of Life of Pi and Mr. Nice, were self-published (or practically so) books of histories and testimonials of people's experience under the Khmer Rouge. Thanks to these and gruelling museums, I have had a much larger dose of Cambodian history than I expected, or maybe even needed.
In a word. Sad, sad, sad. The country tried it's level best to stay out of the American/Vietnam war next door but ended up being sucked into the vortex. And that was bad, sure, but then....ah....but then.
Then came a time it's still hard to anyone to fathom, and certainly can't explain - even (or maybe especially) for those who went through it. A genocide of the people by the people. Naught to do with race, religion, status, gender - just plain killing of fellow citizens.
This mindless cannibalsim meant that there was no invading bad guys, no imperialist bogeyman, no government, political or corporate body to blame - just each other. And, therefore, no international outrage (or sympathy), no saviour, no Rambo, no where to direct both the bitterness nor the healing.
After all that happened in Cambodia, still no one has been jailed or brought to charges. The Khmer Rouge continued to represent Cambodia in the United Nations until 1999, and Pol Pot died a happy old man. That is, if he did die (he and his wife disappeared under unwitnessed circumstances, with no body left after the fact).
Cambodia is trying to get justice, or closure, or even dialogue. Trials are slowly under way of the extremely wealthy remaining old men, who have been forcibly pried out of their mansions to stand trial. Witnesses wait patiently day after day after day willing to be called to testify. Entire families camp outside the court house in silent memory of their lost relatives. And so many to remember...We read "The Gate" by Francois Bizot, who is also patiently waiting to testify against 'Duch' - the leader and warder of S-21. Duch is, yes, still alive and well and employing an extremely expensive Dutch team of lawyers that are stalling his trial as much as they can (hoping to have the UN-funded war crimes tribunal run out of funds).
The Gate was a moving book, with especially fascinating insight to the unconditional support that the Left in the West had for the Khmer Rouge at the time. There isn't much I can say about S-21. I mean, who looks at a suburban high school and thinks, ah, just the place for a detention, torture and execution centre? There's a link below. The place flayed us both, as this was not a lifetime ago. Imagine. I was listening to the Dead Kennedy's Holiday In Cambodia when the Killing Fields were going on. My worst moments were the photos of the dead - for most the first and last photos of their lives.
People who wore glasses were intellectuals and imprisoned. Women who had too many children were class traitors and imprisoned. Women who had too few children were not supporting the cause and were imprisoned. Elderly people were too feeble to contribute. Children of seven were removed for re-education, and prison guards were always 12 - 15 years old: because they had no conscience, or empathy, and their cruelty was unsurpassable. It was a master class in genocide.Today's tourist officials say less than 2000 'died or moved', while Amnesty estimated that over 25% of the entire population of the country disappeared.
Meanwhile, Mia Farrow will hopefully rot in hell for coming to S-21 not to show support for the trials, but to disrupt them, in order to draw media attention to Darfur. Because Vietnam still trades with Darfur. Nope. I couldn't figure this out either.
Weeks and weeks later, when we re-discovered Pascale and Matt - first met in Mongolia, then again on the beaches of Rabbit Island - he told us his story of escaping from Cambodia when he was nine. Firstly avoiding the landmines and army of the Khmer Rouge to stop him leaving, then the Thai army to stop him arriving in Thailand. This was his first time back in the country, and, as he put it, was happy to leave, happy to come back and really happy to be leaving again.
And the stacks of skulls at S-21 - a brutal thing for a Buddhist people to live with. Burning the bones of the dead releases their spirit, but the people don't want this meagre evidence to be burned away, until some closure has taken place. Imagine, they are having to keep their dead compatriots trapped in limbo, unreleased, as proof - in the hope that the world will believe what really happened here.
So Cambodia, I love Cambodia. But I feel my delight of the country is so coloured by the recent history, and so joy turns to ashes in my mouth.
