Holiday in Cambodia

Dear Reader,

Pictures here: http://gallery.me.com/ericsutherland#100200

(PS, this took over FOUR HOURS to not even work properly. Fucking PC's.)

Phenom Pehn has been called the Pearl of Asia at times, and I can see why; Vientiane was fairly sleepy and uneventful. Bangkok is an assault on the senses and a bit in overdrive. Phenom Pehn is a nice middle ground inbetween; busy, chaotic yet contained and easy to escape the hustle and bustle. Wide variety of cheap food, interesting sights, hot as balls, and a hardy expat community, it's a fun place to be in. The center of the amazing Khmer people and culture. And simultaneously, one of the most depressing places I've been.

To acquainted yourself with what I'm about to relate, click here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Khmer_Rouge

and watch this:



Khmer Rouge. Pol Pot (aka Saloth Sar). S-21. Even the names of the Cambodian civil war and revolution embody evil. Khmer is the ethnic group of Cambodian people. Rouge, in red, the color of the communist party. In a nutshell, what happened in Cambodia was this; Crazy evil guy who loves extreme Marxism wants to create a complete autonomous, self-sufficient peasant culture. In the words of some Khmer Rouge propaganda, "If you want to cut the grass, you must also remove the roots." So, he started to kill everyone who might subvert this dream of everyone being uneducated peasants and just under four years wiped out around 3,000,000 Cambodians and systematically destroyed as much Khmer culture and art as possible. Angkor Wat was spared due to some weird technicality like, "It's a symbol of how awesome the revolution is" or some bullshit like that.

My first stop in this sad journey was the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, formerly known as Security Prison 21 (S-21). I hired a moto driver for $8 for the whole day, to visit two main sites then drop me off back at the hostel. It was a hot day, but not as humid as others. The usual busy-busy of Phenom Pehn going on around me, people laughed and worked, kids ran around us as we sped past, delivery drivers made their stops, security guards slept, and rooftop gardens sprouted sunward. The S-21 prison was formerly a place of learning, a high school in fact. It's three large buildings were converted into crude brick and mortar (or wooden cells) and interrogation/torture chambers. The thing that struck me upon entering the grounds was the sense of peace and beauty there; sugar and coco palms swaying gently in the breeze casting much needed shadows, trees of a 5-leafed white tropical flower that smells deliciously sweet and is found in Hawaii quite often (blanking on the name...!!), grassy lawn, etc. Maybe it's also because it's quite off the main roads as well, so it's fairly quiet. In the main courtyard area there are 14 graves of the last victims found at S-21. Another interesting thing about it is that it, and everything in it left behind as the Khmer Rouge fled the invading Vietnamese army who eventually liberated the country, was left behind, (mostly) in their original places; as you enter the first building, you can see the metal torture bed, chair, shackles, blood stained floor and various other instruments of death. On the wall, you see a picture of how the room was found by the Vietnamese, a mutilated body chained to the bed, a chair knocked over in haste, and various instruments of death. Nothing is staged, swapped out, put behind glass or replicas of original artifacts. It was strange, to see who exactly died here, by what devices and how. Without accentuating details in any way, the profundity of the horror during those years springs to life with no extra help and little left to the imagination. Walking through rooms of mass detention centers, of cells little more then .5m x 2m, barbed wire, chains and hooks attached to the walls, it becomes stranger and stranger to think that these lovely people, Cambodians, were subjected to such a humanitarian disgrace. As many people are subjected to and have been throughout history. The greatness of Khmer art and culture, and the equal and extreme opposite of the Khmer Rouge reminds me of Germany and the Nazis; the country that produced Bach, Beethoven, (countless other composers and musicians), philosophy, science, education, learning, also lead to that other massive genocide and terrible few years. S-21 becomes more and more stark and depressing as you move on from building to building, where Cambodian survivors stories are displayed on the walls, faded maps and school lessons remind viewers of the buildings past as a school, paintings by talented prisoners of atrocities committed by the Khmer Rouge at S-21 and the Killing Fields, graffiti from years and years ago stares back into the present, and even more haunting, the photos of thousands and thousands of victims and detainees stare even harder into you. The KR, much like the Nazis, were meticulous record keepers, and documented everything. Thus, this place of death and pain is now a place of remembrance and learning, of peace and reflection. The photos are probably the most difficult to bear; one wall dedicated to men of a certain age, another to young women, one to old women, one to young children and babies.

I remember that I saw this place in a film called "Baraka", long before I was an adult and aware of any of this history. The film is a reflection/cinematic medetation on humanity, the earth and our interactions and connection with it. It is non-verbal or story based, relying on image, sound and music only to convey it's themes. It is the film that changed my life and carved the path that has made me the person I am today; I remember once, long ago in a previous life when I was about 13 or 14, sitting in the basement/kids room of my fathers house. I must have been a lazy, rainy Sunday or Monday, nothing much going on and I would dedicate moments like these to watching the Independent Film Channel, as we had a subscription satilite service. I liked it quite a lot because 1.) they played really interesting films, about things I had no idea about, foreign films, and shorts, animated and documentaries. 2.) (and this is an important reason for a teenage boy) they didn't censor anything, which is good on many levels for the art of film. Anyway, on this particular day of being slightly bored and slightly amused, I flipped to IFC and found they were played a two day marathon of Baraka, playing the film 24/7 for two days. I came into the film about half way through, and the images of it absolutely captured my imagination and fascination. It's director/cinematographer, Ron Fricke, crafted the most amazing shots and paced them together so brilliantly, I found myself on the edge of seat the whole time. I didn't know there were such fantastic places in the world. I had no idea where they were, what they were, what the significance of them was, but all I knew was that it moved me and I couldn't look away. In those two days I must have watched it at least three times, and also forced my father to watch it with me as well. In a particularly grave part of this film, there are shots of S-21; long shots down the hall ways, panning shots of the photos of faces, and one face in particular that, (coupled with a terrifying sound of a metal door scraping across the floor and slamming shut) always scared me and still gives me goosebumps to this day. No wonder they chose to highlight that face in the film. I wandered and roamed through there, looking at every photo (I made it a point to look into the eyes of every person there), and finally found the one I had been made familiar with so long ago. It was strange to see in person, I don't really have words for it; Not really sad or depressed but more like the sound of "Ah." Sorry for such a vague description; there were certainly a lot of emotions going on in that place. There was a beautiful part of the museum (and this is truly a testament to Cambodians tastefulness in dealing with such a pained past) where they had a picture and short biographies on people who had survived the labor camps, S-21 and other prisons around the country. They were beautiful photos and short stories; pictures of a man who was detained for three years, tortured and who now has a family and his smile beams out from the photo and baby in his arms. Words like "I only want to be happy, it was a long time ago and I wish the Khmer Rouge leaders to be brought to Justice" and "I was made to work for the regime, I won't lie. I did what I did to survive and if I am called to court to testify I will do so on my own accord. I want justice for all Cambodian people." Pictures of their lives now, and their photograph when it was taken at S-21. Farmers, craftsmen, mothers, it was truly moving to see the resilience and love that these people now have in their lives. There were also pictures and biographies on the leaders of the Khmer Rouge, and although the signs out front clearly say "no graffiti", every picture of a Khmer Rouge leader has been defiled, their eyes scratched out, big X's marked in them, cursing and words of hate in every language, especially Cambodian... That was also, equally interesting to see. What is horrible, is that even after the Vietnamese invaded and drove the KR out of Phenom Pehn, they were still recognized as the legitimate government of Cambodia, even throughout the 90's and even had a seat in the UN. Pol Pot himself lived to the ripe age of 82, enjoying a free life, a wife, children, and grandchildren. Many of his victims weren't even two years old. Now, as court trials and depositions and evidence gathering moves at a snails pace, the surviving leaders of the KR are slowly dying of old age rather then by any means of justice or in a prison cell. People fear that they will never be actually tried for what the crimes against humanity they committed. I walked back through the courtyard, slowly, and found "Mr. Thomas" my moto driver. We then exited out into the street, where people laughed and worked, kids ran up and down the streets, delivery drivers made their stops, security guards slept, and rooftop gardens continued to sprout sunward.

The next stop would be even more harrowing, if that's possible, and that was to where prisoners were transferred to be executed: the Killing Fields. There are those who say it's unwise to visit both S-21 and the Killing Fields in one day, but that's just what I intended to do; unapologetic overload and learning of what really happened here. It was about 15km on the moto. During the drive, Mr. Thomas stopped and bought something at a roadside stand, which turned out to be one of the ubiquitous surgery style face masks that people wear in Asia. I thought it was for him, but he said "no no, is long way, good for you". It was such a considerate gesture, so, feeling like a dope (and dubious those things actually filter out anything...) I put it on. Only because you're special, Mr. Thomas. The Killing Fields were out of the way of Phenom Pehn but close enough to be convenient to the Khmer Rouge. It's set outside the city in a rice farming area, where people still today are farming and living, right in the shadow of one of the most horrific sites I can think of. Upon entering, there is a large (three stories at least) commemorative stupa, which houses the skulls and large bones of victims here, which have washed up from the ground over time. Haunting, serene, beautiful, terrifying, and utterly peaceful, this was perhaps the strangest place I've been, the equal and opposite feelings of sadness and equal tranquility. The entrance fee comes with a guided audio program, spoken by a survivor of the Khmer Rouge. Again, tasteful, tactful comes to mind when I was in that place, nothing over the top or gratuitous, humble acknowledgement of what happened, and sincere feelings. I remember when listening to the first part of the audio program, the narrator says "I know this is not an easy place to visit, so I want to thank you for coming here and willingness to learn about what happened to our country." You are lead through a the grounds, seeing where prisoners were unloaded from trucks, where they were held if there was a backup of people to execute, where the graves are, how they were killed... it quickly adds up to a VERY sobering experience. Especially in the rainy season, bones, cloth, and teeth regularly surface from the shallow graves and are collected by keepers of the site to be categorized and studied. I found many pieces of bone while I was there, teeth as well, and huge amounts of blindfold cloth and bits of clothing. There is a place where a few sugar palm trees stand, with various branches scraped and cut off. The narrator asks you to step closer, to observe the branches easier, and to run your hand over the top part of the palm branch. It is jagged and sharp, but very rough. And in a quick moment, you realize that these were used by the Khmer Rouge soldiers as knives, to slit peoples throats, as bullets were far too expensive to waste. And as bullets were too expensive, all of the killing done here was manual, blunt force, hammers, knives, hoes, machetes, etc etc... I become light headed as I write this, thinking about it. And what's more fucked up, as you're walking through this place, walking over the remains of innocent people who were brutally murdered, you notice the quiet, the silence reverence everyone stands in, a small pong nearby, with fish jumping and butterflies everywhere, flitting about the green grass and plants which have started to reclaim the mounds and holes in the earth which were the mass graves. Again, it's hard to put into words, the extreme of horror and the extreme of peace. Throughout the tour you can listen to survivors stories about how they escaped, lived during these times, and even some testimony from the leader at S-21. Then came the hard shit. The mass grave for women and children, and the tree where babies heads would be smashed against then tossed into the grave adjacent. I overheard an English speaking tour guide saying, "See this dark spot way up here? That's where they held them by their feet and swung them against the tree. It used to be down here, but because the tree has grown, it's now above head level." This, or tossing them onto bayonettes was the preferred method for executing children. Many people were moved to tears, bracelets and charms were left behind on the tree, flowers, incense, Buddhas... A banyon tree, not unlike the one Buddha attained enlightenment under, was called the Magic Tree, because of its ability to amplify. Loudspeakers were hung all over the tree, blaring out propaganda songs so drown out the screams of those being killed, and to mask the function of that place. The end of the audio tour describes the final moments that most prisoners would hear: loud, abrasive propaganda songs, and a diesel generator operating in the foreground. One propaganda phrase that rings in my ears and sums up the fucked-up-ness of Pol Pot and his fucked up madness is "To keep you is no gain; to loose you is no loss." I loose my words when I think of the brutality of it all, and then the grace and courage with which the Cambodian people have turned around and made these places into sacred centers of honor, respect, reflection and learning. Inside the stupa, forensic scientists have cataloged and categorized every large bone and tooth that has been found in the Killing Fields. There are projects that scientifically and objectively assess and compile all the records and documents of this era in history. It is a beautiful thing to see this done with such tact and clarity. I hope for the Cambodian people that some sense of closure will occur regarding the Khmer Rouge leaders.

Mr. Thomas, true to his word was there after the whole ordeal. We moved back into the city just in time for rush hour traffic, and motos upon motos and massive trucks and sleek cars all jostled for position, honking and squeaking. It was an especially heavy day, but one I was so glad I experienced. In art, and life, I'm a big believer that the dark and somber should be just as embraced as the lighthearted and jolly; how else can we know the extremes of joy and sadness if we don't touch those extremes? I feel that as a man, I'll have reached a real turning point when I can fully regard sadness and joy as two sides of the same coin, just as I aspire to meet life's triumphs and disasters, and treat those two impostors just the same.

Now, I am sitting in a cafe, waiting for the day to get a little less hot and ready for my midnight bus to Ho Chi Mihn City. I'll try and fight with this PC to get some pictures uploaded, and prepare myself for Vietnam and the much closer to home reality of the Vietnam War. One of my uncles was in the war, and mentioned some places he would go on R&R. My goal in Southern Vietnam is to see those places, photograph them and show him what they're like now. As he said, "I thought, 'this [Vietnam] is actually a very beautiful country... too bad I'm here when there's a war going on!'".

Okay. Glad you got this far, well done. That wasn't an easy one to write. Remember, be a decent human being with love in your heart and thoughtfulness in your action. The rest is a bonus.

Best,

-Eric