Finding Peace In Cambodia by Jerry Edling

The first thing you notice is the haze. It is thick enough to transform the sky into a soft lens through which the reddening sun descends over the Mekong River. Hundreds of people clamber onto a mountaintop structure at the Angkor Wat complex to view this spectacle every day. The sun descends into the river like a languorous flatboat, disappearing from view before it reaches the horizon. Watching the sun descend is an awe-inspiring spectacle, but the grand finale is tantalizingly shrouded from view.

 

photo: Frederick Noroha

                             

Sunset over the Mekong River is a metaphor for Cambodia. This country’s brilliant but turbulent history is gradually coming to light through the haze of time, but the finale is shrouded in questions. This is a land of kings and the Khmer Rouge, a place in which visions of a brighter future have led to both splendor and savagery. Cambodia is coming to grips with both.

Tuol Sleng Prison, or S-21, is a former high school nestled among the row buildings and Humphrey Bogart shutters of Phnom Penh.

It is the crucible of a vision that went horribly awry, the place where the Khmer Rouge brought all the “counterrevolutionaries” and the innocents who allegedly didn’t share their vision of an egalitarian peasant society.

To walk into S-21 is to be reminded that it is part of very recent history. Victims of land mines, robbed for life of their mobility by the paraphernalia of war, cluster around the front gate of S-21; and only the most callous of souls could fail to part with a few riel to ease their suffering in some small way. Tour guides are available at S-21. They are as patient and attentive as the tuk-tuk drivers who take visitors on bone-jarring trips around Phnom Penh. They recount the atrocities that were committed at S-21 with what can only be described as professionalism. It is strangely comforting to hear their factual accounts of the ordeals of the prisoners who unwillingly made their homes here, comforting in the sense that facts and honesty are the best palliatives for pain. And this was a place of unimaginable pain from the moment the prisoners arrived.

The visitor to S-21 is shown pictures of new arrivals with numbers safety-pinned to their chests. It is impossible not to cringe when viewing these photographs and to wonder what sort of zeal or “patriotic” fervor could lead one human being to cause so much suffering in another. But the pictures only tell part of the story. The leg irons that kept the inmates shackled like doomed cattle still litter the cold concrete of the cells. Those hard, unforgiving floors provided the bedding for the inmates, who slept in their underwear while shackled to the wall or to iron bars and were served two spoonfuls of weak porridge every day.

Prison life at S-21 had an eerie regularity. Prisoners were tortured twice a day. How frustrating it must have been for the inmates to gaze over the wall at the city as they were walked to the post where they were hung upside down. When they passed out, their heads were dipped in filth so putrid it woke them out of unconsciousness. After their ordeals they returned to their cells, which did not always provide any respite from torture, as the still-visible blood stains silently attest.

S-21 is a grim place; and yet, there is a sense of peace about it, a peace perhaps born of its origins as a high school but more likely arising out of the reverent spirit that pervades it. S-21 is a shrine to the innocents, the powerless folk who are simultaneously history’s victims and its soul. About 17,000 people entered S-21. Eight are known to have survived.

There is no peace at the Choeung Ek Killing Field, located several kilometers from S-21.

Here the visitor is shown a tree where the victims of the Khmer Rouge genocide were killed with makeshift weapons while a loudspeaker blared music to cover their screams and where children were bashed to death against the trunk for sport.

The Killing Field is pock-marked with mass graves that stand empty, dug up like so many craters of the moon. 

At the center of Choeung Ek stands a commemorative stupa that serves as the final resting place for so many, its gilded spires reaching to the sky as if to ask why.

These are disturbing images, to be sure. It is a testament to the resilience of the Cambodian people that they are confronting this period of their history so forthrightly. Cambodia is a young country with an ancient history. According to the World Factbook, its median age is 22.9 years. Most Cambodians know the Khmer Rouge only as history, not as part of their own lives. But history dies hard. It is still on the lips and in the memories of older Cambodians who, like the stupa at Choeung Ek, reach out and ask why. Younger Cambodians are following their lead.

It is that resilience that lingers in the memory of the visitor and that buoys Cambodia toward a future filled with hope. The essence of Cambodia is that it is rooted in place. The dominant image on its flag, for example, is Angkor Wat; and its 500 riel note is adorned with the images of both Angkor Wat and a modern bridge. This is a country that draws its strength from places rather than abstractions, in contrast to the United States, for example, which is rooted in an idea. Norman Rockwell paintings capture the essence of the American spirit: a man rising to a point of order at a town meeting, a woman uncovering a turkey at the Thanksgiving table, a soldier returning home from war. Angkor Wat captures the essence of Cambodia: regal splendor in the forest and a sense that it is possible to build something that will endure for generations to come. 

photo:Molyda Szymusiak

 

Given that Cambodia is rooted in place, it is, perhaps, significant that Angkor Wat faces west, toward the sunset. Is it possible that somewhere in the haze that shrouds the future Cambodians will be able to glimpse the lasting peace they deserve?

Happy Birthday, Chanra!

CHAPTER ONE

My mother dreamed about a black diamond, the strongest of gems. It was deep and shimmering, and in the shape of a heart. The black diamond has not always been considered beautiful, but forever rare and enduring, and a sign of good fortune.

The dream foretold my birth in the small farming town of Koas Krala, in the western province of Battambang, Cambodia. It was the start of the monsoon season, when the rain clouds came in suddenly and the rice paddies in the flat and rich land filled with water. The great expanses of green fields stretched out to meet the lush surrounding jungles, and the mountains loomed dark in the distance against a backdrop of blue-gray sky.

Our house was built on stilts, about eight feet off the ground, and made of wood. A stairway ran up the middle and led to a balcony. The front door opened into the altar room, filled with statues of Buddha, artwork on the walls, and colorful pillows scattered on the floor. Behind that was our big kitchen and dining room, and on the other side, the living room and bedrooms, all divided by curtains. It was the finest house in the village, and so safe then, even as rain fell heavy on the red tile roof and thunder played like a drum roll for the event of my birth.

I came into the world, looking to mother just like the black diamond, with dark skin, dark curly hair, and a heart-shaped face. I was not a son, but the fourth daughter, seventh if you count my stepsisters.

"This baby is ‘ugly!’" my mother declared, loud enough for the spirits to hear, because superstition says that beautiful children may be taken away.

The midwife wrapped me up in a blanket and put me in my cradle that was delicately carved with lotus blossoms, a symbol of purity. Mother slept in a small bed, up off the ground, so that my father could put coals from the fire underneath to warm her body, like all Cambodian women did after childbirth. Mother believed it would help to retain her beauty. She drank only hot water and wine with herbs that father had been gathering in the mountains. Mother said I cried a lot, but she was right about the good spirits, because I was born into a very happy life.

Come To Life

The water lily springs from the muddy depths of the pond. Blossoms burst out above rich purple-green leaves floating on unclear water. Petals bloom in pink or white, as symbols of purity and creation. The delicate flowers inspire harmony and spiritual awakening. Rise up.

Black Diamond Prologue

 

The once serene Cambodian forest had become a terrifying place to be, with more deadly anti-personnel landmines scattered indiscriminately along the path we walked to escape our blighted land. Daylight was fading fast, and the world turning blue around me. It was nearly impossible to see the telltale threads connected to some of the mines that detonated when tripped, sending shrapnel everywhere. The pressure of an unlucky footstep would trigger other landmines, obscured by heavy vegetation. I looked for them vigilantly though, as we trekked single file toward the Thai border. Reaching our destination remained in the hands of fate. We were precariously close to leaving Cambodia.


Without warning, from up ahead, I heard it, that dreaded sound of a muffled explosion. My heart sank. I stopped and looked up. But all I could see was the canopy of tall trees, thick hanging vines and bamboo surrounding me, and reaching above me to the sky, blurred by my tears.

I said a prayer to the God spirits, and forced myself to take another step. My feet fit into the footprints of the others in front of me. Then I took one more step, and then one more.

The Road to Freedom

The film 'The Road to Freedom' is based on the true story of photojournalists in Cambodia during the Vietnam war.

We are introduced to Sean Flynn swimming with a young Khmer beauty on a sunny day in Phnom Penh. We share a tender moment with them in his hotel room, all white sheets and warmth on bare skin. We know that Sean Flynn has it all.


Sean, son of actor Errol Flynn, could have followed in his father's footsteps. He had a Hollywood career of his own, and the same dashing style. But he close a different path, and an assignment in war-torn Cambodia. Flynn's photos captured the people and their lives. He lived dangerously to get them.


Sean Flynn and cameraman Dana Stone venture out into the Cambodian countryside to investigate the shadowy presence of the communist Khmer Rouge. On motorcycles, they travel through lush jungles, rice paddies and remote villages. The tranquility of the Khmer landscape is disturbed by death. A family is slaughtered, their lifeless bodies scattered. A child is left alone, crying in the road. Everyone fears the soldiers dressed in black with red scarves.


The Khmer Rouge takes the two journalists captive. We fear for their lives at the whims of young recruits, and ugly men upholding the ideals of an unknown authority. We miss Stone's wife, just like he does. We treasure the bonds of friendship they make. We feel their hope and their will to survive. And we too want the world to know about the emerging horrors of the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia.


Flynn and Stone escape, but there is nowhere to run. They find a mountain temple and some words of wisdom. The Khmer Rouge finds them again.


No one knows the true fate of Sean Flynn and Dana Stone.

                                                                     Sean Flynn and Dana Stone

Sean Flynn pursued his dream, or mission, or whatever it is that drives us to get the story told. 


"You know he heard the drums of war. Each man knows what he's looking for."~The Clash 'SeanFlynn'


'The Road to Freedom' is directed by Brendan Moriarty.
The film stars Joshua Fredric Smith as Sean Flynn.
Scott Maguire portrays Dana Stone.
Tom Proctor plays Francias.
Nhem Sokun is Lim Po and Kanilen Kang is Mean.

                                                                      Rising star Joshua Fredric Smith

This post is dedicated to Tim Hetherington. Recent uprisings in the Middle East and North Africa have shined a light on the dangers faced by reporters covering wartime events. Tim Hetherington, Oscar nominated director of the Afghanistan war documentary 'Restrepo' died this week as a result of a mortar attack in Misrata, Libya. His photos evoked an emotional response to the realities of war.

R.I.P. Tim Hetherington and Chris Hondros.



A Day to Remember

IT WAS APRIL of 1975, a time of warm days and the Khmer New Year. I wondered if the Songkran goddess had descended to earth; I did not prepare any gifts to offer. The festive mood of people celebrating the three-day Chaul Chnam feasts resounded through the neighborhood. They shouted for King Sihanouk. I heard blasts that I thought were part of the revelry, but they sounded a lot like gunfire. I ran to the front gate and spotted an ice cream vendor on a bicycle with a cooler on the back. My grandfather snoozed in the hammock.
     "May I buy an ice cream on a stick, Grandfather?" I called out to him.     
     It almost looked like he was nodding. I took that as a "yes," and stepped out to flag down the ice cream man. That is when Khmer Rouge soldiers caught my attention, as they passed by at the end of the street. They rode in the back of big trucks, flashing bright red scarves hanging from their necks, worn as a belt or wrapped around their heads. I stopped and stared, forgetting all about ice cream. The soldiers looked young, like pure Khmers with dark skin. They carried guns, M-16 rifles and AK47’s, but they were smiling and celebrating victory. People lined up along the avenue and cheered as they passed by. Our neighbors were hanging white bed sheets from their windows. A man ran by waving a white flag and hollering.
       "The Battambang army has surrendered to the Khmer Rouge!"


Who could have ever guessed the atrocities that would follow that fateful day. In the next four-and-a-half years, an estimated two million Cambodians died at the hands of Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge regime.

Never Forget.

Khmer New Year/Chaul Chnam Thmey

The Cambodian New Year is celebrated for three days, after the end of the harvest in mid-April. Chaul Chnam Thmey marks the beginning of the year on the traditional Khmer calender. This is a time for feasting, games, and offerings.

As a part of the ritual of buong suong, dancers recreate the battle between the legendary figures of ocean goddess Moni Mekhala, protector of the waters, and the spirit Ream Eyso, controller of storms. They are the origins of thunder and lightening. It's hot and dry in Cambodia this time of year. The New Year is at the height of the hot season just before the monsoon rains wash away the dust and bring nourishment to the land.

Welcome the Songkran goddess, believed to descend to earth. Maha Songkran is the first day of the festivities, signaled by the drum or bell of the Buddhist temple. People light candles, burn incense and offer thanks for the teachings of Buddha. For good luck, wash with holy water.

Virak Wanabat is the name of the second day, a day of prayer and forgiveness. Give to charity and remember ancestors. Neither fire nor wind, birth nor death can erase our good deeds.

The third day is Tngay Leang Saka, a time for water splashing. Bathing of elders ensures their good advice for the future. Cleansing the Buddha statues symbolizes the water that is crucial to life. It brings longevity, good luck, happiness and prosperity. 
 

"If you are courageous enough to risk everything for being alert and aware, enlightenment is going to happen."~Buddha

Happy Khmer New Year! Sok Sabay, Chnam Thmey!

At the very least, clean your house and eat some noodles!

APSARAS AND DEVATAS

Devata 

Ancient Khmer women had power. The 12th century Temples of Angkor are adorned with bas-relief carvings of  apsaras and devatas. Devatas are guardians of the religious shrines, their images of grace and beauty immortalized in stone. They wear crowns, elaborate hair styles and jewelry, and form sacred hand positions. The apsaras, or celestial dancers, enact stories, swaying in their bejeweled velvet and brocade costumes and golden headdresses. The apsaras' poses and slow, stylized movements express the wisdom of the ages. According to Hindu legend, apsara goddesses came from the ocean of milk, and held sway over both mortal and immortal men. Many questions about these classical deities remain unanswered.

Black Diamond: The Story of Chanra

Black Diamond: The Story of Chanra is a work of fiction, based on real historical events and real people. Chanra shared her stories with me. The accounts of other killing fields survivors helped me to understand what she experienced.

Principal sources of this knowledge:

‘The Stones Cry Out: A Cambodian Childhood, 1975-1980’ by Molyda Szmusiak.

‘First They Killed My Father: A daughter of Cambodia remembers’ by Loung Ung.

‘When Broken Glass Floats: Growing Up under the Khmer Rouge’ by Chanrithy Him.

‘Hear Me Now: Tragedy in Cambodia’ by Sophal Leng Stagg.

And the extraordinary story, ‘Haing Ngor: A Cambodian Odyssey.’

All of these books are recommended reading. I consulted numerous other sources on the history, politics, religion and customs of Cambodia.

The film 'The Killing Fields' inspired me.
Also, the PBS documentary ‘The Flute Player,’ with Arn Chorn-Pond. Cambodia lost so much traditional music during the Khmer Rouge genocide. 

Landmines in Cambodia

Cambodia is one of the most heavily mined areas in the world. Six million, possibly as many as ten million landmines are still active, remnants of years of conflict, claiming new victims daily. Forty thousand Cambodians live as amputees. The country has one of the highest disability rates in the world. Landmines and unexploded ordnance kill or injure hundreds of people in Cambodia every year. Most of the problem is in the north-western provinces. The cost of removal is one thousand US dollars per mine or more.

The country is littered with unexploded ordnance, or UXO.

It is nearly impossible to see the mines obscured by heavy vegetation.

Detonated when tripped, landmines send shrapnel everywhere. The pressure of an unlucky footstep can trigger a mine Most landmines are designed to maim, not kill.

Cambodia has made strides in clearing land and the number of casualties has been greatly reduced. But the problem remains massive and a major impediment to development. Cambodia needs international support.

The Mine Ban Treaty bans the use, production, stockpiling and transfer of anti-personnel mines.The United States has yet to sign the Treaty. 

The Khmer Rouge Tribunal

    No punishment is equal to the crimes committed in Cambodia.

                            May justice help with the healing process.

A Cambodian court has been set up to bring former senior leaders of the Khmer Rouge to trial. The UN-backed Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia is prosecuting officials most responsible for planning and directing the horrors of the killing fields. As many as three million people died at the hands of the murderous communist regime. The court outside of Phnom Penh is open to the public and thousands of visitors have attended the proceedings.

Case 001

Kaing Guek Eav, alias Comrade Duch, headed the infamous S-21 torture prison, where more than 14,000 people perished. The court sentenced Duch to 35 years in prison. 

The Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia reconvened for Kaing Guek Eav's appeal.

Prosecutors are seeking life imprisonment for Duch, contending the court showed leniency with the original sentence. They say he should be found guilty of enslavement, imprisonment, torture, extermination and other inhumane acts, and be tried for each crime individually.

The defense argues that the court did not have the jurisdiction to try him because he did not serve as a senior leader. They say Duch just followed orders.

Some victims of the brutal Khmer Rouge regime express outrage at any sentence that would let Duch one day walk free.


Case 002

Hundreds of Cambodians traveled to the court for the opening of the trial. Indictments against Ieng Sary, Ieng Thirith, Khieu Samphan and Nuon Chea, "Brother Number Two," include crimes against humanity, genocide, grave breaches of the 1949 Geneva Convention and murder, torture and religious persecution. They all deny the charges against them. The accused appeared in court, looking old and frail. Judges declared Ieng Thirith unfit for trial after experts diagnosed her with dementia. The others are being held in provisional detention. Nuon Chea spoke to the court, laying blame on Vietnam and expressing no remorse. The procedures are expected to take years. The maximum sentence is life in prison.


Case 003-pending

Two suspects have been put forward for investigation in this highly controversial case. PM Hun Sen and some Tribunal officials object to the case going forward. The suspects have not been named.


In 1979, the People's Revolutionary Tribunal held a genocide trial and found Ieng Sary and Pol Pot guilty of genocide. Neither appeared in court or served any sentence. Pol Pot died in 1998.

I hope the tribunals will bring closure to the victims, like my friend Chanra, and the families who have waited so long for justice. Let the process shine a light on the tragic history of Cambodia and send a message to cruel regimes worldwide.

I scribbled out this post one night, planning to enter it the next day. I wrote it from a journalists point of view. In the morning I received a wake-up message from another killing fields survivor friend of mine overseas who is still struggling with the memories, more than 30 years later. I know that I have no right to tell a story about something I can't possibly understand without having lived it. I have never even been hungry. But I'll do what I can to contribute to a better understanding of what happened in Cambodia. I gave the novel my best effort. Reporters sometimes have to ignore the true atrocities of a story to deliver it. I feel bad about that.  

Angkor Wat

Grandmother Sei comforted me.

“Think happy thoughts, Chanra,” she said.

“Tell me about the God city,” I asked, resting my head in her lap.

“Deep in the jungle sits the sacred temple of Angkor Wat, the largest shrine in the world,” she began, her angular face and close cropped gray hair illuminated by candlelight. “The temple was once the heart and soul of the most powerful empire in all of Southeast Asia, a monument to the power of a king, made into stone. It was an expression of devotion to the Hindu deity Vishnu. The sanctuary once held a gold statue of this eight-armed God, mounted on a garuda, a half-man, half-bird creature. From there, the mighty Khmer empire was ruled. May you one day climb the immensely steep stairs, as if to reach the kingdom of Gods. But only those who are meant to will ever see this sacred place.”

I closed my eyes. I pictured myself standing at the top of the temple with towers like lotus buds. I memorized the lessons Grandmother Sei shared with me, like no cheating, lying, stealing, or harming people or animals.

“Let the kindness and honesty in your life be what helps you one day ascend the mountain,” Mai added.

“I believe I will,” I told her, and I felt a connection to the ancient people of Angkor.

History

King Norodom Sihanouk ascended the throne with Cambodia under French rule, and he remained Supreme Commander until the country was drawn into the American war in Vietnam. His socialist economic policies, and his siding with the North Vietnamese and the Viet Cong in the south, led to political dissent from both the right-wing army and the left-wing rebels. The Khmer Rouge communist revolutionaries gained support in some remote provinces. They recruited the poor people and peasants, who “went to the hills” to join them. Though Sihanouk tried to remain neutral, the conflict grew more serious. Vietnamese sought sanctuary deeper in Cambodia.

          In March 1970, Cambodia’s Premier General, Lon Nol, deposed the king. He succeeded in taking power with American backing. Sihanouk fled to China and declared support for the Khmer Rouge, who exploited that and drew new recruits to fight for their king. Others joined because they thought Americans were imperialists. U.S. and South Vietnamese troops attacked North Vietnamese militants operating in Cambodia. People moved into the cities as the Khmer Rouge seized outlying provinces.

          The Khmer Rouge dropped bombs. On April 17, 1975, they took over Phnom Penh. In the holocaust that followed, two million Cambodians died of starvation, torture, and execution.

 

Epigraph

“We are forced to fall back on fatalism as an explanation of irrational events (that is to say, events the reasonableness of which we do not understand). The more we try to explain such events in history reasonably, the more   unreasonable and incomprehensible do they become to us.”

Leo Tolstoy

War and Peace

Pram Pii Makara

                             The Cambodia-Vietnam Friendship Monument in Phnom Penh

January 7th is the anniversary of the fall of the Khmer Rouge. Yes, the day also marks the start of Vietnamese occupation of Cambodia. So, it's a day of commemoration, rather than a celebration. A day to mark the crimes committed by  Pol Pot's regime. Here is an excerpt from my book about that time in history:

Nearly four years into the Khmer Rouge nightmare, in what I guessed to be early 1979, I found hope. It started as a small seed, and it grew. I heard the old familiar sounds of war from far away. I would be turning sixteen that year, but an explosion or buzzing airplane always flashed me back to my life as a child, cowering under the tamarind tree. I was still small; my starving body had not developed at all. But inside I had grown up. I became aware that the dark times of my life might not last forever. I noticed subtle indications that Angka could indeed weaken. The ugly overseer did not care so much what we did anymore, her mind wandered elsewhere. She argued with the other leaders who came around. They still kept the fear of Angka in the front of my mind. But they did not watch us as intently. Or was I just imagining that? The ugly overseer confirmed my suspicions.

“We have enemies!” she barked at us one morning at the work site.  “You will prepare to battle for Angka!”

Our numbers had diminished. Those of us who remained stood shaking and emaciated, far too weak to fight anyone.

“If they attack us, we will kill them,” said the ugly overseer, grabbing the hoe I was digging with out of my hands and raising it in the air. “Kill them with this!”

Everyone stared at the ugly overseer in disbelief. I wondered what foe could be worse than Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge.

The ugly overseer brought the hoe down forcefully. “The Yeuns have crossed our border! They will die!”

“The Yeuns!” I thought. The Vietnamese were coming!

“Listen only to Angka!” cried the ugly overseer. “Long live Angka!”

We echoed the call three times.

The ugly overseer put the hoe back in my hands. I hacked at the ground, mimicking her actions, crushing an invisible enemy.  I was not sure if I should be afraid of the Vietnamese or not. We had always been not-so-friendly neighbors. It was a development I had never considered.

There is Always a Door

Doorways hold a certain mystique, an invitation to venture through, to explore. If it's a door in a wall, there may be no other choice but to move forward. A doorway that stands alone will make you think.

The arcaded passage at the Temple of Angkor Wat represents a journey in life or time. It is straight and narrow. You can't see what is at the end of the tunnel of doorways, as is usually the case. It's the unknown. A path of discovery.

It is an open door. It is a choice.

The photo is a study of perspective. Apsaras, or celestial dancers, beckon one to enter, to step inside and transition to a new place.

The way out of the killing fields led to safety and freedom, and an escape from enemies.

Standing at the threshold of the doors and looking in from the outside, you may see obstacles or infinite opportunity. Or you might just see a doorway like any other that we come across in our lives. Or a piece of art?

Throughout history, doorways have symbolized such things as a portal out of the earthly realm, a crossing between two worlds or another level of consciousness.

Let the doorways represent a gateway to peace. Dare to make an entrance.

"I can only show you the door. You're the one that has to walk through it." ~Morpheus in the Matrix.