Phnom Penh – colour and dust

Hanging over the head of Phnom Penh is an all too recent history of genocide, violence, and unrest. My first impressions were that the capital was poorer than those of the other countries I have so far visited – ‘dancing’ roads are in disrepair, there is much more begging, and many buildings off the main boulevards are derelict. It is difficult to put your finger on but I would say there is less hope in some of the eyes of the people. Oddly though there is a distinguishable class of wealth too, one that flaunts 4 wheel drives on the roads amongst the cyclos, and who live in newly constructed French style villas.

I try to blog uncensored, though I did consider excluding the events of my first morning in Phnom Penh. And had the morning and the afternoon been flipped around I think my choice would’ve been different. And before it sounds like I’m making excuses, if I was honest, which I’m trying to be, I probably am.

Our car pulled up and a soldier opened my door and escorted Richard and I inside and to a table. There we were cordially welcomed and given menus. As open and inviting as it seemed, my unease increased as I perused the items. Richard and I settled on the AK47 and M16 machine gun, and were shown by two soldiers to our firing range. What was a pacifist like me doing here?

It might disappoint some of you when I say that I did not feel powerful holding and firing these weapons of war. But that is not to say I didn’t feel the absolute power and force that these guns unleashed when I hit the trigger. That ridiculous power I will not forget. A soldier stood behind me to press my shoulder into the butt, a defense against the recoil. The firearm boomed, spent cartridges flashed out the side, and the gunpowder stung into my eyes. And when the soldier switched my Ak47 to rapid fire it took some focus to direct this untamed beast. When I retrieved my paper target I saw just how pathetic my control of these weapons was. I am blown away that these weapons can be legally sold in the US now the morotorium on them has been allowed to expire.

The Killing Fields at Choeung Ok are a grisly reminder of the genodide under Pol Pots Khymer Rouge regime from 1975-78. From this extermination camp 8985 people were exhumed in 1980. A large Stupa stands as a memorial to those who were bludgeoned to death (to avoid wasting precious bullets.) Disturbingly though this Stupa holds shelves of skulls of the deceased, ascending all the way up to the roof. Cabinet doors are open – you could pick up a skull – and the place felt to me more like a nightmare museum exhibit. In the grounds of the killing fields are dirt paths that lead you between exhumed graves. But to the careful eye embedded in these paths lie fragments of bone, tooth and cloth pertruding from the dirt. Once I realised this I saw bone fragments everywhere, I was treading on shallow graves! My feelings here are difficult to describe – the feeling of death hangs quietly over the place and the silence echos the hollowness in my stomache. This silence is only broken by the sounds of beggar kids running around and into the grave pits. It is difficult to know how the Cambodian Authorities feel about the site – a lack of information, the openness and lack of protection of the grave sites, the open display of skulls, and beggars around the site suggest to me more a tourism opportunity more than a properly funded memorial. Or perhaps I have culturally mistranslated.

Tuol Slang Museum, known as S-21, was converted by Pol Pot’s security forces from a high school to a centre of detention and torture. Almost two million people died in Cambodia between 1975-79 in this brutal, radical revolution, where the ideological clock was turned back to year zero and Cambodia was transformed into a Maoist, peasant dominated, agrarian cooperative. At S-21 17000 men women and children, of all classes and backgrounds were taken to be interogated and inevitably executed. The brutality they suffered is well documented here particularly in the photographic records kept by the Khymer Rouge. The empty cells still scream of death, instruments of torture are displayed, death is unsanitised by the authorities (unlike as it would in the West).

The rest of my time in Phnom Penh was much more sunny. We moved guesthouses to be by the lake, a real retreat. In the morning of day 2 we checked out Wat Phnom, the highest point in the city (but not much more than a bump) that embodies the story of Penh, a Cambodian lady who discovered here 4 Buddha statues washed up by the Mekong. The site is in need of some TLC. There is more begging here including child beggars who are pimped out to bring back money.

The main event that day was kickboxing at the Old Stadium between fighters from Laos and Cambodia. We sat amongst the locals on concrete terraces in anticipation. When the main fights eventually began a power outage sent the stadium into darkness. When the event did get going again we watched the most action packed fighting I have seen – plenty of knockdowns, including in one bout a flourish of kicks and a punch for a 20 second KO.

Per chance we met back up with some ‘old friends’ from Laos and Vietnam at the lake and the night moved nicely, ticking on past midnight to my birthday. At the Phnom Penh casino we frittered away some Reil on the roulettes, which was in fact only a few dollars US. And the night was capped off in fine style when we bowled up at the fine Phnom Penh hotel at 3:30am looking for birthday cake. We didn’t get cake, but we did find ice-cream (and a Mekong river hot chocolate). Girls and guys (you know who you are) thanks for the moment

Appropriately (being my birthday) Phnom Penh decided to have a massive party and the whole town came to the river to watch dragonboat racing, and revel in the festival atmosphere. The Water Festival here runs for 3 days and day one was capped of with fireworks that bellowed across the water.

I visited the Royal Palace the next morning which houses the Silver Pagoda. The floors in the Pagoda are laid in solid silver, each tile weighing 1kg. I’d have to say the upkeep of Bangkok’s Royal Palace is better, but this national treasure is still worth a look and though a little worn in places, still drips with grandeur.

I have aluded to the begging and condtions of some of Phnom Penhs poorest. Making a meaningful difference here is a difficult thing and throwing money at every beggar is not an answer – you give to one and you will be descended on, it encourages a dependance on begging and is particulalry fruitless if the childer beggar isn’t the recipient. The group of us set out through the back of the capital to the Lighthouse Orphanage, run by a Cambodian man who sold up his lot 2 years ago for this cause. The kids saw us coming from down the dirt drive, knew we were here to play with them, and ran and climbed excitedly into the tuktuk. For the afternoon we played football, frisbie, all sorts of games that I was led through; there was dancing and the girls put on a graceful show of traditional dance for us. They loved posing with us in photos and seeing themselves in the little LCD screens. But most of all they enjoyed the love – being picked up, spun around and hugged. When it was time to leave we all had kids hanging off us imploring us to play a little longer. “Tomorrow? Tommorrow?” But for tomorrow we already had bus tickets to Siam Reap. Of course we left monetary donations also –matching the not insignificant amount I spent on bullets at the firing range was the least I could do.

This entry was posted on Friday, November 26th, 2004 at 7:08 am and is filed under Cambodia. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.