Monday 4 July
After breakfast we travel by tuk tuk to the Choeung Ek Memorial (The "Killing Field"), which is 15 kilometres SW of Phnom Penh.
Something happens on the way. A tuk tuk is an open-sided "chariot" with a roof, pulled by a man on a motorbike. There aren't many taxis at all in Phnom Penh; it's all tuk tuks. Our tuk tuk driver has been vetted by our hotel and is paid a fair fixed price for a journey; we know we won't be "ripped off".
In Cambodia they drive on the right; I am sitting on the right hand side of the tuk tuk, ie nearest the kerb, with Reg next to me. My handbag strap is across my body, and I'm holding on to my bag. Suddenly I feel a sharp scratch on my neck, and I gasp; a motorbike has undertaken on our inside, and the pillion passenger has, it seems, tried to snatch my bag. He's failed, but I'm a bit shaken; I tell the tuk tuk driver that everything is ok, but he stops the vehicle, and I realise then that my cross is missing from my neck.
I fight back the tears; people who know me, know how much my cross means to me. It was made in silver by a craftsman jeweller who has kept in contact with me from time to time over the years. The cross has ragged edges, which I believe represent the brokenness in our lives. It's extremely unusual, and is actually a crucifix, with a gold "gingerbread man shaped" Christ in the centre.
But it's only a piece of jewellery; I'm okay, and my handbag is still with me and intact. I can get the craftsman jeweller to make me another cross, exactly the same. We had been warned about carrying handbags in Saigon and Phnom Penh so we'll use a money bag in future; we were in a rush this morning so didn't quite get around to getting the moneybag out of the suitcase, No excuse.
When we arrive at our destination, as I get out of the tuk tuk, Reg notices something glittering on the seat.
"It's your cross!" he exclaims. Part of the chain is missing, where it was ripped from my neck; but I still have my cross. What are the odds of the cross landing on the seat of an open-sided tuk tuk when the chain has been pulled violently from my neck by a man riding pillion on a motorbike? I guess I wasn't meant to lose my cross. Reg has forbidden me to wear it, or my rings, until we return home.
I am filled with joy at finding my cross, which has been remarked on by so many people - young people, when I was a youth worker for so many years; drug users, when I worked for the Probation Service; hospital patients, when I was a volunteer hospital visitor; fellow Christians; and many others.
But my joy is soon buried by an overwhelming feeling of what I can only describe as "disbelief in the face of truth" when we arrive at the Choeung Ek Memorial (The Killing Field). As we hear about, and see the evidence of, what Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge Army - who were Cambodians themselves - did to fellow Cambodian citizens, in the "interests" of creating a "pure" society, we are filled with horror that humans can be so cruel to fellow humans.
It was genocide, torture and massacre on a very grand scale indeed. We think of the Holocaust, and of what Hitler and Stalin and Chairman Mao and other leaders in the 20th and 21st century, and of course throughout history, have done; of Rwanda, and of what is happening at this very moment in Syria. As we stand trying to take in the horror of what happened at this particular killing field (because this was not the only one in Cambodia, though it's the most famous) we know we are merely onlookers; and the big question in our minds is why? and how? and why didn't other countries intervene to stop this happening at the time? The answer to the last question is that, apparently, no-one knew it was happening, and even if they had, would or could they have done anything?
The guide book tells us that
"many of the Cambodians who perished under the Khmer Rouge regime ended up dumped in one of the dozens of "killing fields" that can be found scattered across the country. The killing fields were essentially ad hoc places of execution and dumping grounds for dead bodies during the Khmer Rouge Regime (1975 - 1979). After the Khmer Rouge regime, memorials were set up at many of the sites, some containing the bones and remnants of victims (teeth, clothing) gathered from the area. Prior to 1975, Choeung Ek, 15 kilometres outside Phnom Penh, was an orchard and a Chinese cemetery. During the 4 year Khmer Rouge regime, the area became one of the infamous "killing fields". This particular killing field is the site of the brutal executions of more than 17.000 men, women and children, most of whom had first suffered through interrogation, torture and deprivation in the S-21 Prison (now the Toul Sleng Genocide Museum) in Phnom Pehn. The Choeung Ek Memorial is now a group of mass graves, killing areas and a memorial stupa (a holy building a bit like a pagoda) containing thousands of human skulls and long bones."
We see the tree where babies were killed by their heads being smashed against it, leaving blood and fragments of their brains on the sharp bark; we look at a large, see through container, rather like an aquarium, containing fragments of victims clothes - we notice a tiny pair of shorts that would have been worn by a toddler. We are told that victims weren't shot; that would have cost too much and made to much noise. Theywere blindfolded and forced to kneel at the edge of the huge pit, and their heads were hacked off or their the throats cut.
The victims were brought to the killing field blindfoled, in lorries, at first several times a month, then night after night. To keep them calm on the journey, they were told they were being relocated - they didn't know they were going to die, until they arrived and the lights of the generator showed what was happening and what was about to happen to them. Those kneeling at the edge of the death pit, waiting to die, heard friends, family members, and fellow prisoners being hacked to death. Usually, whole families were killed, to avoid revenge attacks by children in later years.
To drown out the screams of those being massacred, Khmer Rouge propaganda music was played at a high volume; this, and the sound of the generator, and the screams of fellow prisoners, were the last sounds the prisoners heard before being killed.
Apparently no-one outside the walled establishment knew what was happening; people thought it was just a Khmer Rouge training area.
Today, as we and other visitors, both Cambodian and from the rest of the world, walk around the Choeung Ek Memorial, listening through headphones to our audio guides, an atmosphere of silence pervades the killing field. Hardly anyone speaks, and if they do, it's in a low voice. Some people take photos, but we don't. There's a souvenir shop, but we don't visit it.
Wikipedia tells us that, throughout Cambodia, "Various studies have estimated the death toll was between 740,000 and 3,000,000, most commonly between 1.4 million and 2.2 million, with perhaps half of those deaths being due to executions, and the rest from starvation and disease."
We learn that Pol Pot (apparently short for "political potential") was never brought to justice. When the genocide was discovered, after the Khmer Rouge had fled the killing fields, the wheels of justice ground slowly. Pol Pot didn't survive long enough to be brought to trial; he died a year after being put under house arrest. Some say he was poisoned. One thing is clear; he died aged 82, having enjoyed a comfortable life; some of his victims, our audio guide tells us, didn't even reach the age of 2.
Many of the political leaders of the Khmer Rouge have recently been brought to justice; although thousands of Khmer Rouge guerrillas surrendered themselves in a government amnesty. The governor of the S-21 prison, Kaing Guek Eav, also known as Duch, was arrested in 1999 and finally brought to justice in 2007, and sentenced by a court in the Hague to life imprisonment, for crimes against humanity.
After our visit we are in sombre mood. Our tuk tuk driver takes us back to Phnom Penh, to the Toul Sleng Genocide Museum, formerly the prison where many of the victims of the killing fields were systematically and continuously tortured, in order to elicit false confessions from them, to "justify" their deaths. 5 Westerners were among these prisoners who died at the hands of the Khmer Rouge.
We visit the cells of the prisoners. The Khmer Rouge kept meticulous records of prisoners, and we see thousands of photos of victims. After a while we've had enough. and the tuk tuk takes us back to our hotel. It's now tipping down with rain.
As I said earlier, we know "the killing fields" really happened; but such horrendous cruelty is hard to take in. Will genocide always be a shameful part of human history? Can we stop this happening in Syria now?
After breakfast we travel by tuk tuk to the Choeung Ek Memorial (The "Killing Field"), which is 15 kilometres SW of Phnom Penh.
Something happens on the way. A tuk tuk is an open-sided "chariot" with a roof, pulled by a man on a motorbike. There aren't many taxis at all in Phnom Penh; it's all tuk tuks. Our tuk tuk driver has been vetted by our hotel and is paid a fair fixed price for a journey; we know we won't be "ripped off".
In Cambodia they drive on the right; I am sitting on the right hand side of the tuk tuk, ie nearest the kerb, with Reg next to me. My handbag strap is across my body, and I'm holding on to my bag. Suddenly I feel a sharp scratch on my neck, and I gasp; a motorbike has undertaken on our inside, and the pillion passenger has, it seems, tried to snatch my bag. He's failed, but I'm a bit shaken; I tell the tuk tuk driver that everything is ok, but he stops the vehicle, and I realise then that my cross is missing from my neck.
I fight back the tears; people who know me, know how much my cross means to me. It was made in silver by a craftsman jeweller who has kept in contact with me from time to time over the years. The cross has ragged edges, which I believe represent the brokenness in our lives. It's extremely unusual, and is actually a crucifix, with a gold "gingerbread man shaped" Christ in the centre.
But it's only a piece of jewellery; I'm okay, and my handbag is still with me and intact. I can get the craftsman jeweller to make me another cross, exactly the same. We had been warned about carrying handbags in Saigon and Phnom Penh so we'll use a money bag in future; we were in a rush this morning so didn't quite get around to getting the moneybag out of the suitcase, No excuse.
When we arrive at our destination, as I get out of the tuk tuk, Reg notices something glittering on the seat.
"It's your cross!" he exclaims. Part of the chain is missing, where it was ripped from my neck; but I still have my cross. What are the odds of the cross landing on the seat of an open-sided tuk tuk when the chain has been pulled violently from my neck by a man riding pillion on a motorbike? I guess I wasn't meant to lose my cross. Reg has forbidden me to wear it, or my rings, until we return home.
I am filled with joy at finding my cross, which has been remarked on by so many people - young people, when I was a youth worker for so many years; drug users, when I worked for the Probation Service; hospital patients, when I was a volunteer hospital visitor; fellow Christians; and many others.
But my joy is soon buried by an overwhelming feeling of what I can only describe as "disbelief in the face of truth" when we arrive at the Choeung Ek Memorial (The Killing Field). As we hear about, and see the evidence of, what Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge Army - who were Cambodians themselves - did to fellow Cambodian citizens, in the "interests" of creating a "pure" society, we are filled with horror that humans can be so cruel to fellow humans.
It was genocide, torture and massacre on a very grand scale indeed. We think of the Holocaust, and of what Hitler and Stalin and Chairman Mao and other leaders in the 20th and 21st century, and of course throughout history, have done; of Rwanda, and of what is happening at this very moment in Syria. As we stand trying to take in the horror of what happened at this particular killing field (because this was not the only one in Cambodia, though it's the most famous) we know we are merely onlookers; and the big question in our minds is why? and how? and why didn't other countries intervene to stop this happening at the time? The answer to the last question is that, apparently, no-one knew it was happening, and even if they had, would or could they have done anything?
The guide book tells us that
"many of the Cambodians who perished under the Khmer Rouge regime ended up dumped in one of the dozens of "killing fields" that can be found scattered across the country. The killing fields were essentially ad hoc places of execution and dumping grounds for dead bodies during the Khmer Rouge Regime (1975 - 1979). After the Khmer Rouge regime, memorials were set up at many of the sites, some containing the bones and remnants of victims (teeth, clothing) gathered from the area. Prior to 1975, Choeung Ek, 15 kilometres outside Phnom Penh, was an orchard and a Chinese cemetery. During the 4 year Khmer Rouge regime, the area became one of the infamous "killing fields". This particular killing field is the site of the brutal executions of more than 17.000 men, women and children, most of whom had first suffered through interrogation, torture and deprivation in the S-21 Prison (now the Toul Sleng Genocide Museum) in Phnom Pehn. The Choeung Ek Memorial is now a group of mass graves, killing areas and a memorial stupa (a holy building a bit like a pagoda) containing thousands of human skulls and long bones."
We see the tree where babies were killed by their heads being smashed against it, leaving blood and fragments of their brains on the sharp bark; we look at a large, see through container, rather like an aquarium, containing fragments of victims clothes - we notice a tiny pair of shorts that would have been worn by a toddler. We are told that victims weren't shot; that would have cost too much and made to much noise. Theywere blindfolded and forced to kneel at the edge of the huge pit, and their heads were hacked off or their the throats cut.
The victims were brought to the killing field blindfoled, in lorries, at first several times a month, then night after night. To keep them calm on the journey, they were told they were being relocated - they didn't know they were going to die, until they arrived and the lights of the generator showed what was happening and what was about to happen to them. Those kneeling at the edge of the death pit, waiting to die, heard friends, family members, and fellow prisoners being hacked to death. Usually, whole families were killed, to avoid revenge attacks by children in later years.
To drown out the screams of those being massacred, Khmer Rouge propaganda music was played at a high volume; this, and the sound of the generator, and the screams of fellow prisoners, were the last sounds the prisoners heard before being killed.
Apparently no-one outside the walled establishment knew what was happening; people thought it was just a Khmer Rouge training area.
Today, as we and other visitors, both Cambodian and from the rest of the world, walk around the Choeung Ek Memorial, listening through headphones to our audio guides, an atmosphere of silence pervades the killing field. Hardly anyone speaks, and if they do, it's in a low voice. Some people take photos, but we don't. There's a souvenir shop, but we don't visit it.
Wikipedia tells us that, throughout Cambodia, "Various studies have estimated the death toll was between 740,000 and 3,000,000, most commonly between 1.4 million and 2.2 million, with perhaps half of those deaths being due to executions, and the rest from starvation and disease."
We learn that Pol Pot (apparently short for "political potential") was never brought to justice. When the genocide was discovered, after the Khmer Rouge had fled the killing fields, the wheels of justice ground slowly. Pol Pot didn't survive long enough to be brought to trial; he died a year after being put under house arrest. Some say he was poisoned. One thing is clear; he died aged 82, having enjoyed a comfortable life; some of his victims, our audio guide tells us, didn't even reach the age of 2.
Many of the political leaders of the Khmer Rouge have recently been brought to justice; although thousands of Khmer Rouge guerrillas surrendered themselves in a government amnesty. The governor of the S-21 prison, Kaing Guek Eav, also known as Duch, was arrested in 1999 and finally brought to justice in 2007, and sentenced by a court in the Hague to life imprisonment, for crimes against humanity.
After our visit we are in sombre mood. Our tuk tuk driver takes us back to Phnom Penh, to the Toul Sleng Genocide Museum, formerly the prison where many of the victims of the killing fields were systematically and continuously tortured, in order to elicit false confessions from them, to "justify" their deaths. 5 Westerners were among these prisoners who died at the hands of the Khmer Rouge.
We visit the cells of the prisoners. The Khmer Rouge kept meticulous records of prisoners, and we see thousands of photos of victims. After a while we've had enough. and the tuk tuk takes us back to our hotel. It's now tipping down with rain.
As I said earlier, we know "the killing fields" really happened; but such horrendous cruelty is hard to take in. Will genocide always be a shameful part of human history? Can we stop this happening in Syria now?
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