Phnom Penh

I arrived in Phnom Penh after a long day traveling on a bus, all the way from Siem Reap. I was a little sad to leave, and when I arrived I really was not impressed with Phnom Penh. It was a really dirty city, there motorbikes everywhere, and it just didn't seem a place I would like to spend a lot of time. However, it was getting dark when I arrived and so I thought I would save my judgments for the next day. I stayed in the Khmer part of town and got picked up at 10 am to go and explore the city. The first place the tuk tuk driver took me was S-21, which was by far the worst thing I have ever seen. This was the prison where the Khmer Rouge tortured the prisoners, who were just regular men, women and children who were going about their lives. There was barbed wire in front of all the cell blocks, said to have helped deter prisoners from trying to commit suicide. Inside were blocks no more than a meter wide, with shackles on the floor. The prison, which was a converted school, may as well have had blood painted all over the walls, because the feeling I got when walking around was so intense. I felt sick it upset me that much. In another block, the one used to torture people there were black and white photographs on the wall showing how the bodies had been found. In the middle of the room was an empty iron bed, with a few torture tools on it, said to have been left as it had been found. The photos were so disturbing; it really made you realize the extent to which these people suffered. In on of the final buildings there are hundreds of pictures of those who suffered at the hands of the Khmer Rouge. Some of the photos showed the people bound and shackled, others showed children no older than 7 years old and the most disturbing images were the after shots, displaying the people as they were found, lying dead in their cells. I could not look at all of them, it upset me too much, and I just couldn't get my head around how this could have happened just 30 years ago. As I walked outside I saw the gallows where they tied people to the point of hanging them, before waking them up and torturing them again, and I saw some of the tools used in torture; one being a wooden bath with shackles on the side, used to force people to the point of drowning, before waking them up and forcing them to give them information on where their families were. The Khmer Rouge killed all family members in order to make sure that family members did not come back and try and seek revenge for the awful crimes. As I walked out of S-21 a man came up to me begging for money, holding his hat out. I had my head down so I did not see him coming, but once I looked up I saw he literally had no face, it was burnt so badly, you could see the bones around his eye sockets, it was so awful, but he was smiling and going about his day. I gave him a few dollars because I felt so bad for him. I wasn't sure whether he was a victim of a landmine or of torture, but it didn't matter, he had obviously suffered more than any person should.

After leaving S-21 Borith, the tuk tuk driver (a friend of globalteer) took me to the killing fields. He stayed outside and said he would wait for me, probably because his entire family was killed by the Khmer Rouge, and he did not want to see the fields for yet another time. The killing fields were very quiet, very green and would look like a sort of park to someone who did not know what was there. However, once I entered and saw the huge Stupa in the middle of the gardens that feeling of being sick hit me yet again. The Stupa standing probably 70 feet tall was filled with human skulls, supposedly 8,000 of them. At the bottom were clothes found on the bodies of the people and mixed in with the skulls were human bones found separate from the heads. As I walked around there were signs telling the story, telling people what happened in each place. There were maybe 15 mass graves, where close to 400 people were found, headless. As I walked around there was a tree where they hung a tanoid to drown out the sounds of people screaming. The stories told of how people would be forced to kneel down in front of the graves and were bashed over the head with whatever weapon was closest, a garden hoe, a machete, a hammer etc. They were made to kneel in a line of people, some of which were their family and children, and the entire time they knew what was about to happen. There was another tree there used to kill babies. The Khmer Rouge would hold the babies by their feet and kill them against the tree by swinging their heads into the bark again and again. I could not understand how human beings could do such awful things to each other, let alone get away with it for so long. After walking around with tears in my eyes I went to the museum and saw photos of the soldiers. There were a few on trial in Phnom Penh at that time, and the statements which they made were pathetic attempts at apologies. They admitted to the crimes and said they regretted it, but were fully responsible. One of the men even admitted to ordering other soldier to kill babies on his behalf. Although the words were written down and all these facts were there in black and white, I will never understand. As I walked out of the fields to escape the eerie atmosphere, I spoke to Borrith who told me his story. I could not understand how someone can get over such a thing. He lost his brother, sister, mother and father to the Khmer Rouge, was forced to live on the rubbish dumps searching for rubbish before, later becoming a child soldier for the Khmer Rouge. He was forced to fight for the very people who took away his entire family, and taking away everything his family had ever achieved. He then took me to the rubbish dump where he used to work. There were children as young as 4 years old searching through the 30 meter high pits of refuge. They also burnt some piles whilst searching for things to sell. These children were the same as those I was teaching, just not as lucky, if you can call any of them that. I walked around the dump and took photos, trying to understand and trying to get evidence of the devastation in Cambodia to take what I had learnt home, yet none of the photos do it justice. There just are no pictures… words…

Although Phnom Penh was not a lovely place it was a place I am glad to have visited, despite the massive amount of pain that I witnessed. However, after teaching the children and meeting their families, I needed to see their history for myself.