Entering Cambodia brought with it a sensation of darkness and fear i was not expecting. Boarders always make me uneasy but this one was full of unexpected "additional fees" which when i challenged them I was told i would not be allowed my stamps without paying. Then an hour or two's wait on the other side of the boarder for the bus to decided it wasn't to continue. Here i had time to ponder the heat which it felt had doubled since northern Laos. As the bus took Conrad and I down I looked out the window at the changing scenery. Here the flame trees were more than just bright dots amongst the forrest, they were the only colour amongst the dust. Brown was set against brown broken only by the black of the scorched earth which connected the trunks of the forests. Some stumps still smoking. occasionally just a white line remained of what would once have been a fallen tree, like the white lines of a crime scene mapping out the dead. We headed East for Ratanakiri Province where where had heard there was nice waterfalls and a volcanic crater lake. My sence of darkness didn't leave me until i met the Khmer people. Wow. What a people they are.
We spent a few nights in Ratanakiri cycling to see waterfalls and swimming in the lake. It was a nice area but nothing which jumped out to me. To be honest the Mekong has stolen part of my heart and being so far from it amongst this barren dusty landscape felt a little strange.
We headed back towards the Mekong and went to an Island near Krattie where we spent two nights sleeping at a home stay. This was my first homestead and here i saw to true beauty and shine and light of the Khmer people. In the house we were staying in there was a lady and at least one daughter, a husband and grandma. Grandma could have been over 100 and spent most of her time lying/sitting on the floor of the house avoiding the sun. She was hunchbacked and bald with long dangly buddah ear lobes. We cycled round the Island, the sand dunes between the grasslands and the mekong took 10 minutes to walk over under the scorching mid day sun. I watched Conrad disappear into the quavering air for his refreshing dip in the Mekong and felt that my shady tree was perhaps the best place for me.
The afternoon was spent surrounded by a group of locals (none of whome spoke any English) with the guitar. Some of them were incredibly drunk on a homebrew being ladled out of a large paint bucket and danced around and sang noises along with the guitar. I made up songs for the many kids which had garnered using my lilted Khmer and we partied with them until the sun went down.
This was my last day with Conrad and the next morning we took the boat back to the mainland and bid each other goodbye as i boarded a minibus off to Mondlekiri back in the east to a place I had seen a poster for called "Nature Lodge" where i was hoping to rest for a while in a hammock after all the moving. He was off to the big city. It was a bit of a sad goodbye, the end of an era but soon I was whizzing across Cambodia in a minivan with over 30 people crushed in (the boot open and people hanging out the back).
Now I just need to leave a place here to focus on something other than my trip, as in this one week in Cambodia i have been filled with a fascination and almost obsession with recent Cambodian history. The fear of Land Mines i guess is what sparked it off. A land where even over 10 years after the production and planting of the mines was stopped people are still dieing. On average 30 people a month die in a war when the country is supposed to be in a time of peace. Some of the people who die were not even born when the war was actually happening. I think of Princess Di coming out here in the 90's to help with the Landmine Aid and how brave everyone viewed her to be (and im not denying that) however I can not help but think when i look into the eyes of these smiling beautiful Khmer people that the true bravery lays there, within them. Behind their smiles where the pain of a nation ripped, torn, raped and murders still sits. On the bus to Mondlekiri I read the book "first they killed my father" by Ung Leung. This is an autobiography of a girl who at the age of 5 years old was witnessing things i pray no one would ever have to witness again. I cried with almost every page. I call to anyone who remembers what it is to be a child to read this book and see the pure strength and soul which lies in the Kymer people and the horrific acts of hell which were placed upon them. This is not ancient history, this is the history of the people who's eyes I look into daily. This book is not the story of one girl, its the story of a whole nation of people told from the mouth of one girl. It is perhaps the best and most heart breaking books i have ever read. After finishing this book i then went on to read "the killing fields" a novel based on the true story of an american journalist during the Kymer Rouge take over of Cambodia. I have got half way through and have had to stop for a while as I can not lay my head to sleep without feeling the pain of millions of starving people ring through my heart. The thought of watching my father watch me starve to death while the whelk family daily harvest rice being shipped off to pay for weapons, watching my mother full of fear for her life daily, seeing my siblings die from eating poisons just to escape the hell on earth, the though of my family being ripped from me and tortured or burried alive all in the name of an ignorant revolution which proceeded in the space of 3 years, 8 months and 20 days to kill 1.7 million innocent people. Some people were murdered just for the crime of wearing glasses, having been to school, having been privileged enough to have tasted chocolate in their life, even for having lighter skin than the ideal peasant people of the Khmer Rouge's perfect nation image.
I could go one for pages about this with the passion and fire in my heart but i shall stop here. However I encourage you to read "first they killed my father".
Now after a few days in "the nature Lodge" (where they do indeed have both nature, and lodging… though i think the two are still trying to work out how to work harmoniously and symbiotically, but its heading in the right direction) I am planning to take a bus tomorrow across to the West to Siem Reap where hopefully i will meet Brighton Buddy Simon and some others who happen to be in the country.
Thanks again for reading another epic tale, and please just take am oment to send love and healing to a nation still dealing with the scars. A brave and beautiful and shiny people who have inspired me bend words… and if you have a moment or some money to spare please support one of the many charities based on working with victims of Landmines. They are real people, real brave people with real lives and real hearts.
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