Walk on dusty streets
Treading forlorn paths
With silence I speak loud
Hiding bitter wrath
The language I don’t speak
Converse only smiles
Can they read my heart
No lies deceit beguiles
My neighbor ancient man
Grey haired reminds of dad
Sit with him drink tea
His company I’m glad
He speaks to me merci
The only French he knows
His smile speaks books
Familiarity grows
And I, I rest at home
With comrades new or dear
Hide from them deep pain
Disguise bitter tears
The one of them young man
With wife and 2 kids
Reminds me of my own
Emotions under lids
The other one heart friend
He Who kindly hugs
Can’t speak so much to him
Alas bitter rub
Then we travel miles
On motors of slow speed
They laugh at fearful prayers
I dread perchance to bleed
And then to come home
What travesty this name
I call it home alone
What’s truly in a name
The children’s laugh and smile
A joy I rarely share
Beg for busy work
Of loneliness to bear
A self imposed solitude
I pray in this I grow
No fool to share the pain
No one truly knows
I pray forgiveness far
Not pity comprehend
I send my love in notes
To forsee the end
I will return one day
In victory a smile
Proclaim I made it whole
I know the worth of trials
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Visiting the Khhmer prison
The same day, in the afternoon after lunch, I was in for another shock. We visited the S21 or toul slineang prison. It was formerly a school and had the outward appearance of a learning institution. Inside was very different.
The first thing I noticed was a sign. It spoke in 2 languages. It said to the prisoners” Do not protest your innocence. we are not stupid and did not arrest the wrong people”. Many of those arrested and tortured were innocent young children. Their pictures were hauntingly displayed.
Each room we visited in the school had a bed with no mattress. The Frame was metal and maybe used for electrocution. Rashna, my friend, abstained from the visit and waited outside. Perhaps it was too painful memory for him.
I have another colleague,the very affectionate Kia. He doesn’t speak much English. Still we communicate through signals. He lost his father to the torture. Most people in Cambodia have relatives who were killed during the revolution. Victims are 2 million in total.
As I said, the pictures of the victims adorned the prison school walls. Many were prepubescent children. Their faces begged the question “why is this happening to me,what have I done?”
The other prominent and memorable pictures were of grey haired men. They were equally tortured, equally innocent, and equally terrified. Women and little girls were not excluded from torture, misery,and inevitable death either.
The prisoners were shackled by one foot to the metal beds. There was no mattresses so one can imagine the pain of lying on metal. They had one leg shackled to the bed by a simple brace. This looked so small that it surely cut off circulation.
They were beaten with rods.Most times they were beaten to unconsciousness.They were then hung upside down and immersed in huge vats of water and faeces to wake them up.
They were held in cells that measured no bigger than a typical closet.
Again, paintings adorned the prison. Paintings showed the torture of the damned. I pray that they rest in high heavens for they went through hell already on Earth.
The prison had three storeys. All were equally dismal. The pictures of the prisoners were everywhere. “Why me” was painted painfully across their faces. The Paintings were graphic and disgusting.
Others were pictures of the prison guards. Their faces were hard and remorseless. They showed no human mercy, no pity and no empathy. I looked for a sign of humane warmth in any face and saw nothing but grim evil.
Jeremy saw my face of shock He asked me about all the times I had complained to him. He asked me about my frustrations at work. I felt like a hypocrite. I missed a promotion; so what? They missed any trace of peace comfort or happiness. I resolved to be more grateful, despite whatever loneliness or homesickness I felt. Any pain I ever had was nothing.
I met a former inmate at the prison.He was signing books. Jeremy bought one. I wanted to tell him how sorry I was. He was emaciated and gray , but he smiled through his pain.,
How I wished I could have spoken to this saintly man. I don’t speak Khymer or Cambodian. He doesn’t speak English. I wanted to apologize to him for his pain, as it might release an atom of grief from his tortured heart . Alas , that was futile. My words, had I been able to converse with him were mere show.
I touched his shoulder and greeted him with peace., I wanted to kiss his hand, but perhaps, he would have been offended,. The lines in his face showed 1000 spilt tears.
He signed the book with a smile and shook my hand strongly. The human spirit can be indomitable. I left the prison with deep memories etched in my mind. I'm sure the picture will never leave my mind. They were haunting.
The first thing I noticed was a sign. It spoke in 2 languages. It said to the prisoners” Do not protest your innocence. we are not stupid and did not arrest the wrong people”. Many of those arrested and tortured were innocent young children. Their pictures were hauntingly displayed.
Each room we visited in the school had a bed with no mattress. The Frame was metal and maybe used for electrocution. Rashna, my friend, abstained from the visit and waited outside. Perhaps it was too painful memory for him.
I have another colleague,the very affectionate Kia. He doesn’t speak much English. Still we communicate through signals. He lost his father to the torture. Most people in Cambodia have relatives who were killed during the revolution. Victims are 2 million in total.
As I said, the pictures of the victims adorned the prison school walls. Many were prepubescent children. Their faces begged the question “why is this happening to me,what have I done?”
The other prominent and memorable pictures were of grey haired men. They were equally tortured, equally innocent, and equally terrified. Women and little girls were not excluded from torture, misery,and inevitable death either.
The prisoners were shackled by one foot to the metal beds. There was no mattresses so one can imagine the pain of lying on metal. They had one leg shackled to the bed by a simple brace. This looked so small that it surely cut off circulation.
They were beaten with rods.Most times they were beaten to unconsciousness.They were then hung upside down and immersed in huge vats of water and faeces to wake them up.
They were held in cells that measured no bigger than a typical closet.
Again, paintings adorned the prison. Paintings showed the torture of the damned. I pray that they rest in high heavens for they went through hell already on Earth.
The prison had three storeys. All were equally dismal. The pictures of the prisoners were everywhere. “Why me” was painted painfully across their faces. The Paintings were graphic and disgusting.
Others were pictures of the prison guards. Their faces were hard and remorseless. They showed no human mercy, no pity and no empathy. I looked for a sign of humane warmth in any face and saw nothing but grim evil.
Jeremy saw my face of shock He asked me about all the times I had complained to him. He asked me about my frustrations at work. I felt like a hypocrite. I missed a promotion; so what? They missed any trace of peace comfort or happiness. I resolved to be more grateful, despite whatever loneliness or homesickness I felt. Any pain I ever had was nothing.
I met a former inmate at the prison.He was signing books. Jeremy bought one. I wanted to tell him how sorry I was. He was emaciated and gray , but he smiled through his pain.,
How I wished I could have spoken to this saintly man. I don’t speak Khymer or Cambodian. He doesn’t speak English. I wanted to apologize to him for his pain, as it might release an atom of grief from his tortured heart . Alas , that was futile. My words, had I been able to converse with him were mere show.
I touched his shoulder and greeted him with peace., I wanted to kiss his hand, but perhaps, he would have been offended,. The lines in his face showed 1000 spilt tears.
He signed the book with a smile and shook my hand strongly. The human spirit can be indomitable. I left the prison with deep memories etched in my mind. I'm sure the picture will never leave my mind. They were haunting.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
The Killing Fields and Poll Pot
A few days after we returned to Phenom Penh, we visited the killing fields. I heard about the movie but never saw it. I even remember reading about it in the 1970’s,but I was too young then, and did not know the extent of the horror.
We took a 30 minute motorcycle ride to reach the place. I got a hat to shield me from the sun. I was told before we arrived to watch my step and lower my normally loud voice. The killing fields is really a mass cemetery. Bone fragments could be found, and thus I was warned about my step. Respect for the dead demanded silence. The whole place, about two football fields had numerous pits that were filled in. These pits were mass graves.
The first atrocity we saw was a tall 10 foot cabinet full of human skulls. Some were skulls of babies. Others were small and probably skulls of women.The majority were larger and belonged to dead men. That cabinet had 4 towers,each full. All skulls had big holes in them ,whether on top or the side. I am sure the fractures were from the intense beatings. No bullets were used.That was too expensive and too merciful. They were clubbed to death, decapitated while still alive at times,and thrown into pits. Invariably,they were blindfolded and led to slaughter blindly and innocently.gs
Knives or palm branches were used to saw off heads. The victims must have known their fate as they could hear the screams of their comrades. The killing fields is situated in a rural housing district. Large radios blared out deafening music to drown out the screams so the neighbors living close by would not hear the screams of the tortured.
Babies were also killed for fear they would grow up and avenge the death of their parents. Large nails were nailed into the palm trees. The heartless soldiers swung the babies by their legs like baseball bats against those nails. I struggle to find a stronger word than heartless. Perhaps devilish or demonic would be more fitting.
Some did not die and were buried alive. All this was perpetrated by the Poll Pot regime by the Khmer Rouge. There were some political assassinations there, but most,as I was led to believe were the elite, the educated, the pro democracy, the rich, and the anti Khmer rouge . My eyes teared as I prayed for the dead. My rage rose concurrently as I cursed the perpetrators. Human evil seems to have no limit.
All in all,9000 lost their lives in the one place. That is the number of skulls found . Perhaps more died. No mercy was shown. Pictures adorned the museum showing graphic drawings of the torture. It was macabre. Anyone visiting must have a strong disposition. The faint of heart can not take it.
Since my visit, I have not been able to dispel those bitter memories. When I have opportunity to talk to older people I touch upon the subject very gently and sympathetically. All Cambodian families were touched by the Poll Pot regime. Estimates range between 1 and 2 Million dead. May they all rest in peace.
We took a 30 minute motorcycle ride to reach the place. I got a hat to shield me from the sun. I was told before we arrived to watch my step and lower my normally loud voice. The killing fields is really a mass cemetery. Bone fragments could be found, and thus I was warned about my step. Respect for the dead demanded silence. The whole place, about two football fields had numerous pits that were filled in. These pits were mass graves.
The first atrocity we saw was a tall 10 foot cabinet full of human skulls. Some were skulls of babies. Others were small and probably skulls of women.The majority were larger and belonged to dead men. That cabinet had 4 towers,each full. All skulls had big holes in them ,whether on top or the side. I am sure the fractures were from the intense beatings. No bullets were used.That was too expensive and too merciful. They were clubbed to death, decapitated while still alive at times,and thrown into pits. Invariably,they were blindfolded and led to slaughter blindly and innocently.gs
Knives or palm branches were used to saw off heads. The victims must have known their fate as they could hear the screams of their comrades. The killing fields is situated in a rural housing district. Large radios blared out deafening music to drown out the screams so the neighbors living close by would not hear the screams of the tortured.
Babies were also killed for fear they would grow up and avenge the death of their parents. Large nails were nailed into the palm trees. The heartless soldiers swung the babies by their legs like baseball bats against those nails. I struggle to find a stronger word than heartless. Perhaps devilish or demonic would be more fitting.
Some did not die and were buried alive. All this was perpetrated by the Poll Pot regime by the Khmer Rouge. There were some political assassinations there, but most,as I was led to believe were the elite, the educated, the pro democracy, the rich, and the anti Khmer rouge . My eyes teared as I prayed for the dead. My rage rose concurrently as I cursed the perpetrators. Human evil seems to have no limit.
All in all,9000 lost their lives in the one place. That is the number of skulls found . Perhaps more died. No mercy was shown. Pictures adorned the museum showing graphic drawings of the torture. It was macabre. Anyone visiting must have a strong disposition. The faint of heart can not take it.
Since my visit, I have not been able to dispel those bitter memories. When I have opportunity to talk to older people I touch upon the subject very gently and sympathetically. All Cambodian families were touched by the Poll Pot regime. Estimates range between 1 and 2 Million dead. May they all rest in peace.
Seam Reap
There are three very interesting places that I had the luxury to visit in my first two weeks in Cambodia.
For purpose of conciseness, the first was the small city of Seam Reap, where I visited Angkor Wat,the ancient Cambodian ruins that date roughly 900 years old from 1113.
The Second visit was a motorcycle ride of one hour to the Killing fields, 30 km from Phenom Penh ,my current residence.
The third, and by far the saddest, was the prison, situated in the city itself. That visit coincided on the same day with the killing fields visit. The latter two were experiences in seeing the human capability for evil. Thank God ,I had my two Cambodian friends with me to share my shock, sadness and disbelief.
Well, let me start with Seam Reap . It’s the hometown of my colleague Rashna and is situated 400 km north of where we live. That translates to a six hour comfortable bus ride. Thank God the bus had a toilet.
The trip was uneventful,the country side was beautiful, and the chairs restful. I slept two hours. The houses were all on stilts to prevent monsoonal flooding. Most had rice fields behind them. Livestock was everywhere to be seen. As I mentioned before, I even saw a woman bathing cow in a river
Most people here are Buddhist,so it wasn’t a shock, just a passing amusement. Fruit trees were equally prevalent.
We borrowed a car from Rashna’s friend, and got around very comfortably. SeamReap is a small city by Cambodian standards,and a small town by western standards. We settled in a very comfortable hotel . I was shocked to find the cost was $15 a night. we were very comfortable and wanted nothing.
We visited Rashna’s, communal home. It was supplied by a well with a pump, Helen Keller style. The water was cool and refreshing. The hospitality was amazing. He had built the house with his brother. It was simple , small and comfortable. I met his wife and kids. That made me miss my own even more. Sweet people they were
At Angkor Wat,the first ting I noticed was snake statues.They were clearly cobra like with the typical flaps at the neck. In Cambodian language they are called Naga.
They represent strength and as such, protect the domain of the royalty. The Cambodian people believe that they are descendants of the snake,not so foreign perhaps when you consider the story of Adam and Eve and the temptation by the serpent.
e
They also believe that their first queen was descendant of the Naga king
There were two or three bridges. These represented a bridge from the underworld to our world,as well as a bridge from our world to heaven. All were built from huge stones. These stones averaged 5 tonnes in weight and were carried by elephants in ancient times.`
The temples were dedicated to the Hindu belief in Vishnu,one of the incarnations of their deity. It showed the epic battles he took place in through beautiful engravings on the walls.
There were 5 different ruins. We visited three I abstained from the last. My colleague Jeremy and his sister Ting went up. They took up that challenge alone, and climbed to dizzying heights.
We climbed to the top. I am notoriously bad at balance,and the steps were very small for my big feet. As such,I had Jeremy holding one arm and Rasna the other. The top most level must have been 100 steps above ground level. Thanks to my 2 companions, no injuries or falling occurred.
The last ruins that jeremy visited had very narrow steps. One look at them and I said no. Too high,. Too steep, an attempt could easily have been catastrophic. I know my limits.
We also went for a cow barbecue at the night. It was an entire cow on a huge spit . The ribs were already exposed as it was half eaten. It was pitch black night. The butchers were muslim and the meat permissible. They cut pieces off and cooked them for us.
Well after all the excitement and climbing, we decided to take the night bus back. I slept the whole way,and arrived in the morning refreshed.
For purpose of conciseness, the first was the small city of Seam Reap, where I visited Angkor Wat,the ancient Cambodian ruins that date roughly 900 years old from 1113.
The Second visit was a motorcycle ride of one hour to the Killing fields, 30 km from Phenom Penh ,my current residence.
The third, and by far the saddest, was the prison, situated in the city itself. That visit coincided on the same day with the killing fields visit. The latter two were experiences in seeing the human capability for evil. Thank God ,I had my two Cambodian friends with me to share my shock, sadness and disbelief.
Well, let me start with Seam Reap . It’s the hometown of my colleague Rashna and is situated 400 km north of where we live. That translates to a six hour comfortable bus ride. Thank God the bus had a toilet.
The trip was uneventful,the country side was beautiful, and the chairs restful. I slept two hours. The houses were all on stilts to prevent monsoonal flooding. Most had rice fields behind them. Livestock was everywhere to be seen. As I mentioned before, I even saw a woman bathing cow in a river
Most people here are Buddhist,so it wasn’t a shock, just a passing amusement. Fruit trees were equally prevalent.
We borrowed a car from Rashna’s friend, and got around very comfortably. SeamReap is a small city by Cambodian standards,and a small town by western standards. We settled in a very comfortable hotel . I was shocked to find the cost was $15 a night. we were very comfortable and wanted nothing.
We visited Rashna’s, communal home. It was supplied by a well with a pump, Helen Keller style. The water was cool and refreshing. The hospitality was amazing. He had built the house with his brother. It was simple , small and comfortable. I met his wife and kids. That made me miss my own even more. Sweet people they were
At Angkor Wat,the first ting I noticed was snake statues.They were clearly cobra like with the typical flaps at the neck. In Cambodian language they are called Naga.
They represent strength and as such, protect the domain of the royalty. The Cambodian people believe that they are descendants of the snake,not so foreign perhaps when you consider the story of Adam and Eve and the temptation by the serpent.
e
They also believe that their first queen was descendant of the Naga king
There were two or three bridges. These represented a bridge from the underworld to our world,as well as a bridge from our world to heaven. All were built from huge stones. These stones averaged 5 tonnes in weight and were carried by elephants in ancient times.`
The temples were dedicated to the Hindu belief in Vishnu,one of the incarnations of their deity. It showed the epic battles he took place in through beautiful engravings on the walls.
There were 5 different ruins. We visited three I abstained from the last. My colleague Jeremy and his sister Ting went up. They took up that challenge alone, and climbed to dizzying heights.
We climbed to the top. I am notoriously bad at balance,and the steps were very small for my big feet. As such,I had Jeremy holding one arm and Rasna the other. The top most level must have been 100 steps above ground level. Thanks to my 2 companions, no injuries or falling occurred.
The last ruins that jeremy visited had very narrow steps. One look at them and I said no. Too high,. Too steep, an attempt could easily have been catastrophic. I know my limits.
We also went for a cow barbecue at the night. It was an entire cow on a huge spit . The ribs were already exposed as it was half eaten. It was pitch black night. The butchers were muslim and the meat permissible. They cut pieces off and cooked them for us.
Well after all the excitement and climbing, we decided to take the night bus back. I slept the whole way,and arrived in the morning refreshed.
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