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.
No comments:
Post a Comment