PHNOM PENH #4

Tuesday, 4 April

* Reader's discretion is advised, as there would be description of how inhuman the Khmer Rouge were.

At the Killing Fields of Choeung Ek, solemn mood filled the air. We could see foreign visitors casting low heads and sad eyes. It was an eerie yet serene place. As usual, we were greeted by hordes of kids asking us for money. We gave them Mentos as well, but not without much struggle. They bickered with each other for more sweets and I had to settle them down and told them to share. Entrance fee: USD2

Killing Field of Choeung Ek

We headed to the stupa-shaped mausoleum where a tall Plexiglass holds all human skulls and bones; that had been exhumed from the nearby shallow mass graves. It was disheartening to know, this is not the only place where mass graves could be found, they are scattered away other rural areas around Cambodia as a burial grounds for those victims executed in the many detention camps: the Security Offices.

I cannot imagine Khmer Rouge would have the heart to beat children against the trees around this place, holding them by the legs and threw their helpless and lithe bodies onto the tree to hear their skulls and bones break. My heart suddenly felt heavy as I see the trees, shallow graves and the signboard showing the place where the innocent children were being buried. Women and men were tortured in the Security Offices – tying them on a post and dried leaves and wood below them and smoked them alive. They tied them against the tree with many angry red ants biting into their flesh till they peed in their own pants. They tied them upside down and dipped their heads in pots of filthy water meant as fertilizers to extract confession. I learnt Khmer Rouge didn’t rape women. That was the only consolation.

We went around the mass grave site and found some pieces of bones still scattered on some grounds and some shredded clothes embedded on the grounds, unsure if they were originated from the exhumed bodies. We saw little kids running around, following foreigners and asking them for money. It was such a pity sight. We gave them Mentos as well. Little girls beamed when we gave them sweets and as if, had been trained, they parroted 1,2,3 SMILE! Then, extended their hands for some money.

We left the mass grave and headed for the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, which is the most disturbing part of the entire trip. Around 20,000 people were interrogated under torture to extract confession and eventually murdered, generally together with the family members. Out of the 20,000, only seven survived to tell the tale. The place was originally a school.

Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum

It was a very scary place. I could feel the terror in the victims’ eyes staring right back to us, as we scroll pictures upon pictures in the exhibition room. Tears welled in my eyes when I saw mug shots of children; their eyes appeared helpless; as if they knew this would be the last picture that they would be seen alive. Definitely not for the weak hearted. Chubby, Popiah and Amy decided not to browse the exhibits and waited outside; while the 3 of us went on our own tours. I could feel the hair on my skin standing, as we strolled along the steel beds where victims were being burnt and tortured. The mass detention place, where tiny cubicles were built primitively by stacking bricks upon bricks to house a few inmates in one. I dared not take too many pics here as a sign of respect for the dead.

The one particular picture which disturbed me till today, even as I write this, is a picture of a woman, carrying an infant while waiting to be electrocuted. I seriously cannot understand the mentality of the Khmer Rouge who would had the cheek to take pictures of the people they were about to kill. It was as if a prized possession for them as keepsakes. These people were downright cruel and inhuman. It made my stomach sick just thinking about the smirks on their devil’s face as they took the pictures of the victims. Sick bastards!!! I held my tears as hard as I could and walked away quickly from the exhibition room.

There were a few buildings in the school compound itself. We went through all of them briefly and upstairs, there were stories compiled by people about their missing family members and relatives. It was indeed heart breaking to read every story of people, who had worked for the Khmer Rouge - usually started by describing how hopeful the person initially was, how the revolution had changed them, how they refused to talk about what happened in Security Offices and how they seemed to disappear into thin air.

We ended the tour in an extreme solemn mood and headed out from the place quickly. It was then, a few crippled men came running to us for money. It was not that overwhelming if small little children come swarming you but these were grown men. I would want to hand over some money to them but, as a precautionary measure, it would be wise to keep our pouch or handbags tight and not to offer any money unless we have them readily in our hands.

... to be continued...