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Published: September 26th 2006
Phnom Penh
One of the beds upon which the first discoved victims of those tortured at S21 we're found. Note the hot poker, shackles and other devices. The photo on the wall was pretty gruesome(Righto Righto we know we've been slack but yes we're still alive and yes we've been busy burning CDs and thanks to all of you that care.)
After spending the morning in Battambang checking out one of the local temples on a hill with fantastic "Pan-o-ramic" views over the whole district we returned to Battambang a different shade of brown to when we left. Andrew having taken his own bike following Michelle and her driver. The roads we're fantastic!! Dusty, full of potholes and with the occasional massive truck that would be coming at you on the wrong side of the road.
After our 'incident' at Ankor we were surprised that we hadn't encountered more like them.
We returned to find Christopher waiting for us and Mont still hoarded up in his room - 'acclimatising' to the food and heat. After Mont appeared, seemingly having already shed a few kilo's it was a very fast trip down from Battambang to Phnom Penh in an airconditioned cab, Mont clenching all the way.
Arriving at about 5:30pm - we were keen to catch the Knights vs Sea Eagles game that we'd seen advertised on telly the previous day. However
much to our dismay they decided to screen the AFL instead. So we went down to the local Pizza joint instead - Happy Phnom Penh Pizza. Suffice to say I left the place a very 'charming' man as the delayed footy game was about to come on TV. So back to the guest house to watch the knights rack up a fantastic victory in the final minutes of the match (never in doubt really)... 😊
The next day we got up very late - after realising that sunlight didn't really penetrate our room. Chris had already shot through to S21 and the Killing Fields, and we were a little late to try to squeeze in both so Mont and I thought we'd best head down to the Shooting range while Nunny went to the markets.
Out a bumpy dusty road to the range we were greeted by the gatekeeper, who opened and closed some very heavy cast iron gates to allow us access. We were presented with a 'menu' - did we order food? But on closer inspection it was not so full of Khmer fare, but different types of guns and ammunition. Colt 45, AK47, M16, Shotgun,
Phnom Penh
Say hello to my little friend Uzi, Tommy Gun, Antiaircraft gun, the M60, hand grenades and even a rocket launcher which was a bit steep at $200 a rocket - despite enthusiastic sales staff trying to get us to fire one ("we take you up to the hill, so if you miss target it hits the mountain") - rumour had it that you could even choose a cow as a target if you so desired. But we thought this was a little too much - we'll just shoot at the paper target eh?
After much deliberation we chose the Colt 45, the AK47, The Tommy Gun ("Say hello to my little friend") and were persuaded to have a crack at the M60 (Rambo stylin'). It was in to the range - a small sweltering corridor that had an unhealthy haze of gunpowder and the smell of sweat and heavy fire, where the guns were set up ready to go. Basically from there it was a matter of bang bang bang, sharing each round of ammo between us - the Tommy gun and the M60 were definately the highlights...
Old mate retrieved the target for us and we were pleased to note that most of
Phnom Penh
The gunslingers - Monty sports an AK47 and Uzi, Ricko wears a shotgun and an M16 our bullets had ended up on the scoreboard (well most of mine anyway!) and we were again reminded that we could throw a hand grenade or fire a rocket launcher if we so desired - no money left buddy, sorry.
But it was back on the bumpy road to the hostel which provided a nice Cambodian 'massage' on the way back as well. We found Nunny reclining in the room having a small dosage of cabin fever - ah I'd forgot to leave her the room key or any money - so instead of the markets she'd been kicking back watching Cable telly all arvo. Whoops!
Popped out to dinner with an uninspiring Finnish guy that decided to invite himself to play cards with us and then insisted that we play his game instead (which sucked). His conversation was pretty bland including justifying the use of landmines (mate take a look at the Cambodians around you), Finnish army life ("only gays and women opt for community service" (instead of the compulsory army term)) and an out of the blue call about a lady drink ("does she drink it and then vomit in your mouth") - yeah right mate,
Phnom Penh
The solitary cells at S21 - about 1m x 1/2 a metre nice knowing you.
Back to the guesthouse for some more footy matches and an otherwise early night.
We were up reasonably early the next day for our trip to S21 and the Killing fields, a very humbling tour, suffice to say.
S21 (or Toule Sleng) was an inner city school converted by the Khmer Rouge into a torture, imprisonment and interrogation prison, surrounded a mangled mess of barbed and razor wire. There was an overpowering eeriness as soon as you stepped inside the boundary walls. We were soon to find out why...
The damp, bleak school rooms were used to house Khmer Rouge prisoners ie. the smarter end of the social spectrum - eg. school teachers, foreign language speakers, ex. Army, as well as some Khmer Rouge "defectors" ie. those that didn't toe the KR line.
The rooms, some holding over 60 people shackled by the feet to long iron rods - still held the dreaded restraining devices. Others used for interrogation ie. torture, had the photos of the last victims found at the prison on the walls overlooking their final resting place - beds adorned with hot pokers and cutting implements, water and electrical
Phnom Penh
S21 - The sign says it all torture. Small makeshift cells were built into other rooms, subdivided for "solitary confinement" with very little light. There was even a "gallows" where prisoners were tied up by the hands and dunked into large pots of water over a long duration of time - to "soften them up" for confession.
A majority of innocent Cambodian people were held here until they were cracked and confessed their sins, often these sins were decided for them by the Khmer Rouge soldiers on duty and they were made to sign a confession before being marched off to the Killing Fields for their final farewell. It was harrowing to see the photos of the victims before they died - a record kept by the KR, the hollow eyes and facial expressions obviously a sign of things to come for them. Reading the accounts from survivors was even more disturbing - some transcribing events into English to pass on the legacy, others drawing pictures of the attrocities - all of these lined the walls of the rooms.
Next it was off to the Killing Fields, for as Mont described it, some more of Ricko and Nunny's uplifting stuff, back out the same dusty
Phnom Penh
The leg irons that would shackle about 40 people together road we'd travelled the previous day, Nunny wishing she'd worn a sports bra, Mont content to be opposite the action
Reaching the final resting place of over 800,000 Cambodians, executed by the Khmer Rouge, we were greeted by a large shrine, an attempt to provide some form of religious burial site for those that passed away at the Killing Fields. Filled with thousands of human skulls, arranged into age brackets and sexes, it was alarming to see how many women and children were amongst them. Each skull, upon closer inspection showed the cause of death, generally an impact wound to the side of the head by machete or other blunt instrument. Geez what a way to go...
Walking around the site, which was essentially depressions (ie. shallow graves) in the ground containing human bones and fragments of clothing once worn by the victims. Each sit marked with an alaming number of corpses exhumed from the graves - ie. 8,000 from a 4 x 4 m site. Amongst the thriving flora there was the "magic tree", where loud music was played to drown out the screams from the victims (for those in line awaiting their fate) and another tree
Phnom Penh
Just some of the victims - around 8,000 went through toule sleng and only 7 survived where women and children were bludgeoned before being thrown into the mass graves.
(Apologies for the graphic portrayal of these two places but we thought we should share it with you...)
Back into the tuk tuk and the once jovial spirit had been thoroughly drained from us, when our driver suggested that we might like to go to the orphanage to visit some of the 120 street kids that stayed there. We'd like to offer something to them, we told him and he suggested a 50kg bag of rice that would feed them for a few days at least. Nice we thought, at least its better than giving money which can often seem to go astray in the 'administration' of such ventures.
So armed with a MASSIVE bag of rice on the back of a motorbike we entered the orphanage through a maze of razor wire (safety first for the kids), and were soon swamped by kids of all ages from 1 - 21. Naked babies were placed in my arms (what do I do with this?) and 8 year olds dangled off my other arm - the elder statesmen of the orphanage were a little more
Phnom Penh
Some of the 800,000 skulls that were exhumed at the Killing Fields - note the skull fractures caused by bludgeoning in many of the victims. This was supposedly to preserve KR bullets. dubious, no doubt having seen their fair share of passers through.
The owner of the place was quick to round us up and took us on a tour of the facility, showing the classrooms and living quarters for the girls and boys. A few followed us around while others played a makeshift game of soccer in the small courtyard. We were asked where we were from which we gladly pointed out on the world map, before talking about soccer school and other subjects revolving around theirs and our daily lives.
Then it was down to the most common ground of all - thumb wrestling, one by one they took us on, at times both hands were occupied by this mini masters of the game, that scored a few against all odds victories despite the differences in sizes between their thumbs and ours. Victors wanted to climb on Mont's and my shoulders for the ultimate shower of accolades from their peers - well at least that's what it looked like. Mind you my Khmer comprehension is not all that good.
Before long the rain started bucketing down which was our cue to leave them all battling it out
Phnom Penh
The shrine built to honour the victims murdered at the Killing Fields (the skulls are inside) with one another for the Orphanage thumb wrestling crown - an experience which definately put a smile back on our faces.
Being Monty's last night in the capital we decided to take him out for a final farewell dinner and a few drinks, which ended with him throwing a tantrum (over something Nunny said, for a change) and taking his own tuk-tuk home. But with Europe looming it was surely just a matter of providing a convenient excuse to catch up on his beauty sleep.
The next day Mont was up early to take the bus back up to Siem Reap, while Michelle and I pushed off to Sihanookville at a more leisurely pace. Ahh... back to coastal living after a long abstinence...
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barney
non-member comment
the killing fields
Hi Guys, nice to hear from you again. we open the inaugural exhibition: Fresh Art Fresh Start this evening. John Earle is doing the honours. Also we launch the Dave Arkless Fund. Your description and images of the killing fields brings into sharp focus the verbal pictures painted by Bruce Cockburn in his song Postcard from Cambodia: Abe Lincoln once turned to somebody and said, "Do you ever find yourself talking with the dead?" There are three tiny deaths heads carved out of mammoth tusk on the ledge in my bathroom They grin at me in the morning when I'm taking a leak, but they say very little. Outside Phnom Penh there's a tower, glass paneled, maybe ten meters high filled with skulls from the killing fields Most of them lack the lower jaw so they don't exactly grin but they whisper, as if from a great distance, of pain, and of pain left far behind Eighteen thousand empty eyeholes peering out at the four directions Barney