Today I visited one of the Killing Fields.
But from what I can recall today, I hardly heard a thing about Southeast Asia, nothing about Cambodia, and not a single word about Pol Pot, the Khmer Rouge regime, or the mass genocide embodied by the Killing Fields. Not nearly enough Westerners do, and that is a shame. You could and should read about it other places. But fully understanding the experience requires some context.
In 1975 the Khmer Rouge forces of the Communist Party of Kampuchea overpowered the current goverment, taking control of the country under Brother Number 1 Pol Pot. The capital Phnom Penh and all the other large cities were emptied. People were forced to give up anything related to Westernization and work in rice fields to create the perfect agrarian society according to the concept of Year Zero. There was increasing death from starvation. Educated people, members of the old regime, dissenters, and the very old and young were executed — at first with gunfire, and then with blunt objects "to save bullets." S-21, a former school, became a prison and torture center for perceived dissenters. All told, 1.7-2 million people died before the Khmer Rouge were ousted by Vietnamese forces in 1979. A quarter of the country's population at the time.
Killing Fields get their blunt but terribly accurate name because in many instances the people brought to die there were forced to dig their own graves. And there are many of them. On the seven hour bus ride to Siem Reap we probably passed by many, and one was pointed out within the city area by our guide.Choeung Ek is where some of the worst treated victims, those of S-21, were brought. Nearly 9,000 people died there. And because it is only 17 km from Phnom Penh proper, the main monument for the Killing Fields victims is there.
As the nearly 40 minute tuk-tuk ride out neared its end, banter and chit-chatting seemed to peter out; as if starting to get mentally prepared. But the moment of seeing what's inside the beautiful Buddhist stupa monument is nothing you can prepare for. Sixteen roughly eight-foot-square shelves filled with skulls. More than 5,000. They are encased in sliding glass doors, some of which have been left open, which makes it even more real. Most are fractured or shattered.
Out on the grounds are signs explaining the site. Here was where the trucks full of prisoners stopped. Here is where they had their names checked off. Here was the shed full of tools once used for bringing forth food from the ground, turned into weapons. And between the scattered trees leftover from the former orchard are pits. Now they are covered with grass and some wild flowers. It's hard to look up from the path, on high alert to any piece of white, not wanting to step on minuscule bone fragments. Unable to be sure.
What did the victims think when they got there? Was it at night, or during the day? Did the sounds of nature — birds, insects, wind — comfort them? Were the flora and fauna unknowing witnesses, or did they retreat from the clear signs of death? Can it be comforting that some life has returned there? Could the victims only think about what was to come, or did they force their attention on other things? What would possess a government that it was necessary to kill so many — and their own people, where there is no way to point out how they are different from yourself? How could the individual soldiers look at an innocent, probably starving baby that could be their own child and slaughter them in unspeakable ways?
In the small three-room museum are identification photos and plaques explaining the unexplainable. It affected literally everyone. The guide at Angkor Wat — his grandfather and uncle died. Rick, the senior member of Language Corps - Asia, worked at refugee camps on the Thai-Cambodian border.
It's almost impossibly difficult to see and listen to. But it needs to be.
I have read about it but I can't imagine the feeling of actually being there. It must take your breath away and leave you with such a heavy heart. This is something you will never forget.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing your thoughts and the history.
hugs, Mary Anne