The Killing Fields

22 August 2008
It was an early start for me this morning as I had arranged with Hen that he would pick me up at nine o’clock. I had to get more medication for my eyes and so far any pharmacy I enquired at didn’t supply it. I also wondered if Hen had come up trumps and got a sim-card for me. The main agenda of the day though was to visit the killing fields of Choeung Ek.
Finishing off my breakfast cup of coffee I saw Hen appear in the lobby at nine on the dot. As Choeung Ek is outside the city and we would be encountering a lot of dust and manic drivers Hen supplied me with a helmet and face mask for the journey. With me looking like a demented Power Ranger we set off through the capital city of Phnom Penh, past the victory monument, past the royal palace with its silver pagoda and on out into the countryside. I have said it before and I’ll say it again, the traffic here is absolutely crazy. The largest or the quickest have right of way, most of the time that is. Sitting on the back of the scooter I was amazed to see people on bicycles shoot right out into oncoming traffic without a second glance. The traffic didn’t stop; it simply slowed down and went around them. At one point there was no road, just a dirt track that all the scooters, motorcycles, cars and trucks bounced over. I hope to have posted a brief video of the traffic so that you can see what I am talking about. Believe it or not I actually saw somebody carrying a fridge on the back of their motorbike.
Eventually we got outside the city and it wasn’t long before we reached our destination. Between 1975 and 1978 about 17,000 men, women, children and infants, who had been detained and tortured at S-21 were transported to the extermination camp of Choeung Ek. They were often bludgeoned to death to avoid wasting precious bullets. The remains of 8985 people, many of whom were bound and blindfolded, were exhumed in 1980 from mass graves. I have taken many photos of the graves and the pictures should be on my photo website, soon. http://picasaweb.google.com/colinjcannon
Upon first entering the site I came to a stupa (like a monument / small temple). I was asked to pay a few Riel (4000 riel = $1.00US) and I was then given an incense stick and some flowers to lay before the stupa in honour of the murdered. More than 8000 skulls, arranged by sex and age, are visible behind the clear glass panels of the stupa. It was harrowing to realise that this mass genocide took place during my life time; I vaguely recalled being a schoolboy and swapping Cambodian jokes with the other innocent children at primary school.
Not all of the mass graves have been exhumed as yet so God only knows how many are still buried beneath the earth. There is a tranquil feeling about the place, it is peaceful and serene but this hides the horrors that took place here just over 30 years ago. Upon approaching any of the graves a notice will tell you how many were exhumed and what condition they were found in. As stated most of them were found to be bound and blindfolded. The notice on one grave indicated that all the bodies exhumed from this particular grave had no heads. There is a tree were children used to be tied to and then beaten to death. Another tree used to hold the loudspeaker that played music so loud that the screams and moans of the condemned couldn’t be heard.
In a way I felt bad taking pictures as if I was a tourist in Disneyland but I had to have something to remember this visit. I asked Hen whether he had relations or family members caught up in this nightmare. ‘Of course’, he replied, ‘everyone did’. I didn’t question him any further as I don’t think he wanted to talk about it. We then walked around the perimeter of the complex. It is enclosed with a wire fence. As we walked I saw children on the other side of the fence beckoning to me. When I got close they asked me to take their picture and show it to them. I took the photo but before I got close to them Hen held me back and said that there was a danger one of them would grab the camera and run. We walked on further; one of the girls climbed a tree and jumped over the fence to follow us. Hen turned around and scolded her in Khymer; eventually she stopped following us.
After completing the circuit I bought a book about Pol Pot in the souvenir shop and we sat down to have a refreshing drink. Hen had indeed come up trumps and supplied me with a sim-card. I now have three sim-cards; one for Ireland, one for Thailand and one for Cambodia. An amputee approached me on his crutches, his cap held out before him looking for some money. Swatting the flies away from my orange drink I gave him a dollar with which he seemed very happy.
Back through the crazy traffic and now began the search for a reputable pharmacy. I had found the address of the American Medical Bureau in a tourist information pamphlet and Hen had an idea of where it could be. The numbers of buildings in address listings are of no real use in Phnom Penh as each building chooses whatever number it wants. Therefore number 104 Rue de Michel could be next door to 32 Rue de Michel. A lot of the streets still have French names carried over from the French occupation in the last century. The only clue I had was that it was near the Cambodia Hotel. When we got to the Hotel Hen asked a tuk-tuk driver if he knew where the pharmacy was. After a brief conversation Hen said that the tuk-tuk driver believed it to be across the road in the massage parlour facing us. ‘Christ’, I thought to myself, ‘if I don’t get my medication soon I could be in trouble’. ‘If I start frequenting massage parlours I will also be in trouble, either way I will go blind’.
There was a number supplied with the address and I asked Hen to ring it. Turned out the pharmacy is in the hotel. When we eventually got there it was a relief to enter a seriously air conditioned room. I wrote the name of my medication on a piece of paper and handed it over the counter. In perfect English the Cambodian pharmacist asked me if I knew the generic name of the drug. ‘Shit on a stick’, I thought to myself, ‘why didn’t I bring the leaflet from the last prescription with me?’ I explained what the drug was for and what it did but it was no use she needed to know the generic name of the drug before she could prescribe. I turned to Hen and asked him to drive me back to the hotel and then back to the pharmacy. The man has the patience of a saint and is a true gentleman. Back to the hotel, a quick sprint up the four flights of stairs to my room, (the hotel Anise has no lift) a frantic search for the leaflet, a quick scoot back to the pharmacy only to be told that they would have to make a few phone calls to see if they could obtain the medication. They took my number and said they would ring me tomorrow.
Back at the hotel and after slipping Hen a few dollars I retired to my room for a cold shower and then sat on the balcony to catch up with adventures of the Count of Monte Cristo. I fell asleep half way through a chapter were the Count is slowly but steadily building up Monsieur Danglers for a big fall that will surely ruin him financially and consequently go some way to exacting revenge on the jealous sailor who was instrumental in the false imprisonment of our hero.
I was awoken by the ringing of my mobile phone. Who was crazy enough to ring me from home I thought. Nobody, it would seem, you all know better. It was the pharmacy telling me that they had my medication and could I come and pick it up. The cost was $45 US. Not bad, cheaper than at home. So one quick tuk-tuk journey later, with the usual near death experiences, my eyeballs were treated to the one thing that would stop the onslaught of glaucoma.
Not a very exciting or interesting story folks but I’m getting addicted to this writing malarkey and I find it hard to stop once I get started. If you have read this far I thank you. As I am writing I am sitting outside the bar typing on my laptop and sipping on my second gin and tonic. Oh the memories I shall have when the lean days come to visit me again in the future.
Until next time folks, remember that life is like a cup of tea; it is how you make it.