Days 20 The Weekend begins!
There are so many things to do in Phnom Penh that I am at first at a loss. I decide to visit the infamous Tuol Sleng prison in the morning as I would like to see in person what I have only read about previously. The auto-genocide perpetuated by the Khmer Rouge on the Cambodian people is one of the topics we discuss in the third year class that I teach (World Issues: A Singapore Perspective) in Ngee Ann and I feel that it would be invaluable if I can take back some of my experiences to share with my students. I have to steel myself emotionally for this as a first-hand view of horror no matter how many years removed, can never be less than deeply disturbing.
I decide that I will travel to Tuol Sleng by tuk-tuk (a motorcycle trailer taxi) and am fortunate enough to meet a gentleman of a driver – On Prem -- who becomes my unofficial guide for the day as well.
Tuol Sleng is deeply painful. What was once a school (S-21) became in Pol Pot’s time, a torture centre and prison. I cannot believe the depravity of human beings and what they are capable of subjecting their fellow humans to. I walk through dusty room after room of haunting faces, all victims … men, women, the old and even children … none were spared. The Khmer Rouge were certainly even-handed in their dispensation of horror. One image makes my heart constrict more than the others – the face of the wife of one of Lon Nol’s ministers, infant in arms, staring straight into the camera, all hope drained and resignation etched into every line of her face.
On Prem asks if I want to visit the Choeung Ek Memorial (otherwise known as the Killing Fields) after Tuol Sleng. I think it might be too much all in one day but finally decide that I should complete the circle and see where the victims of Tuol Sleng were so callously buried in mass graves.
The Killing Fields are about 15 km southwest of Phnom Penh and travelling there by tuk-tuk is an experience in itself. The roads outside of the city are not the best. They are largely unpaved and dusty, with pot-holes the size a small animal could disappear into! Kind Prem stops to buy me a face mask so that I can breathe through the choking, lung-impairing clouds of swirling red dust.
Choeung Ek is as distressing as Tuol Sleng. The entire area was an orchard and a Chinese cemetery prior to 1975 and more than 17,000 men, women and children are thought to have been executed here after first having suffered through interrogation, torture and unimaginable deprivation in the S-21 Prison at Tuol Sleng. It seems almost a travesty that the landscape could look so peaceful while steeped in so much blood and anguish. Prem tells me quietly that his own father was a victim of the Khmer Rouge. The Cambodians I have met thus far are like him, stoic in their calm acceptance of their personal tragedies.
Drained, I return to the Imperial Garden for a shower and some quiet reflection time before heading out again. The Missionaries of Charity (the order of nuns established by Mother Teresa of Calcutta) have invited me to visit their home on Monivong Boulevard and Prem has offered to take me there. Monivong Boulevard is a very long avenue and we manage to locate the sisters’ residence only after some searching. Sister Joy and her fellow nuns run an orphanage and school for underprivileged children in Phnom Penh. The sisters welcome me into the home and I am immediately surrounded by a swarm of children who giggle happily, cling to my legs and hug me tightly even though they do not understand a word I say. I stay there for a while to play with the children, after which the sisters give me a lift to the World Vision office some distance away, where I attend mass with the small community of Catholics in Phnom Penh.
I then attempt to walk back to Sisowath Quay but finally concede defeat after walking the length of Mao Tse Toung Boulevard, happily hop onto a moto and ask the driver to take me there. He proceeds to get thoroughly lost and takes me on a hair-raising, heart-stopping, traffic-defying ride through the fast darkening streets of the city. The driver keeps insisting that every other road is Sisowath Quay and exasperated, I finally tell him (in a strained, close-to-a-scream voice) to let me off near the Royal Palace. I wander around the nearby stretch of the riverfront and recover my equilibrium, meet and chat with some friendly fellow visitors, have a nice dinner of hot, steaming pho and lovely Vietnamese coffee (all for US$2.50) before heading back to the hotel. What an experience!




















































