Phnom Penh – 2nd to the 4th May

Following our cultural stop over at Siem Reap, it was time to head to the capital Phnom Penh. A city of just over 2 million people about an eighth of Cambodia’s 16ish million. 

I think we arrived in Phnom Penh around 4 or 5 days since Steve’s arrival. So far we’ve drunk every night. I was feeling the pain, coming from a very dry 9 weeks in India and Nepal. I made it clear to Steve I wasn’t drinking for a day or two. Steve rolled his eyes and said ‘yeah, yeah mate…’

While Siem Reap contains Cambodia’s ancient history, the capital contains Cambodia’s recent history. Even before coming here, our Angkor Wat tour guide, Mr David, shared his experience of the cambodian genocide. Where his father was killed, and he separated from his mother as a baby. His mother searched and searched, and finally was later reunited aged 9 or so.

Here in Phnom Penh, there were two particular sights to see: the S21 prison centre and the killing fields. We did both in one day and it’s hard to say which one was more harrowing. 

As a bit of background for those not familiar with the Cambodian genocide. And as usual, this is going to be a very inaccurate crash course. In 1975 the Khmer Rouge, led by Pol Pot, took over Cambodia following a Civil War. This was despite the group facing one of the largest American bombing campaigns, named (and I’m not joking here) Operation Freedom Deal. Upon taking over Pol Pot led a brutal, repressive, authoritarian regime. You know that might be an understatement. 

Over 1.7-1.8 million people died, approximately 1/4 of Cambodia’s population at the time. The name Khmer Rouge should allude to their communist alignment. Pol Pot forced the mass exodus of the cities, preaching that the reason for Cambodia’s problems were the greedy city people stealing from the everyday Cambodian. He targeted teachers and doctors as some of the worst offenders – leaving the country without two vital professions. As seems to be the case with all atrocities of this nature, ethnic and religious groups were also targeted. The targetting of the genocide spread to include people who wore glasses amgonst other meaningless traits. As Pol Pot’s paranoia grew, more and more people were killed. Just on the suggestion of sedition.

We started with audio tours of the killing fields, which led us round a fairly baron semi wooded area. The paths twisted around large dips and bulges in the grass. These dips and the bulges being mass graves. The bulges caused by the release of gases. The unlucky victims of the Khmer Rouge and Pol Pot were brought to the facility by truck, often after a stay in the S21 prison. Once there, they were killed, or imprisoned and then killed. To save ammunition the executions were carried out with essentially gardening tools. Steel hoes, axes and other blunt instruments. The victims were not limited to just men, or even men and women, but also included children and babies. The approach being if you kill the entire family no one will be there to seek revenge.

Still to this day, during the rainy season, human bones and shreds of clothing are brought to the surface.

The final detail I’ll include on the killing field is to mask the horrific sounds of these brutal executions, the camp blared out propaganda songs. Obscuring what happened at this camp to the outside world. And one additional cruelty for the victims.

The Khmer Rouge recruited from very young and very poor cadres (often forcibly) and indoctrinated them in their ideology. 

For the population not put to death, they were sent to work in rural cooperatives. In essence they took all of the city folk and put them to work in the fields. Which didn’t turn out to be that effective anyway. They didn’t know how to farm.

That afternoon we visited the S21 prison. This gave even more insight into the horror of this regime. The prison complex was a converted school – a powerful metaphor in itself. The buildings surrounded a central courtyard, with the 3 or 4 story classroom blocks converted into prison cells. Here those suspected of treachery were imprisoned and tortured. False confessions and false allegations were forced from the victims. If they survived their time at S21 was over they were ultimately sent to the killing fields.

The photos of those who went through the S21 prison were displayed throughout the site, across these photos the old, the young, and the far too young were all included. 

The schools gymnastic equipment was repurposed for torture.

It says it all that chain link fences were installed above the balustrade overlooking the courtyard. These were not to stop people escaping, but to stop people from jumping.

The regime was eventually overthrown by the Vietnamese who invaded and liberated the country. What remained of the Khmer Rouge fled back into the jungle. Even after being overthrown, the Khmer Rouge were recognised as the rightful government of Cambodia by the west. Including at the UN etc.

Pol Pot fled, he was eventually captured but died of a heart attack before facing trial.

Some of his senior leaders, including the chief of the S21 prison did face trial, and admitted guilt.

While the scale of the genocide is unthinkable, the recentness is staggering. It all only happened 40ish years ago. From ‘75 to ‘79. You could ask anyone in Cambodia and they’ll have family who didn’t make it.

I’ll end with some of the slogans the Khmer Rouge used, which are somewhat morbidly interesting: 

‘To keep you is no profit, to lose you is no loss.’

‘Better to kill an innocent by mistake, than spare an enemy.’

‘He who protests is an enemy, he who opposes is a corpse.’

While not an enjoyable day, obviously. If you’re in the area you have to see it, and hear the stories. I didn’t take any photos of these sites, and I should add I’ve left out some of the most graphic details, if what I’ve written sounds bad it’s 100x worse.

Anyway, later that evening Steve and I split up for dinner. He stayed at the hostel for the traditional buffet and I went on an errand and searching for a cheaper dinner. I was still resolute in my commitment not to drink. However, towards 8.30 maybe 9, I head to join Steve for one drink. You know an end of the day debrief, and to say hi to Delph who had also come to Phnom Penh from Siem Reap. Now here Steve played an absolute blinder, I sat down and he introduced me to his new mates, and here’s the clever bit, he buys me a pint. So fairly quickly I finish the first, and of course i’m obligated to buy ? Steve one back. So I do, and the next thing I know I’ve gone back upstairs to put a shirt on ahead of slamming a third and heading to the club. I have no idea how that happened. My lack of willpower is endless.

Our little group was a fun one too: we had me and Steve, his new mate Angus, our friend Delph, and then Bunny (her name was Isabel but went by Bunny – which Steve wasn’t very comfortable with).

Where the hostel bar shuts at around 10.30 the hostel reps then take people to a local club. We all trekked across and went into the club. We’d never been to a more static club, it was incredibly loud but lacked any vibe at all. Our group, after a quick shot, quickly decided to find another bar somewhere. 

It was quite an eventful night with some interesting bars, however I don’t think it’s all blog appropriate. But I will say, I didn’t know how big balloons could get! Then about three bars, in the early hours of the morning, I call it a night and head home.

The next morning was a funny one. I’m a morning person, even hungover I tend to get up and crack on (mostly). So despite the late night, around 8 maybe 9 I head downstairs for breakfast. I’m eating my scrambled eggs. Steve comes down and orders some eggs and a coffee. I’m feeling pretty chirpy. 

What I don’t know is Steve is fighting a one-man battle. Whereas I had joined the drinking late and went heavy, Steve had started early and gone heavy – so he wasn’t in the best shape. He saw me get up, and thought ‘oh big man, getting up in the morning are we? I’ll show you.’

He comes down and sees I’ve got some eggs so decides to one up me. ‘Oh you’ve got eggs, well I’m gonna get eggs and a coffee. What do you think about that?’

To be clear he didn’t say any of this. And I had a lovely morning. But it cracked me up to learn he was fighting for his life.

I can’t so much remember what else we got up to in Phnom Penh. I think I got my laptop fixed there. Before it broke again and then much later came back to life.

Oh on a separate more relaxed night, Steve took us to the ‘Welsh Embassy.’ I was expecting a big-ish pub full of expats. However we went in and found a tiny wooden panelled two story pub. On our entrance, the guy behind the bar very quickly tried to hide the huge bag of weed he was sorting through – but I’m not sure what his plan was about the smell. But we have a drink there, and Steve wrote his name on the wall – to be immortalised until that place closes down… or someone spills a drink on it. Also, and this is rich coming from me, but I’ve seen children with better handwriting.