Forever etched in memory

by John Tonna (Malta)

Making a local connection Cambodia

I arrived in Cambodia after four weeks in Thailand. My main goal was to visit the famous Angkor Wat temple complex in Siem Reap, one of the largest religious monuments in the world. But I also had a few days in Phnom Penh before I returned home. Therefore after exploring ancient history I decided to explore recent history also. This however involved learning about the horrors of the Pol Pot regime (1975 to 1979). Still, it is part of history. So I booked a ‘Killing Fields’ tour. It stated with a visit to the infamous S21 prisoner camp. Here, out of the estimated 20,000 persons imprisoned here, only seven prisoners survived. Sophea* , our tour guide was taking us through the cells and regularly stopping to describe what the prisoners went through - torture, beatings and execution. The cells for the ‘VIP’ prisoners had a single bed while the other prisoners were housed together in groups in one room. The cells had a couple of black and white photos of prisoners chained to their beds, some in a foetal position from pain, recovering form pain or just resigned to their fate. But what was most gruesome was the dark dried blood stains on some of the floor tiles. After letting us absorb the horror of the surroundings, the guide told us how she managed to escape the genocide by fleeing to Vietnam. Unfortunately, her family members were arrested, taken to S21 and were never heard of since. ‘How did you end up as a guide in S21 of all places?’ I asked Sophea. She took a deep breath and replied, ‘When I returned to Cambodia, together with other relatives of the dead prisoners, I tried to find some belongings of her family members. It was a long shot, but I had to try. I was not seeking closure, this was impossible to achieve. Even if the persons responsible for the deaths were brought to justice, the wound was too harsh and deep to heal. So here I was reliving the shock and horror while browsing through the photos of prisoners at S21, hoping against hope to find a photo of my relatives with the prisoner number printed on it. This number may be used to trace any paperwork and possibly any remaining belongings. But it was all in vain. The fact that the prisoners were removed of their humanity and transformed to mere numbers was hard enough. But to be erased out of existence was too much to take. At that moment my knees turned to rubber, as you Westerners say. Luckily the nearby persons were kind enough to grab hold of my arms and hold me before I could fall to the floor. However, I was determined not to be broken in spirit or the torturers and murderers would have won. I decided to face my demons and hopefully vanquish them by becoming a guide and tell what happened to the visitors that come from all over the world.’ ‘Thanks for sharing such a sorrowful story with us. I really appreciate it. You are really a strong woman.’ I replied. The tour was now over and as we proceeded towards the exit, there was Acharya*, one of the surviving prisoners. He was seated at a table selling copies of his autobiography. As he handled the books and answered questions from potential customers, the pain and suffering he went through were visibly etched in his face. For us visitors, this was the last living reminder of that horrid time. The next trip was the Genocide Centre. The first monument dedicated to the victims houses a display of many skulls. If you still felt detached from the reality of the genocide, these skulls will surely convince you that it really happened. The realisation will chill your soul. At some stops you can see human bones seen sticking out of the ground. Executions were carried out using everyday tools like axes to save on bullets. Infants were killed by bashing their skulls against tree trunks. The whole compound is a chilling reminder of past horrors which will remain forever etched in memory. *names changed to protect identity