BLOWN UP BRIDGE AND LAND GRABBING

#2459238 / Bridge was blown up by communists during the war - 1973 gettyimages.com

The 'Japanese Friendship Bridge' (aka Chruoy Changvar Bridge in Khmer language)  was a strange sight in Phnom Penh for years. Built in 1966 it towered over the Tonle Sap River, until it was blown up by the communists during the civil war in 1973. For years afterward, it was only a partial bridge. Like a long jump ramp for Evel Knievel, it stretched out over the river, and stopped, far short of the eastern riverbank. It was only a remnant of its former self, much like Phnom Penh.

After the Khmer Rouge fled, the bridge became a popular meeting place for courting couples. In dim evening light, young men would drive their motorbikes out onto the bridge, with their girlfriends on the back seat. They would park, and take in a rather romantic view of the river from atop the destroyed landmark. Eventually young lovers had to find another place to gather, as the bridge was rebuilt in 1995, again with Japanese aid.

Today is a good day for a stroll, so I decide to walk all the way across the bridge. Heading across, I note two inner lanes are for cars, with two outer lanes for motorbikes. A bored policeman sits in a guard shack part way across. His AK-47 rifle hangs by the railing. I remember another 'Friendship Bridge' that I had seen in Laos, but that one hadn't been destroyed. 

Crossing to the river's eastern side, I look under the bridge, and see an odd site. Directly underneath the bridge, huddled like trolls, a fence corrals a small herd of cattle. Beyond the bridges end, the level of poverty is noticeable, even for Cambodia. Homes are poor; some are no more than shacks. I don’t know it yet, but destruction will come to the people who live here very soon.

Rebuilt Japanese Friendship Bridge (photo: Phnom Penh Places)

Days later, I learn that 30 homes of this humble neighborhood were destroyed. Not by war, not by natural disaster, but by demolition crews. Guarded by a herd of civilian and military police, crews came in with heavy equipment, and leveled the homes.  30 families living here lost out. Their houses were bulldozed to make way for a traffic roundabout. Although the homeowners were given warnings about the demolition, some refused to move. All were offered a small plot of land in a distant district, but only 12 families had accepted. The rest turned them down.

I cross the bridge another day to find the neighborhood leveled, just as I'd heard. One of the better looking cement homes in the neighborhood was still standing though. Looking inside, I saw that on the wall was a photo of the homeowner, standing with Prime Minister Hun Sen. Some people have better connections than others.


Human rights groups have been pleading for improved land rights for Cambodia's poor for years. Some property rights laws are ignored, and evicted families are routinely denied due process. In this example at the Friendship Bridge, many families were considered squatters, even though they had lived on this land for more than two decades. During the Khmer Rouge years, most land titles and property documents were lost, so poor landowners and squatters end up being the the biggest losers in all this.

Downstream from the bridge, some Khmers still cross the river on small boats

Land grabbing is nothing new here, it's been going on for years. Take the case of a poor vendor I knew. After the fall of the Khmer Rouge, her family came to Phnom Penh and found a large house on one of the main roads. The rich, original owners were long gone. They were probably either dead, or fled the country. The young lady had survived the Khmer Rouge years with her widowed mother and younger brother, so they moved in as squatters. But that didn't last long.

“One day policeman come to our house. He say we have to go,” the vendor told me of that difficult time. “My mother cry so much.”

The family was soon evicted, without due process. After they were forced out, who moved in? The policeman and his family! Years later, he sold the house that he never really owned. “He sell the house for $500,000,” she told me.

Land grabbing continues to be a serious problem in Cambodia. In 2009 the government passed a controversial land law, which allowed the government to expropriate property for 'development', and to take away land to use 'in the public interest'. Rights groups rightly say that the law's vague wording leaves the law wide open for abuse, resulting in bribes for corrupt politicians, and the loss of land for thousands of poor farmers.

The Friendship Bridge squatters aren't just an isolated case. Other forced evictions have been well publicized, and rather than clearing land for government projects, they are often for commercial interests. Unscrupulous developers are reportedly paying unfair compensation to families for land, or even stealing it outright. Businesses owned by relatives of Prime Minister Hun Sen are sometimes involved.

There has occasionally been civil unrest due to this problem. I'm beginning to see for myself, that the present government of Cambodia has little credibility.

CROSSING FROM VIETNAM INTO LAOS

A massive arch marks Vietnam's side of the border

It’s a simple white line. A simple, yet very important marker. Only inches across on this short two lane bridge, the white line is painted perpendicular to the road’s center line. I step across the line.

I’ve just left Vietnam, and crossed into Laos.

Having finished my time in northern Vietnam, I've doubled back to Dong Ha near the old DMZ. Hopping into a van this morning, I headed west on Highway 9 to Lao Bao, reaching the frontier with Laos. It’s fitting I'm entering Laos via road, since Laos is the only landlocked country in Southeast Asia.

Pausing right on the white border marker, I look down over the side of the bridge. On the map I’m carrying, this bridge is shown to cross over a river, but what is actually below me is a miniscule creek. It’s so narrow, that without a bridge I could cross it with one step. That’s not surprising; the Laos - Vietnam border has never been very difficult to cross, going in either direction. This gave the US military fits during the war, as they were unable to stop communist troops and weapons from infiltrating across this very border.

This smaller (and cheaper) arch marks the Laotian side

I continue walking the road between border posts, pulling my wheeled suitcase behind as I head towards immigration. A welcoming arch looms over the road that reads, “Lao people Democratic Republic”. I notice that the arch that I already passed through over on the Vietnamese side, is far larger and grander looking than this smaller one. Perhaps that’s a subtle attempt at intimidation by the Vietnamese.

Passing through the arch, I notice an odd choice of artwork painted on the wall of the interior: a dinosaur! It looks like a brontosaurus, standing in front of a big Buddhist monument. Buddhism is an ancient religion to be sure, but it certainly didn’t reach back to the age of the dinosaurs.

Waiting to clear customs along this border highway crossing, are long lines of trucks. Unlike the straight trucks I saw in northern Vietnam near the Chinese border, these are Russian made Kamaz trucks. To the other side of the road, is an even longer line of American flat bed tractor trailers, also waiting to clear customs. I’m surprised to see US made trucks here in this remote place, though they aren’t American owned, the trucking company is Vietnamese.

With all these heavy vehicles parked and idle, the only freight I actually see moving between these two nations is a two wheeled cart bearing produce. The cart is powered not by horse, but by a Vietnamese woman in sandals, who pulls it slowly behind her across the frontier. I’m amazed at her strength, she has to be pulling five times her own weight. After watching her, I’m not going to complain about pulling my insignificant suitcase.

Under the Laotian arch, a painting of... a brontosaurus??

A local woman pulls a heavy cart across the border

This border crossing was once on an ancient trade route connecting Laos and Vietnam. During the war there was little ‘official’ trade at this crossing due to heavy bombing, but in the past decade it has been regaining its prominence. The new bridge, the arches, and the border buildings have all been constructed in the past few years, as trade and tourism have gradually been revived.

After getting my passport stamped, I look for my way into the nearest town, but there are no buses or taxis waiting. A motorcycle driver approaches offering to take me into town, but only for an extortionate fee! I don’t feel like being ripped off today, and I don’t want to try balancing my suitcase on the back of a small motorbike either. Since it isn’t far and it’s still morning, I continue on down the road pulling my suitcase on wheels. Done with my border crossing, I head for the Laotian border town of Densavan, where I will take a hike on the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

GOOD MORNING VIETNAM!!! - A RUDE AWAKENING

G-O-O-O-O-O-D MORNING VIETNAM!! 5AM comes early.

It's early morning in the Mekong Delta in Ben Tre, and I have my first encounter with the local government. At 5am in my hotel, I'm awakened by announcements bellowing from a government loudspeaker out on the street. I recall how Robin Williams screamed out, "Good Morning Vietnam!", from his movie of the same name. But this early am announcer isn't anywhere near as entertaining.

“Good morning Vietnam. Time to wake up. Fathers, get up and get ready to go to work, and provide for your families. Mothers, get up and start cooking breakfast. Children, get up and get ready for school. Study hard, and make your parents proud of you. Remember mothers and fathers, having two children in your family is enough. You don’t need more children than that.”

This rough translation is a reminder that the government is pushing to reduce population growth. Vietnam’s current population is 91 million, more than double the population from when the war ended in 1975. This is by far the most densely populated country in Southeast Asia. Unlike China, which has the one child policy, Vietnam is calling for families to have only two. There is less pressure put on farming families. The government expects farmers to have more children, so that they will have more help to work the fields.

Local workers do horticulture by hand in a Ben Tre park

Still, enforcement of this policy on city dwellers can be harsh. If a woman has a government job, and she has more than two children, she can be forced to leave her job, or be demoted. Enforcement of this policy is also emphasized with ethnic minorities, as the government seeks to keep them in check.

I discover that these morning propaganda announcements are not a rare occurrence. These early broadcasts happen almost every day, and there are loudspeakers such as this one hanging in neighborhoods throughout Vietnam. Apparently the government believes that their daily announcements are more effective, if they use them to wake you up. Later that day I hear a siren, much like a tornado siren. Fortunately, it's only a test, for when typhoons are headed this way. In 2006 when Typhoon Durian blew through the Mekong Delta, 66 people were killed, hundreds of boats sank, and thousands of houses were destroyed. Ben Tre Province was one of the hardest hit. Much like after the war, it took them years to rebuild from the destruction.

Ben Tre riverboats. Note the traditional paintings on the bow of each craft.

I decide to take a walk along the waterfront this morning, before I depart later in the afternoon. Arriving at the docks, there is already a lot of activity, as cargo is being unloaded. The wooden riverboats sit side by side, packed tightly together. As I watch, laborers offload a cargo of coconuts by hand, throwing them onto small carts. Soon another riverboat pulls in, also loaded down with coconuts. Ben Tre is well known throughout the country for its tasty coconut candy.

As I continue along the riverside road, I come to the local version of a teamster. As a river town Ben Tre has few trucks, and this hauler uses a small motorbike, with an open cart attached to the back. The cart is stacked high with bags of rice. I’m struck by how much work he is accomplishing, with less powerful machinery. His  motorbike engine is only 125 cc’s, yet he’s hauling a load that westerners would use a pickup truck to do. Admittedly, it’s not very safe. If he had to stop quickly, he could be crushed by those heavy bags of rice. At least he was wearing a helmet.

Unexploded ordinance (UXO) still litters Ben Tre. This war refuse is in the local Ben Tre Museum.

As commerce in Ben Tre has risen, more roads are being paved as the town expands. But road construction here is not without its hazards. Just before my arrival, an unexploded 250 pound bomb from the war years was found during digging on a local building site, and disarmed. The seasonal flooding and muddy earth of the delta rice paddies meant that many heavy bombs dropped here had soft landings, and didn’t explode. It’s no surprise that there are still numerous unexploded bombs still here today. With the rise in construction, and with the continued clearing of land for agriculture, more unexploded ordinance will continue to be found in Ben Tre, and not intentionally.

As I reach Dong Khoi Street on the waterfront, I step onto the town bridge that crosses the Ben Tre River to the next island. A section that was destroyed in the war has been rebuilt. A narrow bridge of light design, the town’s bridge can only withstand the weight of motorbikes and pedestrians. Like elsewhere in the delta, stronger, wider bridges are needed. Unfortunately for the delta dwellers, bridge construction in this region has been slow and plagued by problems.

Ben Tre's riverfront. The rebuilt bridge beyond is only strong enough for motorbikes and pedestrians.

A few years back, there was a major accident during bridge construction in nearby Can Tho Province in the delta. While many workers were laboring up on the bridge, a large section collapsed, killing at least 60 workers, leaving many more injured. It was all over the news. Many Vietnamese blame corruption as a factor in the disaster.

Further outside of Ben Tre, a large cable stay bridge is also under construction. When completed, it will connect Ben Tre Province to a highway leading out of the delta. The unfinished bridge is already months past its original opening date.

This modern suspension bridge will improve life in Ben Tre and the Mekong Delta

Before I leave, I ask a hotel clerk about the new bridge, and he’s well versed in the lingo of promotion. “When that bridge finishes, there will be even more tourism, more development,” he gushes. “Come back to Ben Tre in one year. You won’t even recognize it.”

In a wider context, I think that what he says is far more true, when comparing the war years to the present time. Americans that had been to Ben Tre back during those times of conflict, would hardly even recognize this town today.