END OF A DESPOT

This simple field marks the historical end of a dictator.

I'm back in the remote border town of Choam, and I’m looking at a simple field. With green grass and a few trees, there’s a well worn path right down the middle. It’s a quiet, lonely field; I’m alone except for a few loose chickens. I head down the path, towards a small structure at the far end. 

I approach what looks like a small, strange little shelter. It is only a rusting corrugated iron roof, supported by wooden poles. Short in height, it's not much for a shelter, but one man could lie down under it comfortably. Beneath it is a pile of dirt and ashes.

A blue sign nearby states its importance, “Pol Pot Was Cremated Here”.

The man who destroyed Cambodia, the man most responsible for the genocide that killed over a million people, was burned to ashes right here in this empty field. The old communist's body was cremated in a hurry; his funeral pyre was more like that befitting a pauper. His corpse was covered by a pile of old worn out tires, discarded wood, a mattress, and set alight. There were few mourners.

A man with humble beginnings, Pol Pot, the leader of the murderous Khmer Rouge, had risen so high, only to crash and burn like Icarus.

A dedicated communist, after he took over the Khmer Rouge he traveled to Beijing where he met Mao Tse Tung. While there he witnessed the oppressive excesses of Mao's Cultural Revolution. Mao's radical policies inspired Pol Pot to be even more extreme once he seized power in 1975. Favoring the Chinese brand of communism, he later led purges to execute cadres who favored Soviet style communism promoted by the Vietnamese, whom he despised.

This small shelter marks where Pol Pot's body was unceremoniously cremated.

His power over all of Cambodia was absolute. But when he ordered the Khmer Rouge to raid Vietnamese border villages hoping to seize lost territory in 1978, he sealed his own fate. The Vietnamese Army countered by invading Cambodia, with their army rolling into Phnom Penh in a matter of days. Pol Pot fled to the jungle, where he continued to lead the Khmer Rouge for years.

I look at what remains of his cremation site. A knee high wooden fence surrounding the shelter is falling apart. Clear empty bottles have been buried upside down in the ground, making a strange glass rectangular border around the base. Bits of paper and litter are scattered about. The only thing cheerful about his memorial, (if you can call it that) are some purple and white flowers growing around it. Pol Pot finally died in 1998, shortly before the long years of war in Cambodia finally ended.

Mystery and rumors surround this despot's death. He may have died from malaria, or some other jungle disease. Since Pol Pot had been reported dead in the media many times before, Cambodians didn’t believe that he was really dead when his end finally came. It was only when a journalist’s photo showing his pale corpse was published worldwide that the truth finally hit home. One of the worst genocidal maniacs in world history was finally dead. The Khmer Rouge would never return to power, and all of Cambodia breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Pol Pot ordered the horrific genocide. 

Even the location of Pol Pot's cremation site here is suspicious. It’s within sight of the Thai border, only a quarter mile away. I remember my friend Mali that had lost a leg to a landmine, she had been his cook. Pol Pot had lived in Thailand in secret for years, while he continued to lead the Khmer Rouge trying to regain power. Did he die in Cambodia, or did he really die in Thailand? Details are murky, and witnesses are still silent today.

By the time Pol Pot's final days came, he was no longer the leader of the Khmer Rouge. His second in command, Ta Mok, 'The Butcher', had mutinied against his long time friend. Ta Mok had him tried, convicted and imprisoned in a jungle hideout. Local whispers say that Ta Mok ordered him killed afterward, maybe poisoned. The timing of his death is also curious. Pol Pot died just as the Khmer Rouge were finally losing Anlong Veng, their last major stronghold against the Cambodian Army.

At the foot of the shelter site, I find a small wooden altar, with stubs of incense sticks. There’s also a small spirit house, with more used incense left by Buddhists. How ironic! Pol Pot was not only as evil as they come, but he was also a brutal atheist. Back when he was in power, he would have ordered the execution of those that he saw practicing Buddhist rituals. That doesn't stop some Buddhists today from praying to his spirit.

A small sign nailed to the corrugated metal roof, says in Khmer: “Please Respect”. That sign was placed here due to looting. Among Cambodian Buddhists, there are those who believe Pol Pot still wields power in death, and some have dug through the dirt and ashes here, and pulled out most of his bones! Some Buddhists who took them, keep the bones for 'good luck', praying to Pol Pot to help them win the lottery! How ridiculous. A few foreign tourists have also grabbed bones from the despised communist, not for good luck, bus as macabre souvenirs.

I think back to Hanoi, where I saw Ho Chi Minh's body, displayed with honor in his mausoleum. Mao and Lenin's body are still displayed in the same morbid manner, cold corpses of old communists, whose ideology died with them. But there is no display of honor for Pol Pot. His flesh is now in ashes. He escaped justice through death, but his final indignity, is that his own bones have been scattered as gruesome souvenirs and good luck charms.

Many would say, that's the exact memorial that he deserves.

POL POT'S JUNGLE HIDEOUT

This bunker was part of Pol Pot's jungle hideout, close to the border with Thailand

I’m looking at what used to be someone’s hidden jungle home. The owner of this remote abode in northern Cambodia was one of the 20th century's most genocidal maniacs.

What was once a solid military compound, has greatly deteriorated. Looking at the ruins, I can tell from the remaining foundations that there were four brick buildings. Only one has a couple of walls still standing. There are short, twin concrete water towers. Remains of a grey brick security wall no longer keep anyone out. Most of the rest of this important compound has been torn down, and carted away. Bricks were sold as scrap, or used for building elsewhere. 

This ruined home belonged to Pol Pot, the undisputed leader of the murderous Khmer Rouge.

Now that the megalomaniac that lived here is gone, nature is taking over again. Weeds creep up through cracks in the foundations. The wind blows leaves and dirt across broken tiles. Saplings are growing on the untrimmed lawn.

Pol Pot, genocidal Khmer Rouge leader

There is only one structure here that is nearly intact; an old bunker near the edge of the mountain ridge. 

I climb atop the red brick shelter, and peer through the young brush. I have a commanding view of this land east of Choam. This house in Cambodia looks like nothing now, but it still has a great view over the vast plain far below.

His real name was 'Saloth Sar', and he was born in a village near Kompong Thom in 1925. At one time he worked as a carpenter. Ironic that he worked in a building trade, since he went on to lead the destruction of his own country.

In his student years, he went to study in France. It was there that he was introduced to radical communism (just like Ho Chi Minh before him.) Although the communist party in Cambodia was first founded and led by other Khmers, Pol Pot later took over the party in 1963, when few had ever heard of him.

As I look around his former compound, I find it rather small for such a powerful leader. Did Pol Pot actually spend much time here? Much like the celebrated home of Ho Chi Minh that I saw in Hanoi, and the cave home of Kaysone that I saw in Laos, the number of nights that Pol Pot actually slept here is disputed. 

2 Army guards helped push-start our car

This remote compound wasn’t even built until after 1978, when the Vietnamese Army drove the Khmer Rouge out of Phnom Penh and out into the jungles. The reason that Pol Pot had a house built for him here, was the proximity to the Thai border. Whenever a Vietnamese or Cambodian Army offensive threatened to capture the Khmer Rouge leadership, they simply fled to safety out of reach in Thailand, only a few kilometers north.

There are two unarmed soldiers guarding this infamous house. I approach the sargeant in charge, a short soldier with a boyish face. 

“Where are you from?” I ask.

“Siem Reap Province,” he answers.

“Were you Khmer Rouge?” I inquire.

“No, I Hun Sen Army,” he says proudly. There’s no question where his allegiances lie. The other soldier wearing a tee shirt also says his loyalty is to Hun Sen. Apparently the Hun Sen government doesn’t trust the former Khmer Rouge soldiers that live down the road to guard the house of Pol Pot. That's not surprising. They were once 'comrades', until Hun Sen defected to Pol Pot's sworn enemy, the Vietnamese.

The lowest level below is now occupied by snakes

With the soldiers watching, I check out the bunker. The doors are gone, looted long ago. Two small entrances lead into the bunker's lower basement, where nature’s debris has taken root, along with a few animals. I peer down into the shadows, and hear some rustling movement in the debris.

“Snakes down there,” my guide Shanghai says. Somehow, it's fitting that Pol Pot’s bunker has become a snake pit.

We shake hands with the lonely soldiers, and say goodbye. We climb into Shanghai's car, only to discover that the battery is dead.

The two helpful 'Hun Sen' soldiers and I give it a push start, Shanghai's old vehicle sputters to life, and we’re on our way out. 

As we leave the genocidal leader's house in our rear view mirror, I’m thankful that I don’t have to spend a night out here in the jungle.

Most of the compound was looted; 2 old water towers remain

WAR CRIMINAL'S HOME

Gaudy murals are on the walls of the war criminal's home

I'm in the former Khmer Rouge stronghold town of Anlong Veng, and I'm entering the most important house in town. This home once belonged to a man born as “Chit Choeun”. He is better known to the world by his nom de guerre: “Ta Mok”. His victims had another name for him: “The Butcher”.

This house is not that of a simple communist. It's a big compound, two big cinder block houses sitting on a hill. In a poor place like Cambodia, that makes this place something like a mansion.

I walk up the stairs, and enter the home of one of the world's worst war criminals, who ordered thousands killed. There’s no furniture in his house; it's all been looted. But the floor tiles show that Ta Mok could afford luxuries that few other Cambodians could.

Looking at the walls, I’m surprised to see big, gaudy murals! They depict the ancient temples of Angkor Wat and Preah Vihear. Another shows a jungle scene with animals. As for the artist's skill, it looks as though a high school art student painted them. I wonder if Ta Mok ever realized, that the reason he couldn’t find a competent artist, was because he and his Khmer Rouge goons had already killed them all.

Ta Mok's looted lair is atop a hill in Anlong Veng

I walk up to the next level, and find another wall painting; a large, detailed map of Cambodia. Ta Mok may have planned his military operations here. The corner of the room opens up to a balcony, so I step out for a look. His home overlooks a lake; old Ta Mok had the best view in town.

This shallow lake wasn't always here, it was created by a dam built during the years of forced labor under the Khmer Rouge. This recently made artificial lake that surrounds his house, has killed all the trees. At this time of year it’s not even a lake, it's more of a swamp. Add environmental destruction to Ta Mok's list of crimes.

Across the water on a dry section by the swampy lake, is what appears to be an outhouse. I heard this used to be Pol Pot’s Anlong Veng residence. That small structure is all that remains, the rest was looted, including the bricks.

Further north by the Thai border, Ta Mok had another home. Most of his buildings there had been looted and torn down too, leaving only foundations. Only a strange, one room wood and concrete building remains there. Also looted, the doors and even the floor were gone. Graffiti in several languages lines the walls. The largest lettering said, “TA MOK, ASSASSIN DE L’HISTOIRE”. (Ta Mok, assassin of history.) The only resident still living in that house was a stray dog.

View from Ta Mok's window has 'Pol Pot's outhouse' at center

Here in Anlong Veng, I walk into one of the Butcher's empty bedrooms. POW! I smack my head on a low doorway. Sometimes, it's not good to be tall. This house was built specifically for Ta Mok, apparently he was short. I wonder if he had a Napolean complex.

There's nothing else to see in his looted house, so I walk out into the yard. There’s a constant ring of cowbells, as loose cattle are roaming the grounds. I walk over to a garage area. There are two tiger cages in here. Given his nickname, I wonder what Ta Mok kept in these cages, tigers, or people. Out in the yard, is a Chinese made police wagon. The engine and front wheels are gone, but the prisoner compartment on the back is still intact. It’s painted a sinister black. The bars on the windows are slightly bent. Were these bars bent by the hands of desperate prisoners, sent to their deaths by Ta Mok?

Ta Mok was a hardened communist, but I still wonder, what drove him to murder so many of his own people? He had lost a leg in combat in 1970, did that turn him even more violent? (I've noted a sick trend of lost body parts among Khmer Rouge leaders. Duch, the warden of the S-21 torture center, had lost a thumb. The current deputy governor of Anlong Veng Province, he had lost an arm. Hun Sen, the current Prime Minister/dictator, he lost an eye. Did losing body parts bring out the evil in these men?)

In the late 1990's, the noose finally began to close around the Khmer Rouge. The end of the long war drew near, and the last major town they held in Cambodia was Anlong Veng. As such, Ta Mok was the last major Khmer Rouge leader arrested for war crimes; he was finally captured in 1999 in Thailand just across the border. Even bribery couldn't save him anymore.

Truck used for transporting unfortunate prisoners during the Khmer Rouge genocide era

Leaving the Butcher's home, I walk down the highway to the town cemetery, where I find a pile of rubble. This is where Ta Mok's story ends. He died in prison in 2006, denying his victims the satisfaction of a trial, and his body was brought here to Anlong Veng. 

I'm looking at his former gravesite, a pile of red bricks, white pillars, and concrete. Given Cambodia’s current poverty, his tomb was fairly elaborate and expensive. 

If this memorial was torn down by angry survivors, or by families of his victims, that would be understandable. But it wasn't. Unfortunately, his tomb was torn down to make room for a larger, more elaborate, expensive gravesite. They are totally redoing the Butcher's mausoleum!

This new memorial to a monster is supposedly being paid for by Ta Mok's extended family; they still live in town. They own three better than average homes out by the main highway. It seems his family managed to keep some of their patriarch’s ill gotten wealth after the peace agreement.

Genocidal Ta Mok's 'new' tomb under construction

Despite the fact that he ordered the execution of Buddhist monks, and the destruction of Buddhist pagodas, Ta Mok's mausoleum is being built in Buddhist Khmer style. Images of the Buddha, nagas, and elephants are all beneath the layered rooftops. Inside, a large concrete slab covers his grave. 

It’s an elaborate, ironic mausoleum. Back during his days as a communist general, Ta Mok would have ordered the execution of anyone who would have built a Buddhist memorial, such as this one that is being built for him here! It's as if Ta Mok's family is trying to rewrite history.

As I watch, Khmer workmen clamber up the scaffolding, and work on the roof. Still under construction, the edifice is merely a bland grey cement color. It should be painted red, for the blood of all the innocents that he ordered murdered.

Laborers build a Buddhist mausoleum for a radical communist!

But whatever color it is painted, the paint job probably won’t last. Once the mausoleum is completed, it probably won’t be long before spray paint covers this 'glorious' mausoleum with graffiti strewn condemnations. 

In Ta Mok's case, those condemnations are well deserved. 

Infamous war criminal Ta Mok (Archive photo)

WORKED TO DEATH

At this 'gas station' our fuel comes from a plastic bottle

I'm far off the tourist trail, in a tuk-tuk traveling down a dusty dirt road in Cambodia. I'm south of the city of Battambang, in what used to be dangerous, hard core Khmer Rouge territory. A roadside sign directs us towards Kamping Poi, where my wise local guide Sok is taking me. Approaching a small shop on this bumpy road, our driver pulls inn.

We need gas, but there’s no petrol pump at this shop. Instead, a Khmer woman with a towel over her head walks out of the door, carrying a plastic bottle that looks like orange soda. She dumps the entirety in the gas tank. Apparently this passes for gasoline around here. This little hole-in-the-wall is an odd place to shop, but Sok walks inside to buy a few things. I don't know it yet, but his purchases will later surprise me, and make me feel guilty about this whole trip.

We resume and drive ahead through poor farming villages, stopping on a wide dirt road. Getting out, I see trees on both sides. To one side through the greenery, is a vast lake, Kamping Poi. It's huge. Other than Tonle Sap Lake, this is the largest I've seen in Cambodia. But this isn’t a natural lake. It's a reservoir, created by the hated Khmer Rouge regime, with a very high human cost.

Road atop dike built by slave labor. Thousands died here.

“They build Kamping Poi by hand,” Sok tells me. “No machine.” The dike which created this reservoir, was built with slave labor between 1975 – 1978.

I look at this unnatural dam we're standing on, and it's huge. “They fill this,” Sok says motioning to the immense dike, “eight kilometers (long).”

Life for the unfortunate Khmers who were forced to work here as slave labor, was nothing but never ending back breaking work. Conditions were abominable. “Work six am to six pm,” Sok says. “They smell like animal after three to four days. Over there river. Every five day or seven day, they let people have bath.”

With such a low level of hygiene, combined with overwork and scant food, many of the Khmers that suffered here didn’t survive. As many as 10,000 people died working on Kamping Poi from the slave labor conditions.

Khmer Rouge forced labor site. Thousands died from overwork and starvation. (Photo: Cambodia Government)

“They die of diarrhea, they die of starvation, they die of fever here,” Sok tells me.

Since the Khmer Rouge were obsessed with collective farming, the Kamping Poi reservoir was built to improve irrigation for the surrounding rice paddies. “5,000 hectares of rice field over there,” Sok points out to me. So two people died for each hectare of irrigation? What insanity.

The Khmer Rouge destroyed so much in Cambodia. This dike is one of the few things they built that still survives today. But as with everything else those communist maniacs did, it was only built by destroying many lives in the process.

We walk to another part of the dike, overlooking a concrete sluiceway. The flood gates here are lined up one after the other, to control the reservoir water levels. After the Khmer Rouge were forced from power this section collapsed. It was only rebuilt with foreign aid a few years ago. I’ll bet nobody died rebuilding this.

Once the site of brutal tragedy, the scenic reservoir is now a site for weekend picnics

Walking back along the shoreline, I find simple thatch shelters with hammocks hanging inside. They're empty today, but on weekends folks from Battambang who can afford it, drive here to picnic and enjoy the scenery. It’s hard to believe that a place that was built at the cost of so many lives, has become a place of relaxation and fun for families. But such is Cambodia.

I peer out over the vast waters of the reservoir, and one side of the lake appears to have many bright green islands, which are curiously dotted with pink. These are not actually islands, but enormous bunches of lily pads. The pink dots I see are flowers.

Also out on the water, are several small boats filled with Khmers on holiday. At this point I learn, that this reservoir is a very sad place for Sok. His son died here. He didn’t die here from the Khmer Rouge years, but afterward. His son came here one day, and went out boating. He fell into the water, and didn’t know how to swim. Sok doesn’t like going to Kamping Poi, but he came today because I wanted to come here.

A wave of guilt washes over me. Now I feel like a heel for having him bring me here. I've brought Sok back to one of the saddest places that he knows.

Still, Sok is making the most of his visit. Since we've traveled all the way here from Battambang, he planned on leaving a Buddhist offering for his departed son. Now I know why Sok went into that roadside shop earlier today. While our tuk-tuk got gas, he went inside to buy food for his offering. He explains his gifts for his son: “He like coconut, he like sugar, he like noodle.” His son's favorite foods, Sok bought them all.

My translator and guide Sok

We drive further on atop this dike of sadness, and stop. I stay near the tuk-tuk to give Sok his privacy. He walks through the brush and down the slope, pausing to pray and leave his offering for his son at the lake’s edge. His devotion is touching.

I've seen all I needed to at Kamping Poi, and soon we're back on the long dirt road, headed towards the highway. Along the way we pass a long forested ridge, known as 'Crocodile Mountain'. It’s well named; the outline of the ridge looks much like the horizontal reptile. Some of the very first Khmer Rouge attacks took place in Battambang Province way back in 1968, and they continued to fight trying to hold this mountain well into the 1990's. Who would have thought that the war here would be going on for three long decades?

Sok tells me that there was a lot of see-saw fighting in villages along this road, especially during harvest time. “1995, have lot of fighting here between government and Khmer Rouge,” he tells me. “In morning, government come fighting, get rice. In evening, Khmer Rouge fighting, get rice.”

Those who were wounded here had a long, deadly trip ahead of them, as medical care in these villages was non-existent. “No ambulance,” Sok says. “Then, the wounded take eight hour (to) get to Battambang. Then no road. They go in hammock, or oxcart. Sometime die.”

As we travel slowly on this bumpy dirt road, I see some local farmers lounging outside their shack homes. Many of these men are ex-Khmer Rouge fighters. Back during the war, they would have killed or kidnapped any westerners they found, so I'm wondering if any of these men might still pose a threat to me. But Sok says not to worry.

“Here no problem. If you here 8 pm, (when it’s dark) your motorbike broken, they help you,” Sok reassures me. “They give you dinner. They take you back to Battambang. Good people.”

Sok (at right) views the lake atop the repaired flood gates

“Now peace everywhere. No problem,” Sok continues. Given that Sok lost many family members to the Khmer Rouge genocide, I'm surprised he shows no anger towards them. “Khmer Rouge people, normal people, we combine. Live together, no problem. Take away communist (communism), simple people.” I imagine that his Buddhist faith has something to do with his attitude.

We finally reach the dirt 'highway'. Bumping along in the tuk-tuk, we pass a roadside billboard with Khmer writing showing an M-16 rifle that's been cut in half. Sok tells me it's for a disarmament campaign. After the war ended, they needed to get all those deadly weapons away from ex-Khmer Rouge.

“All the guns turn in now,” Sok says to me at first, but then he thinks better of it. “Some bad people still have (guns),” Sok says, “they hide.” I quiz Sok to clarify who 'they' are, and he's referring to bandits.

Sok told me earlier that it was now safe here in the evening, and yet, some 'bad people' here still have machine guns?

With this news, I'm glad we're on our way out of here. I'm glad we'll be back in Battambang before it gets dark.

SURVIVORS AND JUSTICE IN BATTAMBANG

Old French colonial buildings in Battambang

Sok has a shocking story of survival. He's lucky to be alive, like so many others that lived through the years of the Khmer Rouge genocide. 

But today, he's my guide and translator. Sok is 67 years old, and I tell him he looks much young for his age. He runs his fingers over his head, and tells me, “I paint my hair.”

He’s better dressed than your average Cambodian; wearing dark dress pants and a collared pink shirt. He looks like a teacher, except for the safari hat he wears for shade.

Years ago, Sok used to be a French teacher until Khmer Rouge guerrillas overran the country. He apologizes for his English; it’s not as good as his French. I tell him his English is better than many other translators I’ve had in Cambodia. Driving through the northwestern city of Battambang, I learn his story.

When the Khmer Rouge captured Battambang, his hometown, Sok wisely hid the fact that he was a French teacher. The Khmer Rouge hated colonial influences. I ask him what happened, the day the city fell to the Khmer Rouge. Sok says, “Khmer Rouge say all rich man, all teacher, go on bus. They say 'go to Phnom Penh to see (King) Sihanouk'. They go three, five kilometers on the road, and (they were all) killed.” Demonstrating, Sok makes a slash motion across his throat with his hand. During the course of the day, he uses this motion often, as he tells me how the Khmer Rouge executed many people.

Rice paddies here are among the richest in Cambodia

Escaping death that day, Sok and the city's population were forced to march into the countryside.

“In 1975, I work rice fields. I tell (Khmer Rouge) I from poor family in the country,” he explains. “If I tell them my history, they cut.” Then Sok makes the throat slashing gesture again. Sok was forced into slave labor on a farming commune. He says Battambang Province is big on agriculture, and very fertile with the best land for growing rice in the country. He says they used to load rice onto boats on the Stung Sangker River, sending it south all the way to Phnom Penh.

“It’s good soil here,” Sok says. He describes how they worked the fields all day, harvesting crops. The Khmer Rouge took it all. They took all food, and cooked it only for themselves. They gave the field workers nothing.

“There was very little food. Maybe no food,” he says of those awful years. “(My) three brother died from starvation.” Sok's sister died too.

I ask Sok how he managed to survive, while others died around him. “I eat everything,” he answers. “I eat leaf, small frog, insect. I eat like dog.”

Finally, the day came when the communists fled. “I free from Khmer Rouge when Vietnam Army and Khmer Army push Khmer Rouge to the Thailand border,” Sok recalls. “I free April 25, 1979. I very happy. Very happy,” he continues. “I cannot compare my happiness.”

Sok left the commune, walking for days in search of food. He passed many weak, malnourished seniors by the road on the way. “It was very difficult. I see many old people, sit under tree, no rice,” he recalls sadly of the dying elders he saw. Nearly starved himself, he could do nothing to help them.

Our tuk-tuk heads south on a Cambodian 'highway'

Eventually, he made his way back home. “I go to Battambang City,” he says. “Three months after, they need me to be a teacher.” He returned to his chosen profession. The Khmer Rouge had abolished currency, so there was no money for his salary. So he was paid with rice.

Sadly, his tough times didn't end after the Khmer Rouge years ended. In the 1980's his wife was killed by a drunk driver. He managed to raise his three children himself, and support their education. One son became a math teacher; he tragically died in a drowning accident. His other son became a banker. His daughter immigrated to Australia.

As I listen to Sok, our tuk-tuk (motorcycle-trike-taxi) continues through Battambang, Cambodia’s second largest city. Crossing the Old Iron Bridge, we head through the town center. Looking through a wrought iron fence, I spot large old yellow buildings. “Before in 1904, the governor stay there,” Sok says, pointing to a well preserved colonial mansion. It still houses government offices today. Sok is old enough to remember the colonial years; he’s a great source on local history. We pass two fabulous looking French mansions, and I ask who lived there during colonial times.

“Rich French, or rich Khmers," Sok says. Back in colonial times, Khmer elite wanted to emulate the French. But not all of Battambang's old French buildings are preserved, as many were torn down in the name of progress. We pass a downtown construction site. “Years ago, that was prison,” he says. “Now they build market.”

Ieng Sary on trial for crimes against humanity

We head west out of Battambang, and the road turns rural. This road is safe enough, but many nearby villages have yet to be cleared of landmines and old munitions. Shortly before my visit, a local woman and her teenage son were killed outside Battambang when their oxcart rolled over an anti-tank mine. The scourge of landmines still claims innocent lives here. 

Sok describes the journey ahead. “Up there, road not like this,” he says. “Bad road.” True to his word, soon our tuk-tuk is off the blacktop, and on a It's a slow, dusty dirt highway. Motorbikes, tuk-tuks, and trucks loaded with cargo pass in both directions.

“This road to Pailin,” Sok informs me, as the paved road ends and we continue on aj reddish dirt road full of potholes. When the Khmer Rouge fled from Battambang, they weren't completely defeated. Pailin became one of their remote hideouts by the Thai border. By the 1990's, cold war support for the Khmer Rouge disappeared, so they turned to the black market for money.

“There many gemstone and ruby (mines). They cut down tree, they dig gemstone. Now, all gone,” Sok says. The Khmer Rouge sold lumber and gems from Pailin to Thailand, with the help of unscrupulous Thai generals. This black market economy kept the guerrillas equipped well enough to fight on for years.

“Ieng Sary, Khieu Samphan, Nuon Chea had house in Pailin,” Sok says. These former Khmer Rouge politburo members, pushed on in their losing war from their border hideout.

A Buddhist memorial for those murdered at the caves

With the war dragging on, in 1996 Ieng Sary and 3000 of his fighters finally defected from the Khmer Rouge, making their own separate peace with the Cambodian government. It was a giant leap towards ending the war. That separate peace didn’t keep them from being arrested later though. All three of these communist radicals ended up in a Phnom Penh prison, on trial for genocide at the Khmer Rouge Tribunal.

Even though Ieng Sary went to prison and died during his trial, his family still has some power in Pailin. Sadly, his son Ieng Vuth is now deputy governor there. They still have influence in Battambang too. “Nuon Chea family have house in Battambang,” Sok says. “He from rich family.”

Our tuk tuk passes a tree covered hill with a Buddhist pagoda and stupa visible at the top. This is Phnom Sameau. I'd like to go up for a look, but Sok stops me. What's up there is a very sad memorial. “This killing field too,” Sok says somberly. “They have one cave for adult, have one cave for the children. (Khmer Rouge) kill baby with rock. The other cave for the parents. I don’t like see that."

What Sok is trying to tell Me, is that he doesn’t want to go to that horrific place again. I don't blame him. I’ve already seen too many cracked skulls and human bones at other killing fields during my stay in Cambodia, so I agree to travel on. We continue in our tuk tuk, heading down the bumpy dirt road. Next stop: the scenic, and tragic site of Kamping Poi.  

MEET AN EX-KHMER ROUGE SOLDIER

My driver Non is an ex-Khmer Rouge soldier!

When I’m traveling overseas and need a taxi or motorbike taxi, I always look for the oldest driver I can find. Old men usually drive safer than younger men, and they are less likely to cheat you. 

My Cambodian driver today is Non. He's 65 years old and short, with salt and pepper hair. When he smiles I see a blackened socket where one of his teeth should be. Despite his need for dental work, I chose well today, he's been a good driver. But it’s a good thing that he only has a 120cc motorbike. Non is so short, that he’s not tall enough to handle anything bigger. 

He's bringing me and my translator back from the former rebel village of Svay Samsep. Since it's a hot day, we stop at a highway cafe for a cold drink on our way back to Neak Luong. While we enjoy our drinks and chat, that's when I learn the truth about Non. 

He's an ex-Khmer Rouge soldier! 

Non was originally from a village called Snoul, about 10 miles away. He was from a farming family, and after his father died, he moved to Neak Luong. At the age of 20, he became a Buddhist monk. 

When the Prime Minister, King Sihanouk,  was removed in a coup, he decided to fight. He wasn't drafted, or forced to pick up a gun. He chose to go to war on his own, a surprising choice for a Buddhist monk.

“I go by myself,” he says. “Sihanouk called me. To go to the forest, to the hills.” Sihanouk's radio broadcasts urged young men like him to join up with the communist Khmer Rouge. Like thousands of other rural folk, he blindly followed the king. 

Non tells me he was a Khmer Rouge soldier for 2 1/2 years, although he refers to that time as when he was 'fighting for King Sihanouk'. He once saw the old king, back in Mondulkiri during the war. Sihanouk had not yet been betrayed by the Khmer Rouge, and he was rallying the troops. “He said every soldier must try and try again, to take the country back,” Non recalled. “We must make peace for the people.” 

Making peace by going to war doesn’t make sense now, but it did to his loyal subjects back then. Sadly, neither Non nor Sihanouk knew that the group that they had joined would turn genocidal and kill over a million Cambodian civilians, including some of the king's own family. Just like Sihanouk, young Non was duped.

Sihanouk (center) regretted joining the communists

Non's Khmer Rouge unit fought in the same area where we had traveled through earlier in the day, around Phnom Cheu Kach. Fighting there was so intense, that those hills are still full of landmines and unexploded munitions today. I ask Non if he was scared when they used to get bombed by B-52 bombers. 

“Scared or not scared, no problem,” he says. “I love my country. If I die, that’s ok. I’m very happy to die for Cambodia.”

He admits to killing just one person during his time as a Khmer Rouge. The man he killed was a government soldier.“I killed one in battle, but I didn’t want to, because he was another Khmer,” he says. “I had to fight. I had to shoot, but I didn’t want to.” Given the massive number of civilians killed by the Khmer Rouge, I don't know if I believe him. 

Non left the Khmer Rouge when their first war ended in 1975, and like everyone else in the country, he became a farmer on a forced labor commune. As he was of marrying age, the Khmer Rouge leader of his commune later selected his wife for him. He was in his 30’s, his wife in her 20’s. For a blind marriage that was arranged by cult-like communist radicals, this one worked. Non and his wife are still together today, with six sons and two daughters. 

Non's wife also came from a poor family, which made her a good fit for the Khmer Rouge. “My wife is illiterate, she didn't go to school,” Non tells me. “Pol Pot Regime made her a nurse.” She’s still a nurse now, and even delivers babies. With so many illiterate nurses, it’s no wonder that the health care system in Cambodia is still a disaster. 

I ask Non when life was better in Cambodia, before the Khmer Rouge, or after their era. He angles his answer back to his beloved king again.  

“I love the family life during the Sihanouk Regime,” he says. “Now it’s bad for living. There's government corruption. The poor have problems; the rich and the foreign companies have so much.” 

These complaints sound exactly like those used by the Khmer Rouge to attract recruits back in the 1970’s. So I ask him, “If the king asked you to go to the hills now, to go fight again, would you go?”

His answer is chilling, and there's no hesitation on his part. “Yes. Sihanouk is a very good leader. He take care of the people.” It seems that Non didn't learn anything from the genocide of the Khmer Rouge years. Much like the Nazi's, he's content to just follow orders. 

So I've been sitting here, having a chat with an Ex-Khmer Rouge, one of the most murderous regimes in history, and he has no regrets. And I bought him a soy bean milk too. 

I head back to Neak Luong, and then on to Phnom Penh. On the way, I think about this ex-Khmer Rouge soldier, and his lack of remorse for joining them. I guess for some people, ignorance is bliss. 


*Added Note* The above discussion with the Ex-Khmer Rouge soldier, took place before King Sihanouk's death.

KILLING FIELD

Leg bone and clothing of Khmer Rouge victims lie exposed

I'm out in the Cambodian countryside, walking down a well worn dirt path. Looking down, I spot what looks like a tree root protruding from the dirt. It catches my eye, because unlike dark tree roots, it’s white. That’s when I realize, I'm not looking at a tree root at all.

It’s a bone, a human leg bone!

Where I’m standing, is in the middle of a killing field. From 1975 – 1978, there were 17,000 people murdered here by the Khmer Rouge. Most were innocent civilians.

Everyone has heard of the 'killing fields' due to the movie of the same name, and I'm visiting one for the first time. This killing field is known as Choeng Ek, located eight miles south of Phnom Penh. Here is where the guards of Tuol Sleng prison sent all of their victims  to be executed and buried.

As I walk further along the path, I see dirty pieces of clothing of every color, lying all over the ground. This isn’t discarded garbage, this was clothing of the victims buried here. Like the bones I see, pieces of clothing have gradually been uncovered and surfaced over the years from excavations and erosion. Much of it has been left in place. This is one giant crime scene.

Buddhist monks walk by excavated mass graves

Four Buddhist monks pass by on the path, while I look at burial pits to either side of me. Walking between the pits, even more parts of bones are visible protruding from the earth. Here a broken leg bone is sticking out. There is part of a skull. This killing field is made up of numerous mass graves. Pit after pit after pit, the shocking total is 129 mass graves in all.  

To bear witness to the atrocities committed here, signs were posted on the site. Those beneath two nearby thatched roof enclosures, need no further explanation.

“MASS GRAVE OF 166 VICTIMS WITHOUT HEADS”

“MASS GRAVE OF 450 VICTIMS”

This killing field isn’t exactly a field, as some trees are scattered throughout. I come to a large tree, with a stack of leg and arm bones piled up at its base. Apparently, human bones are occasionally gathered up, and placed into piles at locations around the site. A sign next to the tree says, “MAGIC TREE…THE TREE WAS USED AS A TOOL TO HANG A LOUDSPEAKER WHICH MAKE SOUND LOUDER TO AVOID THE MOANB OF VICTIMS WHILE THEY WERE BEING EXECUTED”. Just how did they get ‘Magic Tree’, out of something so horrible?

Children were killed here. Other bones at right.

The Khmer Rouge didn’t have the money, or the know how to make gas chambers and crematoriums like the Nazis did. So they brought their victims here, to what used to be an old cemetery. The Khmer Rouge wanted to save money on bullets, so few were shot here. Most of their victims here were beaten to death, or stabbed. Their tools of death included steel rods, bamboo poles, axes, hoes, shovels, and knives.

Another large, leaning tree, with another pile of bones at it’s base, has a sign that is even more disturbing. “KILLING TREE AGAINST WHICH EXECUTIONERS BEAT CHILDREN”.

In the first year of the genocide, it was mostly the civilians with ‘soft hands’ that were executed here. That meant that the victims were non-farmers, such as teachers, businessmen, white collar workers, and the educated class. There are a few westerners buried here as well, and foreigners that were married to Cambodians.

By the final year of killing here, there were no more enemies from the old regime left to execute. By that time, the Khmer Rouge were killing their own. Their paranoia and violence had been turned on each other. In a Cambodian version of the Red Terror, communists turned on communists, making false accusations to turn in political rivals. This is when the more Vietnamese oriented Eastern Zone of Cambodia became the number one target of the Khmer Rouge. Many cadres and soldiers from that region ended up buried here. The current Prime Minister Hun Sen, was a Khmer Rouge cadre from that area. The only reason he wasn't killed by his comrades, was because he managed to escape and flee to Vietnam.

Another twisted modus operandi of the Khmer Rouge, was their extensive use of child soldiers. That method was used here, as many of the executioners at Choeng Ek were only teenagers! As Pol Pot sought to 'purify' Cambodia, he had many executioners that were between 13 to 19 years old. 

Photos of Tuol Sleng victims buried at Choeng Ek. Those killed here include women and children.

On some days, more than 300 people were murdered at this site. Killing here was like a factory, and most victims were killed by hand. The executioners killed not just men, but also women and children. The mental and emotional trauma of murdering so many people by hand was more than many of the executioners could handle. Over time, many of them could just not deal with the horror of their actions. Some went crazy, rebelled, or deserted, only to be caught and returned. In an ironic end for them, those executioners who tried to escape, were brought back to be killed in this very place, where they themselves had killed others. (This had also happened to some of torturers at Tuol Sleng prison.) Still others were faithful communists doing their duty to the end, but were betrayed by other cadres, falsely accused, and executed.  

After the fall of the Khmer Rouge, the Vietnamese led government began excavations here in 1980. Of the 129 mass graves here, 86 were excavated. The diggers found heads were often buried separately, so they were unable to match heads to their original bodies. The pits were dug deep, corpses were usually crammed together, with bodies stacked high. They dug up more than 8,900 corpses, before finally halting the excavations. I’m aware that as I tread lightly around the paths of this killing field, directly beneath my feet are the remains of thousands of more victims, still interred where they were originally buried.

Memorial stupa, with remains inside

As time has passed, some signs of life have returned to this somber place. Birds are chirping in the trees, and an occasional butterfly floats by. Free range chickens peck at the dirt. Goats and cows chew on grass beyond the border fence. Since they didn't excavate all of the mass graves, the cows are probably grazing right on top of them. A tragic fact, is that this is only one of the many killing fields across in Cambodia. A survey done after the war, found that there are at least 389 mass graves across the country.

Choeng Ek has few surviving buildings. The old Khmer Rouge office, detention building, and sheds were torn down by scavengers long ago. But there is one tall building; a memorial stupa built in 1988.

I approach the structure apprehensively, knowing what's inside. (I saw a similar stupa for Vietnamese massacred by the Khmer Rouge, across the border in Vietnam.) From a distance, it looks only like a whitish tower with windows. The familiar sloping Khmer rooftop with heads of snake-like nagas point up from the corners. As I get closer, I see what is behind the windows. Skulls. Layers and layers of human skulls, with shelves reaching higher and higher. There have to be thousands of human skulls here.

Surprisingly, the door isn't locked. My guide opens it, and gestures me to enter. I slowly step inside. Solo flute music floats down from somewhere. The stupa has 17 levels to symbolize April 17th, the day that Khmer Rouge rule began in 1975. I walk around the interior looking at them, level after level, skull after skull. They all stare right back at me, with their dark empty eyes. I remember all those enlarged photos of the faces of condemned prisoners back in the Tuol Sleng prison; they ended up executed here. I look at all of these skulls lined up together, staring back at me. These aren’t  just pictures on a wall any more. These are the genuine faces of death. The question comes to me, that comes to all visitors who see this. Why? Why? It’s a question no civilized person can answer. It’s answered only in the twisted logic, the barbarity, the insanity that made up the murderous mindset of the Khmer Rouge communists.

Inside the stupa, are shelves stacked with skulls of Khmer Rouge victims

Exiting the tower, on steps next to the stupa, I encounter a steel rod, with leg irons looped through it. If prisoners arriving on Chinese trucks got here too late at night for executions, these leg irons were put over their ankles. The condemned were all forced to lie in a row, shackled to the same steel rod. There are enough leg irons here to shackle six people together. Some of the leg irons here look too small to fit around an adult’s ankle. My guide says that in that case, the guards would break the prisoner’s ankle, to make it fit.

Choeng Ek has its greatest number of annual visitors on May 20th, the local Memorial Day, when many Khmers who lost relatives here come to remember them. My guide says he's been here then, and that many seniors cry.

One of the signs I read as I’m about to leave, gives the best description I’ve seen yet of the Khmer Rouge leaders.

“THE METHOD OF MASSACRE WHICH THE CLIQUE OF POL POT CRIMINALS WAS CARRIED UPON THE INNOCENT PEOPLE OF KAMPUCHEA (CAMBODIA) CANNOT BE DESCRIBED FULLY AND CLEARLY IN WORDS BECAUSE THE INVENTION OF THIS KILLING METHOD WAS STRANGELY CRUEL SO IT IS DIFFICULT OR US TO DETERMINE WHO THEY ARE FOR : THEY HAVE THE HUMAN FORM BUT THEIR HEARTS ARE DEMON’S HEARTS, THEY HAVE GOT THE KHMER FACE BUT THEIR ACTIVITIES ARE PURELY REACTIONARY. THEY WANTED TO TRANSFORM CAMPUCHEAN PEOPLE INTO A GROUP OF PERSONS WITHOUT REASON OR A GROUP WHO KNEW AND UNDERSTOOD NOTHING, WHO ALWAYS BENT THEIR HEADS TO CARRY OUT ANKAR’S ORDERS BLINDLY THEY HAD EDUCATED AND TRANSFORMED YOUNG PEOPLE AND THE ADOLESCENT WHOSE HEARTS ARE PURE, GENTLE AND MODEST INTO ODIOUS EXECUTIONERS WHO DARED TO KILL THE INNOCENT AND EVEN THEIR OWN PARENTS, RELATIVES OR FRIENDS.”

Some executioners survived those years, and remain free to this day. They have never been arrested for their crimes here at this killing field. I asked my guide what he thought about the Khmer Rouge who are alive today, and he told me, “We forgive them, but we never forget.”