TEMPLE OF THE LAST HOLDOUT

The roof collapsed on this old temple building in Preah Vihear

I’m at the ancient Preah Vihear temple site, where Thai troops have recently had gun battles with Cambodia soldiers over control of the temple. There’s no shooting today. So far.

It’s a long climb up the ancient stone block steps, and eventually I reach the top. To Khmer worshipers of old, perhaps this was a metaphorical climb towards heaven.

With sore legs after the climb, I reach the top, The old temple sits on a stone platform, and it’s somewhat ruined. The roof has totally collapsed, leaving immense stone pillars and beams. Some stones are jacked up by strong wooden supports, to keep them from collapsing further. 

The style is obviously the same as the temples at Angkor Wat. It makes me wonder why the Thais would want to fight for this temple, when it was so obviously built for a Khmer king.

As I look around, a Cambodian policeman walks up. I discover that he speaks a fair amount of English; his name is Kuhn. He says there’s no fighting here today, (at least not yet,) so he offers to show me around the temple.

Barbed wire blocks the border to Thailand

From high up on here the hill, I can see well over the line of control onto the Thai side of the border. On the horizon is a vast green plain, eastern Thailand. On a nearby hill, I can make out a couple of Thai civilians walking down a modern paved road that ends at the closed border. No wonder so many Thais used to come here before, they didn’t have to endure the long trip on a nasty dirt road I just traveled. They could take nice air conditioned buses all the way here, walk across the border, visit the temple, walk back to the bus, and be way back in Thailand before dinner. But not anymore, the border is closed due to the recent fighting.

There are few buildings visible on the Thai side, it’s mostly trees and brush.

Kuhn points to a prominent white government border building flying the Thai flag. “Ta Mok’s house was there,” he tells me. This is the third house I’ve seen that belonged to the murderous Khmer Rouge war chief. I wonder how many more houses he had.

From this high vantage point, I can look down on the Cambodian Army’s dugouts and bunkers. Trenches cross over the hill, and out of sight. I don’t see any such fortifications on the Thai side, but they are over there somewhere, well camouflaged.

Kuhn takes me behind the temple, onto a long, wide walkway reaching up the hill. It’s made entirely of heavy stone blocks, and has many more stones than the temple I just saw. It must have been a monumental effort to haul these blocks up the mountains, all those centuries ago.

View of conflict zone. On left: Thailand. On right: path for Cambodia soldiers along trench line.

Continuing up the hill, we reach another temple building, bigger than the first. I discover that Preah Vihear isn’t one temple building, but several, with adjacent shrines and a pool. This place is bigger than I thought.

I explore two more temple buildings, one has elaborate carvings and a collapsed roof above. The other is a stone Khmer style tower. Curiously, a large green tree is growing out of the roof.

Kuhn points out his temporary house off to the side, not 100m from the temples. Between the trees are some lean-tos, and flimsy buildings. “I live there with my wife and daughter,” he tells me.

For years, nobody could live on that land, as it’s a former minefield.

Heavy stone blocks make a path connecting the temples

Back in the 1980’s when the Vietnamese communists occupied Cambodia, many Khmer Rouge fighters were crossing back and forth from sanctuary in Thailand, so the Vietnamese laid more than 2 MILLION landmines along the Cambodian border, known as the K5 belt, where they continue to kill and maim today.

Many of the minefields close to the temples have been cleared, but with the current border conflict, I wonder if they are laying more mines elsewhere. One step forward, two steps back…

Along the wall of this old temple complex, is a tunnel opening. It opens into a large military shelter; an artillery casing sits at the entrance. Close by is another bunker for the soldiers, and parts of the wall were made from ancient stones they took from the temple. Preservationists would be horrified. These were originally built by the Khmer Rouge; this religious site that was sacred to both Hindus and Buddhists, became a military base for communist atheists.

A tree grows atop a temple tower

Some of the walls on the last temple building are peppered with bullet holes. This was the last holdout of the Khmer Rouge. Even after the communists laid down their weapons near Anlong Veng, hardliners still held out here. The Cambodian Army perhaps could have beaten them here, but they were restrained, as they didn’t want to destroy the temple. They could have used heavy artillery, but they didn’t; one artillery barrage could have irreparably destroyed the entire temple complex. The last communist holdouts finally agreed to peace with the Cambodian government in 1998.

Looking from up high to the east, I can see far along the Dangkrek mountain chain. Not far away in that direction, the opposite side of the border changes from Thailand, to Laos.

I enter the last highest temple building near the cliff: the Central Sanctuary.

Within are Angkor era carvings and architecture, familiar to me by now. There’s an inner courtyard, with some collapses surrounding walls, and others still intact. Impressive hallways and arched ceilings are made entirely of stone. I wonder how many of the ceilings have collapsed over the years from age, or from the violence of men.

While some stones have collapsed, other temple walls are still standing strong

In the courtyard’s center is the innermost shrine. Much of it is still intact. The intricate decorative carvings have survived, though the colors and paint have faded from time, leaving faded grey and white stone underneath. Ducking inside, I see a Buddhist statue through the shadows. Some old offerings from rare pilgrims are left at its feet.

Walking out behind the last temple, a dirt path leads to bare bedrock on the edge of a cliff, it’s well over 1,500 feet down. There are no trees blocking my view. In front of me is the most amazing view in Cambodia. Far beneath me is a vast carpet of a greenery, a flat plain that stretches to the horizon. Only a couple of dirt roads cut across the green scene. 

From atop the cliff I get a fantastic scenic view of Cambodia

Small dots clumped together by a crossroads are the village houses of Kor Muy, where my driver Shanghai awaits me.

I’m in awe of this view. No wonder the Thais are fighting them for it.

I bid goodbye to Kuhn, and mount a motorbike taxi for the trip down the mountain. On the way down, we pass a convoy of government officials on their way up, with journalists in tow, carrying cameras and camcorders.

Soon I’m down the mountain, and the motorbike driver drops me in Kor Muy. Word is going around the village that while I was up by the temple, there was another border incursion by Thai soldiers. The conflict here isn’t over yet.

I find Shanghai, and we head back to his muddy car. He fills his old Toyota Corolla’s radiator with water, and we start the long drive back to Anlong Veng.

Landmine warning sign. Stay on the path, or your next step might be your last.

After the long journey, I’m back at my hotel, and I flip on the news. CNN is reporting, “Tensions along the Cambodia – Thailand border”. They are saying that 100 Thai troops crossed ‘briefly’ into Cambodian territory. The Thai government says that the situation is 'calm', and denies the border breach.

It’s calm all right, as this time there wasn’t any shooting. Fortunately.

Two weeks after I leave Preah Vihear, fighting erupted again near the temple. When the shooting stopped, 2 Thai soldiers were dead, and 9 were wounded. 12 Cambodian soldiers were injured.

As Cambodia is a country still recovering from several wars, I really hope that the Thais will finally leave them in peace.

*NOTE* - The events described above took place in 2009. Violent conflict between Cambodian and Thai soldiers in the region surrounding the temple has continued to occur sporadically in the years since then.

SLIPPERY ROAD TRIP IN REMOTE CAMBODIA

It doesn't get much more remote than this

I'm riding shotgun with my faithful driver Shanghai, heading out on another road trip across northern Cambodia. We're headed to the ancient temple of Preah Vihear, which is still a conflict zone. Local news has been dominated by a recent battle there between the Cambodian Army, and the even more powerful Thailand Army. Both countries claim the old temple.

But it's far from Anlong Veng, and first I have to get there. As soon as we leave the former Khmer Rouge stronghold, the blacktop runs out, becoming bumpy dirt road. Our ride for this long haul is Shanghai's ancient rickety ’85 Toyota Corolla. Bouncing over the ruts, I ask him if we'd be better off with another vehicle.

“No problem,” Shanghai says in his heavy accent. I’m not so confident. I’ve heard some of these roads are best covered only with a 4X4.

After two hours, we swing through the junction town of Sra Em, and turn north. The countryside is flat, scattered with brush and trees. This remote region is sparsely inhabited; dotted with thatched shacks and simple stilt homes. There’s neither cell phone coverage, nor electricity. This is one of the poorest provinces of Cambodia.

Soon, it starts to rain. Shanghai has already warned that if it rains, this road gets really bad. Uh oh, I will soon find out what he means.

We start swerving, and Shanghai slows down. It’s not the ruts or potholes causing problems anymore, we're on a flat stretch. But here the road is under construction, being prepped for blacktop. Now the problem is the reddish, clayish soil. When wet, it’s like driving on snow or ice! Shanghai isn't even driving very fast, and we’re sliding and fish tailing all over the road. In all my years driving on dirt roads in poor countries, I’ve never seen anything like it!

Cambodian Army soldiers slog through the muddy road

Now I'm really worried. We pass a parked convoy of government SUV’s, and a deminer's truck. They're worried about the slick roads, so they parked their four wheel drives! And we're only in a two wheel drive, decades old Toyota Corolla. Shanghai says again, “No problem!”

The rain continues, and after sliding from one side to the other down the highway for a few kilometers, the government convoy of fancy SUV’s passes us. I can see that we’re not the only ones with traction problems. Even though they have 4X4's, they’re spinning wheels and sliding all over the road just as badly as we are. Finally a white SUV swerves sharply, nearly ending up in the ditch. Everyone stops for a few minutes. The driver slowly pulls back from the edge, and we continue.

Then the rain worsens. Uh oh. As Shanghai shifts gears, the Corolla stalls. Then it won’t start!

“No problem,” Shanghai says again, repeating one of his few complete English phrases. With the rain still pouring down, he gets out, pops the hood, and the trunk. I breathe a sigh of relief; he’s brought a spare battery.

But my relief doesn't last long. He hooks up the spare, and turns over the engine. It doesn’t start! That extra battery isn’t powerful enough either. Now we’re really in a fix. Those other SUV's we were tailing are now long gone. We’ll be here a while. I won't make it to Preah Vihear.

Then a white pickup stops behind us. They’re Cambodian Army! Shanghai talks to them, and they agree to give us a jump start. They pull up next to us, almost hitting our car from the slick road. Out come the jumper cables, the Toyota breathe to life, and we’re off again.

Troops on a truck head for the temple

We round a hilly curve near bridge construction, to find more ruts and puddles, and soon we’re stuck in a rut.

“Uh oh,” he says. We’ve had lots of 'uh ohs' today; we’re really stuck this time. But he quickly slams into reverse and guns it. The engine whines as we inch back, wheels spinning, mud spitting in front of us. Then he slams it into first, and slowly, the Corolla climbs the small hill, up and over. I clap my hands in applause. Shanghai laughs. I love this car.

Driving on we pass Cambodian soldiers lugging heavy packs trudging along in the rain. An overloaded pickup truck passes, packed with more soldiers in combat fatigues. They are all headed for the temple. We pass several Cambodian Army bases, some with buildings, others with tents. More are under construction. I see Russian, Chinese, and US made army trucks parked in makeshift shelters. We're getting close.

I spot bunkers made of dirt and logs. I wonder why they aren’t manned, until I see signs warning of landmines. Nearby trees have red marks painted on them, another common warning for mines. There is still a lot of demining needed here.

The rain reduces to a sprinkle, and Shanghai points to a far off ridge, saying, “There it is.” A tree covered ridgeline known as the Dangkrek Mountains rises off the horizon. At the highest point, 550 meters up atop a cliff, is the Preah Vihear temple.

Arriving at my destination - the Dangrek Mountains

We arrive at the village of Kor Muy near the bottom of the mountain ridge. Kor Muy doesn’t have much to offer visitors except a few simple guesthouses and primitive restaurants. It’s a ramshackle village, built in the shadow of Preah Vihear. Shanghai says this is as far as he will go; I think he's afraid of more shooting up by the temple.

We climb out of the old Corolla, to find its silver color has turned brown. Speckles of dirt and clumps of mud cover the car from one end to the other. I'm thankful; somehow, it got me here.

Since the fire fights started between the Khmers and the Thai Army, all of the tourists and many of the villagers left. Still, the village population has increased five fold, from the arrival of Cambodian Army reinforcements.

I look up at the ridgeline, and wonder if there will be more gunfire today. Should I continue on? I've come a long way to get here, and it's a long way back. 

I'm heading up. 

(*NOTE*- This post was written several years ago when the temple conflict occurred.)

BEHEADED STATUES OF DISGRACED ARMY

One of the few paved highways in Cambodia

I'm on a rare road today, a Cambodian highway, paved, smooth, and brand new. This used to be nothing more than a bumpy dirt road laced with landmines. Somewhere near here my friend Mali stepped on a landmine and lost her leg. We're about 70 miles north of Angkor Wat, in what was dangerous Khmer Rouge turf, one of their last holdout zones.

The roadside here used to be dotted with intimidating war refuse: abandoned Khmer Rouge tanks. Late in the war, when the communists had an old unfixable Chinese tank, they just pushed it to the side of this road, and pointed the turret south towards the enemy. That gave them an instant armored bunker, useful for keeping the Cambodian Army away. Those menacing metal hulks were left there for years.

Thankfully those metal monstrosities are gone, and after the peace agreement, foreign funding built this modern two lane highway. If the Khmer Rouge ever rebels in this area again, it will be much easier, and quicker, for the government to rush federal troops here on this new blacktop road. Even better, this national highway has a more beneficial use: commerce. With this road going all the way to the Thai border crossing, there is increased trade, and an improving peacetime economy.

Cruising north, I see a long ridge stretching across the horizon. These are the Dangkrek Mountains, a long mountain chain stretching from northwest Cambodia, all the way east to the ancient temple of Preah Vihear, and beyond. Beyond that mountain ridge, is Thailand.

Monument to radical Khmer Rouge, surrounded by spirit houses

The flat road starts to curve, and we start climbing the first set of hills. Coming up the Sa Ngam Pass, the road splits, as it rounds a large boulder. Carved into the boulder itself, is the last monument left to the murderous Khmer Rouge regime. Or what’s left of it anyway. There are two small soldier like statues, and both have been decapitated. One has lost a hand, an arm, and both legs. A taller statue of a Khmer woman has lost both arms. She still balances a stone food bundle on top of her now faceless head.

“Thai (people) do this. Take to Thailand and sell,” explains my driver Shanghai. Maybe that's true, but it’s also possible that poor Khmers chopped off the heads and sold them, as happened at Angkor Wat. Or maybe Khmers did it out of revenge, for all the murders that the communists committed.

Examining the smallest, legless torso wearing military gear, it appears that this was a statue of a child soldier. The extremist Khmer Rouge had no ethical problem with turning innocent children into murderous soldiers. They thought their young minds were more ‘pure’, and more accepting of radical communism. They believed that most adults, had been ‘poisoned’ by exposure to the old regime.

Two beheaded statues of fighters

In contrast to the dark stone of the ruined statues, the monument is surrounded Buddhist spirit houses on pedestals, made of many colors. There are so many, they nearly block the statues from view. Thousands of Khmer Rouge soldiers died fighting the Vietnamese and Cambodian armies. Given there murderous history, there never has been, nor will there ever be, an official memorial to their dead soldiers. The remains of these old communist carvings have become a memorial to them, by default. With no graves or headstones to pray over, these spirit houses and incense were left here by their mourning Buddhist families.

Continuing on we drive through the border town of Choam, and turn off the highway. Up ahead, the road is closed. Cheap red and white fencing blocks the road. It's spooky; there's nobody in sight.

“That the new border crossing, but no use,” Shanghai tells me. The crossing is closed today, due to ongoing border disputes. “The Thai build on Cambodia land. Now big problem with Cambodia and Thailand.” My driver goes on to explain how Thailand is taking a little more Cambodian land each day. In Pol Pot’s time, the border was further away. Apparently the Thais respected the Khmer Rouge more than they respect the current Cambodian government.

Moving down side roads, we pass small shops and shacks. Then we take a garbage strewn road east out of town. The garbage thins out, tuning into a bumpy rural road. We're not traveling far, but Shanghai has to drive slowly to make his way over this rutted, potholed road. Going up the small hills, his old car strains for traction on the reddish dirt.

The border crossing to Thailand is closed

Shanghai explains, “Since last year, road more bad.” Rural roads here are rarely maintained. As the kilometers go on, we pass shacks and Khmer farm houses. A few settlers are clearing land for planting. We come to a picturesque field, a wide open space, bordered by lush jungle. It’s a prime location for a homestead or farmer’s field, but its unplanted.

There’s a small red sign right in the middle of the field, with a skull and crossbones. This is no 'Pirates of the Caribbean' joke. What that sign means, is that this whole lovely looking field of several acres, is one big minefield. Until somebody comes up with a couple thousand dollars to clear it safely, this prime field will remain uninhabited.

Since this was one of the last Khmer Rouge strongholds, this whole mountain ridge was heavily mined. That makes this part of Cambodia a very dangerous place to settle. Along the bumpy road, I see numerous signs posted by demining organizations. One sign reads, “Humanitarian Mine Clearance, Minefield cleared by CMAC, Police Batallion Headquarters”.

Passing shacks, I note a few soldiers lounging about. Many of these men are also ex-Khmer Rouge, now wearing Cambodian Army uniforms. As part of the peace agreement that ended the war, some men kept their territory, changed uniforms, and became part of the Cambodian Army. Many of these shacks belong to them and their families. It is a difficult place to homestead though. With many thousands of mines still buried in this area, there is little agricultural land available to turn these ex-soldiers into farmers. 

EX-CHILD SOLDIER SAVES CHILDREN

“The landmine is eternally prepared to take victims. It is the perfect soldier.” 

- Jody Williams, Nobel Peace Prize Winner, International Campaign to Ban Landmines

A massive number of landmines and explosive munitions are in this gazebo. All are disarmed.

I'm looking at a lovely gazebo. With a red tiled roof, it situated in the middle of a placid pond. The shallows surrounding it are filled with green water plants, which sprout bright purple flowers.

But despite its outward appearances, this is the deadliest gazebo on earth. The interior is absolutely filled with landmines. There are landmines of so many kinds. There are anti-personnel mines, and anti-tank mines. There are plastic mines, and metal mines. Most are made for below ground, others for above ground. There are primitive mines that look like drums, cooking pots, and tin cans. Some cost as little as $1 to manufacture.

Then there are the military munitions alongside them. There are mortar rounds of many sizes and styles. There are rockets, grenades, shell casings, and a Kalashnikov rifle. Hanging beneath two of the mortar rounds, is one of the only items inside the gazebo not made of metal. It is a small, simple, wooden cross.

Thankfully, all of these bombs and munitions have already been defused. This gazebo is located in the Cambodian Landmine Museum & Relief Center.

The story behind this center's founder, is almost unbelievable. Some stories you hear about in Cambodia you couldn’t make up. They are beyond fiction. They seem beyond the human capacity to endure. One of those stories involves a child. We know him today as Aki Ra.

When he was young, Aki Ra's mother and father were killed by the radical Khmer Rouge. With the chaos of those years, he’s unsure exactly when he was born. An older acquaintance thinks it was in 1973. Aki Ra was sent to a Khmer Rouge camp for children. By age ten, they had made him a child soldier.

Former child soldier, Aki Ra (Wikipedia photo)

Aki Ra received communist indoctrination, and was given his own rifle. As a child soldier, he was cannon fodder. Like other cowardly armies of the world, the Khmer Rouge sent their child soldiers out in front to fight their battles, ahead of adult soldiers. That way, the children would be the first ones shot, or the first to step on landmines. Aki Ra learned to kill. He saw many of his friends die during the war, and many civilians too.  Knowing conflict all his young life, he grew up thinking that war was normal.

The Khmer Rouge soon taught Aki Ra to lay mines and booby traps. They discovered he had a talent for it, even as a small child. He came to like mines. They protected him from enemies. Wild animals would step on them and die, providing him with food.

As a child soldier, he first fought with the Khmer Rouge fighting the Vietnamese Army. In 1987, he switched sides, joining the Vietnamese against the Khmer Rouge. When the Vietnamese left, he joined the Cambodian Army, continuing to fight the Khmer Rouge. All this time, he continued to lay landmines. He personally laid thousands of mines with his own two hands. He doesn’t know how many. It will never be known how many soldiers and civilians died, or lost limbs from all the mines he laid during his many years as a child soldier.

Aki Ra is short, by western standards, his growth was stunted as a child from malnutrition during his growing years under the Khmer Rouge. But he’s muscular for his size. Not surprisingly, he has a serious face.

Khmer Rouge boy soldiers. Many died. (Arch photo)

Aki Ra doesn't know his original birth name. Like most children during the Pol Pot years, he was forced to change his name.  After he became a child soldier, his name was changed multiple times. His first Khmer Rouge name was ‘Yeak’; chosen for him by a communist cadre. It translates as ‘dirty giant’. But other Khmer Rouge soldiers called him ‘Lo’, meaning ‘cry a lot’. When his reputation as a fighter grew, his name became ‘Clay’, which is a strong, legendary animal. After he joined the Vietnamese, he was called ‘Teov’, meaning 'cute', due to his small size. He finally met a Japanese film crew, who nicknamed him ‘Aki Ra’. He liked that name, and kept it ever since.

In 1993, Aki Ra went to work for the United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia (UNTAC) as a deminer. He already knew a great deal about landmines, and now he had a real peacetime job defusing them. He also learned to disarm unexploded munitions. When UNTAC ceased their work, he continued demining in communities where he had previously fought as a soldier.

I once ran into a grey bearded English deminer named Robert from Siem Reap. An explosives expert, he knew all about Aki-Ra.

"He's an absolute nutter!” Robert told me. He disapproved of Aki Ra's unorthodox, reckless style of demining. He refuses to wear the hot, bulky body armor and helmet that other deminers use for safety. Aki Ra is more content working in loose clothing, like he did when he was a child soldier. Often, the only tools he uses for demining are a sheath knife, and steel probing rod. Using only these two simple tools, he could locate and disarm many types of mines.

Landmines in his museum. Millions are still buried in Cambodia.

Eventually, Aki Ra married. In 1997 he bought a small amount of land near Siem Reap, and built shacks to store some of the mines and explosive shells that he had disarmed. Soon after he began allowing visitors to see his collection, and his compound became known as the Cambodia Landmine Museum.

As years passed, Siem Reap officials pressured him to relocate his museum. They may have been embarrassed to have a landmine museum nearby. So Aki Ra moved his museum far from town, in the protected rural region that includes the Angkor temples, where I am today. Before building began, Aki Ra had to use his expertise here as well. Unexploded artillery rounds and grenades were found here on this site, and he removed them.

Seeking to help others, Aki Ra opened his new home to a few children who had lost limbs to landmines. Others from very poor families soon joined them, and he found himself running his own home for children. Today, his home cares for more than 20 kids. Meanwhile, he continues to work as a deminer for his own organization known as Cambodian Self Help Demining.

Aki Ra's reputation has grown, and numerous stories and documentaries have been done about him. Incredibly, he estimates that he has cleared more than 50,000 mines and unexploded bombs over the years. With more than 5,000,000 landmines left to clear in Cambodia, Aki Ra has plenty of work ahead of him. It will take decades for him and all the other deminers in the country to clear them all.

Visitors examine uniforms from demobilized soldiers.

Exploring the museum, I enter a room with a pile of military uniforms scattered on a table. The caption reads, “ALL THESE CLOTHS, HATS, SHOES, BAGS WERE USED FROME 1970 – 2000 BY KHMER ARMY, LON NOL, POL POT AND VIETNAM (ARMIES).

Young Khmer visitors are picking up the shirts, and trying on the helmets. They youth are lucky. Unlike their fathers, they are not being forced to become soldiers. They will not have to go to war, to kill, or die a senseless death.

Along another wall, I find the happiest part of the museum. Here are the photos of happy, smiling Khmer kids that live in Aki Ra’s home for children. The landmine victims now all have prosthetics, they eat balanced meals, and receive an education.

After I depart, I ponder on what Aki Ra has accomplished here. American society tends to write off child murderers. Some end up spending most of their lives in prison.

Aki Ra is proof that children raised in a violent environment, somehow can grow up to lead productive lives as an adult. He is proof positive that people can change.

SHE KNEW POL POT - AND LIVED TO TELL THE TALE

2 disarmed landmines in Cambodia

Mali's legs are different. Each of her legs is a different color. Really. One is darker, one is lighter, and they will always be that way...

It took me a while to finally notice this. Mali owns the travel agency that I've used to arrange my trips around the Angkor Temples  and Siem Reap, so I'd been in her office many times. You’d think I would've noticed before that her legs were different colors, since she walks around her office in a skirt, barefoot. Like other Khmer’s, Mali's skin color is darker than most Asians. The exception is her left leg, with a lighter tone. That’s when I realized that this was not her real real leg. It’s a prosthetic.

Mali lost her leg to a landmine.

You’d think this would be a sensitive subject, but she had no problem telling me all about it. In fact, she was quite proud to show off her prosthetic leg to me. The injury had happened many years back, when she was 18. She was on her way out to work the farming fields. She was just walking along the side of the road, and that’s when it happened. She stepped on a mine, and the explosion threw her 30 feet. She lost her leg below the knee. That was years ago, when she used to live in Anlong Veng.

When Mali mentioned Anlong Veng, that perked my ears up even further. Further north, Anlong Veng was one of the last strongholds of the Khmer Rouge during the war years. "Was your family in the Khmer Rouge?" I asked.

"Oh, yes," she said. "You see that picture there? My father was commander in Khmer Rouge." Up above a cabinet, was an enlarged photo of her father. He's a big, imposing looking Khmer. Half of his left arm is missing, so I asked how he lost it.

"He lost it fighting, in 1970," she answered. In the photo her father wears a blue sash; the type government officials wear for special occasions. He's standing next to none other than Hun Sen, the current Prime Minister (dictator) of Cambodia. Hun Sen is also an ex-Khmer Rouge commander.

I quickly see her resemblance to her father, except that he lacks her smile. In the photo, he wears a very serious face, while Hun Sen smiles at his side. The picture was taken at a government function. Apparently, as part of the peace agreement in 1998, the Cambodian government allowed many Khmer Rouge commanders to keep control of their zones of control, as long as they laid down their arms to join the government.

Given his Khmer Rouge past, her father was probably a war criminal, and should be in jail for life. But like most former Khmer Rouge commanders, he remains untried, and unconvicted of his crimes. Instead, Mali’s father holds a senior position in Anlong Veng's provincial government. That's Cambodian politics.

She did laundry for the genocidal Pol Pot (photo: Wikipedia)

Given her father's Khmer Rouge history, I now had to ask her the million dollar question.

"Did you ever see Pol Pot?" I asked a bit nervously.

"Yes," she answered.

"Did you talk to him?"

"Yes, many times. I saw him almost every day. I brought him food." Not only that, she even did his laundry sometimes!

I show no reaction, but inside I’m absolutely stunned. I’ve just discovered that this sweet, lady travel agent was part of history. She had long term contact with one of the worst butchers the world had ever known. Not only that, she had lived to talk about it. It’s as though I’m speaking to Hitler’s maid.

There had been more than one assassination attempt on Pol Pot, including in 1976 when some KR cadres tried to poison his food. One of his guards died instead. Given that event, he must have had a great deal of trust for Mali and her father. Since he ordered the deaths of so many close to him, she’s very lucky to be alive today.

In remote northern Cambodia, Anlong Veng is a former Khmer Rouge stronghold

I continued my questioning. "Was he nice to you? Was he mean?" Since I was asking about a genocidal leader, her answers were not what I expected.

"He was a simple man," she said. "He was gentle." More like simply evil, I think. I suppose Pol Pot may showed a kinder side of himself to Mali, than he did to others, since she cooked for him. Her opinion of him surprises me.

“I know he was cruel,” she says, “but he could also be generous.” She says that he saved her family. She does have a point. Years before, when the Vietnamese Army was closing in on their position, they killed every Khmer Rouge they could find. Pol Pot was responsible for protecting 20,000 people, including her family, from their wrath. Fortunately, Mali never had to be a soldier. There were few female Khmer Rouge fighters, and her father had influence to keep her out of the ranks.

Not all of Mali’s family survived those years. Her mother and three sisters managed to survive, but not her younger brother. He died at the age of seven. "Fever and poison," are the reasons Mali gives for his death. It may have been malaria.

Mali eventually married a Khmer Rouge cadre. Not surprisingly, their marriage didn’t last. After having one daughter, they divorced. Mali has been through so much. She lost a leg. She lost a young brother. She lost her husband. For some years, she even lost her country, and lived in refugee camps.

I’m amazed at what a survivor Mali is. Perhaps her father was within Pol Pot’s trusted inner circle. Still, many of the people that ‘Brother Number One’ said he trusted, ended up dead in Cambodia's killing fields. 

Yet, I look at her now, and she’s strong. She’s capable. She walks on her artificial leg, without a limp, and without complaint. She runs a thriving travel business. She speaks Khmer, English and Thai that she learned as a young refugee. She’s a single mother, and takes good care of her daughter, ensuring that she receives the education that war denied her.

Her father's guilt is not being passed on to her anymore. The Khmer Rouge are gone, and she’s doing well now. After all she’s been through, and with all that she’s survived, she deserves the better life that she has now.

What a survivor.

MYSTERY OF THE FAMOUS STONE FACE

These many stone faces beg the question: what was he smiling about??

It's a warm morning here in the ancient jungle temple complex near Angkor Wat, and I've arrived at another iconic temple.   Looking up as I approach this old temple, I see one's man serious stone face, repeated over and over again as statues across the complex. One question dominates my thoughts.

Who is this guy?

This stone temple is known as Bayon and its dominated by one man's huge face everywhere I look. 

Rising above each smiling face are immense stone headresses. These reach far above, making each face not just a statue, but a tower. There are more towers than I can count, all made of his slightly smiling stone semblance. Singular towers have four faces on them, giving his face views in all directions. This gives the impression that he is all seeing, all knowing, and watching all corners of the Khmer kingdom.

Each tower has 4 faces, covering all directions. Is he watching over his former kingdom?

So who is he? Researchers over the years have disagreed as to who this smiling man really was. Many say that this was King Jayavarman VII, who ruled the Angkor kingdom more than 900 years ago. Others claim that this is really the god known as Avalokiteshvara. Still others claim that this face is actually a combination of both of them.

Although Angkor Wat’s central towers are the most well known symbol of the Angkor temple complex, the second most well known symbol has to be this enigmatic face. His heads are everywhere on this temple. Lining walls, looking out from lower towers, peering high above from the upper ones.

Rather than a smooth surface, each tower, and each face, is made up of fitted stone blocks. Each block is black, grey or white, and dotted with the discolorations of time. With these connecting gaps, it gives each face the appearance of a giant mosaic, or jigsaw puzzle.

Smoke is rising from the nearby jungle

This multi-story stone temple raises so many other questions. What was this place used for? Why was it built? And just what is this king or god smiling about?

Beyond the towers, are the tall trees of the jungle. Smoke rises from the jungle floor. It is probably just a brush fire, but the rising smoke between the stone faced towers gives the temple an eerie, fog-like look.

Bayon temple, grand as it may be, is only one of hundreds of temples in the area, of varying styles and sizes built over the centuries. I once knew an American Vietnam veteran who spent extended time in Cambodia, and he decided to visit every single ancient Khmer temple in the Siem Reap region. It took him six weeks to see them all!

Another amazing experience about the Angkor temples, is seeing the variety of conditions that they are in. Some, such as Bayon and Angkor Wat, have been reasonably well preserved or restored. Some are partly preserved. Others lie completely collapsed and ruined, piles of stone bricks, leaving you to guess at their original appearance. Still others have been completely overgrown with jungle growth. Many of these ancient temples, are a combination of all of the above.

These musicians are landmine survivors! Landmines are still buried in jungles not far from the temples.

Heading out to another temple, I walk along one of the many jungle paths. On the way, I hear the sound of an acoustic band. Walking up, I find a seated musical sextet, all Khmer men playing various traditional string instruments and drums. Propped up next to them are signs, in Khmer, Chinese, Korean, and finally in English. It says, “VICTIMS OF LANDMINES”. I hadn’t noticed before, but some of the musicians are missing a leg. Now I understand why they are seated.

The Angkor temple complex, was not spared the plague of landmines that spread throughout Cambodia during the long era of wars. Plenty of landmines were laid here too. There was a time back early in the war, when the Vietnamese Army were joined with the Khmer Rouge, fighting together against government forces in these jungles. At one point in the conflict, they agreed to stop shooting, and allow preservationists to cross the battle lines, so they could continue working on preserving the temples. That didn’t last. Later, the Vietnamese would fight here against their former Khmer Rouge allies. With all of this conflict around the temples, more and more landmines were being laid by all sides. Also, more and more temples were damaged, and more and more statues were looted, or defaced.

Many area temples are quiet and rarely visited by tourists, such as this secluded temple.

Later when tourists first started to return to Cambodia in the 1990’s, one of the first priorities for the Ministry of Tourism was to have all the landmines and unexploded ordinance (UXO) removed from around the temples. They desperately needed to make this area safe for tourists again. One of the deminers was killed doing this dangerous work. Many more Khmer civilians died or were maimed by these evil weapons, after they returned to the region.

There are still mines buried within the Angkor complex, but they have been cleared from all of the most popular temples. If you manage to venture out to the more remote temples, where there are few tourists and thicker jungle, sooner or later you will come across a little red warning sign. Keep your eyes open for these, for these signs are there to tell you that mines are still buried there. Take one step too far from a well beaten path, and it could be your last. If you survive a landmine blast, you'll be lucky if you lose only a foot.

I don't know it yet, but I will soon learn that one of my Cambodian friends had her life nearly ended by one of these hidden horrors.

DESTRUCTION ON THE ANCIENT 'PLAIN OF JARS'

Plain of Jars Site 1. The purpose of these ancient stone monuments is a mystery.

A light rain falls as I make my way along a soggy path towards a grassy hill. Muddy water from the trail is splashing all over, leaving my shoes cargo pants thoroughly muddied. But I could care less about the stains; I’m excited about what I see ahead of me. 

Reaching the top of the hill, I’m surrounded by signs of an ancient civilization! These remnants are enormous jars, made of solid stone. The jars are magnificent; immense in size. Each ways several tons, and has been carved out of a single giant block of sedimentary rock. A couple are so massive, that they stand taller than me. These giant jars are what gave the ‘Plain of Jars’ its name here in northern Laos. 

These mysterious stone relics are thousands of years old, and running my fingers across them, I can’t help but wonder. How on earth did such primitive people create these? Why were they brought to the top of this hill? What were they used for? The answers to all these questions have been lost to history. 

Large stone jar destroyed during 1964 - 1973 war

The jars are dark in color, spotted with whitish fungi. I peer inside the jars for a look. Whatever their ancient contents were, they are long gone. Now most of them have algae and small plants growing inside, with rain water pooling in the bottom. Some jars have immense stone covers lying next to them, though few of these remain. Curiously, they are shaped much like the covers of modern aluminum garbage cans. 

The people who lived here on the Plain of Jars during ancient times were not ethnic Lao, and they weren’t Hmong either. Nobody knows who they were, where they came from, or where they went. These weighty relics are some of the only remnants left from their lost and ancient culture. 

The location of this anthropological riddle, is known as Site 1, and like other jar sites scattered across the plateau nobody knows for sure what its use was. Most experts agree that the jars had some sort of burial function, since human remains and artifacts have been found beneath some sites. But not everyone agrees with that theory; one local told me that the giant jars were really used to make whiskey! 

Huge crater from bomb that destroyed or damaged many ancient stone jars

For years the jars’ origin was also a mystery, until a quarry with unfinished jars was found recently west of the region. But the quarry’s discovery created another mystery. If the wheel wasn’t in use yet during those ancient times, how is it that they were able to bring these heavy stone jars here from so many miles away?

The rain lightens, and I look out at the open country surrounding the hilltop. Like most of the Plain of Jars, the countryside is rolling hills covered with green grass, dotted with a few trees. More stone jars are situated across a ridge and nearby field. Site 1 has more than 300 of these mysterious jars. 

Walking through wet grass to another side of the hill, I find some jars that were here are gone. In their place, is an immense bomb crater, and the rain runoff has formed a rising puddle in the bottom. The crater is deep enough that if I stood in the bottom, I wouldn’t be able to see above the sides. 

Standing on the crater’s edge, I spot a lone stone jar further down the hill, further away from the rest. Lying on its side, it was probably thrown down there from the blast force that created this crater. Although these jars survived the weather and ravages of nature for millenia, they couldn’t withstand the ravages of war. 

As I walk about the hill I count 10 of the giant jars as undamaged, but most of the rest have been cracked or destroyed. Some have been chopped in two, or blown into many pieces from the heavy aerial attacks. One jar still standing upright, has a telltale hole blown into its side. 

Lower left warning marker, left by deminers. Down path on right are unexploded bombs!

This hill once had religious significance for the ancients, but during the 1964 - 1973 war this high ground drew foot soldiers, who found it a defensible position. Digging trenches into the hillside, fighters shared this hilltop with the 2,000 year old stone jars. When the battle came, it was fierce and powerful. 

As the jars were blown apart, defenders died here alongside them. In the ebb and flow of the 'Secret War', nobody knows how many men died up here.

The Plain of Jars was strategic for holding northern Laos, so the communists coveted it. As it was also a home for thousands of ethnic Hmong, they fought to keep it from the invading North Vietnamese Army (NVA). So control of the Plain of Jars shifted back and forth between the warring sides several times during the war, depending on the season. During the dry season, the NVA and Pathet Lao mounted large scale attacks, gaining ground across the plateau. During the wet season roads turned to mud, much like today. Moving heavy weapons, troops and supplies became difficult for the communists. That’s when the Hmong gained the upper hand, since they were resupplied by air from CIA planes and helicopters. During rainy season, they forced the communists back, and the territory was theirs again for another season. 

Besides bomb damage to the old jars, other evidence of heavy fighting remains. Along another corner of the hillside a trench line is still visible in the deep grass. Much like in the old craters, erosion is taking over, and the earthen fortifications are gradually disappearing. The evidence of war is fading from this archaic site, while the sturdy stone jars continue to stand guard. 

At base of hill, cave was used by communist side to hide weapons from air raids

I’m glad I was able to make it to this site now, because years back, it was too dangerous to even walk up here. As a former battlefield, the hill was literally littered with tons of unexploded bombs. Hoping to lure tourists to the Plain of Jars, the government brought in the non-profit organization known as MAG: the Mines Advisory Group. Specializing in finding and removing landmines and unexploded bombs, MAG worked Site 1 for three months. By the time they left, they had found and cleared 127 unexploded bombs, along with 21,814 pieces of shrapnel! 

Further down the hill from the jars, I spot the dark entrance to a cave. Walking down a path for a look, I notice red and white markers on both sides of the trail. These markers are from the bomb disposal teams. The white sides of the rocks mark safe areas, while the red sides point to the danger zones. Although a great deal of UXO was removed from Site 1, there are still many areas that haven’t been cleared yet. Unexploded bombs remain hidden underneath the thick wet grass. 

Reaching the cave entrance, a young Laotian boy is playing with rocks, while his father looks on. Next to the opening is a small Buddhist ceremonial spirit house, with stubs of incense left in remembrance. 

Buddhist spirit house with incense at cave entrance

Peering into the darkness, I find it’s not a very large cavern, thought it did have an important function during the war years. Used by the Pathet Lao, the cavern made a great air raid shelter, and was a convenient place to safely store ammunition. Apparently American pilots knew this, since a few bomb craters are outside the entrance,  left by pilots that tried to destroy the cave and its contents. 

Since this cave is so close to the stone jars, the ancients probably used it too. My guide tells me he believes they used to burn fires inside the cave to cremate their dead, burying the bones up by the jars afterwards.

Circling past a ridgeline, I pass more of the mysterious jars. Before departing, I look back at the first hill of jars that I climbed earlier. New visitors have arrived, holding umbrellas due to the rain. From a distance, the jars resemble headstones. I’ve seen this scene before. With people under umbrellas, atop a hill with stone monuments around them, it looks just like a cemetery funeral.

Maybe there is something to that old theory after all.