Asia, part 1

I suppose it is time for me to start telling the story of my trip to Asia. Some of it has been written here, but I have yet to share the whole thing, and I need to, because there is much work to be done. The video posted above is a young girl that I've met, both stateside, and in Cambodia, and her story is incredibly sad and incredibly triumphant. I suppose, then, the goal is to replicate her success as well and as frequently as possible.

So…. First of all, for those of you who don’t know, Cambodia is REALLY far away. I actually crossed the International Date Line for the first time in my life, and we ended up landing in Phnom Penh at about midnight Cambodia time, which is about 10AM, our time (I think). I hadn’t slept on any of the twenty-four hours of flights, nor was I able to sleep when we got there. As we drove to the Sanctuary from the airport, I was shocked to see that the Sanctuary (which is a guesthouse that caters to missionaries and NGO members) is around the corner from numerous brothels, and young girls were clearly available for sale on the street. My first hour in Cambodia and the adventure had begun.

Needless to say, I was exhausted the next day, but we had chosen that day to go to Tuol Sleng and the Killing Fields. These two historic sites are part of the Khmer Rouge occupation of Phnom Penh, and the Cambodians have a very different way of memorializing tragedy than Americans do. Tuol Sleng is a high school that was turned into a detention and torture center during the reign of Pol Pot and, whereas we might tear it down and dedicate a park or a statue, the Cambodians have left everything exactly as it was. There are bloodstains on the floor, torture racks in the yard, shelves and shelves of skulls and bones, and photos of each and every victim. It is quite a gruesome site, a morbid sort of museum. From there, we went to the Killing Fields, where we encountered much the same situation. Ironically, the killing fields in real life are very lush and green and beautiful, but the large depressions in the greenery show where the mass graves have been excavated. We were walked through by a tour guide who explained to us that, after the government had excavated about 26 of the 39 mass graves, they stopped, feeling that the work done was sufficient. He then pointed to the ground and explained that, because of the rainy seasons in Cambodia, the land where we were standing, land that hadn’t been excavated, had blood and bones rising up out of it. That was the moment that my brain began to shut down. I felt as though the victims of the Khmer Rouge were clawing their way up from beneath for their justice, and I had to end the tour there. I spend the rest of that day alternating between tears, and absolute shock and numbness.

I share only a bit of this story because I cannot convey the tragedy and the sadness of the Khmer Rouge atrocities. No matter whose side of the story you believe (and the tribunals are currently convened), the loss of almost 1/3 of the Cambodian population in 4 years is horrific and practically impossible to process. Thus, from my first day in Cambodia, I became unable to contextualize the things I was seeing, unwilling to criticize the people who had survived these nightmares, and, due to the tragedies in my own life, much less able to pass judgment in any fashion whatsoever. If you are unfamiliar with the Khmer Rouge occupation, I strongly recommend a book called, “First They Killed My Father.” It is a moving account by a woman who, as a child, survived the occupation, and is told as a child would tell it, uncensored, and with all the innocence and subsequent loss apparent in her story.

There is so much more to say, but it will wait for now. Please stay tuned, and forward these notes. Awareness is the first step; action is the second. Thank you, and God bless.