A HOLIDAY IN CAMBODIA
Part 2

by Tim Grant

On the 5th day we reached the town of Kilo 38. This is the last Government line of defence before Pailin. Pailin had long been the headquarters of the Khmer Rouge and the centre of their lucrative gems and timber trade. Recently it had been briefly taken by the Government troops, but then lost back to the KR (maybe because the Government soldiers were too busy ransacking the joint). Our plan had always been to walk to where the people need us the most and to stay completely neutral. Official permission from all sides had been given, including the KR, and it seemed nothing could stop us.

When we arrived in Kilo 38 the government started to fire rockets from behind us towards Pailin.

The loud booms from the big guns positioned in the local school grounds did not concern us immediately, it was whether the Khmer Rouge would retaliate. It had been the longest days walk and so I slept while the planning committee decided what to do next.

Believe it or not one can sleep with rockets screaming over their heads!

Tanks pushed their ways through our lines, soldiers were all around. I recognised one of them from years before in Site II refugee camp. He was just a boy then, one of the hundreds in the orphan center, now he is a fully fledged Government soldier. He was concerned when I told him our plans, then reached into his shirt and pulled out one of the wildest amulets I have ever seen. It was a large necklace made out of tiger and boar teeth, with a huge 12 cm boar's tusk in the middle. It was to protect me on the rest of the walk ..... I tried to refuse it as I thought he would need it more than me, but he insisted. He told me that I had been kind to him in the refugee camps when he needed it and this was his way of saying thanks. Although the amulet was not my style I humbly accepted his gift and wore it proudly. At first I worried it would just weigh me down, but of course I didn't notice after awhile.

Maha held a small meditation with the local commander and we were ordered to go back. Unfortunately the plans did not get properly announced and word just slowly filtered through that we were not going to Pailin but were to return to the temple 8 km away. One group of dedicated walkers stood stunned and said "But we want to go to Pailin!"

Whether driven by fear or just ignorance many of the other young monks jumped on passing trucks and motor cycles instead of doing an orderly march back. Unbeknown to us, the villagers close by had decided if the monks return they will leave. When they saw the monks not just returning but running, they panicked and took to the road.

We had started a huge evacuation .... from the temple we watched oxen pulling carts piled high with their lives possessions. They filled the roads all afternoon and into the night. Chickens, bicycles, buckets, cooking materials, some poor people could not afford wheels and their oxen dragged the cart along the ground - it was a desperate flight. The mood back at the temple was low. Another quick decision was made to go back to the last temple we had come from, about 25 km away, and take a different route.

But to transport close to 1000 people was not an easy task and could not be completed with the time left. Several trucks began our exodus with a couple of trips made before it was too unsafe to travel. The older people went first, we were in the group that would stay the night and make the journey the next morning.

The atmosphere darkened even more when some drunken soldiers based nearby starting arguing during which one of them was stabbed in the buttock. It was not a deep wound and our trusty medics were on hand to dress it, although the drunkenness was not as easy to address. After several screaming fits and some more fighting, at 6 PM we all decided here was not a good place to be any longer and so took to the road.

This was something few people outside Cambodia would ever experience - to be an Internally Displaced Person (in NGO speak an 'IDP'). It was depressing but also touching to be able to share an extreme moment ...... they silently shuffled along the road with just the sounds a creaking wheels. To a destination unknown, anywhere that was away from the fighting. Margot and I stayed close to one of the Japanese monks, who was still chanting and striking his drum That eternal beat helped us through the 3 hours it took us to reach the rest of the group.

We arrived late that night and still the local towns people came out at this relatively late hour to greet us. They feed us and supplied us with basic sleeping materials as our bags were not unpacked from the trucks.

The next morning we started along the new route which would take us past the dam, through a forest and back on route. That night Kevin and Kee Kha made a quick trip back to Battambang to bring ice cream to celebrate Liz's birthday the next day. We feasted the night away. Later as I was about to take a much needed bath, I admired my new special lucky charm's strange allure. In that dark watery chamber it got left behind and lost forever.

Day 6, April 30th, started off like most of the other 5 days, being woken at 4 AM by a Buddhist chant, no breakfast and straight into line. The distant shelling in the area we were 2 days before had now subsided. As usual Maha Ghosananda led the long line of monks, nuns and lay people, the Japanese monk banged his drum and continued his endless chanting.

The people lined the road in excited anticipation, their buckets of water, decorated with flowers and candles, perched on stools ready to receive the 'water blessing'.

I went to the front of the line to make sure there were no landmines left out from the night before (a common mistake and cause of mine injuries). Also to get some shots with the sunrise. It was a fresh clear morning as we made our way around a large dam, where the day before we had lazed, washed and swam. The special events of this day started early.

Two oxen attached to a cart got startled by the unusual sound of the drum beat and panicked. Everyone at the front, including the great Maha, had to scramble to get out of the way. I managed to get one shot of the charging lopsided cart before I needed to jump out of the way. The young monks stopped it further down the road, everyone picked themselves up and had a laugh.
Not far down the road a soldier pushed a bound and blindfolded lady towards me. As I put my camera up to my eye he twisted her around and pointed his gun to her head. I was stunned, was he going to shoot her in front of me?

As I focussed he started firing off his machine-gun, it was a few seconds before I realised that he was firing next to her ear. Her young daughter was screaming, crying trying to get to her mother. I wondered why he was shooting so close to her ear, obviously trying to scare the poor women. Before I could get a decent shot it was over. Later we found out that this was a traditional Khmer cure for 'madness', to scare someone so badly that they think they are about to die. To scare the evil spirit out - I do believe it didn't work.

At the end of the road there is a Government military outpost. Bob chatted with the soldiers, as he knew many from the camps, they warned us the next 8 - 9 kilometres were potentially mined. This was the only way to our next scheduled temple and so they chose to walk.
I felt confident that the training I gave the Landmine Wardens would now be put to use. But after a hurried look for the wardens and their prodders I only found 2 of them and with just one prodder left between them. I was not happy.

Seemed like sometime over the last few hours the others had decided to go home. The few who were left positioned themselves in the line and we headed into the jungle in single file.

Maha farewelled us all from the shade of the soldiers shelter, juxtaposed against a pile of machine guns in the foreground. He was an old man and often skipped some parts to rest and to liaise with authorities - so it wasn't unusual or particularly distressing.

The walking was different, the going was hard on uneven ground and the pace was brisk - there was no stopping. My leg suddenly developed a new pain, I must have pulled something in my frenzied rush to find the wardens and prodders.

Just before we started I decided that I should stay close to Margot who had positioned herself in the middle of the line. We had to walk in the center of the narrow path, as landmines are commonly found on the edges of such thoroughfares. It was very difficult in parts as the path consisted of raised clumps of soil - my aching leg twisted more. It was now the hottest part of the day, the time we usually rested but it was decided that we needed to leave plenty of time to make sure we got through the jungle before nightfall.

I spied some snapped branches formed into a cross - a common landmine warning sign. After about an hour we passed a government soldiers camp and, unbeknown to those behind several of them joined the front as guides.

Some of the Yeis had started to stop in shady areas. I tried to tell them that shady areas are common places for landmines, but they just laughed. All I could do was just to encourage our immediate group to keep walking and not to go off the safe path.

Three beautiful large cranes gracefully flew overhead. I thought to myself that this must be a good sign.

The far off shooting started around this time, and progressively got closer. The whoosh of shells flying directly over our heads was a little unnerving. Bob had stopped on the trail to give everyone moral support as we walked under the conflict. I looked up trying to see the shells as they flew over, but after tripping a few times I gave up.

Suddenly the shooting was all around us. Everyone immediately and automatically hit the ground. I tried to bury myself into the hard hot dirt as bullets pinged close to my head. I 'hoped' it was not time. Of course I had to take photos - all around me there were people cowering and scared. I around and took a quick snap of Margot flat on her stomach, she replied

"Oh good, a photograph to show everyone one at home."

My desire to see a bomb in flight was fulfilled as I looked up and saw a rocket propelled grenade (RPG) fly over towards the mountain behind. It exploded with a dull thud, around the area we just came through. I worried about all those behind. People were now crawling, crouching, running back. The old people were praying hard,

"Ohhh...it was a mistake!" the 2 'Yeis' next to me kept saying over and over.

One of the foreigners in our group asked, what should we do. I suggested staying down until we were sure it was over. After another few minutes we joined a group of walkers under the shade of a tree. The worry of mines diminished greatly, although I was still aware to try and walk on stones and tree roots.

After a few more minutes the line started to form and start moving again. We decided it would be best to go along with the flow which was forward, in hindsight that was not the best decision. I stayed close to Margot, we passed one of my mine awareness wardens shot in the arm, bleeding profusely all over one of the landmine awareness T-shirts. We didn't stop as he was being tended by a medic and we did not have a medical background. We continued in a bit of a daze. We next come across an old man who had been shot in the leg who was being helped by some old ladies. He is obviously a deeply religious man, and even with a bullet hole in his leg, he kept a calm serene look on his face.

Up ahead I saw some rough looking soldiers dressed in mismatched uniforms. When they saw Margot and I they rushed forward and roughly grabbed Margot who was on their side of the path. It was then I realized that they were Khmer Rouge (KR) soldiers. My camera, which I had by now hidden under a kroma was immediately ripped from me and held aloft like a hard fought over trophy. The fact of losing the camera was not troubling, but I still lament losing those classic photographs inside which could never be replaced.

We were dragged along a little way ahead, passing some more injured people and then told to squat down as they started to go through my bag. I looked up and saw lying across the path a dead monk. This didn't help at all. When they found some more film they started to yell at me "Journalist!? Journalist!?"

I thought I had better answer, 'No, I am just here to photograph the peace', but in the stress of the situation and my neglected Khmer language skills I came out with "No, I am just here to photograph the war"

"The war!!" the young hardened KR guerilla snapped back and raised the butt of his gun to strike my head. Luckily he stopped. I don't know why, just maybe unlucky, but the only person that they roughed up a bit was Margot. At first they roughly pulled her, knocked her glasses off and tugged violently at her money belt. I managed to loosen the belt at her back which released it and took the KR's attention. I saw the mean look in this guys eyes and followed the advice we had heard so many times before, that is to avoid direct eye contact. I knew that they had killed a monk so I was not going to provoke them in anyway.

All the other monks and nuns were allowed to continue but some of the young male 'civvies' had their bags checked, luckily no one had a radio. This would have branded them as spies and almost certainly mean death. Then along came Dor, the only Thai man on the walk, who was grabbed immediately because he obviously did not look Khmer with his waist length hair. The KR soldiers started to accuse Dor of being Vietnamese, which would again be enough for a death sentence. Margot and I pleaded with them that he was Thai, and after they tested his language skills they believed us.

The other foreigners were now starting to walk by and were also pulled aside. We sat in a small group, one American lady started to cry, but we all managed to stay relatively calm and controlled. Where was Maha? we all wondered. He had made a public statement that if any of the foreigners were kidnapped, the kidnappers would have to take all 800 monks with them. But he was not here now when we needed him the most. Fortunately none of the other monks made any effort to help us, if they could shoot one monk they could easily shoot others.

Then one of the soldiers told us to follow them into the forest. For a few seconds we all just sat still and looked at each other. It was really like that scene in "The Killing Fields" when they were in that troop carrier awaiting their fate. I heard that wild music. He laughed "We are not going to shoot you, just ask some questions." This didn't relieve our anxiety, but we didn't have any choice. Strangely they also took three other young 'civilian' Khmer guys with us.

I felt we would be all right, mainly because when he gave me back my bag, he said I should keep the packets of noodles because I will need them for dinner. Maybe it was naive of me to believe him, as making someone feel comfortable before they are led to their death is a classic Khmer Rouge tactic, but at the time it seemed a better state of mind for me to be in than any other possibility.

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