A HOLIDAY IN CAMBODIA
Part 3

by Tim Grant

I put my arm around Margot's shoulders to indicate she was an old lady (which we assumed even the KR would respect), to be there if she stood on a landmine, and to help her on the uneven ground. It was a bit worrying to be suddenly walking in the thick overgrown forest which was known to be a mined area. I just hoped that the guys guiding us knew where it was safe to walk. All we could do was to try to follow in their footsteps as much as we could. On the hard ground it was impossible to see clear prints so eventually I gave up and just walked in the same general direction.

At one stage they stopped and one said casually "No no not that way, there are mines there." A bomb landed close by and we ducked. They told us to take off our shirts as they thought the Government soldiers on the nearby mountain would be able to see the white. Kevin pointed out that underneath we are whiter than our shirts ..... so we kept them on.

There was a single gun shot which they claimed was to position us, but luckily nothing more happened. Now, I was starting to fear meeting the Government soldiers, who were our guides before, and being caught in another crossfire. We walked for at least an hour.

Margot tried her 'old woman' act again saying she was weary and needed to stop. Usually this would get a respectful response, but this time it was greeted with "Why didn't you stay in your country then?"

By now the first two nasty soldiers had gone ahead with all the stolen goods and the couple left were relatively pleasant. They talked the usual talk "How old are you? Are you married? How many children do you have? Then one of them carried on about having a brother who lives in USA and hoped to go there one day. He went on to tell us he had a friend who can speak very good English, he used to work with UNTAC and now lives in Thmar Pouk. But we were not in the mood for idle chit chat.

I was thinking about where I was walking and playing out all the possible end scenarios in my head. He kept saying we would be in Thailand by tonight, driving down the highway. I worried about my sore leg. Then I started to think about all the places I would rather be right now. I longed for that carefree Battambang Saturday feeling of nothing to do but riding around visiting and photographing ..... back further to hot Australian summers playing table tennis and lazing by the Paget Street pool.

"This is the life of a soldier" one of the KR soldiers told us " Fighting, walking through the jungle and more fighting." We stopped briefly a few times and rested under trees. One of the soldiers made Patty carry his ammunition belts. She tried to forget it at one stop but was quickly reminded.

We all froze in our tracks, up ahead we saw a person squatting in the grass. We looked to the soldiers for advice and leadership, I suppose. We continued forward and as we closer we could see it was just a 'man shaped' tree stump.

We finally met up with the rest of the group and were taken to meet their commander. As we sat around and waited they talked and went through our bags behind a tree. I could see shirts and books flying out from behind a tree and the occasional flaying arms and yells of excitement when they found something valuable.

One of the Khmer guys in our group looked very scared, we smiled to reassure him. Luckily we had Liz with us who spoke fluent Khmer also understanding KR dialogue and so could translate. The commander started off with a classic propaganda speech about their duty to liberate the country from the puppet Vietnamese government.

I was surprised when he told us he thought King Sinanouk did not have enough power, although with hindsight I realised I shouldn't have been.

He went on to say the foreign countries did not understand the Khmer situation, that is except their Thai neighbours. He gave praise to Dor and apologies, although he didn't get his camera or money back.

The KR commander then asked each of us to explain where we were from and what we were doing here. Most of our group could speak some Khmer and could say we had worked in the border camps, which may have been a plus. Two of us, including me, could say we worked in the Khmer Rouge refugee camps. He told me he knew the landmine awareness programme I worked with, as it always attracted a lot of attention.

Liz had good 'credentials' as she works as Maha's assistant and he is respected in all quarters. It was Maha who first introduced temples into the Khmer Rouge camps - an inspired action. All in all he seemed to be satisfied with us and smiled when he told us we were free to leave. But, he warned we must not go to Bavel town because they were going to attack it tomorrow.

Liz asked if they would guide us back. But they said one of the three Khmers with us knew the way back (this aroused our suspicions even more) but they did give us back one of some bottles of water for the journey. By now we had all been walking nearly non-stop for more than 10 hours, Margot was exhausted, my leg ached and the water did not last long.

The three Khmer guys set a fast pace, I was limping and we eventually lagged behind. They waited for us, refused to drink our water and stayed with us until an hour later when we found the original path. We were all very happy to see the monks litter which was easy to identify because of its abundance. (Note: Future Peace Walks had a no littering policy.)

So we set course for Bavel, as this was where the rest of the walkers were waiting. I struggled to keep up. You never really appreciate something like water until you don't have it - Margot vowed never to be without it again. We had some water purification tablets which were mixed with some warm muddy water but tasted foul. A bath in that shallow muddy water was soooo refreshing it helped us to continue along the last few kilometres.

After another hour we came across some villagers and a few old monks who couldn't keep up with the rest of the walkers. They were sitting around a shady clear water hole so we all bathed with some of the Yeis bathing Margot as I massaged her legs. Finally we got close enough to the village to find some transport. Margot and I (the incapacitated one) jumped into an ox cart, which was very slow and then onto the back of a motor cycle for the last part. Liz, Kevin, Patty and Dor decided they wanted to finish this part by continuing to walk.

We were greeted as long lost heroes. Everyone in the village had heard the story of us being taken by the Khmer Rouge and greeted us loudly. Our fellow walkers were very happy to see us back, most had feared the worse. Several said they didn't think they would ever see me again. We all got special treatment with massages, tons of food, hugs and words of appreciation.

One of the first things I did was go and check out the dead. The toll was two dead, an old monk and a yei with four injured. I gingerly lifted up the sheets to see who they were but didn't recognise either of them.

It was decided to stay in Bavel for the night. The foreigners were invited to sleep in a nearby local house. So we all took up the kind offer and found our bit of floor space. Four o'clock the next morning the promised attack began. It was around two kilometres away but sounded very loud and threatening. I was not so scared about the actual fighting because that was against the soldiers, but if Bavel was taken we would be trapped. I didn't want to meet that KR commander again after he had told us not to go there and I knew I couldn't do anymore walking for at least a couple of days.

The machine guns and mortars roared for an hour or two. We initially all lay on the ground outside the hut and then joined everyone else in the half finished temple during a lull. I passed my time by rubbing Tiger Balm on my leg and listening to the international news on my trusty short wave radio (luckily the KR didn't find my little radio in the bottom of my bag). Nobody spoke very much as we waited for the fighting to stop. This day the government troops put up a good defence and held their position.

A solemn possession was held as they drove the bodies out of the temple. A few of us were able to catch a taxi back to Battambang later that morning. I was at first with the thought of leaving but just as I was about to get into the taxi I realised I didn't really want to go and leave the others. But leg really needed some rest and attention. Within an hour I was back in my home watching satellite TV.

For the next few weeks whenever I closed my eyes I replayed the whole scene over and over. It was more scary than being there. I knew we were lucky and tried to remember that. My leg ended up being worse than I thought and I needed at least a week of rest before I was able to rejoin the walk at the very end.

The entry to the Angkor Wat complex was a stirring moment. Images of Angkor are everywhere in Cambodia, on the flag, in lounge rooms, government offices, cigarette packets, alcohol advertising, school books, at the start of movies, just about everywhere. But most of the monks had never seen their wondrous temple in real life.
That night we all slept in and around Angkor Wat. It was a magical sight to walk down the entry path, to see the thousands of flickering oil lamps coming out of every opening and to hear the hum of music and muffled voices.

By the time I got back home to Battambang the Khmer Rouge had advanced and were just outside the town. All the NGO work had stopped and most of the foreigners had been ordered out of the town. The locals were uneasy. I decided to stay in town and spent an uncomfortable few days. I awoke each morning to thunderous shelling which vibrated the building. From my balcony I could watch the trucks driving out with young soldiers hanging off the sides yahooing. Days later the same trucks returned filled with the injured and the now straight faced and serious soldiers. A few days later the government sent in their crack teams who managed to stop the KR advance.

I spent a lot of time in the hospital tending to the needs of the monks and lay people who were injured in the attack. The bullets passed through their arms and legs breaking bones. It was a full week before they were even assessed and then another week to be operated on. Maha's group paid for all the medicines and pain killers The soldiers from the front got preferential treatment.

The older 'Da' was quite inspiring as he spent the whole week just lying still, reading scriptures and meditating.
The young monk was a little more vocal.

Since this time there have been several other Dhamma Yeitra walks through most parts of Cambodia. It is important for the people to see that there really are other alternative ways to work towards peace in Cambodia and throughout the whole world.
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