Today I plucked up the courage to go and see the killing fields. I’d been toying with the idea for a while, although it is a hugely important event in Cambodia’s history, it still seemed like such a gruesome place to visit.
I don’t intend to give a history lesson here, but for those of you who don’t know what happened, the basic rundown is as follows. In 1975 The Communist Party of Kampuchea the country to fully restructure social systems, this attempt at agricultural reform included forced working camps, where hundreds of people died from various causes, (starvation, dehydration,being overworked, malaria) Pol Pots, the leader of the Communist Party of Kampuchea, by now nicknamed and more commonly known as the Khmer Rouge, ordered people who disagreed with his policies, people who conspired against him, and even intellectuals such as professors, lawyers, doctors and even those who could speak a foreign language to be put into prison, tortured and eventually killed. As time went by and the new economic systems of the Khmer Rouge continuously failed, Pol Pott's insecurities increased dramatically, people were ruthlessly taken away and killed for lesser and lesser reasons, for having soft hands, or even glasses. This amounted into genocide. Killing fields such as the one I visited were not known about until after the Khmer Rouge were dissolved a few years later. Locals believed they were meeting points for the political party, people were only brought there during the dead of the night, and music was constantly played to drown at noises that could be suspicious. Upon arrival we were given a headset which contained the words and stories of many people, survivors and soldiers alike. The tales were heart wrenching, some had pleasant endings, some awful and all contained similar tales of the atrocities of the time. Fortunately, over the years the locals had made the field a peaceful place, with orchids and flowers, birds and wildlife wandering around. It felt more like a place of reflexion and peace. It was an incredible thing to learn about, and to hear the tales told by people who really experienced it, not just a repeated speech from an ageing history enthusiast was brilliant. Some things, however, were difficult to hear. I recollect the first time I had to fight back the sting of tears was learning that, as there were so so many people being killed daily, the soldiers could not afford bullets and instead, these innocent people were brutally massacred by cheaper means, machetes, clubs even sharp palm leaves used to slit their throats, before being thrown into pits they had dug themselves. Horrific accounts of babies being swung by there legs into trees to kill them. All in all it was a heavy experience, not made lighter by the fact that Cambodians are still struggling from it today. But the tranquility and serenity of the fields, the bracelets and trinkets left by hundreds of visitors and the prayers to spirits not forgotten. The feeling that the past is over, and the generally happy optimism of Cambodian people, make it a beautiful and really very touching sight to behold.
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