Cambodia

Today we’re celebrating Cambodia’s Independence Day—the anniversary of Cambodia’s 1953 independence from France. It had been part of French Indochina for a while before that, though had a much longer history without European colonialism. Cambodia was under French control from 1863 to 1953, with a brief interlude of Japanese occupation during World War II.

When I think of Cambodia a few things spring to mind. Pol Pot is automatically one of them, along with landmines and the Killing Fields. For those whose realm is perhaps a little to much on the side of pop culture, there’s Angelina Jolie’s impassioned attitude toward the country, that gave her her first adopted son—oh, and Cambodia also played a part in that classic film (that was sarcasm) Tomb Raider. Okay, so Tomb Raider was not really one for the ages, but Angkor Wat is, by all accounts, spectacular.

On a different note, one thing that really never fails to make me choke up: the 2000 Paralympics Volleyball team from Cambodia. Most teams are of course made up by people disabled through the accidents of modern life—Cambodia’s team was made up of people missing limbs due to landmines. I hope that that story made people think more about the realities of Cambodia. I’ve been talking and thinking a lot about aftermath of late—but with the number of landmines still out there, it seems difficult, even now, to think of it as being “after.”

And if anyone wants to see a wonderful Australian film that tells the stories of a group of refugees coming to Australia, but in particular the story on one Cambodian refugee, then I have to recommend Lucky Miles.

So I mentioned Angkor Wat. It was built in the 12th century—a few centuries later it was sacked by the Thai, which led to its abandonment.

Most of the population is of Khmer ancestry (90%) and even more of the population is Buddhist (95%) even though the religion was suppressed under the Khmer Rouge.

Some of your clothes are probably made in Cambodia.

Today’s poem is by U Sam Oeur—it comes from Language for a New Century, and I believe more of his work is available in English translation. (I believe, in fact, that I shelved one of his books in my advisor’s library the other day…) Read. Enjoy. Find out more.

The Fall of Culture

I hid the precious wealth,
packed the suitcases with milled rice,
packed old clothes, a small scrap-metal oven,
pots, pans, plates, spoons, an ax, a hoe,
some preserved fish in small plastic containers—
loaded it all in a cart and towed it eastward
under the full moon, May ’75,

“O home! Home! The sacred ground where we lived happily,
the heritage built, bit by bit, by my father.
O, the Naga fountain with its seven heads,
preserving our tradition from days gone by,

O, Monument of Independence! O, library! O, books of poetry!
I can never chant the divine poems again!
O, quintessential words of poets!
O, artifacts I can never touch or see again!

O, Phnom Penh! O, pagoda where we worship!
O, Angkor Wat, sublime monument to the
aspirations of our ancient Khmer forefathers.
Ah, I can’t see across those three wildernesses:”

I’ll be nowhere,
I’ll have no night,
I’ll have no day anymore:
I shall be a man without identity.

“Sorrow for the Cambodian women
who were faithful to their lovers;
now they wander without sleep,
any piece of ground their home.
O, rang trees, the spawning grounds,
turned to charred stilts by the Pot-Sary conflagration.
Annihilate the rang trees, the sugar palms
the Khmer Republic!”

There are no more intellectuals, no more professors—
all have departed Phnom Penh, leading children,
bereft, deceived to the last person,
from coolie to king.

—U Sam Oeur
translated from the Khmer by Ken McCullough
from Language for a New Century