The Bigger Picture

This last week has been a whirlwind of teaching, sightseeing, and getting to know my Cambodian hosts on a deeper level. I have mentioned before about the devastating effects of the Pol Pot regime during the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia in 1975-1979. While I do not want to dwell on the negative, I would like to include one last part of this picture that I experienced and relate it to how and why I am here today.

On Sunday I visited Choeung Ek, or what we Westerners have deemed to be the Killing Fields, with two of my housemates. In a previous blog I spoke of the Toul Slang Prison, which the Khmer Rouge used as a location in Phnom Penh to hold and torture citizens. After being held in Toul Slang, men, women and children would be trucked southward about 15 kilometers to Choeung Ek, which was previously a Chinese cemetery. Here, nearly 9,000 people were murdered by blunt force and then tossed into mass graves, one of which contained nearly 450 bodies. A visitor to Choeung Ek will find it hard to believe that this place was once a site of genocide; it is serene and peaceful with beautiful trees and deep green foliage. However, a quick walk reveals numerous depressions and mounds in the soil, with fenced areas indicating the locations of the mass graves. In the middle of the site, there is a tall glass memorial that showcases the thousands of skulls and bones that were discovered in the mass graves at Choeung Ek; the victims' clothes are also on display. My visit to Choeung Ek has changed me as a person, not only because of my experience here, but also because I had the opportunity to see and discuss the site with two native Cambodians whose parents and families were deeply effected by the Khmer Rouge.

In 1979, the relief effort began as foreign aid was finally able to help the huge numbers of surviving Cambodian refugees who had been displaced for the previous four years. My grandmother, Charlotte Knaub, was one of those aid workers; she bravely provided her assistance as a public health nurse at the Khao I Dang refugee camp along the Thai/Cambodian border in 1980. It was here that she met my current host, Dr. John Naponick, who was also located at Khao I Dang as a coordinator of over 40 private voluntary organizations. Charlotte and Dr. John have managed to maintain contact over the past 30 years, and it is because of their aid work during the Khmer Rouge recovery period that I am able to be here in Phnom Penh today.

Fortunately, as a person visiting what was the heart of a tragic past 30 years ago, today I see nothing but hope and kindness in the eyes of every person I have met during my travels here. The ability of the Cambodian people to overcome adversity can be seen when I chat with my students about their hopes after graduating university, speaking with my tuk-tuk driver Dara, and getting to know more about my housemates and their families through broken conversations in English. Last night I went to the Olympic Stadium for another round of dancing with 5 of my housemates. It is at the stadium when I feel most at home, because when I look around at all of the people, I know that smiles, laughter, and dancing all demonstrate a universal meaning no matter where you are in the world: happiness.