Upon Returning from Cambodia

<< Cambodia struck and deeply unsettled me for its contradictions. I had seen in Africa, the Middle East, and Latin America the painful imbalances of developing countries — but never such harsh contrasts, and seemingly, ones so self-destructive.

The country known to the world for the extraordinary and harmonious blend of history and nature seen in the temples of Angkor, for the sweetness of the faces and smiles of its women and children, for the elegance of gestures and movements in its dance, shows contradictions that go — in my opinion — far beyond the inevitable (at least, as history has shown us so far…) disharmonies of development processes.

Some images and bits of news deeply affected me, especially in Phnom Penh — a city emotionally and physically unbearable, at least for me — from which I soon felt a strong urge to flee. The electrified barbed wire crowning the “houses of the rich,” in a city still so deeply scarred by the violence of its recent past, where the walls of S21 still seem to bleed — a mere detail, perhaps. Everywhere, security guards and various forms of protection shield the homes of the wealthy from the poverty surrounding them. But the fact that this protection takes the form of barbed wire, so blatantly visible and not concealed, seemed to me the trace of an unhealed trauma resurfacing from the city’s very walls.

And we saw many other “indigestible” traces of trauma during the interesting yet painful cyclo tour of the city — to which, perhaps not for purely physical reasons, my body reacted with a collapse that kept me in the hotel for the rest of the day.

Fragments of architectural beauty from the colonial past (a staircase, a railing, a decorated ceiling) resurface in the homes of the poorest families, from which beautiful, smiling children appear everywhere, their faces lit by sweet smiles — and you wonder how they can still carry such light amid the ugliness surrounding them. Churches, temples, pagodas — traces of a past not yet processed or overcome, but devoured by a present of poverty and disfigurement.

The same country that at Angkor displays the breathtaking beauty of the harmonious integration between the remnants of a glorious past and the unstoppable vitality of plants pushing through stone and taking root everywhere — in Phnom Penh seems to declare that no future is possible, or at least that the collective mind envisions none.

Is this, too, the effect of recent trauma — of the destruction of the educated class, of the assault on culture (arts, education), and on traditions (family, villages) upon which this country built its history?

Or is there something deeper in the culture and history of this nation that seems to be killing its own future? Frankly, I could not understand it. But I was deeply struck by the sacrifice of the children — forced from a young age to dedicate the energy they should spend studying and building their own tomorrow to finding the resources needed for the survival of their parents and grandparents.

Fragments of images and thoughts: What future is possible for a city now exposed to constant flood risk due to the filling of its surrounding lakes — floods that can no longer symbolize the blessing of a rich rice harvest, as they once did in the villages?

And who among us didn’t wonder, looking at the tangled masses of electric wires lining both sides of Phnom Penh’s streets — the poor and the elegant alike — and those seemingly unprotected electrical boxes in a city lashed by monsoon fury, that a simple short circuit could easily spark a devastating fire?

Surely, I haven’t seen or understood enough — I hope I haven’t seen or understood enough — but I wanted to share with you the feelings that accompanied this journey. This is what I saw and perceived, though by nature I struggle to embrace such a negative outlook. So I’ll close with a contrasting note: a waiter at our hotel told us he’s studying to become a teacher and return to his village, because in education lies the future of his country.

“I agree,” I simply replied — hoping that many of his peers think the same way. >>

Elena