Beauty and degradation, tranquillity and violence - Phnom Penh

Hardly more than a decade since bursts of AK-47 automatic gunfire at the illegal checkpoints around Phnom Penh were such a regular night-time sound, that locals and intrepid visitors barely took heed (at the time, the ‘tolls’ extracted from those who happened by were the only source of revenue for the unpaid police and army remnants, in the chaos that followed the defeat of the Khmer Rouge...). Feeling ‘safe’ is a relative term however, as soon after paying my 20 US$ for the privilege of entering Cambodia, I was a passenger on the back of a mototaxi for the twenty minute journey into town… definitely not recommended for the faint-hearted. (The guide books will tell you that the Cambodians drive on the right. The reality is that if they can’t cross a busy lane of traffic, they’ll simply create a new one against the flow, until an opportunity presents itself to get across to the correct side of the road. It’s a hair-raising experience – especially as they mostly don’t bother with helmets).

Weapons such as the AK-47 - that could be acquired at any street corner for a few dollars in the late 80s and early 90s - eventually either found their way via illegal arms shipments into other areas of conflict around the world, or into the shooting ranges to be found all over the country. 50$ gets you 15 rounds with the AK-47 at the Phnom Penh range (expensive compared to ranges in more remote locations)... or you could take your pick from the M-16, M-60, AK-47, Uzi, shotguns, handguns ... You can even take a trip out into the hills and fire a rocket propelled grenade at a tank of petrol for a cool 200$, or if you don't want to lash out a year's salary for an average Khmer, how about a standard grenade at $50?....

My friendly mototaxi driver 'just dropped by' the range on the way to Choeung Ek, five minutes away... the irony of which (read on) didn't appear to disturb him in the least, and certainly not the party of back-slapping Americans vaunting their marksmanship over a post shoot-em-up beer when I arrived. 'Ton' can hardly be blamed - making a quick buck is a matter of survival for many here, and the range slips the tuk-tuk and mototaxi drivers a small payment for every tourist they bring by. Still, I couldn't help wondering who had died at the hands of the weapon I was holding, as I pumped single rounds in my target. Time to leave. I politely refused to join the American kids for a beer...

So on to my real destination... the Killing Fields at Choeung Ek. Who knows - perhaps my AK-47 had been responsible for one of these bleached skulls, just some of the thousands in the mausoleum, full of cracks and holes. Still, the KR guards didn't usually waste bullets on their victims - they were simply bludgeoned to death by pick-axe, iron bar, hoe ..

To be continued ...