M-whY

David, Jo, and Clare, three backpackers I had met while in Siem Reap, were staying at the same hotel as I, and had found a good natured tuk tuk driver to take us on a tour of Cambodia's dark and recent history. Lucky, with his blue racing helmet, was waiting downstairs in the morning to take us to Tuol Sleng Museum.

Formerly a high school, Tuol Sleng was transformed into a prison known as Security Office 21, or S-21, during the Pol Pot regime. The grounds were surrounded still surrounded by barbed wire, reminding visitors of the terrible things that happened here. In Building A, iron beds still remained, where prisoners suspected of opposing Pol Pot were tortured and forced into confessions before being exterminated. With ghastly images hanging on the wall, shackles and torture devices lying about, just walking around gave me goosebumps.

"It's unbelieveable that all this happened during our time," said Jo. The Khmer Rouge reign of terror lasted from 1975 to 1979. Technically, a year before my time (I was born in 1980), but still not that long ago.

According to documents left behind by the guards, we know that at least 10,000 victims passed through this complex. Laborers, intellectuals, men, women, and children.... no one was spared. Housed in brick or wooden cells, most were kept alive for only two to four months before being carted off to the killing fields.

Clare (pictured behind David in this group picture) had a flight to catch in the afternoon, so we dropped her off back at the hotel before making our way Choeung Ek, 14km southwest of town where S-21 prisoners were executed. A classic example of Khmer roads, it was unpaved and dusty. At times the going to so rough I nearly fell out of the tuk tuk. We went slow; Everyone passed us, even entire families on motorbikes. Each time we got overtaken by a larger vehicle, a cloud of dust was kicked up. Jo and David, having been on the road for 20 months already, came prepared with proper face masks. All I had for protection was the sleeve of my superman shirt.

The killing fields were even more bone chilling (pardon the pun) than S-21. A commemorative pagoda had been erected to give the 8985 exhumed skulls a final resting place. The way the genocide was carried out was brutal. In order to save bullets, they had been stabbed or bludgeoned to death. Can you just imagine the terror these people felt, blindfolded and on their knees, listening to the cries of people dying around them, and waiting for their own turn to be whacked with a garden hoe?

"I can't believe how there are still bits of clothing sticking out of the ground," noted Jo as we walked around the mass graves.

"Where?"

"Everywhere. Like over there by the tree."

I shifted my gaze to my feet. "More than just clothing. Look, there's still human bones protruding from the ground."

Our driver was hired until five o'clock, meaning he was still obligated to us for a couple more hours. Lucky offered to take us to a shooting range, where, for the right price, gun enthusiasts can shoot AK-47s, toss hand grenades, and fire rocket launchers, but none of us were in the mood.

"Just take us back to the hotel," we instructed him.

After what we had seen today, it just wasn't the right time and place.

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