Our first meal in Cambodia took place outdoors in the darkness of a power outage, lit only by a few small candles. Firecrackers were exploding in the dusty dirt road next to us as heavy machinery, large trucks and motorbikes occasionally passed by several feet from our table. A team of zealous waiters wearing bright orange, tropical print shirts hovered nearby. After we ate, the wait staff gathered around us to ask the names of simple items such as trousers, mosquito coils, a candle and ashtray. We spoke with two boys in particular, Van and Cheat.

Van’s disposition was childlike. His face was on the round side, and peaceful in appearance with deep brown eyes and soft features. I was surprised to find out that he was 18-years-old. I thought he couldn’t be older than 14 or 15. He already spoke English well enough to communicate with us, but as every other young Cambodian friend we made, he was modest about it apologizing, “Sorry I do not speak English well.” Cheat (pronounce Chee-et) was Van’s sidekick. He was shy and was almost always by Van’s side. His facial features were much more distinct – broad nose, strong cheekbones and a pronounced brow with deep-set eyes. He was the first to approach us, pointing at the candles on our table quietly asking, “Excuse me, sorry, what you call?”

Cheat carried a tiny notebook in his pocket to record the new English words he learned from tourists. After making my entry in the notebook, he said I was, “Everlasting in his heart.” I was touched that a simple action on my part was rewarded with so much appreciation. I was also impressed this word was in his vocabulary since he previously asked me how to call his trousers. He and Van left their loved ones and homes in far away villages to work in Siem Reap. They live on the restaurant premises, sleeping on the floor at night, with the hope to make a better life for their families thanks to the brand new, booming tourism industry.

In recent years, Cambodia was not a travel destination at all. The Khmer Rouge controlled the country through terror in the 70s, and held a presence in the country until the 90s. They were an extreme group lead by Pol Pot, a radical Marxist-Leninist who was advised and supported by the Chinese and Vietnamese communist parties. On April 17, 1975 the Khmer Rouge seized the capital city Phnom Penh and began a genocidal four-year plan that would take the lives of close to 2 million Cambodians. Cities were evacuated forcing people to walk for days into the dry, hot countryside with little or no food and water. Their only possessions were those they could carry on their backs. Many died from disease, starvation, exhaustion or executions at mass gravesites.

Survivors’ stories tell of long, backbreaking hours of work in forced labor camps growing rice or digging irrigation ditches. Families were split apart as children were sent to distant labor or training camps and adults were sent for re-education or execution. Men and the educated were particularly targeted as they were perceived as most threatening to the socialist movement. Today, the population is largely young and illiterate. But now, the long and bloody rule of the KR is over. Despite recent history, the heavily land mined countryside, and its reputation for lawlessness, Cambodia is becoming a popular destination for tourists.

The temples of Angkor are the main draw of tourism in Siem Reap. The temples were built between the 9th and 14th centuries, constructed of stone that was hauled by elephants from nearby mountains. They were originally dedicated to Hindu gods, later to Buddha. The structures are a display of exceptional artistry and craftsmanship, every inch covered with bas-reliefs and carvings. The community in Siem Reap still gathers to the grounds of Angkor Wat for Sunday picnics and to swim in the large moat surrounding it. The temples are an important part of their spiritual and family lives, paradoxically happening in tandem with sightseers and busloads of packaged tourists snapping photos of themselves grinning in front of the sacred stone ruins.

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© 2003, Cheryn Flanagan