The girls thought I should be clear upfront on what this blog post was about and to warn readers it is graphic, disturbing and unsettling and there is no way to sugar coat it. There may have been an attempt to bury the history of what happened in Cambodia but like the bones and pieces of clothing that stick up through the drying dirt and were uncovered ever rainy season, the brutality of this history of humanity is just under the surface of every story, every interaction in everyday life in this remarkable country.
I remember learning a little about the genocide of Cambodia but I am embarrassed to say before this trip I could have told you little more about the history than it was recent, there were many mass graves, politics I didn’t understand but an uneasy sense that maybe the world should have paid attention earlier. What we saw and learned was sobering. Details that are shocking - one third to one half of the population was killed in 3 years. It was like a real life serial killer who gained political power who seemed to kill as much for the challenge of killing than any real means to an end. You were killed if you were educated, light skinned, worked too hard, not enough or questioned anything. And their leader Pol Pot we were told comes from “Political Potential” and had a disturbing desire to document his destruction.
I have struggled getting this blog post up because what do you say to capture the world of emotion seeing your ten year old looking up at skulls stacked stories high? How to do you explain to your 14 year old that yes, that sign says the tree really was used to beat children’s heads? What is the respectful thing to do when you notice a femur sticking out of the ground in the killing fields? How to you keep your heart from skipping when the little kid on the street has the same shorts as the ones you just saw in a mass grave? How do you go back to school work when you just walked the walls of a school turned into a prison where blood stains still line the floors and playgrounds are turned into torture fields? And what if after all of that you guide says now you can meet three of the prisoners here to tell their story? Do you say sorry? Do you simply let the tears flow freely? It reminded how I felt the day of the Newtown shooting, stunned beyond comprehension, not sure how to process it all and the only thing that felt right was to hug my kids.
I realized after having kids how true it is that your heart lives outside of you and is no longer yours. Around those killing fields watching them take it all in, I felt so fortunate we have been able to raise them at a distance from such atrocities, but so deeply saddened such things exist.
So yes my dearest girls, I think many would criticize us for taking you to the Killing Fields, but you are strong and brave and this is armor for you. May the darkness of these fields help you to find the demons that hide in the shadows and give you the strength to shine light on them. You will know sadness and grief greater than you can ever imagine and I can not protect you from that, any more than these mothers could protect their children from this horror. But may you also remember these people’s resilience, their happy faces, their playful “hello’s” and their ability to speak their demons. Me hiding the horrors of humanity will not protect you any longer as you break into adulthood. All I can do is send my wishes for you and this world you are inheriting and hope that it along with the millions of others wishes sent on Bhutanese prayer flags, Islamic morning prayers, Croatian churches and in peaceful Norwegian woods whisper back to you helping you be kind and courageous as you stumble into the future.
A stupa is traditionally used to hold the remains of important people and loved ones. Upon discovering this killing field outside of the capital and in the area of an old Chinese Cemetery and the hundreds of skulls they built a stupa to place the remains, almost like the tomb of the unknown soldier as a place to remember those who could not be identified.
Inside the stupa, skulls pilled high and sorted by age, and marked by gender and type of death if that could be identified.
Bracelets hanging on the tree to remember the children who suffered here. It was a humbling moment as our guide, the child of this war, told us her story and that of her parents and their escape. She told us of the mantra by the Khmer Rouge - “if you cut the grass, you must pull out the root” and so the brutality knew no boundary by age.
It was really hard to process this moment. I really appreciated their reflection, composure and reverence for this place.
At the base of the skulls were articles of clothing as well as weapons used in the graves.
I kept wondering what was going through their minds at this moment, hoping they will hold onto it as they move forward in life, remembering how people strive for peace yet so often know violence.
Our guide was truly a guide, making the sorties real, sharing her partner stories and talking to the kids what it was like to be a kid at that time.
Holding on to the barb wire surrounding the school that was turned into a prison.
At the end of the tour, three survivors sat with their stories and their families. It was humbling to go from a black and white picture of them in a cell to sitting with them at the gates. This man, full of smiles and kindness lived in the prison the longest of the survivors and we changed one of the girls reading books to this his, grateful again for this year of learning as we go.