Phnom Penh, Cambodia - Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum @ S-21 Prison

After our visit to the Killing Fields, it was time to delve deeper into the horrors of the Khmer Rouge regime. It was another 45 minutes of sensory overload as our tuk-tuk weaved through the traffic back towards the city centre.

Our tuk-tuk dropped us on a narrow sidestreet flanked by restaurants on one side and high white walls on the other. Behind the walls stood a collection of buildings that used to be a high school before it was converted to the notorious high security S-21 prison by the Khmer Rouge. Now it looked drab and dreary and soul-less.

 I remember feeling anxious and nervous as I walked through the gates - not because of the small group of beggars either without a limb or with disfigured faces that was surrounding us, but because I have read so much about this place and was not sure whether I had the right expectations. We bought our tickets and then came to a grassy courtyard surrounded by four buildings. The frangipani trees looked out of place, beauty in a place which hold a thousand dark memories, where once screams and moans and silent prayers of liberation intermingled within the dense air.

The first of the four buildings was Building A, where the individual classrooms were converted into interrogation cells. These were preserved as they were left when the prison was discovered by the Vietnamese Army in 1979, sans the bodies and (most of) the blood of course. I went into the first cell carrying Snufkin. I saw  a solitary rusting iron bedframe in the middle of the room, on which decades ago a man was tortured to death. On a wall above the bedframe hung a framed black-and-white photo depicting a gory picture of a bloated and bloodied man, shackled and chained to the very same bed that I was seeing, already tortured beyond recognition. This I did not want Snufkin to see. I asked him to put his head on my shoulder and close his eyes.

I then caught sight of smudges of blood stains and bloodied handprints on the retro yellow wall. Standing in that room, the horror of what had happened was palpable.

Interrogation room

I was told all four floors of Building A was mostly filled with similar cells. I went into a few others on the ground floor but stopped myself from going to the upper floors. There was no way I was going up carrying Snufkin, or worse still, alone.

The barbed wire was apparently put up to prevent prisoners from committing suicide by jumping from the top floors

We went to Building B where the galleries of photos were. This was, to me, equally haunting. Rows upon rows of harrowing black-and-white photos of prisoners; men, women and children. In some of them, you could see the terror, confusion and fear in their eyes. Some stared at you blankly, some imploringly.

All prisoners of S-21 would have their photos taken

Some of the photos that continued to haunt me

Most of these people were no doubt tortured and killed not long after the photos were taken. These were the people on the verge of death. We let Snufkin look at the photos but after only a few minutes he was begging to go out. Even he could sense how depressing it was.  The courtyard outside was a lifesaver. Both of us took turns sitting with him on one of the benches under a tree. Next to us I saw a French family with 2 young girls, aged probably 6 and 8. They were the only children I saw throughout our visit there.

Without the barbed wire, it would have looked like Snufkin was playing outside a school

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That arrangement meant that I got to see the rest of the place without worrying if any of the exhibits would be unsuitable for Snufkin. And I think the pictures illustrating the methods of torture were a tad too graphic. I suppose it would not be easy to explain the concept of torture to little kids. The actual instruments of torture were also displayed and I marveled at the ingenuity of it all. 

Some of the torture equipmen

In another building, I saw rooms that were shoddily sub-divided into small cells for prisoners. They looked unfit even for animals. More smudges of blood stains on the wall.




Prisoners' cells

Rules and regulation of a concentration camp

There was a lot of things to see and documents to go through, especially in the last building. I would have loved to stay longer and to read more on the place and the history but I realised that I had an increasingly restless child parked in the courtyard. And in any case, the place felt so eerie that I did not dare to linger in rooms when there were no other vistitors.

I came to Cambodia with the primary purpose of seeing Angkor Wat. However, by the time that our short Cambodian trip was over, what left the most impact on me and what I remembered most were not the temples of Angkor, but the Tuol Sleng stories and the Cambodian genocide.

What I saw, read and heard in Cheoung Ek and Tuol Sleng stayed with me for months after I returned home to Malaysia. I felt disturbed. It did not help that I kept on wanting to know more. On top of the book First They Killed My Father by Loung Ung that I bought in Phnom Penh, I went on to buy the sequel After They Killed Our Father and The Elimination by Rithi Panh at Seam Reap Airport. We watched the movie The Killing Fields and also documentaries made by Rithi Panh and I trawled the net for stories by survivors of the regime. It was like Cambodian Month at our house.

I suppose the reason for my heightened interest could be due to the fact that it happened not too long ago. At that time, we were supposed to be already civilized. And those people who killed, maimed and tortured under the name of the Khmer Rougue - most of them are probably still alive...and free.

I learnt a lot from the visits. I learnt the meaning of an agrarian society, of the idealogy behind the whole madness. I also learnt that the depths of the darkness of the human hearts has no limit.

I realise that it's not everyone's cup of tea, but I still feel that the tourists to Cambodia who gravitated to Angkor Wat without putting Cheoung Ek and Tuol Sleng in their itineraries have not grasped the essence of the country. So go - don't let travelling with kids stop you.

Note:- 

Address: Street 113, Boeng Keng Kang 3, Chamkar Morn, ☎ +855 23 300-698, Admission fee: USD3, Opening hours: 8am - 5pm 

Phnom Penh, Cambodia - The Killing Fields

Many years ago, I watched a documentary on the Khmer Rouge and the madman Pol Pot, focusing on the Killing Fields and the S21 Prison. The Killing Fields of Choeung Ek is the site of brutal executions and mass graves for more than 17,000 men, women and children. These victims had previously been detained and tortured in S21 Prison, then brought by the truckloads to Choeung Ek to face a certain death (or rather, their deaths were certain the minute they were arrested).

I was intrigued, and told myself that these would definitely be a must-see if I ever found myself in Phnom Penh. Fast forward years later and there I was planning for the trip to Phnom Penh...but now with a 4 year-old towing along. Taking a child of that age to scenes of genocide and torture sound like an invitation to the social services. I scoured the net looking for other parents' experience. There were not many. But the question came up often enough: Should you take your children to visit the Killing Fields? The S21 Prison? Will they be traumatized by the experience?

At the end of the day, I think that it's a personal choice. We chose to take our 4-year old son along because he follows us on all our travels and I could not imagine leaving him with an unknown babysitter in a foreign country. And because we want him to travel to learn. The world after all is one big classroom and on that day in December 2013, Phnom Penh offered a history lesson and also one in gratitude and empathy. Before we went, I told him of how once there was a very bad man named Pol Pot who went on to kill many people and we were going to go to see the place where the skeletons were and to learn of what really happened. I also told him that the men are now being punished (technically not completely true, I know) and the world will not let it happen again (ok, he did not have to know about Rwanda etc yet). That was of course a very simplified version of what happened but I guessed that was enough as an introduction. 

More importantly than that, I kept on reminding him that he must be on his best behaviour and he could only talk in whispers. We brought him to Anne Frank's Museum in Amsterdam when he was 2, the age when there's no such thing as reasoning, and the memory of that is one that I choose not to relive.

And so at 8 am on that day, we got to the hotel reception and requested for a tuk-tuk. I had initially planned to take a taxi as I did not want to expose Snufkin to the dusty roads. But unfortunately we left the taxi booking till late and there were only tuk-tuks available. How bad could it be, I thought. Our tuk-tuk rides the day before was not too bad at all, pollution-wise. But still just to be on the safe side, we requested Kosal our tuk-tuk driver to stop at a pharmacy and get some face masks. That turned out to be the best decision we would ever make on the whole Cambodia trip.

To say that the roads were dusty would be an understatement. At times, it felt like we were driving through a sandstorm and it got worse the further we were from Phnom Penh. For a big part of the the journey the roads were not tarred - just dirt and gravel - so all the tyres from the various types of vehicles sent the dirt and dust whirling and swirling around. To make matters worse, the roads were riddled with potholes: some so big it looked like a bomb dropped and formed a crater. Half-way through the journey, Snufkin laid his head on my lap and fell asleep. I was not sure if it was from queasiness or he was just lulled by the movements.

After 40 minutes of a roller-coaster bumpy ride, we reached Choeung Ek Genocidal Centre.

Entrance to the Killing Fields at Choeung Ek

We joined a very short queue outside the small office to the right of the entrance to buy our tickets. With the admission price, we were given a leaflet/map of the place as well as an audio equipment with earphones. With the audio guide providing clear description of each marked area, I don't think a guide is essential.

We listened to the stories of the victims who were mostly immediately executed once they reached the site. They were led blindfolded to the edge of a massive pit, pushed to their knees and eliminated by a swift blow of machetes, hatchets, axes or whatever that was handy. Bullets were precious resources so no one was shot. Today, the mass graves dotted the fields, some fenced in and roofed and some left to the elements. This is one of "166 victims without heads":


Mass grave of headless victims

We saw depressions on the grassy ground, and it was hard to think that these too were where the dead were buried. Apparently in rainy seasons the rain brought up fragments of bones and rags to the surface, making them visible to the public.  It was not the rainy season at that time but as I scanned the grounds, I could see glimpses of bones, somewhat at one with the greens of the grasses.  

There were also glass cases where they kept some of the rags of clothings unearthed from the grounds.This is one of probably only a couple of pictures we took of Snufkin at the site. I did not think it was very  appropriate to treat the site as a tourist attraction and have our pictures taken at every other corner:

Rags of victims' clothings unearthed from the pits

I stood before this glass case for a quite a long time, looking at a pair of faded purple shorts here and a tattered t-shirt there, trying to imagine what went through the wearer's minds before the fatal blows that ended their lives.

Colourful bracelets were tied to the bamboo fences or simply thrown on the grounds by visitors in memory of the tragedy that had happened here:

In memory of the victims of the genocide

One of the most horrifying things that we saw was the "Killing Tree". This was where babies and children were killed by getting their heads bashed against the trunk of this very same tree. Later in the museum on site, I saw an illustration of how this was done and I could not imagine how a human being would be capable of doing such heinous act:

Probably the most haunted tree in the world

The other thing that left the most impact in me is the "Magic Tree". Quite why it was named as such escaped me. What I know is that the tree was used to hang a loudspeaker, which blared revolutionary Khmer songs. The music, combined with the whirring of the generators, meant to drown the scream and moan of the victims on the verge of death. I listened to the recreated version of it on the audio guide and I can tell you that it was the most haunting thing I have ever heard in my life. It rang in my ears for days on end and I could almost taste the terror on my lips.

The magic tree that was not so magical

At the end of the audio guide's narration, we were briefed on the memorial stupa that housed the skulls of those who had been killed at Cheoung Ek in layers upon layers of glass cases.

Skulls in a stupa

From the start to the end of the visitors' path, Snufkin followed us and I tried to explain what we were seeing in the most general terms, skipping the grisly details of course. But when we came to the stupa, I did not feel comfortable to take him to such close contact to the remains of human beings. Both of us took turns going around the stupa, to watch over him play with his sticker book on the bench in front of the stupa.

The verdict on taking a child to the Killing Fields? From that perspective, I would say that it was not too bad - the meadow-like set-up with leafy trees, fluttering butterflies and tranquil surrounding probably made he think that he was having a walk in the park. Despite the skulls and the graves that he saw and the condensed version of the story that he heard from us, at 4 years of age, he was too young to fully comprehend the magnitude of the horror. But S21 Prison, that is another story... 

Note:

Choeung Ek is located approximately 17km outside Phnom Penh and all tuk-tuk//taxi drivers should be able to take you there. Ours cost USD15 for half a day, enough time to take us to both Choeung Ek and S-21 Prison inclusive of waiting times. Admission: USD6 including audio guide. Opening hours; 9.00 - 5.3-pm.

  

Phnom Penh, Cambodia - An evening in Phnom Penh

I had planned for a visit to the Royal Palace and the Silver Pagoda on our first day in Phnom Penh but the opening hours were rather limited (7.30 to 11am and 2 to 5pm).  After our visit to the National Museum, we ended up recharging our batteries in the hotel room longer than expected and by the time the tuk-tuk dropped us in the vicinity of the palace, it was close to 5pm. And even then, we were not sure where the main entrance was. The royal residence of the King of Cambodia was in a huge compound completely surrounded by high mustard-coloured walls. The gates that we saw was closed and the royal guards manning the guard posts did not look like they wouldn't mind being treated like a tourist information centre.

Chan Chhya Pavillion

So I conceded to the fact that we would not be able to see the Royal Palace. It was a good thing that the Moonlight Pavillion or Chan Chhaya Pavillion was very visible from outside.  This was an open-air pavillion serving as stage for Khmer classical dance in the past and present. Its gilded tiered roofs glinted beneath the evening sun, the opulence of it offered us glimpses of what we have missed within the royal compound.

Outside the Royal Palace

The traffic-free boulevard along the palace walls facing the river was very lively. Snufkin kept himself busy blowing bubbles that we bought for USD1 from one of the hawkers, chasing pigeons and posing as a guard in one of the guard posts. We strolled along the palace walls, guided by the map to our next destination: Street 240. This was apparently the place to go to shop for souvenirs, trinkets and quirky products. I expected a wide boulevard, flanked by large stores with throngs of tourists. But this was Phnom Penh, and what I actually saw of Street 240 was much better than what I envisaged. 

Street 240 is narrow and leafy, the shops lining it were mostly small and cosy. We saw other tourists of course, but none of the dreaded tour groups. Unfortunately, it was getting dark and based on what I had read about Phnom Penh at night , we did not want to be out and about with a 4-year old child on dimly-lit streets.

In fact, what I had read about Phnom Penh (only after booking the flight tickets) in the days before the trip made me feel increasingly paranoid and anxious. Stories of being kidnapped by the man that was your tuk-tuk driver, being a victim of snatch and grab thefts while you're walking or even while you're sitting in a tuk-tuk, violent crimes towards tourists and even murders - did I make the right decision? In the end, I decided that we only had to abide to a few rules while in Phnom Penh: No daypack (I only carried minimal amount of cash and our passports in a money belt and my LP in my hand). Stick to the tourist trail. No going out at night.

So that was why we rushed through Street 240. We did stop at The Shop (I could not resist), a quaint bakery-cum-cafe-cum chocolate shop - for our coffee and smoothie fix and also to take-away some food for dinner (vegetarian quiche, buns and pastries).

The Shop @ Street 240

Last mission of the day was to buy some books at Monument Books & Toys. On the map, it looked easy enough to get to from The Shop but in reality it involved some serious skills in road crossing and motorcycle avoidance. We got to the intersection between Street 240 and Norodom Boulevard to discover in dismay that the bookstore was located across the multi-lane road and the said road was practically heaving with traffic. No traffic light. No zebra crossing. There was no way we could cross this, I thought. But we did. I carried Snufkin and we crossed lane by lane, using our hands to stop the traffic whenever required. It turned out that this was the only way you could cross the roads in Phnom Penh.

Inside the bookstore, it was an oasis of calm and serenity compared to the madness outside. Bought several books including Loung Ung's First They Killed My Father and a children's book on the Cambodian genocide. Then we hopped into a waiting tuk-tuk in front of the book store which took us straight to the hotel.

Phnom Penh, Cambodia - First sights of Kampuchea

Travelling dates
 
19 - 24 December 2013 (2 nights in Phnom Penh and 3 in Seam Reap)
Snufkin's age: 4 years and 6 months

Mode of transportation

For the past 5 years, the number of tourists visiting Cambodia has increased exponentially. Right there on every tourist's agenda is Seam Reap, gateway to Angkor Wat. Phnom Penh is, more often than not, sidestepped. That could have been us had it not been for last minute planning that rendered Malaysia Airlines tickets to be only marginally more expensive than Air Asia at the time of booking in October, but only when we booked KUL-Phnom Penh and Seam Reap-KUL instead of KUL-Seam Reap return.

I did not see that as an inconvenience, even if it meant that we had to look and budget for suitable transportation between the two cities. It was an opportunity to explore the capital city, the mere mention of which name conjured a mixture of romance and adventure of a bygone era. I got an instant urge to travel each time the two syllables rolled off my tongue.

Since coming back to Malaysia, we had only been using Air Asia for our travels so I guessed Snufkin must have forgotten how flying on a non-no frills airlines feels like. As soon as we stepped onto the plane, he saw the the individual TV screens and immediately his face lighted up."Wow, there's television!", was his (loud) remark. I pretended that we were not together. As if that was not enough, the stewardess then brought us the headphones and a blanket and pillow for him and he could barely contain his excitement.

Somewhere between KL and Phnom Penh

From Phnom Penh International Airport, the taxi for the 10 km-or-so distance to the our hotel in the capital cost USD12. Getting a taxi was a fairly easy process - no queue, fixed fare and no touts scrambling around you.

Within Phnom Penh, we relied on tuk-tuks to take us places.  It cost between USD2 - USD3 to get from our hotel to the sights that we wanted to see, money I gladly parted with as it meant that we did not have to navigate the chaotic streets of Pnom Penh.

Accommodation

There were many small boutique hotels that caught my attention (most notably The Kabiki) but these were out of our price range. We ended up staying at Kolab Sor Hotel for USD35 per night. The hotel advertised itself as a "modern hotel" with a business centre but with 60 rooms it was small enough for us and the splashes of vibrant colours on cushions and drapings made it look less like a bog-standard hotel. The relatively cheap rates and the close proximity (but not too close thankfully) to Tuol Sleng Prison Museum sealed the deal. The hotel is supposed to be a 5-minutes walk to the museum and on the map it looked near enough. I had even printed the google map to guide us there. But once we got there and saw the very busy streets and chaotic traffic it was tuk-tuk most of the time thank you very much.

Address: #436, Street 310, Sangkat Boeung Keng Kang III, Chamkar Mon, Phnom Penh

First impressions

Our first stop was the National Museum of Cambodia for a bit of perspectives on the country's history before we delved into the more grisly details (read: Killing Field and Tuol Sleng) . The rust-red museum buildings were pretty impressive - its tiered-roofs and spires somewhat gave an impression of graceful Khmer dancers. The collections were housed in 4 pavillions, all facing a serene and leafy garden courtyard complete with fish ponds (a godsend as far as those with little kids are concerned). Of course, Snufkin did not care too much about the sculptures, bronzes, 19th century dance costumes, royal barges and palanquins and Khmer arts pieces and probably was even a bit scared of the statues. So we took turns sitting on one of the benches surrounding the courtyard and watch him play and fish-watch. This meant that I had a peaceful time going through the collections and reading up on the history of the Khmer Empire.

Cameras were only allowed in the courtyard so there were no pictures of the exhibits.

Address: Street 13, Sangkat Chey Chumneas, Khan Daun Penh, Phnom Penh (opposite the Royal Palace),
Opening hours: 8AM-5PM daily, last admission 4:30PM.
Admission: USD5

Friends The Restaurant

We left the museum feeling famished but with no idea where to go to for lunch. Just to avoid the group of beggars that were making their way towards us, we crossed the road and took an immediate left turn, hoping that we would come across a decent looking restaurant or cafe. And barely 10 steps away, we saw these:

Now, I had read about Friends and its excellent reputation many times whilst researching for this trip but thought that it would not be easy to get to. And there we were, practically stumbling upon it. So in we trooped, heading towards the cosy outdoor seating area. This was seperated by bamboos from a gravel-and-sand courtyard, in which throngs of kids of all ages could be seen doing what kids should do - playing catch, hopscotch and even pretend-cooking using leaves, twigs and stones. The restaurant is part of the Mith Samlanh NGO, which trains and employs former street youth in the hospitality industry, so these could be the young apprentices.

We had a wonderful lunch of vegetarian and fish-based tapas and also a heavenly passionfruit and mango smoothie which started in me a fixation of anything passion fruit. The lunch cost around USD22 - a fair price I would say considering the food, ambience and the chance to notch up your responsible travel credence.

After lunch, it was back to the hotel for rest and in case Snufkin needed to nap.

Kuala Gandah Elephant Sanctuary

During one of those long weekends with Friday being a public holiday, we joined a couple of friends and their kids for a short getaway to nearby Janda Baik. I have always wanted to take Snufkin to the Kuala Gandah Elephant Sanctuary so since we were already in that neck of the woods, a short detour was all that was needed to have a fun-filled day with the elephants. Or so we thought. We had been back in Malaysia for just 7 months so had completely forgotten to factor in the fact that on any extended weekend 3/4 of the population would leave KL, and 3/4 of those would be going to the East Cost. Karak Highway was heaving with cars - it made the Easter getaway on UK's M1 looked like Iceland's Ring Road. In the end, it took us more than 3 hours to get there, a journey that should have taken the most 2 hours.




Source: Wonderful Malaysia

The Elephant Sanctuary was initailly set up as a relocation programme for wild and displaced elephants whose natural habitat has been encroached by men in their pursuit of agricultural advancement. Since then, not only has the centre succesfully relocated hundreds of elephants, but it has also gained the cult status as the place to go in Peninsular Malaysia for anything to do with elephants. And therein lie the problem. The centre attracts increasing crowds, and thus becomes more like a zoo than a sanctuary. Previously, you could go on elephant rides and bathe the elephants to your heart's content. All this was put to a stop sometime in 2012 due to the enforcement of the Wildlife Protection Act 2010.

I called the centre a few days before the trip to enquire about activities for kids.  Apparently they still have the elephant bathing sessions although the number of people allowed in each session is very limited. The nice lady on the line suggested that we take a package that included the elephant bathing session and jungle trekking on an easy trail to an Orang Asli settlement. The price that she quoted for the 5 kids that we had between us were very reasonable and I immediately booked our place. Alas, a day before the trip I got a call from her saying that the elephant bathing session had to be cancelled as it had been raining for a couple of days making the water level dangerous for the elephants.

We still went to the Elephant Sanctuary and saw that they had put up a red flag in one of the huts by the banks of the river, indicating that all water-related activities were cancelled. The river looked like someone had just emptied truckloads of teh tarik into it. I was secretly relieved by the cancellation.

The elephants at the Sanctuary were caged with fences that were made of logs. Their legs were shackled and most of them looked like they had some kind of skin disease (or is that how elephants should look like? After all, Dumbo is only a cartoon character). I read that some visitors were appalled at the condition of the elephants and accused the handlers of mistreating the elephants. I did not see any mistreatment and I will not judge based on a visit that lasted only for an hour or two.  

Obviously, the kids were only concerned with feeding as many sugar cane sticks and bananas as they could. You put out a banana and that long curling trunk with dripping bodily fluids would move towards you and somewhat gracefully take the banana from your hand. Snufkin made many trips to the stall selling bananas and sugar cane sticks (RM5 and RM3 per bunch respectively), seemingly bent on giving the elephants the feast of their lives.

We also saw the handlers washing the cutest baby elephants. Then there was a show of some sort with the handlers trying to get the elephants to do tricks. Of course it was nothing like what you would see in a zoo or circus but hey, this was a sanctuary after all and the elephants looked like they'd rather be elsewhere chomping on more sugar canes.

By the end of the show, it was approaching noon and becoming unbearably hot. It was our cue to leave, and after a simple lunch and the obligatory ice-cream session at the refreshment stalls, we set off for the verdant hills and cooling streams of Janda Baik.

A word of advice that I have for those wishing to come here: Manage your epectation. Although the exhibits near the entrance were informative and rather cleverly done, this is a small sanctuary and without the elephant rides and elephant bathing sessions that seemed to be expected by most, there is little else to do besides feeding the elephants, watching the short show and perhaps having a picnic i the grounds. But I was okay with that and Snufkin seemed to enjoy himself. If there was going to be a second time, I would definitely have it combined with the jungle trekking to the Orang Asli settlement.