March 17, 1975

March 18th marked the 40th anniversary of the coup that was led by the anti Sihanouk group in srok Khmer in 1970, namely Lon Nol, Sirikmatak, In Tam, etc.

History shows that prior to the event that led to the deposed of Sihanouk, Sihanouk himself was out of the country on some pretexts that only he could have known. Knowing Sihanouk’s style of governing the country, one can safely assume that he must have known that something was brewing. As in the past, when things got out of hand, he would dramatically seek refuge in Angkor or some resorts in Europe hoping that his “children” would see it right to behave as he would want them to and that things will take care of themselves by the time his “children” ask him to come back. He was wrong on that fateful day of 1970. His “children” had had enough of him and they decided to dispose of him and his mercurial style of leadership.

According to some historians, Lon Nol was a reluctant participant. He was “forced” to sign a decree that denounce Sihanouk. Whether or not Lon Nol was a willing participant we will never know. The only thing that we know is that he was voted by the new parliament to head the new government and that he eventually became the president of the Khmer Republic.

That much we know for certain.

As to the recent haranguing of the current government that Lon Nol was a traitor I find it hard to swallow. In my opinion, the recent speech made by the prime minister of Kampuchea was an attempt to pacify Sihanouk while at the same time legitimize his own party standing.

There is no need to do that. The current government is deemed legitimate by many countries around the world and as far as Sihanouk is concerned, we know what he did and did not do. Therefore, to blatantly falsify historical facts is to insult the intelligence of those who had perished in the civil war and of those who have survived.

Lon Nol was indeed a traitor, but not a traitor to Kampuchea. He, in a sense, stabbed Sihanouk in the back. But that is between Sihanouk and Lon Nol. Those who have known him (or of him) know that he was patriotic.

Thus, to set the record straight we should say that Lon Nol was a traitor to Sihanouk, not a traitor of srok Khmer. However, if we insist to adhere to the logic of the prime minister, then we can say that Lon Nol is a traitor just as Sihanouk was a traitor to Son Ngoc Thanh or Preap In or Sam Sary. Furthermore, we can even say that those that defected to Vietnam in the late 1970s were also traitors -- they were traitors to Pol Pot.

You see the logic here? Sihanouk was not Kampuchea. He governed Kampuchea but he himself was not Kampuchea or the embodiment of it (though I am sure he likes to think that way). To betray Sihanouk is not the same thing as to betray Kampuchea.

By now I hope I can convince some of the readers that Lon Nol was not a traitor. Rather, he was patriotic. But being patriotic does not necessarily mean that one is capable and this is true for Lon Nol and his administration. Incompetency, corruption, and nepotism was the norm of the day.. and still is.

The Problem with Death

I woke up in the middle of the night sweating so profusely and microseconds later I realized that my chest was in a sharp pain. I lied still trying to figure what had just happened and I made myself believe that it was just one of those serious episodes of heartburn. The pain continued to jab me and its intensity was relentless and after what seems eternal, I sat up and tried to do a breathing exercise that I read somewhere. As a precaution, I also took a heartburn pill. I, unwillingly, asked myself the obvious question: what had just happened? Was it just heartburn or was it a mere courtesy call of death, disguised as a mild stroke?

All the while, my wife, who was sleeping beside me, continued her slumber and hopefully dreaming of a beautiful dream. I knew my children were also in their deep sleep, only to stir every now and then as I know they do.

So I sat down doing my breathing. I tried to focus my mind on one simple object -- a rose. I saw in my mind’s eyes a beautiful red rose and I tried to see the origin of this beauty. I suppose the projector that was my mind was not functioning as well as it should have, for I could not get a clear picture of the rose. I presume my mind has a “mind” of its own for I could not bring it to focus any longer. Instead of projecting a simple, beautiful stem of rose, my mind kept on wondering in and out of the subject of death.

I gave up my attempt to do a breathing exercise. So I went back to bed and tried to lie as still as possible so as not to disturb my wife. As I lay down stealthily I did not have any other thought but the thought of death. Someone had said “the anticipation of death is worse than death itself.” Touché!

The venerable Kang Keng had told me that a person needs to prepare for his own death. Here, he was not talking about putting down a payment for your future plot of land. He was talking about mentally preparing for it. He said he saw his own funeral many thousand times, in details. He was afraid of it at first but as he replays it over and over in his mind he became one with death. No longer afraid of it and he is now able to see it as something that is as normal as breathing.

Thus death came in and out of my mind as if it had total control of my faculty and soon I gave way to this train of thought and I now I became the passenger. I questioned myself how would it come, I mean, death? Would it come in a peaceful manner like a gradual fading of lights or would it come violently? No one would know, I suppose, for the one that had died was never able to tell us how it feels like the very last second of their grasping of air. Achar Bud Savong said “it is logical that everyone is afraid of death because a person will experience death just once in his or her life time.”

Should I be afraid of death? I asked myself. I did not have a clue whether the idea of death is more frightening than the idea of dying. Death, I know, will extinguish all which make my body functions and after it has put out all elements that fuel my body I will surely vacate this body and “I” will be no more. Or will “I” be? I do not know the answer because I do not even know if there has ever been an “I”, as in the first person singular pronoun.
I glanced at the clock that sat quietly on my night stand. The digital display showed 2:34 a.m. I had wished at that very instance that death would be just as quiet as this clock who just sits there waiting and showing us time, a reminder that a certain hour of rendezvous is nearing. I contemplated on the notion of Annicha Dukkha Anatta or all conditioned things are impermanence in nature and this will produce mental anguish and since this phenomenon is out of our control it is therefore not us – hence no-self. Mind you, I have not mastered this theory yet for I am still very much dreadful of death.

But then again, it is not death that alarmed me. Rather, it is the dying part that is bothersome. I hate thinking that when death comes, it comes in and plays us like a child who is playing with his or her little figurines. It would twist us here and bend us there. It would extend its cold palm and squeeze our beating heart now lightly, now tightly. The pain must have been excruciatingly unbearable. I thought when the time comes I would have enough courage to be able to say to death “come ye come all for I am not afraid of thee as thou art part of me.”

I opened my eyes and I found my wife was still asleep. It was 5:30 a.m. I got up and got ready for my daily round of work. I was thankful of the fact that I had another chance to wake up and to feel her warm body next to me.

Unordinary Khmers

The draconic cycle of life of ordinary Khmers will continue to spin while the life style of the “unordinary” elites continues to flourish as if the world of the poor and the desolate many does not exist.

It is indeed a sad affair to have witnessed and to have heard of cases of Khmers who have but a few square meters of land upon which they could build what they call home. It is even more sorrowful to have known the very few who own not just one hundred, but hundreds or even thousands of hectares of land. It does not take a genius to figure out that there is something fundamentally wrong with this picture.

I am a firm believer in a capitalist system. I am convinced that free competitive spirit propels the economy to move forward, enriching those who have the resources while at the same time helping the rest to inch forward toward a better life. However, Kampuchea is another story.

Having said that, what I, and I am sure the rest of us, am seeing today in Kampuchea is similar to the episode which I read of primitive culture of Europe back in the Dark Age. In short, though we are living the twenty-first century, we are still in the modus operandi of the past.

And speaking of the past, I am reminded of a book that I read called “How the Irish Saved Civilization” in which feudal lords and the like of them positioned and repositioned themselves in the realm of politics so that they could garner a bigger piece of the lion share. I am witnessing the same scenario today in srok Khmer where the knights and lords (Okña and Ek Oudam) are vying for a better spot upon which a lion share could be had.

What becomes of the “ordinary” (more than 80% of the population) Khmers then are but serfs whose lives depend on the mercy of their lords; whose livelihood depends upon the leftover (if any) or any spillage that may have occurred after the “lions” had their fill. The have-nots are transforming, unwillingly, daily to become beasts of burden while the Okña and their peers are themselves The Beasts...predators who will prey on their own if needed be.

If the description of Kampuchea thus far seems bleak it because it is bleak. And the future is not that promising either, if the current trend continues. Will the trend continue? No one really knows, but as an old adage goes “the future lays in the hands of younger generation.” True, the future will definitely rest upon the shoulders of young bloods. The question is “which shoulder”? Will it be the shoulder that further sink Kampuchea to the abyss of regressiveness or will it be the one that elevate her from her current state of being?

The shaking off of the yoke of poverty and the shifting from a good to a bad shoulder all depend on our ability to distinguish between what is moral and what is immoral. It must be understood that it is oxymoronic to take the money that would otherwise belong to the poor to help build a grand temple; it must be understood that it is rather odd to wish for democracy while ignoring the plight of humanity.

It is never too late to change, but before any changes can take place, Khmers must come to a realization that mistakes have been made and that the same mistakes must not be repeated.

Kampot, Kampuchea

It has been raining for several days now and the temperature has not risen above 50 Fahrenheit. The sky is covered with thick blanket of clouds that don’t seem to want to go away.

This type of weather prompts me to think of one place that I have grown to love so dearly -- Kampot. Though I was born and raised in Phnom Penh, I had spent almost four of my teenage years during the Pol Pot era in that province. There is something about that territory that seems endearing to me. Perhaps because Kampot’s landscape is dotted with mountains and hills with lush, green vegetations; perhaps because within her bosom she has the ocean that bring cool breeze to a person like me.

In my opinion, there is nothing more relaxing than to stroll or to sit on one of the benches along the shore of her river; just sit there listening to the gentle sound of branches of pine trees as they sway to and fro. From this vintage point, I could see clearly the infamous Phnom Bok Kor majestically standing tall above the rest with white cloud swirling around her waist. If I close my eyes, I could have sworn I could faintly hear the sound of rushing water from a distance Teuk Chhu not so far away.

Just a short drive away from down town, I would run into a monument that bears the name of the town: Ses Sar (White Horse). Turn right and just a stone throw away the smell of freshly boiled crabs and of the mouthwatering fish sauce would lure me closer and closer to the serenity of the white sand beach. The view is breathtaking because just behind me stands yet a chain of mountains with remnant of old houses that once belonged to some people who have long been perished. Though the houses and their occupants have long gone, I could still see the elders watching their kids running up and down the hill chasing butterflies while some picked wild, colorful flowers that are so abundant there.

I could see myself sitting on my front porch, sipping a piñacolada watching waves after waves rushing to shore...

Where there's life, there's hope??

There is a proverb that says “where there’s life, there’s hope.” While in many cases this saying holds true, it is indisputable that the same statement may run into a bit of a problem in Kampuchea.

The word “hope” denotes a sense of aspiration, but what is there to aspire when the opportunity to do so is severely limited. Take a boy who picks up “trashes” in the Phnom Penh’s dumping ground as an example, what is the chance of him, and the multitude like him, to evolve from his present state to the one comparable to that so enjoy by my kids and yours? I’d say pretty, pretty slim.

The Buddha theorized that all conditioned things are dependent upon “other” things for them to come to be. He called this Dependance Origination. In other words, for this to exist, that has to exist first; for this to cease to exist, that has to first cease to exist. For a fire to start, first there must be other materials like wood, spark, oxygen, etc.

If you were the woman who begs on the beach of O Chheu Teal for foods to feed your hungry baby, what chance do you have to rid yourself of this nightmare that has become your reality, the reality that you and your baby live out day to day? If you were that woman, in order for you to have a sense of hope or ambition, the right condition(s) must exist for you to dare to have such a pipe dream.

Given the current state of being in Kampuchea, I’d say that “conditions” for unceasing state of penury exceed those of “good opportunity.” The “conditions” do not (yet?) exist for you to formulate the thoughts of having the ability to free yourself from the present harrowing conditions.

Be that as it may, if we were to take out (or perhaps even to reduce) some components that help produce the unfavorable circumstances, we ought to see also an improvement (if only by a fraction) in the lives of those distressed people. I need not elaborate what those adverse conditions are, for they are far too many to describe here. Instead I should just mention a few conditions by which the life of a country could be reenergized:

* When Khmers realize that the only barrier to success are discipline and the extent of one's talent.

* When both the privileges and the disqualifications of class (the really rich and the really poor) have been abolished and Khmers have shattered the bond which once held them immobile, the idea of progress comes naturally into each Khmer's mind.

When the middle class is the larger than either the rich or the poor.

* When the desire to rise swell in every heart at once, and all Khmers want to quit their former social position, that is when Nak Sre no longer want to be called Nak Sre or the rich kids no longer want to be labeled as such.

* When any man's son may become the equal of any other man's son.

Etcetera, etcetera...

Needless to say, these conditions depend on other conditions for them to arise. Most of these must be initiated from the top of the food chain, namely from those who are in the position to make changes. These people must see that their very existence depends upon those who are living at the bottom and at the middle tiers of society. These two groups must be seen as assets rather than liabilities.

However, after all that is said and done, the truth remains: the lack of moral standards at the top echelon mixing with the absence of self-worth at the bottom produce a phenomenon that further degenerate the spirit and the hope of the general populace as a whole. It further perpetuates the vicious cycle of misery that will eventually deplete mother Kampuchea of her talented sons and daughters.

Where there’s life, there’s hope. Yes, it is true. It could be true. However, hopes depend on other factor to help bring them to fruition, just as a seed depends on good soil, nutrients, and water. Without those conditions, a hope is just another fallacy.

Sam Rainsy Party and Others

I acknowledged in my previous statement that if I were to select one of the three opposition parties, SRP, Ranariddh, and FUNCINPEC, I would opt for the SRP. There are many reasons for that choice and all of which are solely based upon my study of the party’s activities, the party’s apparatus, and its rhetoric.

Since its inception in the earlier part of the 90’s, the SRP has continually demonstrated its aspiration to be the champion of the poor people. It has helped shedding lights on the plight of the poor who are on the verge of losing their homes. It has orchestrated demonstrations against human rights abuses; it has sided with the garment workers and has been helping them in procuring better wages, better working conditions, and most important of all it has been instrumental in insuring that the factory’s bosses (and their backers) do not cross the boundary that separate their profit-hungry motives from abuses. On this note, one might argue its rate of success, but one cannot ignore one simple fact: without the voices of the SRP the circumstances of the poor, the homeless, and the deprived could have been worse.

Membership of the party itself is more prominent than the other parties. As the party leader, Mr. Rainsy has packed his baggage with various credentials. His education, his job resume, his propensity in exposing the Khmer’s dilemmas to western nations, and above all, his ethics are what tower above the rest of the pact, and we, as Khmers, and other outsiders, see this in him as well. As we already know he was dismissed from his post as minister of finance because of his perseverance in exposing the lack of transparency in the government “profit & loss statement.” The dismissal could only be made possible by the engineering and the lack of moral standard of his former boss and, of course, by Mr. Hun Sen. Of late, we see repeated exposé of Mrs. Mu Sochea, who has stood tall against the “strong man” of Kampuchea over the barrage of lawsuits and counter-lawsuits. She is known among western nations as one of the defenders for democracy.

SRP’s rhetoric, at times, seems strong, confrontational, and possibly provoking, but one thing for certain is that it still stands on its principles. I have not yet seen any top SRP leadership altering his or her ideology because of any appeasement or enticement thrown at them by other political factions. The latest example of this is when the SRP and FUNCINPEC top echelons were considering the merging of the two, whereas Mr. Rainsy insisted that the other party must conform to the SRP principles or no deal at all.

From what I have briefly described thus far, one could easily come to a conclusion that the SRP is the noble party indeed, the sort of party that you would throw your supports wholeheartedly. However, since we all are humans and humans do make mistakes, the SRP, namely Mr. Rainsy, does have his Achilles heel. As they said in the days of old “he who lives by the sword shall dies by the sword.” Likewise, as in the SRP case, one can say “he who lives by the rhetoric shall die by the rhetoric.’

That which makes Mr. Rainsy strong could become the device that weighs him down also, just like an anchor that holds a vessel immobile. For instance, the recognition that he extensively receives from western countries could be one of the factors that alienates him from other great nations of the east. It seems as though he relentlessly seeks the support of the USA and other European countries more than he tries with countries in the Asian continent. This may seems trivial at times, but believe you me, the eastern nations are also led by people, and people have feelings – they want Mr. Rainsy to come to them too. In this respect, Mr. Rainsy ought not to neglect countries where Mr. Hun Sen does his shopping. He should have learned from history that countries in the west can at best offer “rhetoric” and not much action – much like they have done throughout the years. Or if I may bluntly say that if a country does not present any strategic importance to them, that country can just hope for lips service and nothing more of real substance. In other words, all is about “investment” in the game of world politics.

The volleys of words and lawsuits that are being lobbed between Mr. Hun Sen and Mrs. Mu Sochea are one thing that distracts our attention, and that of the world, from the real predicament of the Khmer people. It is indeed admirable that Mrs. Mu Sochea has the courage to stand tall against the man whom many consider to be the strong man of Kampuchea. However, I do not think that the lawsuit was needed and that the most that should have been done was to launch a complaint against Mr. Hun Sen. A letter could have been written and distributed to the press that supports her. A letter could have been written to Mr. Hun Sen personally to address the inappropriateness of his remarks. In my opinion, it was a waste of energy, the energy that was diverted from the real cause of saving Kampuchea and her children.

Again, as righteous as their action have been, one thing that the SRP must apprehend is that they are operating in a real world, a world in which your opponent is much, much strong than you are. There are many ways of taming a lion, but provoking the king of the jungle is not one of them. Real politick dictates that one must be flexible in dealing with the real world. The SRP, according to my observation, often time, seems as if they function in an ideal world and since they seem to operate in this mode, they tend to be inflexible.

This inflexibility is their Achilles heel or the heavy anchor afore mentioned. Politicians of the FUNCINPEC as well as the Ranariddh’s parties have been lured to join the CPP. There have been hints also that Mr. Nhek Bun Chhay wanted to form a coalition with the CPP. I know Mr. Hun Sen is an intelligent man and as such I doubt it very much that he would truly enjoy the partnership with the like of Mr. Nhek Bun Chhay, who has swayed to and fro like a pine tree according to the direction of the wind. Instead, I honestly believe that Mr. Hun Sen would benefit greatly if he was to have someone like Mr. Rainsy. For the benefit of Mother Kampuchea, I think this option should not be overlooked by the SRP.

This proposition is by no mean suggesting that the SRP abandons their noble principles. Rather, the SRP can still maintain their ideology while at the same time drive forward to obtain their ultimate goal. Mr. Rainsy need to consider being in a government and from there strive to make changes from within. That is what a German political scientist called Real Politick, and not politics, which mean the ability to adapt to the real world while vigilantly maintaining the goals that you have set in sight constantly.

Imagine what Mr. Rainsy and his party could have accomplished for Khmers if they were IN the government. I am sure corruption would be curtailed, the heavy burden of the factory workers could have been lessening, and the welfare of the poor might have been fairer. Then again, I am writing from a point of view of a person who seeks not power, but prosperity for his Mother Land and whose ego is no equal to that of our current politicians. I, therefore, can only hope that the struggle that all the politicians have been waging is not the struggle for personal glory or personal vendetta, but for the glory of all.

One lazy afternoon

Yesterday afternoon, some of my friends and my family went to an annual Crawfish Festival in Old Town Spring, Texas. It was a very beautiful late afternoon, the temperature was about 78 degree Fahrenheit and the sun was just bright enough to enjoy the lazy day such as it was.

Bands were blasting their music from different stages: Cajun music, country, and rock and rolls. People danced to their favorite music and sang to tunes they knew. Booths were set up advertising their specialties: authentic Cajun crawfish boil, crawfish pies, crawfish etoufee, jambalaya, gator gumbo, rattlesnake gumbo, etc.

As we strolled passed throngs of crawfish enthusiasts, we settled into one booth that offered jumbo crawfish with gator tail on the side. We were getting hungry and after sucking a few crawfish heads, I realized that my wife should have set up a booth here for as I know her crawfish is a lot better than all of these booths combined. I kid you not, I have never tasted a better crawfish. Period. My 3 year-old concurred.

After downing a dozen coronas and 20 pounds of the critters, we decided it was time to go listening to some Cajun music.

Then the sun went away and down came the rain. We sought shelter under a tent that read “Voodoo Arts.” As we waited out the rain, I could not help but notice that I did not see a single piece of trash on the street! And we are talking about thousands of people who must have used tons of paper napkins. Trash bins were everywhere and people actually use them.

I do not know why a simple thing like this captured my attention, but then I thought back to the time when I was in Kien Svay picnic area. There were trash bins too, but no one bothered to use them, as if depositing their own trash in a bin degrades their dignity or something. Trashes were everywhere and I thought why couldn’t they just learn one simple act: putting trashes where they belongs – in the trash bin and not on the street.

The rain never let up so we had to leave the festival. As I drove home, I took my wife’s hand and told her “Honey, there is no crawfish boiled in the world that can be compared to yours.” She thought I went loco, but I meant it. I do appreciate her and her patience with me. Other thoughts came to my mind too that has not gone away yet and that is: why on earth can’t we keep our Kampuchea clean? Perhaps we need to educate our people the simple act of trash depositing before we teach them anything else. Small things matter.