Dawn breaks over the Mekong and fishermen start their days work
I am back after being wiped out by a fever for the best part of a week! Problems with my business visa and work permit, not to mention the incredibly frustrating Cambodian bureacracy, have made me decide to return to Kuala Lumpur and from there travel to Kuala Kangsar, in the hope of tracking down Shah, who I stayed with in 1980.
Cambodia is in effect, still a very country in many ways. It is only thirty years since the demise of the Khmer Rouge and as such the country seems to lack 'correct' procedures to guide anyone who wishes to stay here for a prolonged period. Corruption is rife at every level and as in so many Asian countries, the divide between the rich and poor is vast. Money will buy anything and even after being charged double the going rate for various services, officials will still expect a $5 or $10 'tip' for the privilege of ripping you off. I have seen this all too often and it never ceases to amaze me that a country so rich in its ancient traditions and cultures is trying to run before it can walk. You will find waldorf salad on a menu but to get two meals served at the same time is an impossibility!
Dual pricing for foreigners and locals is common, as it is in Vietnam and Laos, but here in Cambodia it really annoys me because I consider the Khmers to be cutting off the hand that feeds them. Well, who can blame them, I hear you all say. It is understandable to a degree I suppose. Given the history, which by now I am sure you are all familiar with, and the lack of comprehensive education, which leaves many people illiterate and innumerate, it is hardly surprising that the Khmers see the tourist as easy meat. As I am writing this, sat outside the Reang Sey hotel, I have been approached six times in 30 minutes, by women clutching babies, clasping their hands together, begging for money to feed themselves. I had read much about the beggars in Phnom Penh before I came here and now I find it all a bit tiresome. It is of course a moral dilemma but it is very difficult not to become a little cynical about the whole thing.
For example, on the river front where most of the tourists congregate to have their fried breakfasts and roast dinners, you will find women sat on the pavement with their very young children lying on a blanket beside them. You literally have to step over them to move along the pavement and I can't help thinking that if they are in genuine need then there are certainly better places than this to have their young children sleep. The exhaust fumes alone are choking and the dust thrown up by the ubiquitous SUV's only adds to the pollution. They are of course opportunists, and they see the dollar rich tourist as an easy target I suppose. Incidentally, you never see a Khmer give any money to these people.
I have sat outside the Riverside bistro on a couple of occasions and been confronted by the same boy pushing a limbless man in a wheelchair, up to six times within an hour. I stopped sitting outside because I found it too uncomfortable to deal with. I choose to give to none of these people but instead I often buy two street kids a sandwich or some rice and meat, which by the way they scoff it, you can see they are genuinely hungry. What is the answer to all this? I have no idea, but I can't help thinking that some of the money used to buy those grotesque 4WD Landcruisers with their claxon like horns, could be better spent by the powers that be, in some form of social help for the genuine homeless and starving. OK, enough of me ranting!
January 7th was the thirty year anniversary of the end of the rule of Pol Pot. I went to a huge square near the Independence Monument where there was a few thousand people enjoying music, having picnics, playing badminton and generally chilling out. The simple things always seem to bring out the most enjoyment in the Khmers and I sat down on the grass and watched some kids playing 'keepy uppy', or whatever the Cambodian equivalent is. The ball they used was made of rattan, a sort of bamboo like woven sphere. I had seen kids play this in Malaysia and they are pretty damn good at it. The ball rolled over towards me and I was encouraged to join in! They play barefoot of course, so it was off with the sandals and time to display my Charltonesque silky skills from years ago! It was a great laugh, albeit I got into a bit of a scrape after volleying the ball into the back of the head of an armed soldier. This was one of those moments when you realise the frailties of being in a distant land and not speaking the language. He was pissed off to say the least, probably, because now, a large crowd had gathered to watch us and most of them were laughing at the fact that I had almost knocked this guys beret off his head! He gesticulated and shouted at me for a while and at one point I thought he was actually going to arrest me. Afterwards I sat down with the kids and they shared some mango with me. I thought then, how strange that on the anniversary of the liberation of the country from the horrors of Pol Pot, that anyone could get so upset abput a simple accident. I looked at him and judged his age to be around 55 and suddenly realised that it was very probable that he fought with the Khmer Rouge!!
After bidding my farewells to the footy kids I wandered aimlessly down a sidestreet and had the most amazing stroke of luck. I stopped outside of what appeared to be an art gallery. Through the metal fence I could see and hear an English voice talking to a reporter about photography. As I listened for a few moments I realised with much excitement that the man being interviewed was the world famous war photographer, Tim Page!!! I was at the Meta House Arts Centre and Tim Page was showing his work and giving a talk that very night.
Tim Page is an award winning English photographer who has captured some of the most iconic images of our time. From 1965-1969 he photographed the war in Vietnam, having over sixty pages of his pictures published in Time Magazine. He was wounded in action three times, the last time almost fatally. I have read two of his books; Tim Page's Nam, 1983, and Page after Page, Memoirs of a War Torn Photographer, 1988. His talk was wonderful, his photo exhibition, harrowing but incredible and I got to meet him and ask him a few questions myself.
In the 1970's Page worked as a freelance photographer for music magazines like Crawdaddy and Rolling Stone. During his recovery from a shrapnel wound to the head, in the Spring of 1970, Page learnt of the capture of his best friend and room-mate and photo-journalist, Sean Flynn ( son of the famous Hollywood actor Errol Flynn ) in Cambodia. Throughout the 1970's and 80's he tried to discover the fate and final resting place of his friend and wanted to erect a memorial to all those in the media who were killed or went missing in the war. This led him to found the Indochina Media Memorial Foundation and was the genesis of his book Requiem. His quest for a resolution of the mystery of Flynn's fate came to an end in 1990 following the discovery of what appeared to be the grave of Flynn and his colleague Dana Stone in the Cambodian village of Bei Met. Forensic examination suggested that both had a violent death.
It was such a pleasure for me to meet this man and his stories and photographs are sure to remain with me for a very long time. What a night!!!!
No comments:
Post a Comment