Cambodia: Spiriting Away the Past
In old times, you do bad, bad come to you. You do good, good come to you. Now, in modern? People say you do bad...you get money. You do good, you die. Yeah...iss trrooo...yeah.
Driver Phae Soh of the tiger-striped gloves has strong, mixed opinions about the way Cambodia is catapulting into the 21st century. Signs of modernization abound. So do signs of the past, and the two are inseparable. After the elimination of a generation of intelligentsia under Pol Pot, tiny international schools with names like "New World" and "New Hope" and "Tree of Life" now line the roads out of Phnom Penh. Out in the countryside, tracts of jungle disappear overnight, replaced by gleaming new garment factories stocked with hundreds of eager young girls from the provinces. In a roundabout on the outskirts of Sihanoukville, a statue of Buddha walks hand-in-hand with a young schoolboy. The message is not subtle.
Cambodia's past continues to press in, demanding an accounting. Dinner at the ex-pat haven of the Foreign Correspondents' Club (FCC) requires walking by a series of horrific black and white photographs from the early 1970s. Piles of skulls, the faces of frightened children, the aftermath of American bombing raids, scenes of massacres...and beyond sits Phnom Penh's foreign population, under the circling ceiling fans, sipping their gin-and-tonics and watching the World Cup.
Fashionable boutiques surround the FCC, along the Tonle Sap riverfront. Each one sells handcrafted silk handbags, silk scarves, silk clothing, some bamboo bits and pieces. The Khmer don't shop here. Instead, most boutiques are operated by foreign-run NGOs. Turn over any tag and the product has been made by widows or orphans or victims of landmines. The customers seem to be workers of other NGOs, for the most part. It's a strange echo of Cambodia's colonial past. The foreign aid organizations--full of good intentions--have mostly created a new Cambodia to match their own desires. But what happens when the foreign aid dries up?
All this modernization has banged right into a host of Cambodian traditions that were just beginning to reassert themselves after Pol Pot's attempts to outlaw religion. Predictably, Phae Soh has a lot to say about the perplexing process at work around him. The conversation began as we drove past a hilltop crowned by a small pagoda and several dozen spirit houses. After whispering a short prayer and ducking his head, Phae Soh said, "In old times, everybody stop here to pray for safe." The hilltop marked the border between two territories, and a spirit called Kaeng Mah (Black Grandmother) guarded the border. Phae Soh explained that in these modern times, many people don't stop at all. Black Grandmother doesn't seem to care about foreigners. She doesn't harass them. But when Cambodian people forget to pray as they pass, maybe they have an accident. He added that many Khmer believe that followers of Black Grandmother murder people far away, in cities like Phnom Penh. They bring the bodies back to the hills as offerings to appease this "strong spirit."
The discussion of Black Grandmother (who sounds much like the Indian goddess Kali) led Phae Soh to reminisce about his childhood in the area of Cambodia known for its rich mineral resources. He says that gems would come up through the ground during the monsoon, so that the unpaved road sometimes glittered after the rain. Then people got greedy and began taking the gems out of the province to sell. The spirits are very strong and resented the loss. Every time a man would make a fortune off of selling gems, he would die. Still, all the gems are gone now.
And why didn't the strong spirits stop Pol Pot? Many people ask this question, and Phae Soh has asked this question with them. Why would the spirits allow Pol Pot to kill two million of his own people? Phae Soh's answer to this question was simple and somehow heartbreaking: Pol Pot's army was modern. They had guns, and the spirits are powerless against guns. That also explains why big mining and lumber companies have been able to come into Cambodia and exploit her resources with impunity. The spirits can do nothing against what Phae Soh calls "The Modern."
Modern medicine also brings confusion: do the spirits still require the sacrifices of bananas or a chicken to bring healing? Phae Soh has pondered this, as well. Once again, he has an answer: people in rural areas continue to offer sacrifices because there are no hospitals nearby. People in cities cease their sacrifices because they have access to hospitals. The safest, of course, is to sacrifice and to go to a hospital. Still, mysteries persist. "When I hear spirit heal someone, I think this doesn't happen. The nice doctor in the hospital learned many, many things. They can go all over inside you and fix things. Can a spirit do that? But then I see with my own eyes, I believe...yeah, iss trrooo, yeah."
Actually, maybe Cambodia is not so unique. Modernization and the deification of science have challenged the way all of us see the world. Maybe the American response is a little different--we conduct studies to determine the exact role that prayer plays in healing and studies to determine the exact factors that create the mystical, magical result we call happiness.
Underneath, though, we all have these same pressing questions about why we hear only deafening silence from the heavens in response to genocide, exploitation, or the sex trafficking in young girls and boys that wears no mask in this part of the world. How can I believe in a God that would permit the scale of atrocity that has plagued Cambodia in the last forty years?
My answer is not Phae Soh's. I don't believe that our guns scare God, or that he is powerless against The Modern. Rather, I believe God is love, and that he has chosen to show his love for people through people. Instead of asking where God was and is, we should be asking where will we go? What shall we do to end all of this? How do we bring hope?
Phae Soh's conclusion, and I buy it: Many people say in The Modern, you do bad, you get money; you do good, you die. I say I do good, I die, no problem. Yeah, iss trrooo, yeah.
In old times, you do bad, bad come to you. You do good, good come to you. Now, in modern? People say you do bad...you get money. You do good, you die. Yeah...iss trrooo...yeah.
Driver Phae Soh of the tiger-striped gloves has strong, mixed opinions about the way Cambodia is catapulting into the 21st century. Signs of modernization abound. So do signs of the past, and the two are inseparable. After the elimination of a generation of intelligentsia under Pol Pot, tiny international schools with names like "New World" and "New Hope" and "Tree of Life" now line the roads out of Phnom Penh. Out in the countryside, tracts of jungle disappear overnight, replaced by gleaming new garment factories stocked with hundreds of eager young girls from the provinces. In a roundabout on the outskirts of Sihanoukville, a statue of Buddha walks hand-in-hand with a young schoolboy. The message is not subtle.
Cambodia's past continues to press in, demanding an accounting. Dinner at the ex-pat haven of the Foreign Correspondents' Club (FCC) requires walking by a series of horrific black and white photographs from the early 1970s. Piles of skulls, the faces of frightened children, the aftermath of American bombing raids, scenes of massacres...and beyond sits Phnom Penh's foreign population, under the circling ceiling fans, sipping their gin-and-tonics and watching the World Cup.
Fashionable boutiques surround the FCC, along the Tonle Sap riverfront. Each one sells handcrafted silk handbags, silk scarves, silk clothing, some bamboo bits and pieces. The Khmer don't shop here. Instead, most boutiques are operated by foreign-run NGOs. Turn over any tag and the product has been made by widows or orphans or victims of landmines. The customers seem to be workers of other NGOs, for the most part. It's a strange echo of Cambodia's colonial past. The foreign aid organizations--full of good intentions--have mostly created a new Cambodia to match their own desires. But what happens when the foreign aid dries up?
All this modernization has banged right into a host of Cambodian traditions that were just beginning to reassert themselves after Pol Pot's attempts to outlaw religion. Predictably, Phae Soh has a lot to say about the perplexing process at work around him. The conversation began as we drove past a hilltop crowned by a small pagoda and several dozen spirit houses. After whispering a short prayer and ducking his head, Phae Soh said, "In old times, everybody stop here to pray for safe." The hilltop marked the border between two territories, and a spirit called Kaeng Mah (Black Grandmother) guarded the border. Phae Soh explained that in these modern times, many people don't stop at all. Black Grandmother doesn't seem to care about foreigners. She doesn't harass them. But when Cambodian people forget to pray as they pass, maybe they have an accident. He added that many Khmer believe that followers of Black Grandmother murder people far away, in cities like Phnom Penh. They bring the bodies back to the hills as offerings to appease this "strong spirit."
The discussion of Black Grandmother (who sounds much like the Indian goddess Kali) led Phae Soh to reminisce about his childhood in the area of Cambodia known for its rich mineral resources. He says that gems would come up through the ground during the monsoon, so that the unpaved road sometimes glittered after the rain. Then people got greedy and began taking the gems out of the province to sell. The spirits are very strong and resented the loss. Every time a man would make a fortune off of selling gems, he would die. Still, all the gems are gone now.
And why didn't the strong spirits stop Pol Pot? Many people ask this question, and Phae Soh has asked this question with them. Why would the spirits allow Pol Pot to kill two million of his own people? Phae Soh's answer to this question was simple and somehow heartbreaking: Pol Pot's army was modern. They had guns, and the spirits are powerless against guns. That also explains why big mining and lumber companies have been able to come into Cambodia and exploit her resources with impunity. The spirits can do nothing against what Phae Soh calls "The Modern."
Modern medicine also brings confusion: do the spirits still require the sacrifices of bananas or a chicken to bring healing? Phae Soh has pondered this, as well. Once again, he has an answer: people in rural areas continue to offer sacrifices because there are no hospitals nearby. People in cities cease their sacrifices because they have access to hospitals. The safest, of course, is to sacrifice and to go to a hospital. Still, mysteries persist. "When I hear spirit heal someone, I think this doesn't happen. The nice doctor in the hospital learned many, many things. They can go all over inside you and fix things. Can a spirit do that? But then I see with my own eyes, I believe...yeah, iss trrooo, yeah."
Actually, maybe Cambodia is not so unique. Modernization and the deification of science have challenged the way all of us see the world. Maybe the American response is a little different--we conduct studies to determine the exact role that prayer plays in healing and studies to determine the exact factors that create the mystical, magical result we call happiness.
Underneath, though, we all have these same pressing questions about why we hear only deafening silence from the heavens in response to genocide, exploitation, or the sex trafficking in young girls and boys that wears no mask in this part of the world. How can I believe in a God that would permit the scale of atrocity that has plagued Cambodia in the last forty years?
My answer is not Phae Soh's. I don't believe that our guns scare God, or that he is powerless against The Modern. Rather, I believe God is love, and that he has chosen to show his love for people through people. Instead of asking where God was and is, we should be asking where will we go? What shall we do to end all of this? How do we bring hope?
Phae Soh's conclusion, and I buy it: Many people say in The Modern, you do bad, you get money; you do good, you die. I say I do good, I die, no problem. Yeah, iss trrooo, yeah.
