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| (Cambodian currency during the 1980s) |
Cambodian
post-war memory and the generation gap
(Published on Khmer Times on 24 January 2019)
Without the genocide
survivors, Cambodia would lose all that is required to be a nation. But
remembrance itself is questionable, as it could be interpreted differently by
different generations, argues Sim Vireak.
Reactions to the Khmer movie related to
genocide, or more precisely “self-genocide”, were mixed. There were those who
didn’t want to see the movie for fear of rekindling past wounds and
trauma-related stress. They didn’t want to experience pain and weep for days.
There were some who fear that history
would repeat itself and the same atrocities would happen again. On the other extreme,
there were those who were indifferent and emotionless. Frankly, they would not
have given a damn. Also in this category, were those who rejected the film
saying the genocide was a mere figmentation of the moviemaker.
. .
Nonetheless, such differences stem from
individual experiences and exposures.
As someone from the post-genocide
generation, I belong to the group that fears the repeat of history.
Born in the 1980s, in the immediate
aftermath of the war, it was the prevailing environment that shaped my
thoughts. My father was a soldier, who went to the frontline to fight against
the Khmer Rouge. At school, a ‘fatherless son’ was a common target for the
bullies.
A study tour to Toul Sleng prison is a
one-time memory that stays on forever. Some parts of the walls are still
stained with dried blood. The smell and ambiance from building-to-building
makes one feel that the spirits are demanding your attention. I never did dare
climb up to the third floor. The current museum, however, is quite clean and is
what a museum should be.
Every year on January 7, I remember
three major films which are often highlighted on TV – ‘Killing Fields’, ‘Nine
Circles of Hell’ and ‘Memory of the Heart’ (chet chong cham).
. .
I recall the days of my childhood.
Phnom Penh was dark and quiet after the evening curfew. Kids dominated the
whole street playing and chasing each other after nightfall. The then Soviet
Union’s ‘Rabbit and Fox’ on TV was the kids’ favourite, similar to that of ‘Tom
and Jerry’. TV broadcast was only in the evenings and the cartoon was shown
regularly.
At night, I always heard melancholy
music from the radio, appealing the Khmer Rouge to integrate into society. News
was always about siege of particular battle fields. Sometimes, I heard the
government forces won; sometimes, I heard the government was fighting to regain
the same area they had earlier captured.
The sound of gunfire was a usual part
of life. It was normal for people to point their weapons in the sky and shoot
whenever there was lightning and rain.
Our school curriculum was dominated by
Marxist-Lenin ideologies, fights against imperialism, capitalism and the Khmer
Rouge.
At Bak Touk elementary school, the once
and only Soviet hot milk I received tasted like heaven. We lived with Soviet
and Vietnam-provided food supply. Rice was limited, meat was scarce. We always
checked the amount of food first before we ate – worried that if we ate too
much, there wouldn’t be enough for tomorrow. Malnutrition and malnourishment
was clearly reflected in the physical development of our generation.
. .
Soviet and East European scholarships
were exceptional chances to go abroad, to escape the darkness of Kampuchea.
At that time, provincial tourism would
have been a risky choice. Koh Kong or Kampong Som (the current Sihanoukville)
seemed so remote that only smugglers would dare travel to, risking their lives.
Om Leang in Kampong Speu and Phnom Voir in Kampot, which are not far from Phnom
Penh were close to the battlefields. Pailin, Banteay Meanchey and Kampong Thom
sounded to me like provinces detached from Cambodia.
Such memories shaped my thoughts about
the genocide, though I could never imagine the degree of trauma of those who
experienced the brutal Khmer Rouge regime.
The fact that my relatives were killed
and that my parents were almost killed before the Vietnamese came to save their
lives remains deeply etched in my heart. Emotional experiences do not give me
the chance to believe otherwise. After all what else can you remember when your
life was about to be terminated?
Without the survivors, Cambodia would
lose all that is required to be a nation anyway.
When I heard that some of those born in
the 1990s were less emotional about the genocide, with a few even denying that
it happened, I was hurt and perplexed. But now, I have got over it. I’m trying
to put myself in their shoes. Different time and different era, I console
myself. It’s just like reactions to the Holocaust. We knew it happened during
World War II, but different generations have different reactions to it.
Emotional attachment to the past can
change across generations with a variety of perceptions and thinking. This is
probably the current social reality of discourses on genocide in Cambodia.
Sim Vireak is a Cambodia observer based in Phnom
Penh.