of Cambodia was a sad one, filled with repression and genocidal violence.
A troubled nation since its sacking by Thailand in the fifteenth century, more recent damage came with the violent protests against French colonial rule during the 1960s and ‘70s, which eventually led to civil war and the rise to power of the Khmer Rouge in 1975.
What followed under the psychotic leadership of Pol Pot were the mass killings of over two million Cambodians. People were killed for the slightest reason – for not working hard enough, for being too clever, for being too weak; and many more died from starvation and illness. Most were buried in mass graves and quickly-dug trenches. Even now, skeletal remains were still being found all over the country.
The regime was as short as it was brutal, only lasting until 1979 when Vietnam moved in to run the country; an unsatisfactory state of affairs which lasted until 1993, when the King’s power was restored and an elected government was finally established.
But the remnants of its violent past remained, the nation awash with weapons from less happy times.
Through the inky dark of night, Cole could make out moonlight reflecting off the wide moat of the Angkor Wat complex ahead of him, ancient walls on the other side hinting at the exotic architectural marvels beyond. He saw signs telling him to follow the road west to the main entrance, but Boom shook his head.
‘We go right at moat,’ he said confidently.
Cole did as he was told, sweeping away from the light evening traffic, the shadowy green waters of the moat now to his left. Not far ahead, the road turned with the moat at a right angle, and Cole followed it so that he was again driving north, slowly now.
The eastern entrance was right up ahead, but again Boom shook his head. ‘Take road right,’ he ordered, ‘away from temple.’
Again Cole did as instructed, following the road east as it passed through the thick vegetation of the looming jungle.
‘Keep going,’ Boom urged. They passed a turnoff to the right, and then they were the only cars left on the narrow , dark road.
‘We’re looking for a road on left, after we pass river,’ Boom informed him.
Moments later, t he car passed over the Siem Reap River which flowed beneath the bumpy road, and Boom was craning his head out of the car, straining to find the turnoff, tall trees blocking out the light from the moon and stars.
Cole was looking hard too, but could see nothing.
‘Turn here!’ Boom shouted suddenly. ‘Left! Left!’
Cole was caught by surprise; there seemed to be no road here at all. But still he followed Boom’s directions, and turned the wheel, edging slowly into the dense black jungle, the huge hood of the 4x4 pushing past rubber plants and banana trees.
‘Boom,’ Cole said as he maneuvered the big car carefully through the undergrowth, ‘if this is what you call a road, then I’d hate to see a dirt track round here.’
‘Hey Mr. Holmes,’ Boom shot back, ‘dealers come down here with trucks , yeah? Great big damn trucks! ’
Fine, Cole thought. Fine. If this is it, then this is it.
And eventually, the jungle did open out into some semblance of a road – not paved, of course, but still better than the first few painful minutes.
Then suddenly, right up ahead, Cole could see more vehicles, lots of them; it was a veritable parking lot of battered jeeps, trucks and 4x4s hidden in the jungle just minutes away from Cambodia’s most popular tourist attractions.
‘This is it,’ Boom said. ‘We park car here, yes? Then you walk the rest.’
‘And you?’
‘I will point out the man, right? But I no want be seen with you, in case something bad happen, yeah? I just speak to some of the other dealers, maybe buy myself some guns, okay? If you make mistake, maybe you destroy my business, got it?’
Cole sat in the damp heat of the car, no relieving breeze in the dark, thick jungle, thinking. If he let Boom go, would he warn the dealer? Boom
A troubled nation since its sacking by Thailand in the fifteenth century, more recent damage came with the violent protests against French colonial rule during the 1960s and ‘70s, which eventually led to civil war and the rise to power of the Khmer Rouge in 1975.
What followed under the psychotic leadership of Pol Pot were the mass killings of over two million Cambodians. People were killed for the slightest reason – for not working hard enough, for being too clever, for being too weak; and many more died from starvation and illness. Most were buried in mass graves and quickly-dug trenches. Even now, skeletal remains were still being found all over the country.
The regime was as short as it was brutal, only lasting until 1979 when Vietnam moved in to run the country; an unsatisfactory state of affairs which lasted until 1993, when the King’s power was restored and an elected government was finally established.
But the remnants of its violent past remained, the nation awash with weapons from less happy times.
Through the inky dark of night, Cole could make out moonlight reflecting off the wide moat of the Angkor Wat complex ahead of him, ancient walls on the other side hinting at the exotic architectural marvels beyond. He saw signs telling him to follow the road west to the main entrance, but Boom shook his head.
‘We go right at moat,’ he said confidently.
Cole did as he was told, sweeping away from the light evening traffic, the shadowy green waters of the moat now to his left. Not far ahead, the road turned with the moat at a right angle, and Cole followed it so that he was again driving north, slowly now.
The eastern entrance was right up ahead, but again Boom shook his head. ‘Take road right,’ he ordered, ‘away from temple.’
Again Cole did as instructed, following the road east as it passed through the thick vegetation of the looming jungle.
‘Keep going,’ Boom urged. They passed a turnoff to the right, and then they were the only cars left on the narrow , dark road.
‘We’re looking for a road on left, after we pass river,’ Boom informed him.
Moments later, t he car passed over the Siem Reap River which flowed beneath the bumpy road, and Boom was craning his head out of the car, straining to find the turnoff, tall trees blocking out the light from the moon and stars.
Cole was looking hard too, but could see nothing.
‘Turn here!’ Boom shouted suddenly. ‘Left! Left!’
Cole was caught by surprise; there seemed to be no road here at all. But still he followed Boom’s directions, and turned the wheel, edging slowly into the dense black jungle, the huge hood of the 4x4 pushing past rubber plants and banana trees.
‘Boom,’ Cole said as he maneuvered the big car carefully through the undergrowth, ‘if this is what you call a road, then I’d hate to see a dirt track round here.’
‘Hey Mr. Holmes,’ Boom shot back, ‘dealers come down here with trucks , yeah? Great big damn trucks! ’
Fine, Cole thought. Fine. If this is it, then this is it.
And eventually, the jungle did open out into some semblance of a road – not paved, of course, but still better than the first few painful minutes.
Then suddenly, right up ahead, Cole could see more vehicles, lots of them; it was a veritable parking lot of battered jeeps, trucks and 4x4s hidden in the jungle just minutes away from Cambodia’s most popular tourist attractions.
‘This is it,’ Boom said. ‘We park car here, yes? Then you walk the rest.’
‘And you?’
‘I will point out the man, right? But I no want be seen with you, in case something bad happen, yeah? I just speak to some of the other dealers, maybe buy myself some guns, okay? If you make mistake, maybe you destroy my business, got it?’
Cole sat in the damp heat of the car, no relieving breeze in the dark, thick jungle, thinking. If he let Boom go, would he warn the dealer? Boom
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