LONG LOVE, SHORT LIFE

CHAPTER 17

TOUR OLD PLACES, OLD MEMORIES RETURN

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Part 1

Dara had not slept well because his wife did not show up in Siem Reap as promised. He sipped black coffee to make him awake to ensure he does not fall asleep and skid off the road on the road from Siem Reap to Battambang. The November weather is suitable for him and his daughter, but their minds are full of bad memories lingering on why Doungchan did not show up. Being a father who understands about the sad feelings of his daughter, Dara tried to change the sad moment into a pleasant one. He started by saying, “I am so happy to see Cambodian farmers enjoy their harvest. You can look on both sides of the road, the vast rice fields stretching to the horizon.  You may lower the window a bit then you will get the ripe rice smell flowing in along with wind.  But please close the car window when we drive past the cow and buffalo herds walking and lying on the roadside.” This made Sukura laugh and she replied, “I want to experience the smell of animal dungs as well, given it is part of how life in the countryside is.”

“It is true, if we fail to smell everything then perhaps we miss part of the countryside life.  I am so happy now to see our country is at peace, something I never thought that could happen. From when I was born in early 1970s, all I heard was gunshots, bombs exploding, all I saw was sufferings and destruction. It is not like that anymore,” said her dad. Sakura nodded her head in approval although she did not know much about what had happened to her country in the past. “I am happy to see real life in the countryside like this, too” she responded to her dad. 

After more than three hour’s driving on the bumpy roads from Siem Reap to Battambang, Dara and his daughter Sakura arrived at the outskirt of the town. He forgot to tell his daughter of his plans but when he arrived at a certain area, he drove off the road onto a path across the farmlands heading to the village where he lived from 1989 to 1991. Sakura asked, “Daddy, are we going to Battambang town today or we will stay in another village tonight?”

“No, we will go Battambang but I just want to take a side trip and see the village I lived in during the war time and see how it is now.”

Dara could not tell how many frogs, toads, crickets, and grasshoppers his car ran over but his daughter saw the animals moving around the car as they drove across the track. The remote village where he lived was about 20 km from the provincial town of Battambang and before, it took him more than one hour cycling from Battambang but now it takes less than 20 minutes thanks to better roads built by the local authority after the total collapse of the Khmer Rouge’s political and military organization in December 1998.

“The massive defections of Pol Pol’s fighters at the time also brought along those two rebels who frog-marched and dumped me at the landmines,” Dara recalled to Sakura who looked at him nervously.

“Do not be nervous, that was the past,” he assured his daughter. The dad continued while driving carefully to ensure he does not drive on landmines, “the locals are friendly but things are not the same. Old people who I knew in the late 1980s have passed away. Many trees have been cut own for commercial purposes. The minefield, where the Khmer Rouge forced me to stand in the middle, has now been demined. The area is now filled with crops and housing”.

Dara parked his old 1994 Camry near a tree and led his daughter on a tour of the village. Dogs barked as they walked. He turned left and saw one tree, a mango, which he still recognized. The tree is quite big now with a trunk about 1 meter in diameter.

“How come other trees have been cut down and not this one?” she asked.

He answered, “Because this is a holy tree, and a spirit lives in it. People are scared that the spirit might curse them and make them sick. You can look at the mango tree and see there is a shrine placed at the trunk. People believe that the spirit who lives in the tree protects the villagers from sickness. Villagers are afraid of doing bad things to the tree and that is why it is still standing there. I spent nearly two years living in this Popeal village and I know some of the secrets related to the sacred forest.”

“Why do you want me to visit this village? Anything special?” the daughter asked.

“Because this is the village where I stayed from 1990 to 1991 to avoid from being forced to join the fight against the Khmer Rouge. Here I survived and could write love letters to your mom and she could write me back and we could learn of each other’s situation,” answered her dad, adding, “I would like to come and thank the villagers for making friends with me as a stranger and welcoming me to live in this village.”

Sakura replied with a smile, “You are such a grateful person and a smart daddy.”

“If I am not smart I would have lost my life during Cambodia’s civil war era,” Dara replied as he walked and touched the tree leaves and wild flowers showing he was still in love with the village.

They walked and talked. Dara spoke of the sacred tree: “I remember in 1990, one time I knelt down before the tree and prayed for peace… I told the spirit to wake all Cambodian armed men from the four sides to stop fighting and drop their and talk instead of fight. I prayed for peace to prevail so that I could return and see your mom and it seems that it worked at the time.”

“You are a little superstitious,” Sakura said full of questions as to how that works.

“You are right, but for the superstitious Khmers, when someone is in big trouble and no-one can help, you pray to Buddha or ask the spirits for help and it works sometimes,” the dad replied as he slowed down at another tree on the corner of the path. Sakura walked behind her dad. At one point, a one-eared man in his 40s drove his motor scooter past Dara. He did not recognize Dara, but Dara recognized him since he was one of the two young Khmer Rouge rebels who had frog marched him. That one-eared man lost his right ear in the fighting with the Vietnamese troops backed by Phnom Penh forces in the 1980s.

To be continued …

Part 2

Dara called out loudly to him. He turned and asked, “Who are you?”

“Do not you remember me? It is me, Dara, who you and your friends dumped in the minefield,” Dara replied. Sakura tugged Dara’s sleeve, hinting that he should not go with such strong terms when recalling the past.

The one-eared bowed his head in respect to Dara, saying: “Oh, my friend Dara, please forgive me. I am so glad that you are still alive.”

Dara replied, “It is OK my friend. Where are you returning from?”

“Oh, man, I have just come from Battambang town. I was a bit shocked when I saw the dreadful scene re-enacting the Khmer Rouge’s activities in the past.  I was not aware that Hollywood was making a tragic movie about the Killing Fields atrocities and they have a setup which looks like the real one when the Khmer Rouge came to power in 1975,” said the man.

“No way, what is the movie about?” Dara asked.

“"I do not know the name of the film, but they were shooting the fall of Phnom Penh in April 1975.I did not go close to where they are filming… I looked from a distance and it looked too real for me,” said the former Khmer Rouge soldier.

“I thought you are not afraid of such things since you were part of the game at the time,” Dara joked and laughed.

The man replied, “Oh, no. I do not want to see such things again although it was a set for filming. It was too much already. I want to see no more. Again, I am so sorry that I treated you badly in the past when I arrested you and dumped you in the minefield.”

Dara replied, “Forget about it. I do not live in the past. You were then trapped by the Khmer Rouge’s ideology. Another side of Cambodia’s opposition had different view of the political clash. We were fighting among ourselves because we have different ideologies like communism and liberalism. I did not forget what happened in the past, but I have forgiven. We all are Khmers and we need to find a common ground on how to live in a harmonized society as one Khmer nation. If our domestic unity is not strong the outsider can interfere with us. In other words, if our unity is weak then we are vulnerable to foreign interference. Remember the Khmer saying: “one chopstick can be broken, but a bunch of chopsticks cannot be broken. Or to put it another way, united we stand, divided we fall,” said Dara.

“By the way, this is my daughter Sakura,” Dara told his former torturer. Sukura raised her hands palms together in the gesture of “Sompas” as a sign of respect to the former Khmer Rouge fighter.

The one-eared man said he is thrilled to see Dara and his daughter Sakura and invites them to visit his home.

As they sat, the ex-Khmer Rouge soldier started to recall some good and bad memories, “I am so glad that you are visiting us. Again, I am sorry that I wrongly arrested you and sent you to the minefield because during the war we had to kill someone who spied on us. We arrested you as we believed that you worked as a spy for Vietnam, given you sent out letters to people who lived deep inside the country in Takeo province near Vietnam. We also noticed that every month you went to pick up letters from passengers in Battambang town. Such combined trends convinced us that you received instructions from your associates in Phnom Penh and from the Vietnamese. You have no relatives who lived in this village at that time and we never understood your situation or what brought you to move and live in our village, plus your features look like a Vietnamese. This is another factor that brought us to the conclusion that you worked as a military spy,” the one-eared man recalled as Dara and his daughter listened.

“It is OK. Let bygones be bygones. All Khmer are united as one now. This is for the first time in 500 years that we have united.” Dara answered.

The one-eared man asked, “Tell me some more about your situation in the past.  Who did you write the letters to and how did you come to live here?”

“I wrote love letters to my girlfriend who lived in Takeo province. I wrote more than 45 love letters in total during my stay with you and the villagers here. We fell in love when we were at high school in late 1980s. The reason I left Takeo was because I needed to save my life and limbs for my love.”

The one-eared man asked eagerly, “What is her name?

“Her name is Duongchan,” Dara replied.  Sakura interrupted, saying: “she is also my mom.” The conversation confirmed how deep her dad’s love for her mom was. They sat and drank tea and eating palm sugar.

The former Pol Pot’s fighter continued, “Why did you not bring her along?”

“Oh man, she has a new husband. I do not want to talk more about this, given we have been through more than 8 years of suffering since she left us...” Dara has not yet finished speaking when the one-eared man broke down.

The one-eared man said in tears, “I am now the village chief where 5,201 live but not my wife”.

“What do you mean not your wife?” Dara asked.

“The hidden killer, I mean a landmine, killed my wife in 1998,” he said as he poured another glass of tea for Dara.

“Holy shit! The incident took place in the same year that the Khmer Rouge surrendered to the government.” said Dara. “How did it happen?”

To be continued …

Part 3

“One day in the late afternoon, she had been collecting rice crops and was walking home. I was cutting rattan and wood nearby as I needed to expand and build up my house. I suddenly heard an explosion about 300 meters from my rice field. I then heard my wife scream ‘help me!’ I ran all the way across the rice paddy and found my wife lying on the ground with her left foot all bloody. No-one was there apart from me. I carried her and ran all the way home and got my ox-cart and took her to the local hospital. She had lost a lot of blood.  She was unconscious from about half-way to the hospital. The medical staff did their best but could not save her life because she had lost too much blood. She passed away. I cried and cried like baby. I placed her body on the ox-cart and rode all the way back home. My dog, whom my wife loved dearly, ran barking madly around the ox-cart and her body after realizing that she was dead. When I got back home I saw my boy and he cried so much and lay on the ground before the house. At you know at that time, not many people lived here. From one house to another was about 200 meters. It is unlike today just 17 years later, where we are so crowded.”

“I am very sorry to hear that, my friend. Please have our condolences and may her spirit rest in peace. Where is your boy now?” Dara asked.

“My son also died about a year later.” the one-eared man answered sadly.

“What?” Dara was shocked as Sakura listened.

“During the rainy season there were too many mosquitos here from the forest nearby and my 6-year old boy died of malaria. Now, my life is worse than before as I lost my wife and then my boy.  Because of the legacies of war, I lost almost everything.  Because of the war our health system is so bad. My son could have survived if we had a good medical care system,” he said as he took his scarf to clean his tears. Dara reached out his hand and patted his shoulder, saying, “I am sorry to hear all that. Please be strong and know that life moves on, my friend”.

Sukura who had sat and listened silently looked quite sad to hear this story. She spoke from her heart, “in this world, it is not family alone that has karma… this is life.”

“You can stay and live with me now.  I am alone now since my wife lost her life to a mine and my son lost his life to malaria. It is too much for me to bear the pain,” he said.

Dara responded, “I’d love to live here, but I have to take care of my daughter Sakura as since her mom left us I am the only one who supports her. She won a scholarship to study in the U.S. and she is leaving at the end of this year.”

“Congratulations!” the man said to Sakura. She raised her hand palms together and replied, “thanks and I am so sorry you lost your wife and your son. I wish that their spirits rest in peace!”

“You know that some people, including officials, are critical of the U.S. commenting on issues such as human rights, corruption, and land grabbing, but at the same time they want to visit the U.S. and send their children to study there,” said the ex-Khmer Rouge fighter.

“That is a good thing that you support American values. Why did not you do this long time ago?” Dara asked while giggling.

The man replied: “I was living in an isolated world during the civil war in Cambodia. I now understand more about what human rights and democracy means when I listen to VOA and RFA radios.”

Dara argued, “Not all American values are great. You know what happened during the Vietnam War, I mean…”. The man interrupted, saying: “You want to tell me that the American dropped bombs on Cambodia near the border with Vietnam between 1969 and 1973, right?”

“You know all that. You got it,” Dara replied, adding, “However, you also should listen to the state-run media as well to get a fair balance of comment and ideas from the government’s point of view,” Dara advised his former foe as he reached out to pat his shoulder.

“I know what you mean. The government’s media talks and reports about all the good things, while massive deforestation, land grabs, corruption, nepotism, social injustice, corrupt courts, a poor judicial system, and human rights violations of many forms still happen,” the one-eared man argued.

“Wait, wait my friend, do not go too far, I do not want to get into trouble,” Dara replied and raised his hand to slow down the man’s critical comments. “Nobody is perfect in this world, but please join hands together to build a better world for the generations to come and to ensure we never repeat the mistakes of the past,” said Dara.

After about an hour of chatting, Dara said goodbye to the one-eared man, along with, “I will come and visit you again soon in this life”.

The one-eared man replied, “You and your daughter are welcome to live in this village anytime you want. I am the village chief, I can provide you land without landmines, for you to cultivate and live on.”

Dara thanked him for his offer, saying: “but please save those lands for the poor since I have enough for now. By the way, I saw many houses closed up. Where have they gone?”

The one-eared man replied: “Many of them have emigrated to Thailand and work there as laborers, not managers given Cambodia’s labor skills are lacking. As you may know, we have had poor rains, bad crops, and a small market. So they sought better work and pay”.

“That is true,” Dara shared his friend’s values, “in other provinces, young men and women have also left their homes to work in Malaysia and South Korea and as far as I know, more than 1 million workers, out of the total 15 million population of Cambodia, have emigrated to work abroad. That is what we mean by globalization,” said Dara.

To be continued …

Part 4

“It is so sad to see a lot of our people work as unskilled labor in foreign countries,” the one-eared man acknowledged.

“It is good for them to work but it’s sad because they are away from us. It is also good since they are the ones who remit millions of dollars home every year, around $1.7 billon USD I have been told. Do you not think that is a good thing?” Dara asked as he raised his eyebrow seeking his friend’s confirmation.

“That is great, however money is not everything, but love is,” the one-ear man replied.

“You share my values, that is why we are still friends now the war is over,” Dara said, “again, I thank you for everything. Here is my mobile number. You do not have to have a Facebook account because it may influence you in some ways when you learn about the land issues, the love and pain, the forest crimes, and other issues. You may not be able to bear the pain when seeing people saying things on their Facebook wall. I cannot either. “I am thankful for your kindness, but please keep that land for poor villagers and do not deal with corrupt people otherwise the spirits of the forest here and your wife’s and boy’s spirits will not be at peace, so avoid allowing grab land grabs to happen or doing ugly business with corrupt people,” Dara tried to explain him how to help the nation in the long run.

The man replied, “I get your point, and the spirit who lives in the sacred mango tree will get mad and curse me as well if I do not listen to you”.

They both hugged each other like brothers. The one-eared man, who had frog-marched Dara in 1991 and dumped him at a landmine, now accompanied Dara and his daughter to the car. As the man walked behind Dara, recalling his memory of when the two soldiers had frog-marched him, Dara turned and asked, “Oh, by the way, where is your friend?”

The man asked, “which friend?”

“The one who was with you when you tied me up with the rope behind my back,” Dara asked as his daughter looked shocked and walked a bit faster to hold her dad’s hand.

“Oh, after we defected to the government in December 1998 he still wants to be in the armed forces and he now works for the navy somewhere in a coastal province of Cambodia. He was always good at swimming! He married a Vietnamese lady who sells seafood in Kampong Som (Sihanoukville) province. He told me that his wife treats him so well,” said the one-eared man.

Dara could not hold his laughter, saying, “You guys told me before that you hated the Vietnamese. Now one of you is married to a Vietnamese wife. It is classic.”

“Before we were foes during the war but now we are friends in the time of peace,” said the man who also laughed out loud as he is now happy with the situation.

The man who was in his 40s cited his navy friend and whispered to Dara as he was about to open his car door, “during the war time we slept with guns in the jungle and now we sleep with girls and listen to jazz.” Dara did not say anything, only shaking his head at the man’s joke.

Dara and his daughter waved goodbye to the one-eared man and headed to Battambang town. Sakura was interested in the colonial French buildings. They drove along the road that runs both sides of the famed local river Sangke, which links all the way from the mountain in Pailin province on the border with Thailand and flows into the mighty Tonle Sap River.

As Dara drove around Battambang town, Sakura asked, “Where did you collect the letter that mom sent you in the late 1980s?”

“I knew one guy from Takeo who worked for the railway in Battambang and another guy who worked at the bus station in town. So, I came to pick up the letters and to send one back to your mom. I sometimes sent via the post office but I hated them checking the letter, violating my privacy.  Some postal officials suspected me of working for the Khmer Rouge at the time because I lived in the village next to where the Khmer Rouge were. So every time the postman checked my love letters, making sure I did not insert any political messages from the Khmer Rouge. As you know, this province is close to Thailand where the Khmer Rouge operated on the border. During the communist rule of the People’s Republic of Kampuchea which later changed to the State of Cambodia (SOC), they were afraid of any political leaflets from the liberals spreading into Cambodia from Thailand. So, some letters, which were written with suspicious codes or strange contents, were removed and burned. But a lot of things are much improved now thanks to the current government’s policy. The broken metal bridge I used to walk across is now replaced by a new cement one. A lot of facilities are in place now in this town,” Dara talked as he drove around town. 

“Where should people visit when they come to this province?” she further asked.

“They have couple of places to visit—such as Phnom Sampov Mountain where some broken-hearted ladies go, devoting, and transforming the rest of their lives from broken hearted to being a nun so that they can make their minds at peace and leave behind all bad memories. Such a move is something that they believe that will remove all bad karma and help them stay away from any romance.

“Is that all we can visit?” she queried.

“No, there are some more sites, one of which is Boeung Kompeng Puy dam built by the Khmer Rouge for irrigation where people can enjoy the view of sunset and get the breeze from the mountains which flows across the huge lake. Some go there to fish and sometimes they get crocodiles grabbing the fishing boat. Sometimes big crocodiles get the fishermen,” the dad explained as he drove, making his daughter laugh as she listened.

“I quite like this province, look at the colonial buildings left by the French, the building structures, the tiles, the colors, the designs, and even the stairways are beautiful,” said Sakura as she pointed out the car window at a building facing the Sangke river which had been built in 1945.

Her dad also said that some tourists like to experience the bamboo train which uses a small motor generator. The bamboo train is located on the outskirts of Battambang about 5 km from Battambang station. Sometimes tourists have to help the driver to move the bamboo train off the tracks when a real train approaches from either Pursat or Battambang station.

“At one point, the train almost killed 6 western tourists on the bamboo train…” said the dad. His daughter interrupted before he finished, “why?”

“Because the bamboo train engine broke in the evening when there was a heavy rainstorm and they were in darkness and at the same time there was a train heading from Battambang which has a broken light and it crashed into the bamboo train,” the dad explained.

To be continued …

Part 5

Another incident in which passengers, including western tourists, narrowly escaped was when the train was coming in the opposite direction from Pursat.  A tourist he was walking on the track about 100 metres away instead of sitting beside the then broken bamboo train when he heard the sound of the train coming and he then shouted at the others to clear the way. They had to quickly get the bamboo train off the rail track,” the dad explained.

“It doesn’t sound fun to me,” said the daughter.

“It is not funny but people still want to experience unusual things, like how people watch bullfighting in Spain,” he said, adding, “the price for the bamboo ride is cheap, as little as $5 to $10 per person, but if an accident happens, it is costs much more. I do not fancy doing it anyway.”

Sakura further asked, “How many provinces in Cambodia are beautiful like this?”

“Not many... Oh, by the way I forget to tell you that there are three provincial capitals, including Battambang, another coastal provincial capital of Kampot, and another the capital of Kratie located on the banks of the Mekong where Cambodia and UNESCO are working to preserve the colonial buildings because of their uniqueness. I hope one day it happens,” he said.

“How much of Cambodia’s heritage has already been listed on the World Heritage List?” she asked.

“That is a very good question, there is tangible and intangible heritage. I think we have the Angkor temples listed in December 1992, Preah Vihear in July 2008, Royal Ballet in November 2008, Sbek Thom shadow puppets in November 2008, Tonle Sap in December 1997, S-21 in July 2009, and Cambodia is still seeking more of its tangible and intangible heritage to be added to the List.

Sakura has an idea, “It would be great if you could seek to submit an application for your sweet love and memories with mom to be listed as intangible heritage by the U.N committee… would it work?”

“No. It would not work although the knot of my love with your mom has been deep down in my head and heart since the Cold War. My love story is based on the loving memories I built with your mom and is maybe more famous to me than some intangible properties, given our sweet and sour memories were shaped by our tradition, culture, economic status, and political and social values,” he said as he adjusted his eyeglasses to ensue he does not skid off the road into the Sangke river.

Sakura continued, “How are you going to touch the world if you keep your mouth shut and hide all the pain and sorrow deep down in your head and heart?”

Dara replied, “Time will tell that. The stories of our ancient sites have only recently been rediscovered, so it is never too late to write about my love story with your mom. You may have noticed that I already typed up some old memories I went through with your mom in the 1980s and early 1990s. I am thinking about how to weave that together and make a solid fiction novel although I am unsure how good a book it would be.” 

The dad and daughter drove alongside the Sangke river and kept chatting as they looked for a guesthouse for their overnight stay before leaving for the adjacent province of Pursat the next morning on their way back to Phnom Penh.

The next morning, Dara and his daughter hit national route 5 again heading to Pursat. The sunny morning, the beautiful green landscape along both sides of the road, and the smiling faces of Cambodians they saw everywhere empowered Dara to be a strong dad again. They both kept talking as usual. Even now, they have still not learned about the death of Duongchan in Phnom Penh, but at the same time they keep questioning why she never turned up.”

It was half-way from Battambang to Pursat, Dara recalled his bad experience when he travelled by train in 1989 from Phnom Penh to Battambang when the Khmer Rouge ambushed the train.

He drove and said to his daughter Sakura, “You can see the rail track to your right. That was where the Khmer Rouge attacked the train I was on. Luckily, no bullets hit me, but one soldier who worked on the train as a security guard got shot in his leg. Too much was too much at the time.”

“I know. Thanks for telling me that. Where should visitors go if they come to Pursat?” she asked.

Dara replied, “Well, it depends on individual interests and values. Some go to see the 500-year-old spirit of the man named “Neak Ta Khlaing Meoung” in Bakan district. He was an ancient Khmer warrior who sacrificed himself and mobilized ghost spirits to chase away the Thai’s invasion of Cambodia. Because of such ritual beliefs, villagers set up the shrine for him. Some villagers ask for winning lottery numbers from Neak Ta Khlaing Meoung’s spirit. Some go to see a killing field where the Khmer Rouge executed thousands of people when Pol Pot was in power. But for your mom, when she visited Pursat she did not go to those places. She came straight to me in Kandieng district where I worked for UN/UNTAC at that time as an interpreter”.

“Ah, we should go there and ask this spirit of Neak Ta Khlaing Meoung to help us, not with any lucky lottery number but asking the spirit to convince her to return back to us,” she said.

Dara replied, “That is not bad. We will try another since we did one at Bakheng hill at Angkor”.

About half an hour later, they both reached the spiritual site where Neak Ta Khlaing Meoung’s shrine was constructed and covered with colorful cloth. A few locals could be seen offering foods, fruits, and lighting incense and candles then praying before the statue and asking for peace. Dara and his daughter approached closer and asked the spirit to change Duongchan’s mind and make her come back to see them.

Sakura said to the spirit as she and her dad stood before the shrine, “I believe in you that your spirit can help people who are in difficult times to find peace, I come here to ask you to tell my mom that we love her so much and we want to see her and please get her to return to us so that we can have a family reunion.”

Her dad also said in a low voice: “Please come back to us, Duongchan, my love for you remains unchanged. Our door is always open to you. Our daughter cannot wait any longer to see you. She is about to leave for study in the United States, please come now before her departure in the next couple of weeks.”

To be continued …

Part 6

The smoke from incense rose into the air and touched the tree branches where the birds are chirping. It is lunch time but the dad and daughter needed to save time and prefer to have lunch at the river bank of Pursat where Duongchan visited Dara. Things were not the same, the wooden house he stayed there with Duongchan was no longer standing. It had been replaced by a three-storey villa. Dara did not recognize anyone who lived there 21 years after he had. They both decided to come back and drove along the riverfront of Stueng Pursat. The clear water of the river linked from the streams of the Cardamom mountain range - known locally as “Phnom Kravanh”. The river looked the same although new bridges had replaced the old ones.

Dara sped up on route 5 heading to Kampong Chhnang province. Sakura fell asleep and did not wake up until they arrived in Oudong, a former capital of the Khmer Empire and about 50 km north of Phnom Penh.

Sakura woke up and asked her dad, “Where are we now?”

Dara replied, “We have now arrived at Oudong. I came across a news report about a golden urn containing Buddha’s remains which had been stolen from the shrine on Oudong hill.”

“What? An urn stolen?” Sakura asked nervously.

“You may not know this. One quiet starry night, about 10 guards, after heavy drinking of palm juice, fell asleep. Their job was to safeguard the sacred site of Oudong but while they were asleep, thieves sneaked in and stole the urn. The golden urn contains a remnant of Buddha’s remains. I remembered a Cambodian spokesman said that the relics have enormous religious and cultural significance for Cambodians. I am not sure what happened to the stolen urn. All I know is that the government were committed to bringing the perpetrators to justice, but I am not sure if they ever arrested and punished the real criminals. I am not even sure if the real golden urn, which is worth tens of thousands of dollars, will be placed back at the shrine one day though I hope it will”.

“Where did Buddha’s remnant come from?” she asked.

“I am not sure, but I heard the remnant from the body of Buddha came all the way from Sri Lanka. Once the remains arrived in Phnom Penh, Cambodia placed it inside the golden urn and placed it before the train station in Phnom Penh. In 2002, the relics were moved by the then King Norodom Sihanouk from Phnom Penh to Oudong along with holding a huge religious ceremony which tens of thousands of people attended,” the dad recalled.

Sakura then said, “It is sad to hear that the urn was treated in such a way by these corrupt and bad guys stealing it.”

 Dara continued, “Bad and corrupt people do anything they can to make money. The bad guy steals anything he can. A bad guy stole your mom from me. The bad people in this country must be punished in the future when Cambodia will be fully at peace. Justice will be done one day. Time will show that.”

“If I was a tourist, where would I visit in Kampong Chhnang?” she asked.

“I think you would go to see the floating village at Kompong Luong, part of Tonle Sap river, where a Dutch navigator opened a warehouse and small port in around 1923,” he recalled from reading history.

“What? There were Dutch people who sailed all the way from Europe to here? No way. Tell me, how do you learn those?” the daughter asked.

“From reading a history book,” he replied, “Anyway we are getting close to Phnom Penh now. You can see couple of new bridges built by China across the Tonle Sap and Mekong rivers for which we are grateful.”

Sakura replied, “Nobody is perfect. By the way, people talk about One Belt, One Road. What is that all about?”

“It is about China’s ambitious plan and it is also good for our country and the region,” he said.

“You mean more trade, shipping, and investments will take place and they will have mutual benefits,” she said.

The dad replied, “Yes, but it is not new to me. I mean such Chinese initiatives were put in place more than 175 years ago.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked.

“Listen, my mom’s grandfather sailed all the way from the south of China a long time ago along with his friends. Some came ashore in Cambodia, Indonesia, The Philippines, and Malaysia. Other adventurous sailors died of starvation as their ship was swept away by the powerful winds and ended up in the middle of the ocean, 

“Thanks for telling me that. We are now arriving back in Phnom Penh,” said his daughter.

“You do not have to agree and believe what I tell you. I mean some I learned from history, others are my own perception and some information people have told me. It is good not to believe everything people say,” he cautioned his daughter.

“I have not read newspapers for one week now since we left Phnom Penh for Siem Reap. I need to stop by the newspaper booth near Wat Phnom hill to get some papers. I need to read them, since I also work as a freelance journalist. I need to write what is new and I need to know what is news.”

Dara bought a bunch of local newspapers in both English and Khmer and threw them into his car, saying “I will read them tomorrow”. The dad and daughter had an early dinner on the riverfront of Tonle Sap and went to bed early after their long journey from Battambang province.

“Good night daddy and have a great sleep,” said the daughter as she went to the bathroom.

“Many thanks, Sakura. You too, you need to recharge your batteries after a long day travelling. Your mom did not show up this time, but she will do soon I hope,” said the dad who walked slowly to his wooden room and kissed the picture of his wife, Duongchan, hanging above his bed and fell into a deep sleep.

END OF CHAPTER 17