Goodbye Bodge

My final journey in Cambodia was 5 hours of south-east Asian sunshine slow roasting a boat load of tourists travelling the Tonle Sap from Siem Reap to Phnom Penh. Tim explained to me later that The Tonle Sap is an extraordinary stretch of water. Part river, part lake (or inland freshwater sea) it is the only water way in the world that changes its direction of flow for half of each year. In the dry season it flows from the north to the south of the country but come monsoon, when its neighbour the Mekong river rises, it changes direction acting as an overflow for the Mekong and flows south to north. Riding on the roof of the boat speeding down the river and out into open water we passed small fishing boats and floating villiages. The Tonle Sap is in many ways the backbone of Cambodia from the fishing industry to the tributaries that irrigate half the countries rice paddies it is a source of life. In contrast the following few days had me discovering and engaging more with Cambodias darker side and the reality that for the Khmer people their lives carry with them the taint of death. The atrocities and genocide committed by Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge has left legacy that affects every family in the country. Most adults you speak to will have lost a mother, father, sister, brother or other relation during that era. Visiting Tuol Sleng genocide museum formerly the S-21 prison is a deeply affecting experience. In many ways I don't have words to express or reflect, because none really do justice. To walk through rooms that have known such inexpressible torture, suffering and death is to walk through the shadows of the very darkest depths of depravity to which humans can sink. And yet at the same time as it seeming completely incomprehensible or unthinkable there is the small knowledge that the capcity for such violence resides within all of us. The questions of How? and Why? hollowed by the knowledge that as a species we do this again and again, we do not learn from history. Thinking I would never let this happen, begs the question do I ever try to stop it? Or how often am I complicit in perpetrating or upholding regimes that inflict similar violence by not objecting or opposing them, or simply by not paying attention because it is not on my doorstep.
Part of me wants to end there with the questions and the challenges. In truth maybe it will be these thoughts as well as the reflections on the poverty and corruption in India that will be the most significant things I carry back to the UK. But I will also return with many memories of happy times with friends and all the beauty I have seen. I guess we're stuck having to constantly live with such tensions or paradox.
I leave Cambodia with the images of sunlight diffused through banana leaves and palms, the fresh bright pink of Bourgenvilla flowers against blue blue skies, red earth and red dust, slow brown rivers, the gentle smiles of Khmers, the towering ruins of temples, another beautiful sunrise, the noise of Gekkos and Crickets filling the night,the warm breeze in my face as I cycle, the embraces of friends. I can choose to dwell on these, whilst not forgetting the other.