The monsoon hit Cambodia today, a blessing for me. In a deserted Angkor temple I felt the wind change, and a great rumbling shook the very stones under my feet. I looked up through a hole that had formed in the corbelled archway (the Khmer's never invented the keystone), and see rays of light piercing down, tracing the silhouette of the dark cloudscape that is about to swallow them. Huge drops start to splash down, first slowly, then accelerating like pop corn popping in the microwave , creating explosions in the dust leaving little craters before my feet as I quicken my pace back to the road. The smell in the temple turns musty. I barely escape the downpour to the roadside food stand where Nat, my driver, is waiting, sprawled in a hammock. "When does the wet season start?", I ask. "It just did." he replies with a dead pan look, but seconds later emits the high pitched giggle that is so characteristic of the Cambodian people. "Come, it's nap time till the rain passes." I grab myself a hammock.
The wonders of Angkor are beyond description, so I will write of another matter as I sit here on the upper balcony of The Red Piano, watching the hordes below and the lightning above. In the past week's blur, I have visited the War Remnants Museum in Saigon, crawled through the tunnels at Cu Chi, read the book, "The Girl in the Picture", witnessed the dilapidated shacks of the Cambodian countryside, wondered the bone strewn killing fields surrounding the stupa of sculls, held back tears while confronted with hundreds of mug shots of the men, women and children awaiting torture and death at S-21 school in Phnom Penh, been bombarded with pleas for help by the most adorable children on earth at Angkor, and finally, today, I met a couple of the young men and women working at the Land Mine Museum in Siem Reap. One was missing an arm, the other, a leg, sister, and mother to land mine accidents.
So, as I'm fulfilling my dream of exploring SE Asia, highlighted by probably the greatest architectural work of the human mind of the face of the earth, I've had a lump growing in my throat. These poor people. Why is the world such an evil place? How can we, who enjoy such comforts and relative safety not rail against the forces that cause so much pain to so many people?
I ask Nat if he feels life is better now that tourism has brought in more money. He confirmed my assessment that this has benefited a few, allowing for land cruisers and mansions, but for most life is still a constant struggle. The Cambodian people have a nation wide vote in two weeks. I witnessed many signs and rallies for the People's Party of Cambodia while speeding along behind Nat on his motorbike the past couple of days. I'll warrant these freedoms are not taken for granted, but worry that in a country so corrupt, that if these acts are merely a show. Do people here really have an power over their lives? I'm doubtful.
I'm depressed. Lets face it. In spite of some of the hopeful signs I've seen, I can't help but wonder, how long will it last? Does evil fade or just move from place to place in an endless cycle? Hitler, Pol Pot, it all same same. Every time I see one of these little girls selling post cards with a big smile on her face, I'm haunted by the images of babies being beaten to death against trees, boys being gutted for the crime of stealing from the pig trough in desperate starvation, of the sudden sound of a mine exploding and not knowing who in your family has been maimed or killed, and not knowing which is worse.
It's not that I was naive to the world's tragedies before this week, I've seen plenty in my day, and read about Cambodia before I set out. It's just different when your here. Guatemala was pretty bad, but this just seems worse. It really does seem like the apocalypse is now, and humanity is doomed because of the evil in each of us, the evil to ignore, to justify, to rationalize. Who are we to look upon other species and call them savage and celebrate ourselves as being enlightened because we have self awareness? Maybe we're the virus to the world, not avian flu. Such have been my thoughts as I wonder the lotus inspired monuments.
