Angkor

Since a geeky college girl, history has fascinated me. It wasn’t just the hole in the armpit of my bearded teacher’s cardigan that made me smile in class. My teacher had the ability to tell stories from ancient to modern times linking the past with how we live and who we are today. In Cambodia, at the Temples of Angkor, compared in magnificence to the pyramids of Egypt and the Taj Mahal, I am reminded of this. I know very little, in fact I should confess here that the name Angkor hardly registered with me before my travels. But somehow these mysterious temples in a country distant from home are part of life’s jigsaw – one that connects you, me and everything that is, and has been in the world.

There are over a 1000 temples in this kingdom of the past, varying from piles of stone to the largest temple in the world, Cambodia’s pride, Angkor Wat. The air is hot and humid, blending the heady scents of the jungle and aged sandstone with visitors’ sun screen and sweat. Cicadas sing their chorus, camera shutters click and softly spoken languages mix. The temples are awe-inspiring; here you can easily get lost in time and space, maybe prod a stone hoping a secret passage will open. I'm fascinated by my fellow tourists and begin to wonder about the myriad of reasons people visit Angkor. For some it’s photographic heaven while others find inspiration from the sheer majestic and spellbinding nature of these buildings. Many will make a spiritual connection with these formerly Hindi and presently Buddhist monuments while a few just wish to let it hang amongst temple stones awaiting restoration, while enjoying a contemplative fag.

But exploring the magnificent architecture of the Khmer Empire has not always been a given for South East Asian travellers. From 1975 to 1991 Cambodia was engaged in a brutal civil war during which an estimated 2 million people – almost a fourth of the nation’s population – died through starvation, disease or execution by the Khmer Rouge government. Tragically the legacy of the war lives on with unmapped landmines still demanding lives today. Cambodia has one of the largest ratio of disabled people in the world and lives and livelihoods are lost – even a rumour of a mine can have an effect on farming communities making large field areas unusable. No one knows the amount of mines still hidden but according to some estimates another decade will pass before the nation will be entirely safe from underground explosives.

A few miles from Angkor, Elina and I find an NGO working to demine Cambodia. It was established by a man called Aki Ra, who in the 1970s was kidnapped by the Khmer Rouge and made to work as a child soldier, his small hands nimble and quick to mine the fields. After the war Aki Ra turned from killing fields to healing fields using his rare skills to demine some 50 000 mines. He established an informative landmine museum and a free school for child landmine victims. Currently it houses about 30 children with hopes to enlarge. I find Aki Ra’s life extraordinary and inspiring.


With a dramatic history, Cambodia stares its past in the eye on a daily basis. This feisty, edgy nation has taken a stronghold of my heart. Back at Angkor, I share the sunrise with hundreds of other visitors from all over the world. My mind is firmly in the present, watching the familiar routine of the sun, bringing the night to an end. But as well as familiar, it will never be the same, this particular sunrise on this particular day. It freezes these wise, ageless temples, along with the viewers to this moment. Today tourists and travellers, yesterday rebels and god-kings, all somehow connected to the jigsaw that is life.



















P.S. The picture with the 'Danger Mines' sign is taken at the Cambodia Landmine Museum. To find out more about Aki Ra's work check out http://www.cambodialandminemuseum.org/