The Cambodian capital is refreshing different to Vietnam - its grubbier and poorer at first glance, but with open and friendly locals. Cambodia's recent political history looms large over the capital. Although Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge are now long gone, if you listen to the background noise, you can almost hear the voices screaming. The sound of a tortured nation.
An ancient prophecy foretells: A darkness will settle on the people of Cambodia. There will be houses but no people in them, roads but no travellers; the land will be ruled by barbarians with no religion; blood will run so deep as to touch the belly of the elephant. Only the deaf and mute will survive. People will be so hungry that they will run after a dog to fight for a grain of rice that has stuck to its tail.
All across the city are remnants of the oppressive nature of the regime. S21 was a school-cum-prison where the regime interned 20,000 opponents. Seven lived to speak about it. I'm repulsed by the methodical organisation evident during our visit. How humans can embrace and act on such extreme hate for one another is beyond me. The vibe of terror pervades the grounds and buildings, and as we walk around I can feel resonant anguish of thousands of victims. I'm tense and edgy. Each of the prison rooms are adorned with the original beds and torture equipment, giving an overall grizzly, macabre ambiance.
From the prison, we head to the aptly named Killing Fields, where Cambodians in their thousands were slaughtered. My rational mind seeks to attribute some reason to the actions of the Khmer Rouge because I want to believe that there is a reason for what they did. Still, I'm not sure that any reason would come up to scratch. I'm shocked by the cruelty. I can't understand why a quarter of the population, nearly 2 million people, were killed. It's obviously deranged and insane - I can't understand how an idea be so powerful that it severs your connection to your fellow man.
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