A Brit in The Orient.

Nobody appeared to be in a rush either, everything was carried out at a regular type of pace. Unless it was kids spotting the 'Farangs' then they would motor some, to get there first.



It's very strange as well looking at the photographs we took, it only seems like yesterday.

So natural to all of them, no different than us working and living on land.

We all have our little chores to do, one way or another.




They were certainly learning from a very young age too.

The following is an extremely touching tale.


Getting back to The Khmer Rouge Episode for a While. I had a story I thought I would copy out from the Tonle Sap Lake region during the atrocities.

It certainly makes for some heart touching reading.


The Tonle Sap Lake Massacre
By Ranachith (Ronnie) Yimsut
Ronnie Yimsut was 13 years old when the Khmer Rouge swept into Phnom Penh in 1975. He and his extended family were removed from their homes in Siem Reap, near the famed ruins of Angkor, and forced to work in collective camps. During the last week of 1977, Ronnie's family was horded up for the last time before being killed by the Khmer Rouge. Of the dozens killed on that December day, only Ronnie survived. Today Ronnie is a landscape architect for the National Forest Service. He lives in Bend, Oregon, with his wife and two children.


It was a chilly evening of December 22, 1977, when a group of armed Khmer Rouge cadres herded what was left of my family and neighbors to an unknown destination. At the time we were at a forced labor camp in Siem Reap, Angkor Province, in what was then known as Democratic Kampuchea - Cambodia as we call it today. Our group was counted one by one by the armed men, some who were more like boys my age at the time. There were 87 of us all together and 7 of them. None of us knew for sure where we were going. However, after we had experienced similar move many times previously, we didn't really care where we were heading next. We all got used to such relocations. It was almost routine for us.


This time it felt a little different. They seemed to try to accommodate us, to go out of their way to try to please us. It was an act that we were not used to. It made us feel uneasy about the whole plan. Why were they so nice to us this time? The last 24 relocations were miserable and the soldiers were very rough. In fact, they were so rough that some of my family died in the process of relocation. The soldiers' acts were very suspicious, but we didn't really care. It was a nice change, yet a change that we were having a problem swallowing whole. Perhaps their policy had changed? It was yet to be seen.


One exhausting day of walking later we stopped at a former Buddhist pagoda on the way to some place - they refused to tell where. Our escorts ordered us to stop and wait. We were more or less pleased to have a chance for a breather stop, no matter how short it was. However, the place was not an ideal resting area. We had always known that it was a "processing center." It was also a place where people got punished or even executed for a minor infraction. They called it a "Work Camp," but we all knew it simply as "The Death Camp." We waited and prayed that they won't keep us here permanently. Approximately 20 minutes later, they herded us out again. Twenty minutes may not be long, but it is an eternity when one life or future is at stake. It was a nerve-wracking experience. We knew that we had passed through "gate one" at last.


Two days later, we all arrived at a place called Tasource Hill. I had been here several times during my time in the Mobile Brigade - it was another labor camp. There were thousands and thousands of people working, digging for a huge canal project. It was a sad sight to see. I thought I was just skin and bones, but the people I saw there were in worst shape than I was. It was not long after we arrived at Tasource Hill before they put everyone, including small children, to work among other people. It was then that I finally realized our faith had paid off - or so I thought. We were forced to work all day and almost all night for five agonizing days by a new batch of soldiers. Those who brought us over had long since departed. The new guards were cruel and had no mercy. Many died in front of me from heat stroke, sickness, exhaustion and starvation. But most people died from beating they received from the soldiers. And many were quietly taken away in the cover of the night to almost a certain destination: death. All that time I wondered when our turn would come. I wished it would arrive sooner so that we didn't have to suffer like those before us.


People from my group began to drop like flies in the muddy bottom of the canal. Very few even bother to take them to get a proper burial. The dead and near dead were scattered all over as far as my eyes could see. We were all too exhausted and too weak to move. Every now and then a group of people came by to collect the dead bodies. Very few mourned for the dead. Even the relatives showed very little emotion because they knew that the dead would suffer no more. We were all like a bunch of living dead. I thought that it would be much easier if they just came and took us away. When were they going to end our misery? I waited and waited. It never came.


A pointed object poked at me very hard and woke me up from the muddy bottom of the canal. I slowly opened my eyes to look at the teenage soldier who continued to poke me with his seemingly over-sized AK-47 rifle. He was no older than 12, just a few years younger than I was, but much, much fatter. He was yelling angrily for me to get up from the mud. "Go ahead and shoot me!" I said to myself. I was ready to die. It was hopeless. I finally pushed my weak, skinny body up from the mud and wearily walked into a direction where my group was being congregated. It was our time to go, at last.


I began to have mixed feelings about the sudden relocation plan. Normally, we would stay in one place for weeks or even months at a time before they shipped us out again. I had wished for them to take us away and now that the time had come, I was having second thought. Nonetheless, after five long days and nights without substantial food or rest, I was more than ready to go - where I was going was irrelevant. I just wanted to get out of this place even if it meant sudden death. By the look of others, including my family, they were all ready to go as well. After all that they had put us through, especially the last five days, nothing could be worse. Nothing would matter anymore.


They ordered us to file in a row of four. A small group of soldiers who were to escort us were made up of all ages, some as young as 10. There were only five of them to escort what was left of my original group of family. By then there were only 79 of us altogether. During those five awful days at Tasource Hill, eight had died, including six children and two elderly men. I wondered why there were so few of them if they were going to kill all 79 of us? The oldest soldier came over in front us and spoke loudly so that everyone could hear him. He told us that we were being moved to the Tonle Sap - the Great Lake - to catch fish for the government. He also said that there will be food to eat. Suddenly, people began talking among each other about the news. We were all very skeptical about the seemingly miraculous news. However, it made sense as most of us in this group were at one time commercial fishermen on the Tonle Sap. They told us just what we wanted to hear: the food, the chance to catch and eat fresh fish from the lake, the chance to get away from the misery of Tasource Hill. It all sounded too good to be true. I was completely fooled by the news. Well, perhaps I had a little doubt, but so did the rest of the people in my group. We would have to wait and see what the future would hold for us.


They took us south through a familiar muddy road toward the lake, which was about six or seven miles away. The last time I walked on this very same road was just last the year before, when I was on another Mobile Brigade project. The longer we were on that road, the more relaxed we were. Perhaps they were telling us the truth? We seemed to be heading in the right direction. There were only five of them. They couldn't possibly kill all 79 of us - Could they?


After about three miles of walking, They asked us to stop and wait for the rest of the group to catch up. People were very weak and the three-mile hike took its toll. Another child died on the way. After some hesitation the soldiers allowed the mother to bury her child. It was another 20 or 30 minutes before they caught up.


They wanted us to move on quickly before the setting of the sun. They asked all the able men, both young and old, to come and gather in front of the group. The men were then told to bring their tools, especially any knives and axes they had with them. They said that the men needed to go ahead of the group to build a camp for the rest of us. The men were soon lined up in a single file with their tools in hand. I watched my brother Sarey as he walked reluctantly to join the line after saying goodbye to his pregnant wife, Oum. I told him that I would take good care of my sister-in-law. The group disappeared shortly in the darken sky. That was the last time I ever saw Sarey and the rest of the men again.


The sky was getting darker and a chillier. The notorious Tonle Sap mosquitoes began to rule the night sky. After about 30 minutes or so, The two soldiers that led the men away returned. They quickly conferred with their fellow comrades. One or two of the people from my group overheard something quite unbelievable - the shocking news quickly spread among the people within the group. I learned later that they said something like, "a few got way." It only meant one thing: the men were all dead except a few who managed to escape.


It was about 7 or 8 o'clock in the evening when we were ordered to move on again. By this time the children who still had enough energy to cry were crying and screaming as loud as they could. It was mainly from hunger and exhaustion, but also from the attack by the swamping mosquitoes. Amidst the crying of the children I could hear the sobbing and weeping of the people who lost their loved ones. I still had my doubts about the whole situation, although the odds were stacked against us. If we didn't die of starvation, exhaustion, or mosquitoes bites, there was a good chance that we might be killed by the hands of the soldiers.


The thought of me actually coming face to face with death now terrified me for the first time. I had thought of escaping right then, but could not do it after a long consideration. I didn't have the heart to leave my family, especially my pregnant sister-in-law who was already a week overdue. Besides, where would I go from here? I would eventually be recaptured and killed later on. If I were to die, I preferred to die among my loved ones. There were plenty of opportunities for me to escape, but I just couldn't do it. So I reluctantly trekked with the rest of the group, with my sister-in-law Oum over my right shoulder and a small bag of belongings on my left. Somehow it seemed ironic: we were knowingly walking toward our deaths just like cattle being herded towards a slaughterhouse. We all knew where we were heading; even the children seemed to know it as well. I still had a little doubt despite everything I had seen and heard thus far. Perhaps it was a faint hope - a hope that these Khmer Rouge soldiers were not the cold heart killers we thought they were. Perhaps.


A few miles before we were to reach the Great Lake, they ordered us to turn off to the west instead of continuing down south as planned. It was a very muddy, sticky road. My feet seemed to stick in the mud every single time I put them down to go forward. The progress was slow and cumbersome. A few people got stuck there just like in a quicksand bog and the soldiers would go back to them to kick and beat them up. I still don't know if they ever made it. I was busy helping Oum and myself move forward and didn't really care anymore. All that time I was trying to calm myself down and keeping a clear mind. Oum was beyond help. Her quiet weeping had now became a full-blown scream. She was in bad shape, physically and emotionally. Oum said that she had stomach cramps or was in labor; she wasn't sure. It was to be her first child. She didn't know much about child birth or contractions, and neither did I. All that I could do was drag her across the muddy flats so the soldiers won't come and beat us to death right there and then. It was pathetic.
We were no more than 300 yards off the main road when they asked us to sit down on the edge of a small shallow canal that ran east to west. Both of our legs stretched forward; we had to shut up or they would to beat us up. In a matter of minutes a large group of at least 50 people suddenly emerged from a hidden place in the nearby forest. It was really dark by that time, but I could tell from their silhouettes that they were soldiers with AK-47 rifles, carbines and large clubs in their hands. One of them began to shout loudly at us as the rest surrounded the group with their rifles, aiming directly at us. People began to plea for their lives. The soldiers screamed for all of us to shut up. They said that they only wished to ask a few questions - that was all they wanted. They also said that this was an interrogation and that they suspected there were enemies among us. They claimed there were Vietnamese agents in our group, which I knew was a bogus claim since we all had known each other for many years. It was all a tactic, a dirty trick to keep us calm, weak and under their control. But the tactic had been very effective because all the strong men who could have rised against them were the first ones to go. Those people left in my group were women and children, the sick and the weak. They had us right where they wanted. It was all a premeditated plan.


A soldier walked towards me, yanking away a cotton towel and shredding it into small strips. I was the first one to be tied up tightly by the soldiers with one of the strips. I was stunned and quite terrified. I began to resist a little. After a few blows to the head with rifle butts, I could only let them do as they pleased with me. My head began to bleed from a wound. I was still semi-conscious - I could feel the pain and blood flowing down on my face. They were using me as example of what one would get if they got any kind of resistance. They quickly tied the rest of the group without any problems. By this time it was totally chaotic as people continued to plea for their lives. I was getting dizzier as blood continued to drip across my face and into my right eye. It was the first time that I had tears in my eyes - not from the blood nor the pain, but from the reality that was now setting in. I was numb with fear.


I was beyond horrified when I heard the clobbering begin. Somehow, I knew that this was it. Oum's elderly father was next to me and his upper torso contracted several times before he fell on me. At that moment, I noticed a small boy whom I knew well get up and start to call for his mother. Suddenly there was a warm splash on my face and body. I knew it was definitely not mud - it was the little boy's blood, perhaps his brain tissue scattering from the impact. The others only let out short but terrifying sputtered sounds. I could hear their breathing stop cold in its tracks. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion; it was so unreal. It happened in a matter of seconds but I can still vividly remember every trifling detail. I closed my eyes, but the terrifying sounds continued to penetrate my ear canals, piercing my ear drums. The first blow came when I was laying face down to the ground with a corpse partially covering my lower body. It hit me just below my right shoulder blade - I remember that one very well. The next one hit me just above my neck on the right side of my head. I believe it was the one that knocked me out that night. The rest of the clubbing, which included at least 15 blows, landed everywhere on my skinny little body. Fortunately, I did not feel them until much later. I do not remember anything after that, except that I slept very well that night, unconscious from the beating.


I woke up to the familiar sound of mosquitoes buzzing like bees over my body. Only this time there were tons and tons of them feasting on mine and other peoples' blood. I was unable to move a muscle, not a one. My eyes were opened, but they were blurry. I thought I had been blinded. I was disoriented. I could not remember where I was. I thought I was sleeping at home, in my own bed. I wondered why there were so many mosquitoes. They didn't bother me at that time because I could not feel a thing. Where was I? Why can't I move? I was still tied up with the cloth rope. After a few minutes I was able to see a little, but everything else was still blurry. I saw a bare foot but I didn't know whose it was. Suddenly, reality set in at full blast and I broke into heavy sweat. The memories of the events that happened earlier came rushing back and smacked me right in the head. I realized the sharp dull pain all over my body and head. I was very cold. I had never been so cold in my entire life. Fear ran rampant in my mind. I suddenly realized where I was and what had happened. "Am I already dead? If I am, why do I still suffer like this?" I kept on asking myself that same questions over and over again, but always came to the same conclusion. I was still alive. I am alive! But why? I could not understand why I was still alive and suffering. I should have been dead. I wished then and there that I was dead like the rest of people laying around me.


The faint light of a new dawn broke through the sky, revealing my shriveled, blood soaked body in the mud. It must have been about 4 or 5 o'clock in the morning, January 1, 1978. "Not a Happy New Year today," I thought. It was still dark and cold. My motor skills came back little by little until I was able to move with great difficulty. I pushed myself to sit up by supporting myself on the pile of dead bodies. I began to work to untie myself from the cloth rope. I broke the rope after a few painful tries. My eyesight was also back, but I wished then that I was blind after seeing the scattered bodies laying at every direction. Some of them were beyond recognition. Some were completely stripped naked. Blood stains which had already turned to a dark color gave the area a new dimension. It definitely was not a sight for sore eyes.


I wanted to look around for my relatives, but was unable to turn around. My neck was stiff with pain. My head hurt - oh how it hurt so badly. I could only feel around me with my two hands. Everywhere I touched was cold flesh. My hands were both trembling and I could not control them from shaking. I cried my heart out when I recognized a few dead bodies next to me, one of which was Oum and her unborn child. I suddenly remembered the bare foot I saw when I woke up - it was hers. Her elderly father and her two sisters were all piled on top of each other and side by side as though they were embracing just before they lost their lives. I could not go on. My cries turned to a sobs; it was the only sound around besides the mosquitoes which continued to torment my almost bloodless body. I began to fade and feel as though my life was slipping away. I passed out again on top of the dead bodies. I was totally out cold.


I woke up to the sound of people coming toward the killing field. I sat up and listened closely. I began to panic: "They are back to finish me off," I told myself, "They are going to bury me alive!" They might as well. I had nothing to live for. Technically, as far as the Khmer Rouge were concerned, I was already dead. I was ready to give up as the voices got closer and louder, but my survival instinct finally took control. I pushed myself, inching my way towards nearby bushes. I was no more than 20 feet away from where I was earlier but I now commanded a good view of the area. The people soon arrived at the site. I was right - the soldiers were back with a new batch of victims with them. Most of the people were men, but there were a few women. Their hands were all bounded together around the back, but with real rope instead of cloth. "There's no way they can get out of that rope," I said to myself. One of the soldiers gave a command. In the broad morning light, I again witnessed the slaughter of human lives. In a matter of seconds they were all clobbered to death, just like the rest of my family and friends whose bodies were still scattered on the muddy ground. My heart just stopped. My entire body shook convulsively and I wanted to throw up. My left hand squeezed tightly over my mouth so I wouldn't accidentally cry out and give myself away. I felt as though I was going through the same ordeal all over again. My mind just couldn't take it anymore. My mind went blank and I passed out again.


It wasn't until the next night before I was really awake. A whole day had gone by just like I wasn't there. I remembered waking up several times during the day, but everything was kind of foggy. Soon after I woke up, more people were coming toward me again. I assumed they were more victims to be killed. I did not wait to find out. I decided then that I wanted to live. I began to slip away from the area by crawling on all my elbows and knees. I couldn't walk at all, even if I had wanted to. I was no longer bleeding, but I knew that I was in a bad shape. I was hungry and very thirsty. My lips cracked like mud in the hot sun. My entire body cracked from the layers of mud and blood that had baked in the hot sun. I had to find water soon or I would died of thirst. I worked my way west along the shallow-dried up canal and then turned north. By this time it was really dark and chilly. I found myself in the middle of a forested area. Impenetrable brush. I went back and forth trying to find a way to get through the thick forest and ended up back where I had started, near the killing area. After the fourth or fifth time trying, I found myself in the middle of the forest, lost and frustrated. I knew that I was getting very weak and needed to find my way out of this tangled web of thick thorn brush soon if I was to stay alive. I spent the night right where I was, crying myself to sleep. That night I slept like a log.


For the next 17 days I found myself hiding out in the forest. I slept only in the daytime and spent my nights raiding one village after another for whatever I can find to eat. My injuries healed quickly and I began to put on some weight thanks to the food that I had stolen from the surrounding villages. I never stayed in one place for long. I kept on the move and always watched out for any sign of danger. I knew that they were searching for me but I was able to keep a step or two ahead of them. They always counted bodies and if one was missing, they always searched and usually recaptured the escapee. It was very difficult for me at first, but I soon became expert in the arts of raiding food and eluding capture. I am sure I must have frustrated a few Khmer Rouge soldiers who searched for me during my 17-day reign as king of the jungle.


Life during those 17 days was never easy. Every single day I waited for the moment when I would get the chance to avenge the death of my family and friends. One day that opportunity arrived. I stumbled accidentally on a group of escapees who were also hiding in the forest. I almost got killed because they thought I was a Khmer Rouge spy. The only thing that saved me from certain death were my recent injuries; they believed my story. The next night all of us - over 200 men and women - broke up into three groups and went out to attack a Khmer Rouge garrison for food and weapon. Despite our lack of organization and weapons, we were willing to go against an army with only sticks, stones, a few knives and two recently dug up grenades. The element of surprise was gone when the old-rusty grenades failed to explode. Most of us got mowed down like weeds. There were heavy casualties. Many died or were wounded during the attack and counterattack - it was a total failure on our side. Although we obtained a few pistols and rifles we didn't reach our objective, which was to get food and weapons and take over the garrison. However, many of us were able to hurt or kill quite a few soldiers during the attack. I may have killed at least one and hurt a few others with my homemade "cave man's club." At 15-years-old I was the youngest in the group, but I fought just as bravely or even braver than any of the men or women there. I was burning and boiling inside with hate. I was fearless. Life meant nothing to me. I decided to live only to kill the Khmer Rouge, and that one night I was a savage animal with nothing but rage.
Most of us were killed or captured during the army's full-scale counterattack. Our hideout in the wood was shelled day and night for three days until hardly anything was left standing. I decided to stick with the three leaders whereever they would go. The four of us managed to get away and head to Thailand. After 15 days of hiking the 150 miles to the border we found ourselves in a Thai prison. The Thai authorities considered us as "political prisoners" simply because we arrived when they closed the border. And the four of us were not alone, as there were over 600 others like us who were kept in a 75x75 meter cell. Living conditions were bad and the treatment we got from the Thai guards was even worst, but I must admit that I would rather be in a Thai prison than in the hands of the Khmer Rouge anytime. At least we were fed and clothed like a human beings - much better than the Khmer Rouge would have done. And because I was the youngest of the prisoners I got better treatment than the others; I even got to know some of the guards really well. I used that privilege to my best advantage. I weighed a little less than 80 pounds when I first arrived in Thailand. Within 4 weeks, I managed to gain over 20 pounds.
We spent five months in the Thai prison before we were eventually moved to a refugee camp near the Thai-Cambodian border. While I was in the refugee camp I waited for a recruitment drive to join the freedom fighters against the Khmer Rouge, but they did not accept me because I was "too young and too skinny." I even tried telling them that I was almost 18, but it was no use. I was stuck in one place and got very frustrated. I could not go back to fight, and staying in the camp would only lead me to commit suicide. My life had no meaning at that time. There was nothing to live for. I thought that I should live so that I may one day avenge the death of my loved ones. My purpose in life was gone when they refused to let me fight the Khmer Rouge. I thought I should end my life just like my fellow refugees who had already killed themselves. But then I thought some more. "That is too easy!" I told myself. "I am a survivor. I will not died so cowardly."


My life began to turn around when a CBS News producer named Brian Ellis showed up at the camp one day. I was interviewed for a documentary called "What Happened to Cambodia?" which was later broadcast in the United States. Mr. Ellis took me outside of the camp for the very first time in months. I tasted freedom and I liked it a lot. That day with Mr. Ellis was special and I have never forgotten it. My life began to change for the better after Mr. Ellis left. That one encounter with Mr. Ellis change my perspective about life - I got a reason to go on living. It was also a chance for a new life and an education. After the broadcast I was contacted by a cousin named Khen Chen who worked for Voice of America in Washington DC. I was eventually sponsored by Khen and her husband Chun to come to America. I arrived in Washington DC in late October, 1978 after a long, miserable eight months in Thailand. The other three men who escaped with me would eventually settl in a third country as well. Two of them are now residing in the United States and another is currently in France. They all remarried and are doing well.
I went on and made a new life for myself. I graduated from high school and eventually got a degree from the University of Oregon in 1988. I am now married to Thavy, a Cambodian women, and have a young daughter. I am currently working for the U.S. Forest Service in Bend, Oregon as a District Landscape Architect, which I have done since my graduation. Life could not be better for me now. I still have nightmares about the massacre on that dark December night. It has never completely gone away from my mind and I am still horrified just thinking about it. Time does not heal such an emotional trauma - at least not for me. However, I have long since learned to live with it. Although it hasn't gone away from my mind, my life must and will go on.


Brian Ellis (the CBS News producer), whom I had not heard from for 10 years, decided to show up at my graduation with his crew for a follow-up story. It was great to see the man, and he continues to influence my life. We are now good friends and keep in touch with each other, though he is no longer with CBS News.
During the winter of 1984, I received a shocking letter from a refugee camp in Thailand via my cousin Khen in Washington, DC. The letter was from my oldest brother Larony, who was supposedly dead since the fall of Cambodia in April 1975. My family received news that he was killed by the Khmer Rouge while he was in a hospital, where he was recovering from wounds he sustained from a landmine. That was the last time anyone heard from him until his letter arrived in 1984. At the same time, I also learned that my only sister, Malennie, was also alive and well. On top of that, they were both married and had three children each. Both Larony and Malennie were not with the family so they were able to survive the Khmer Rouge madness. They and their families, ten people all together, worked their way to Thailand following the Vietnamese occupation of Cambodia in January 1979. In January 1989, after five years of struggle, they were finally granted permission to enter the United States from the refugee camp in Thailand. This was after a long battle with the Immigration and Naturalization Service. By the time they arrived in Oregon, the family had grown from ten people to twelve people. Each family had a new baby who was born in the camp just weeks before their resettlement to the United States. They are now doing well, residing in Oregon. It was a heartwarming and emotional reunion after so many years of loneliness and separation. The last time I saw my brother Larony was in 1973. For my sister Malennie it was April 1975, following the Khmer Rouge takeover of the country. I had not seen their families until they all arrived at Portland International Airport in 1989. I am fortunate that I did not lose my life nor the rest of my family.


On February of 1992, I returned to Cambodia for the very first time for four weeks. I arrived in Phnom Penh and then went on to Siem Reap, my home city. It was more than just another trip. It had been more than 17 years since I last stepped on the ground of my home city. It was also more than 14 years since I had last seen, heared, smelled, and tasted my Cambodia. It was highly emotional, to a point that it almost unbearable. The pain and the anger returned to my once traumatized memory. However, I felt that the Cambodia I now saw was more traumatized than I was. Peoples' lives are much better now than during the Khmer Rouge years, as I can still vividly remember, but their lives are still on hold and waiting. We all agreed that a healing process is a must in order for all parties concerned to have a lasting peace. I learned a long time ago that one may forgive, but one must never forget the past. We must go on. Life goes on and forgiveness is the key to it all. I have also realized that revenge is not the answer to my pain and anger. Instead the answer was forgiveness of the people who had hurt me, both physically and emotionally. I never achieved inner peace until after I had forgiven the murderous Khmer Rouge. In a strange way I have to thank them, for they made me who I am today: a stronger person.
I waited a long time for a chance to return to my native land. What I saw there was a country in a very sad situation. Cambodia is still devastated from the many years of war and foreign intervention. From the economic embargo by the United States to the destructive military machines of China, the former Soviet Union and Vietnam. People are still "camping out" rather living their lives the way it should be, settled permanently. It was a sad sight to see. Nonetheless, the people are doing what they can in trying to put their lives back together. It is an uphill battle for a people who are at least 20 years behind the rest of the world.


My return trip to Cambodia gave me a new insight and a new goal in life for me to reach for: to help rebuild my homeland. I feel just like the salmon, whose urge to regenerate is very strong despite the hardship and the danger, it becomes their primary goal in life. I am alive today for such a purpose - to help regenerate and rebuild Cambodia to her best potential.
The door is opening little by little now, yet the waiting game continues. I feel that the longer I wait the more uneasy I become. I feel that I am a person caught between two cultures: I am not quite Cambodian and not quite American. Sure, I am fairly successful here in the United States and I have adapted to American life and culture well. But the longing to return home has always been utmost in my mind. I have seen Cambodia and I am not even sure if I could make it with that culture or lifestyle. Nonetheless, I am willing to try because Cambodia will always be home to me despite the fact that I have nothing left there anymore.


This is how I feel about Cambodia and why it is so important to me to help with the healing process. It is not just for Cambodia, but for me as well. After all, I am still one of the walking emotionally wounded that need to be healed.


Personally I found this an amazing story. The horrors of The Pol Pot and Khmer rein being even more portrayed.

I will close this post for the night with a couple more lake photographs.

There must be light burning brighter, somewhere.





We found a floating goodies shop as well.






Somehow or another, the photographs give a little tranquility to the past. Things happen in this world, that never should.

And far too often.

The fantastic difference between life on Terra-fir-ma and floating about on a big lake, or any body of water for that matter is perhaps ridiculous for us land dwellers to comprehend.


However, when you watch the water people going about their daily business it's something you appreciate and take as their totally natural environment.

Speaking to several whilst we were on the lake they expressed a feeling they felt of not only security whilst on the water, but a sense of environmental normality.




A couple of these photographs show a form of contentment between the water, the floating rafts and boats, which are emphasised by the water dwellers.



It is amazing when you see how many people are existing in these small boats. They cook, eat, drink, sleep, dress/undress, wash and toilet themselves without a worry in the world.

Contentment is obvious from the looks on their faces.




I couldn't help but wonder how they coped with illnesses and incapacitation through the same or following accidents etc.

It must be a hell of an ordeal. They probably just get on with things.

I remember having discussion with a writer many years ago in Bangkok.

He was Thai, he accused the West of exacerbating suffering through it's introduction of anti-biotics and better medication which was extending the projected and normal life period of Thais from their late 40's to late 60's at that particular time.

He actually remarked that had he died at forty seven, he would never have gone through the horrendous toothache he experienced in his early fifties.

Flobo took this through the window of the vehicle we were using driving to and from the lake.

It really looks daft seeing a moped carrying these pigs about like this.

I wonder what else he could get on board, if he really tried.




Do you ever look at things in life, and simply wonder what's it all about?

add Alfie if you want.





I wonder what's in that crate



Supply and demand, it's the same all across the globe, only it looks different.

I always have this tendency to think that they would have no idea at all what a vacuum cleaner did or a washing machine, for instance.

It is an enormous lake though.







Several had generators running away, supplying light and power for a television. They all love television.

It was kind of funny seeing television aerials sticking up in the air from time to time.

Another here with a floating pig farm as well.

It was quite an adventure under it's own merits simply taking the boat here and there on the lake, we have actually thought many times since that we wish we had taken the boat from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap


{I thought this photograph was fantastic.}





It will be a must for the next time. No doubt about that at all.




Both Flobo and myself agreed it would be quite an experience to spend a couple of days and nights on one of these boats, especially in the Monsoon.




The closer you are to shore though, the less appealing it can become.

We think perhaps we will wait until the tourist guys get some of those big converted rice barges on there with all the mod cons.



In fact it would be a great business adventure for a young couple with plenty of enterprise.

There is so much to do in Thailand, so much to see and enjoy.

It is indeed a great pity that there has been much conflict in the surrounding countries such as Cambodia, Vietnam and Laos, also the current and ongoing situation in Burma with the ruling Junta and The Karen especially.


The Karen are so much more than a national minority. They are a nation with a population count of at least 7 million, having all the essential qualities of a nation. They have their own history, language, culture, land settled by their forefathers.


They, the Karen that is descend from the same ancestors as the Mongolian people. The Karen came from an area of The Gobi Desert. They migrated to Burma roughly in 739BC.

Most Historians would agree that The Karen would have been the original settlers in this land.

The History is indeed extremely deep and from an outsiders point of view as with most things in life apart from his normal course of existence, are difficult to comprehend.



It is fair to say though that The Burmese and Karen have really been at conflict for hundreds of years and NOT just from the departure of Britain from Burma.


The information below is taken from the Internet and forms the basis of the Karen peoples interpretation.


Pre-World War II Eras
Burmese Feudalism, British Imperialism and Japanese Fascism
We, the Karen could not enjoy our peaceful lives for long. The Mon were the next to enter this area, followed at their heels by the Burmese, both the Mon and the Burmese brought with them feudalism, which they practiced to the full. The Burmese won the feudal war, and they subdued and subjugated all other nationalities in the land.

The Karen suffered untold miseries at the hands of their Burmese lords. Persecution, torture, killings, suppression, oppression and exploitation were the order of the day. To mention a few historical facts as evidence, we may refer to the Burmese subjugation of the Mon and the Arakanese, and especially their past atrocities against the Thais at Ayudhaya. These events stand as firm evidence of the cruelties of Burmese feudalism. So severe are these atrocities that those victimized continue to harbour a deep-seated resentment of the Burman even today.


At that time, many Karen had to flee for their lives to the high mountains and thick jungles, where communications and means of livelihood were extremely difficult and diseases common. We were thus cut of from all progress, civilisation and the rest of the world, and were gradually reduced to backward hill tribes. The rest of the Karen were made slaves. We were forced to do hard labour and were cruelly treated.


When the British occupied Burma, the conditions of the Karens gradually improved. With the introduction of law and order by the Colonial Central Authority, the Karen began to earn their living without being hindered, and we could go to school and be educated. This infuriated the Burmese, to see the despised Karen being treated equally by the British. Progress of the Karen people in almost all fields was fast, and by the beginning of the 20th Century, they were ahead of other peoples in many respects, especially in education, athletics and music. It could be said that the Karen had a breathing spell during the period of the British regime.

In 1942, the Japanese invaded Burma with the help of the Burma Independence Army (BIA), who led them into the country. These BIA troops took full advantage of the situation by insinuating that the Karen were spies and puppets of the British, and therefore were enemies of the Japanese and the Burman. With the help of the Japanese, they began to attack the Karen villages, using a scheme to wipe out the entire Karen populace which closely resembled the genocidal scheme Hitler was enacting against the Jews in Germany.The Karen of many parts of the country were arrested, tortured and killed. Our properties were looted,our womenfolk raped and killed, and our hearths and homes burned. Conditions were so unbearable that we retaliated fiercely enough to attract the attention of the Japanese Government, which mediated and somewhat controlled the situation.



This infuriated the Burmese, to see the despised Karen being treated equally by the British. Progress of the Karen people in almost all fields was fast, and by the beginning of the 20th Century, they were ahead of other peoples in many respects, especially in education, athletics and music. It could be said that the Karen had a breathing spell during the period of the British regime.


In 1942, the Japanese invaded Burma with the help of the Burma Independence Army (BIA), who led them into the country. These BIA troops took full advantage of the situation by insinuating that the Karen were spies and puppets of the British, and therefore were enemies of the Japanese and the Burman. With the help of the Japanese, they began to attack the Karen villages, using a scheme to wipe out the entire Karen populace which closely resembled the genocidal scheme Hitler was enacting against the Jews in Germany.

The Karen of many parts of the country were arrested, tortured and killed. Our properties were looted,our womenfolk raped and killed, and our hearths and homes burned. Conditions were so unbearable that we retaliated fiercely enough to attract the attention of the Japanese Government, which mediated and somewhat controlled the situation.


Post World War II Eras
Demand for Karen State, Tensions and Armed Conflicts
The bitter experiences of the Karen throughout our history in Burma, especially during the Second World War, taught us one lesson. They taught us that as a nation, unless we control a state of our own, we will never experience a life of peace, free from persecution and oppression. We will never be allowed to work hard to grow and prosper.


Soon after the Second World War, all the nations under colonial rule were filled with national aspirations for independence. The Karen sent a Goodwill Mission to England in August 1946, to make the Karen case known to the British Government and the British people, and to ask for a true Karen State. But the reply of the British Labour Government was "to throw in our lot with the Burma". We deeply regretted this, for as it predictably has turned out today, it was a gesture grossly detrimental to our right of self-determination, only condemning us to further oppression.

It is extremely difficult for the Karen and the Burman, two peoples with diametrically opposite views, outlooks, attitudes and mentalities, to yoke together.

However, differences in nature and mentality are not the main reason for our refusal to throw in our lot with the Burman. There are other more important reasons for sticking to our demand for our own State within a genuine Federal Union.


We are concerned that the tactics of annihilation, absorption and assimilation, which have been practised in the past upon all other nationalities by the Burmese rulers, will be continued by the Burman of the future as long as they are in power.


We are concerned about the postwar independence Aung San - Atlee and Nu - Atlee Agreements, as there was no Karen representative in either delegation and no Karen opinion was sought. The most that the Burman would allow us to have was a pseudo Karen State, which falls totally under Burmese authority. In that type of Karen State, we must always live in fear of their cruel abuse of their authority over us.


On January 4, 1948, Burma got its independence from the British. The Karens continued to ask for self-determination democratically and peacefully from the Burmese Government. The Karen State requested by the Karens was comprised of the Irrawaddy Division, the Tenasserim Division, the Hanthawady District , Insein District and the Nyaunglebin Sub-Division, the areas where the bulk of the Karen populace could be found. But instead of compromising with the Karen by peaceful negotiations concerning the Karen case, the Burmese Government and the Burmese Press said many negative things about us, especially by frequently repeating their accusations that the Karen are puppets of the British and enemies of the Burman. The Burmese Government agitated the Burmese people toward communal clashes between the Karen and the Burman. Another accusation against the Karen demand was that it was not the entire Karen people who desired a Karen state, but a handful of British lackeys who wanted the ruin of the Union of Burma.


To counter the accusations and show the world that it was the whole Karen people's desire for a Karen state, a peaceful demonstration by Karens all over the country was staged on February 11, 1948, in which over 400,000 Karens took part. The banners carried in the procession contained four slogans, namely:

Give the Karen State at once

Show the Burman one kyat and the Karen one kyat

We do not want communal strife

We do not want civil war.

The slogans of the Karens in this mass demonstration voiced the same desire as the three slogans of the British Colonies after the Second World War: Liberty, Equality, and Peace. We followed the established democratic procedures in our request for a Karen state.


A few months after Burma got its independence, successive desertions and revolts in the AFPFL put U Nu, the then Premier, in grave trouble. The revolts of the Red Flag Communist Party in 1947, the Communist party of Burma in March 1948, the People's Volunteer Organisation in June 1948. and the mutinies of the 1st Burma Rifles stationed at Thayetmyo and the 3rd Rifles stationed at Mingladon, Rangoon (August 15,1948), prompted U NU to approach the Karen leaders to help the Government by taking up the security of Rangoon to save it from peril. The Karen did not take advantage of the situation, but readily complied with U Nu's request and helped him out of his predicament. The KNDO (Karen National Defence Organisation) officially recognised by the Burmese Government, was posted at all the strategic positions and all the roads and routes leading to Rangoon. For months the KNDO faithfully took charge of the security of Rangoon.


The KNDO was given several tasks in forming an outer ring of defence, particularly at Hlegu and Twante. Most important of all was the reoccupation of Twante town, Rangoon's key riverine gateway to the Delta towns and upper Burma. This little town had fallen several times to the communists. Each time it was retaken by regular troops, only to fall back into the hands of the rebels as soon as conditions returned to normal and control was handed back to the civil authorities and the police. This time, a KNDO unit under the leadership of Bo Toe and Bo Aung Min was ordered to retake Twante, which was once more in the hands of the Red Flag Communists. They succeeded with their own resources and without any support from the regular army other than river transport. After wresting the town from the Red Flag Comnunists' hands. they garrisoned it in accordance with their given orders.


The two mutinied Burma Rifles marched down south, unopposed along the way, until they reached Kyungale bridge, near the town of Let-pa-dan, where they were stopped by a company of Karen UMP (Union Miltary Police). Their truck carrying arms and ammunition received a direct hit from mortar fire of the Karen UMP and was destroyed, so they retreated after suffering heavy casualties.


But even while all this was happening, the ungrateful Burmese Government was hastily organising a strong force of levies to make an all-out effort to smash the Karen. By December 1948, they had arrested the Karen leaders in many parts of the country. Karen personnel in the armed services were disarmed and put into jail. General Smith Dun, General Officer Commanding (GOC) of the Burma Army, was forced to resign. Many Karen villages were attacked and many Karen villagers were shot and killed, women raped, properties looted and hearths and homes burnt and destroyed.


On the 30th of January 1949, the Burmese Government declared the KNDO unlawful. Early the next morning on the 31st of January, the Burmese troops attacked the KNDO Headquarters at a town about 10 miles north of where most of the top Karen leaders lived. There was no alternative left for the Karen but to fight back. An order was issued to all the Karen throughout the country to take up whatever arms they could find and fight for their lives, their honour, and their long cherished Karen state Kawthoolei.


When we took up arms, we attained great successes and occupied many towns and cities. We soon suffered military reverses, however, as we had not prepared for Revolution and therefore had no stockpile of arms and ammunition. We had to withdraw from many fronts, thus allowing the Burmsse troops to reoccupy these areas. Compounding this, the Burmese Government called for unity with all the other uprising Burmese rebel groups. These Burmese rebel groups saw the Karen as the greatest obstacle to their seizing exclusive power, joined hands with the Burmese Government, and fought against the Karen. As a result, the Karen found themselves fighting against all the armed elements in the country.


Another reason for our setbacks was that all along we had to stand on our own feet and fight alone without aid of any kind from any other country. In contrast, the Burmese Government received large amounts of foreign aid, including military aid from both capitalist and socialist countries, and even from some so-called non-aligned nations.

Many times then and since the situation of the Burmese Government has been precarious, but it has managed to continue mainly through aid from abroad. Many times it has been in dire financial straits, but it has not been ashamed to go begging. And as hard as it is for us to believe, its begging bowls have always come back filled.

Present Day Situation

The Karen under Successive Burmese Régimes

The Revolutionary Areas - The Present Situation

Under the rule of the Burman, the Karens have been oppressed politically, economically, and educationally. The Karen schools and institutions were taken by force and many were destroyed. We are no longer allowed to study our own language in Burmese schools. Many of the Karen newspapers and literary books were banned. Economically, our fields and plots of land were nationalised and confiscated, we have to toil hard all year round and have to take all our products to the Burmese Government for sale at its controlled prices, leaving little for ourselves. Culturally, they have attempted to absorb and dissolve our language, literature, traditions, and customs. We have been denied all political rights, and militarily, our people have all along been systematically exterminated as part of the annihilation, absorption, and assimilation programme of the Burman. Our educational quality and living standards have dropped considerably, falling far behind the Burman in all respects. Their efforts and actions against us are as strong, or stronger, today as ever before in the past.


Since the 1960's, they have been attacking with the "Four Cuts Operation". This includes cutting our provisions, cutting the contact between the masses and the revolutionaries, cutting all revolutionary financial income and resources, and cutting off the heads of all revolutionaries. To make the four cuts operation successiul, the Burmese troops are using strong suppressive measures. They destroy the fields of crops planted by the villagers and eat their grains and livestock. They take away whatever they like and the things they cannot carry away they destroy. Captured villagers, woman and adolescents as well as men, are made to carry heavy loads as porters for the Burmese soldiers. Many of the villagers have been forced to work as porters for several months; they are deliberately starved, and regularly beaten, raped, or murdered. When the Burmese soldiers enter a village, they shoot the villagers who try to escape. Some of the villagers have been accused of helping the revolutionaries and then have been killed.


In certain areas, the villagers have been forced to leave their villages and have been moved to camps some distance away. They are not permitted to leave the camps without permission from the Burmese guards. Some villagers, who have been found in their villages after being ordered to move to the camps, have been shot and killed by the Burmese soldiers with no questions asked.


Situations such as these and sometimes worse are happening constantly throughout Kawthoolei and are causing a large number of Karens and Shans in Kawthoolei to leave their villages and take refuge along the Thai border; a difficult situation for us as we do not have enough money to provide for these refugees. In spite of these situations we are determined to progress. Even though there is no end of the war in sight, and we are unable to obtain assistance from other countries, we are moving forward as best we can.

During this long and gruelling forty-three years of war, we have seen many changes take place in our Revolution. The strong willed determination of our fighting forces and our masses to fight to win the war has increased. We have been able to endure hardship, both physically and mentally. We have grown in strength, and not just in numbers. Our occupied areas have now joined our Revolution in great numbers. Many Karen who are universty graduates have also joined us, thus enriching the quality of our revolution. Villagers throughout Kawthoolei are active in support roles, while the morale, discipline, and military skills of our fighting forces have increased. We have been able to inflict greater setbacks on the enemy in all our military engagements
By 1988, the oppression of Ne Win's military regime had become so severe that even the Burmese masses rose up against it.The regime's response was to gun down thousands of peaceful demonstrators, mainly young students and monks. Even so Ne Win could not subdue them and he was forced to resign, seemingly handing over power to his chosen successors in the State Law and Order Restoration council (SLORC), but continuing to pull the strings of power from behind the scenes. The SLORC promised a multi-party election and held it in 1990, only to persecute and imprison the winners rather then hand over state power to them.

Thousands of Burmese students, monks and other dissidents fled to the areas governed by NDF member organisations. There they were accepted and sheltered by the ethnic peoples, particularly in the Karen areas, where no less then 6,000 students arrived along with other dissidents, all wanting to organise and struggle against the SLORC.In late 1988, the KNU took the initiative of proposing that the NDF form a broader political front along with the newly formed Burmese group to meet the developing political situation.

The Karen National Union (KNU)

Aims, Policy and Programme

The second Karen National Union (KNU) congress was held at Maw Ko, Nyaunglebin district in June and July 1956, and was attended by KNU representatives from Delta Division, Pegu Yoma Division and Eastern Division. In this congress the political aims of the KNU were laid down as follows and they still apply today:

The establishment of a Karen State with the right to self-determination.

The establishment of National States for all the nationalities, with the right to self-determination.

The establishment of a genuine Federal Union with all the states having equal rights and the right to self-determination.

The Karen National Union will pursue the policy of National Democracy.
In spite of the internal and external situations, we continue to maintain our state, Kawthoolei, administered by our own Kawthoolei Government since 1950,under the banner of the Karen National Union (KNU), and the well trained and disciplined Karen National Liberation Army, which were formed in that same year. We desire Kawthoolei to be a Karen State with the right to self-determination. We are therefore endeavouring to form a genuine Federal Union comprised of all the states of the nationalities in Burma, including a Burman state, on the basis of Liberty, Equality, Self-Determination and Social progress.


We desire the extent of Kawthoolei to be the areas where the Karens are in majority. It shall be governed in accordance with the wishes of the people of the State and just in the eyes of the country and the world. The policy of the Karen National Union is National Democracy. It fully recognises and encourages private ownership and welcomes foreign investment. All the people in Kawthoolei shall be given democratic rights, politically, economically, socially and culturally. Freedom and equality of all religions is guaranteed. Kawthoolei will maintain cordial relationships with all other states and other countries on the basis of mutual respect, peace and prosperity. Kawthoolei will never permit the growing or refining of opium or the sales and transport of illicit drugs through its territory.


Our Beliefs and Determination


To us, the "independence" Burma gained in 1948 is but a domination over all other nationalities in Burma by the Burman. The taking up of arms by almost all the nationalities against the ruling Burmese Government is sufficient proof that though Burma got its independence, only the Burman have really enjoyed independence and they have subjugated the other nationalities. The State Law and Order Restoration Council (SLORC) headed by General Than Shwe will never and can never solve the conflicts and crises in the country.


The Karen Revolution is more than just a struggle for survival against national oppression, subjugation, exploitation and domination of the Karen people by the Burmese rulers. It has the aim of a genuine Federal Union comprised of all the states of the nationalities on the basis of equality and self-determination. In our march towards our objectives we shall uphold the four principles laid down by our beloved leader, the late Saw Ba U Gyi, which are:

•For us surrender is out of the question.

•The recognition of the Karen State must be completed.

•We shall retain our arms.

•We shall decide our own political destiny.

We strongly believe in the Charter of the United Nations, its Declarations on Human Rights, the principle of Self-Determination and the Democratic Rights of Peoples - all causes for which we are fighting.

The fighting may be long, hard, and cruel, but we are prepared for all eventualities.

To die fighting is better than to live as a slave.

But we firmly believe that we shall survive and be victorious, for our cause is just and righteous, and surely any tyranny so despised as the Burmese regime must one day fall.



It is indeed a very difficult and deep situation.

The Thai Government have allowed numerous Refugee Camps along the borders with Burma and the relative security of the inhabitants is guaranteed as best possible. There are numerous problems however with this mode of existence.

A sensible and blood free conclusion of the situation would be wonderful.


The roads around Mai Sot can be discoveries to the known and unknown camps along the borders, we have visited many.


Some of the infrastructure in the camp areas is superb.




The rarely used roads are quite difficult to travel at certain times and can be havens for bandits and others.



There are some extremely interesting routes from Umpang and surrounding areas.




It is not uncommon to come across beautiful villages and Hamlet type settlements tucked away in the hills though.


They really are superb.







A glimpse of a Refugee Camp can be quite an eye opener though.






The above is no more than a few homes out of thousands making up one camp, they travel from left to right and up and down the hills.

The young man below told me he had spent sixteen years of his life in the refugee camp, his children had been born in the camp, he was greatly restricted as to how far he was permitted to move from the perimeter of the camp and movements were limited he told me to daylight hours only. He expressed his appreciation to the Thai government that he was alive though, and had a place of shelter, along with some basic education for himself and children plus basic medical care.







The Padang or Longneck Karen appear to be better situated than the other tribes-people. It would appear that they have a benefit to the Thai Government as a tourist attraction and are consequently given a better status rating resulting in perhaps better and more pleasant living conditions.





You can well imagine how these places would react to the monsoons.


That Johnny Walker guy sure finds himself all across the globe.





You don't want to know what the small bones are on the table edge, or what they came from, or who ate the meat on them.

At times you can find 'class-rooms' actually being used. This particular one was in a Padang Refugee Camp.






I was advised in February/March this year that volunteer teachers; mainly students work in the refugee camps for periods of time, some of them for a year or two

The guy in the camouflage pants seemed in a real hurry to get somewhere.




I despise barbed wire. It's an awful product.




I have to admit to recently completing a brilliant informative post and then deciding that it may not be prudent of me to enter it on these pages.

I have copied and saved the same amongst my notes and will give consideration to submitting the same after more thought and deliberation.

The thing is, I wish to travel a great deal more in these areas and have no wish to incur the wrath of the authorities by being too outspoken in my findings and considerations.


Flobo and myself intend spending some considerable time in Burma, especially Rangoon and the surrounding locations later this year or early next year.

We are also hoping to complete a very difficult trek with some friends (as we now refer to a couple we met in Mae sot earlier this year) providing our fitness levels are up to a very high standard.





Some of the camps are separated from the outside world by a stretch of land normally referred to as 'No Man's Land' the barriers are down and well guarded by armed personnel.

Service vehicles are allowed through and certain residents have free passage subject to approval by the guards.

Occidentals in our particular case are not allowed any further than the barrier.




And, if you go walking around the back so to speak, and try to find alternative routes, because certain people tell you there is a way through, you invariably get caught and really bollocked, by a Ranger who speaks good English and he bellows at the top of his voice at you.

Arms by his side, head held up erect chin out and spluttering a little bit of spit out every once in a while.

It makes you feel very uncomfortable and you have to say,

"Very Sorry... It will not happen again."





I think when you are familiar with life and the wonderful existence we share in the occidental world, it kind of hurts when you see some of the hardships and down right unfairness that fellow human beings have to endure elsewhere on this planet of ours.

It'squite amazing what you get up to, especially if you are inquisitive like us two are.

This particular bridge was a fair challenge too. It swung about a little but we crossed it OK.




Roads are being constructed all over the place as of the last three or four years especially.


I'd stopped for relief just further up from the rascals on this photograph, they really looked suspicious. Of what can be anyones guess. The car sported no number plates for starters and they were really looking at us in a cagey sort of manner, the smaller of the two as you can see was looking at the floor and playing with the dirt with his foot.

It could be that I'm perhaps over cautious or suspicious.

It pays to be though.




We have on occasion gained access to the innermost parts of some of the refugee camps, they are interesting.

I always think though, that if ever a fire broke out in one of these places the death toll would be horrendous.





From questions I asked, they only possess the buckets used for everyday use and a nearby river or stream for all water purposes.

A fire station or appliance would have to come from the nearest major town and I simply dread to think what would be left by the time help came.






Maybe I worry too much about matters which are possibilities only.

They need to obtain much from the rivers and streams, they are a lifeline to the refugees, the daily volume of water required for camps holding 20, 000 or 40,000 human beings requiring the basic needs are astronomical. They have wells, storage tanks to save water from the wet season rains, jars etc. I understand water is brought in by tankers in cases of major shortages.

Sometimes in the dry season, you can see these refugees, (Poor souls) washing in small trickles of water, or pumping away on a well pump for small quantities.

And yet, they are alive and living in relative safety compared to the places from which they have been forced to flee.


We are very fortunate.

Amazing isn't it how we simply turn a tap and water is there.

Press a handle and the toilet flushes.

Turn a valve and the shower comes on.

Turn a couple of taps and get a superb temperature of water to bathe in.


Don't we take so much for granted.





Can you imagine having to exist like this for instance.





Both Flobo and myself have done it for weeks at a time over the years, we once lived in the mountains with the Hilltribe people for almost twelve weeks. At first it's a novelty, then the realisation of the difficulties come into being and it really makes you appreciate what we have.






How high's the water Mamma?





We didn't have much when we were kids, (my age group that is) born 1946 and earlier or for a few years after, the war had just ended and most of what you needed or wanted was on ration. I remember ration books. It was cold in winter too. There was no central heating either. Coal was in short supply and we burned anything that would burn in the fireplace. You only had one warm room downstairs from the fire. You had blankets and coats on the bed in winter and hot water in stone jars. There were three of us to a bed in our little house in Manchester. Holtby Street. We used to put brown paper or cardboard in our shoes, because they always leaked in water, or snow.

They were grand days. Grand, because they eventually came to an end.

I don't see an end to the difficulties these people have.

But, I hope there is.

D A R E

Drug Abuse Resistance Education.





Boredom and a feeling of being unwanted results in youngsters especially turning to drugs.



There appears to be help and support for the youngsters though and that has to be a good thing.






I shudder to think how you would manage these camps in a perfect or ideal manner.

Apparently the refugees have their own system and it appears to work quite well.




C O E R R

Catholic Office for Emergency Relief and Refugees

I Rather thought this particular consideration by Lord David Alton would be a suitable adage to my Thread



Winds of change coming to Myanmar;


The horrific cyclone that killed thousands in Burma may change. A biography about a Catholic of Burma is a testament of faith and hope in the face of a brutal dictatorship sustained by torture and rape.
Thursday, May 15, 2008By Lord David Alton


Throughout the 18 years since Aung San Suu Kyi has been under house arrest, the Burmese military regime have repeatedly promised and failed to deliver democratic change. These are the same secretive leaders who gave orders for Buddhist monks to be mown down in the streets and who are now impeding rescue efforts as hundreds of thousands of their countrymen die following the decimation of their homes and land by Cyclone Nargis. They are the same men who have ignored 28 United Nations General assembly and Human Rights Commission resolutions.

What is sometimes less well known and reported on is the way in which they have accelerated their cruel campaign of attrition against the country's ethnic minorities. In the case of the brave Karen people it is nothing short of genocide.

Take, for instance, the story of a nine-year-old Karen girl who was shot at point blank range, having watched her father and grandmother being killed. There are also shocking reports of beheadings and mutilations of Karen villagers - 18,000 of whom have been displaced in the past few weeks. Some will doubtless join the 120,000 who have lived for years in make shift camps along the Thai border - which, as I have seen for myself - barely allow people to do more than cling on to life.

So far, the approach to the Burmese regime by the international community and its failure to implement strong sanctions against Burma has been a complete and utter failure. The Burmese military's systematic atrocities against ethnic groups such as the Karen, Karenni and Shan are still very grave and as the recent Burmese military offensive in Karen state demonstrates, are even escalating (over 16,000 Karen were displaced by the last offensive and many were killed.)
Despite posturing and maneuvering and attempting to use a smoke and mirrors referendum to pretend to the world that change is on the way, Burma is also now no closer to democracy than it was back in 1990 and Aung San Suu Kyi remains under house arrest. The shooting of Buddhist monks last year and the disregard for the victims of the cyclone this year underline the nature of this perfidious and ruthless regime.

After more than 10 years, there has been no improvement in the situation of the Karen, Karenni and Shan or that of Burma's pro-democracy movement. More of the same weak and ineffectual policy towards the Burmese regime will simply maintain the current, horrendous status quo for decades to come.
Dictators like these survive when they believe that the world is willing to overlook, or has forgotten, their cruelties and barbarism. They survive longest - think of Franco's fascist dictatorship in Spain - when the rest of the world becomes overly fearful of the alternatives: "hold on to nurse for fear of something worse," as the Victorians memorably put it.



I was recently deeply moved to read two books that expose the contemptible junta that tyrannizes Burma.
"The Lizard Cage", a novel by Karen Connelly (Harvill Secker, 2007), is set inside a Burmese prison, while the autobiographical "From The Land of The Green Ghosts" by Pascal Khoo Thwe (Flamingo, 2003) brought tears to my eyes, and recalled memories of my own visits to the Karen State.

It's the story of a young man who comes from the Padaung tribe, a sub group of the Karen tribe's people. Their women are often called the "giraffe-necked" women because of the rings they wear around their necks.

After testing a priestly vocation at a Burmese seminary, Pascal went to study English literature at Mandalay University where he has a chance encounter - and conversation about James Joyce - with a visiting English academic. In 1988 he becomes caught up in the student uprising, fights his way through the jungle to a refugee camp in Thailand, and ends up reading English Literature at Cambridge.
Pascal weaves together a rich tapestry that brings to life the traditions and culture of one of Burma's diverse ethnic minorities. His grandfather was one of the Padaung's leaders and was converted to Catholicism by Italian missionaries. The book draws deeply on Pascal's rich Faith that is deeply influenced by traditional spirituality. It is also a testament of personal courage ingrained with a sense of destiny and Divine Providence.

Despite losing his family, his university lover - who is arrested, raped and murdered by the armed forces - and being forced to abandon his studies to join the subterranean world of guerrilla freedom fighters, Pascal never despairs. Pascal never gives up hope.

His greatest fear is that he is "letting down" his compatriots by traveling to the West; but, by using his remarkable gifts in telling their story, he has delivered a body blow against the dictators.
Karen Connelly's novel, "The Lizard Cage" also celebrates the ability of the human spirit to endure when assaulted by seemingly impossible trials of injustice and brutality.

Like Pascal, this book's central figure, Teza, also takes part in mass protests - and has become a celebrated dissident through his music. He is seven years into a twenty-year prison sentence in solitary confinement.

The book traces the relationship that develops between Teza and Little Brother, an orphan boy growing up inside the prison. Like Pascal Khoo Thwe, Connelly cleverly intersperses the history of Burma, the captivity of Aung San Suu Kyi, with vivid accounts of life in jails such as Rangoon's Insein prison.
We are reminded of the heroic role of the National League for Democracy and dissident groups, especially the All Burma Students Democratic Front, and the different facets of Burmese politics, Buddhism and the rich but oppressed ethnic groups.

Books like these remind us of the million people displaced in Burma's jungles, the 1,500 political prisoners languishing behind bars, the use of forced labor, the use of villagers as human mine sweepers, the rape of women, the burning down of villages, the killing of thousands, and of a regime which stands accused of genocide. A regime that has been cruelly indifferent to the plight of its devastated people.

As European countries stand accused of breaking arms embargos by selling weapons to the Burmese military via third countries such as India, it's as well to be reminded how easily we can become collaborators.

But, like the literature from the gulags, these books also stand as a rebuke to the dictators, from Ne Win onwards - who have exploited and terrorized their people. They also help break down the regime's walls of secrecy.

Winston Churchill once said, "Dictators ride to and fro upon tigers which they dare not dismount. And the tigers are getting hungry".

The Burmese military dictatorship have been riding on the backs of their suffering people - crushing and terrorizing them. They too dare not dismount; but they should beware, the world can see very clearly the nature of their regime. A day of reckoning will come. The cyclone may prove to be the catalyst for a popular uprising: the tigers are getting hungry.

Although the world should not hold back in providing much needed humanitarian assistance to the cyclone victims we also need long-term concerted international action to significantly weaken the economic and military strength of the Burmese regime. If we do not do this it will be practically impossible to get that regime to take any of our concerns about human rights in Burma seriously. Burma's military regime will only continue to string all of us along, making an occasional superficial concession, followed by even more harsh and repressive measures.

A much stronger policy on Burma that will involve tough sanctions and thereby put real pressure on the Burmese regime to change its ways will be needed.

Such a new policy should include the following characteristics:
· Treating the Burmese regime's systematic atrocities against the Karen, Karenni and Shan people as being of at least equal importance as the situation of the pro-democracy movement and political prisoners in Burma and giving EQUAL coverage to both issues.
· Keeping both these issues on the agenda of the U.N Security Council - and demanding a binding resolution of the Security Council. This should impose a global arms and investment embargo on Burma as well as strongly condemning the systematic atrocities by the Burmese military against the Karen, Karenni and Shan people.
· Very seriously considering the case that has been made by Parliamentarians and human rights groups, such as the Jubilee Campaign, that the systematic atrocities by the Burmese military against the Karen, Karenni and Shan people amount to Genocide, Crimes Against Humanity and War Crimes.
So far too many Governments have ignored these claims as a reflex action, without giving any deep consideration to them or attempting to seriously research the subject, and failing to give detailed reasons for their position. At the very least, the repeated and deliberate attacks against Karen, Karenni and Shan civilians by the Burmese military must surely be a flagrant violation of Common article 3 of the Geneva Conventions which prohibits the targeting of non-combatants during conflict.
It should be clear to anybody with even a basic knowledge of the laws of war that War Crimes are being committed against the Karen, Karenni and Shan by the Burmese military. Unfortunately, the Foreign Office has previously denied that even War Crimes are being committed.

I have no doubt that such charges add up.
Four years ago I traveled to the Burmese refugee camps and with Congressman Joseph Pitts took first hand evidence.

We collected truly shocking accounts of the latest violations of human rights. The story of one small child we met at a refugee camp near Mae Sot illustrates how the brutality and violence of this perfidious regime continues.

Saw Naing Gae is just eight years old. He saw the Burmese military shoot dead his mother and his father. He was then trafficked across the border and sold to a Thai family. Desperately unhappy he managed to escape and made his way to the camp, where he is staying with a group of thirty other orphans.
Even as these children sang and welcomed their visitors Saw Naing Gae seemed unable to join in or even to smile. Every trace of joy and innocence had been stamped out of him; and all of this by the age of 8.

Saw Naing Gae squatted alongside four other children, brothers and sisters, whose parents had also been brutally murdered. The oldest girl, aged about 12, and now head of their family, dissolved into tears as she recounted their story.

Naw Pi Lay, whose photograph illustrates this article, did not survive.
Aged 45, the mother old five children and pregnant with her sixth, Naw Pi Lay was murdered in June of last year by the Burmese militia. During a massacre in the Dooplaya district of the Karen State, twelve other people were killed, including children aged 12,7,5, and 2 years old.

Elsewhere in the same district, at Htee Tha Blu village, further violations of human rights were carried out by Light Infantry Battalions 301 and 78. They beat and tortured villagers, stole their belongings and burnt down their church and their homes.

The previous time I visited this region I illegally crossed the border and entered the Karen State. I heard and saw evidence of the internally displaced people - estimated now at 600,000; of the scorched earth policy that has depopulated and destroyed countless villages; and of brutality unequalled anywhere I have traveled.

One of the people I met is part of the Free Burma Rangers. He had just come out of the Karen State. He had been with a little girl of eight who still had a bullet lodged in her stomach.
To help people like hr he had taken in some nurses and medics. Why was he, an American, so committed to the Karen? "I love these people, and I simply don't want to see them suffering like this. We've got to do something, even if we're just like a small barking dog," he told me.

At Mae Sot we took evidence from the Committee for Internally Displaced Karen People. They provided me with over 100 pages of carefully documented examples of human rights violations committed by Burmese military over the past twelve months alone. One day I hope that this evidence will be placed before an international court and as at Nuremberg the perpetrators will be brought to justice.
The report lists three mass killings by the SPDC (Burma's singularly ill-named State Peace and Development Council). It is a carefully chronicled account of looting, burning, torture, rape and murder. The SPDC routinely plant landmines indiscriminately and in areas where landmines have been laid by their opponents the SPDC use people as human landmine sweepers.

I saw some of the victims - people whose limbs have been severed from their bodies, whose skin has been peppered with shrapnel, and others who have been left blind. I also talked to the families of people whose loved ones - men and women - had been seized and used as porters and construction workers, and who have never returned.
The SPDC kill many of the porters in frontline areas, especially when they are unable to any longer work because of exhaustion or sickness.
The international focus on Burma has long been on the heroic struggle of Aung San Suu Kyi and her National League for Democracy (NLD).

A settlement with the NLD will, however, represent a solution to only half of the conflict. The seven ethnic groups who have been fighting for self determination or autonomy since the end of World War Two - the Karen, Karenni, Mon, Arakam, Kachin, Chin and Shan - will still need to have their grievances addressed.

In Chiang Mai I met with the authors of a carefully meticulous 120 page report on the Burmese military regime's use of sexual violence in the Shan State over the past six years. The report of the Shan Human Rights Foundation and Shan Women's Action Network, "License To Rape", details how rape has been used as a weapon of war. Sexual violence - especially widespread gang rape - has terrorized and humiliated communities, flaunts the power of the regime, "rewards" troops, and demoralizes resistance forces.

Women who have been raped have frequently been abandoned or rejected by their husbands. One woman described how she was gang-raped when she was 7-months pregnant and then gave birth prematurely to her child. Another was told by her husband to leave: "You didn't control yourself. You are no longer my wife. Leave our home."

The Burmese Junta have turned their country into one vast concentration camp. They are Nazi thugs who deploy Nazi methods. Like their Nazi predecessors they fail to appreciate the strength of the human spirit and the capacity to endure and survive.

Typical are the joint secretaries of the Assistance Association for Political Prisoners. Bo Kyi, a student leader who spent seven years in Burmese jails, told me that "torture is designed to break down your identity, to turn you into a non-entity with no connection to the world outside of the torture chamber."

Naing Kyaw served 8 years in Insein and Thayet prisons and still manages to joke that "insane" would be a better spelling. Regularly beaten with a chain and ball on his back, and often kept in solitary confinement, he was offered the chance to become an informer.

Instead, he learnt English from the professor who was housed in the adjacent cell - so that he would be able to tell the world about Burma's suffering. He has put the language to good use in his essay in "Spirit For Survival" which he dedicates to a despairing young woman who took her own life: "All the suffering you felt we will change into strength. This grief, this feeling of deep hurt and bitterness will become a volcano, which is going to explode."

I was struck that even as the suffering deepens no-one is giving in. Democracy activists continue their struggle and the beleaguered ethnic minorities refuse to capitulate.

There is an old saying that the darkest moment is always just before the dawn. As the people of Burma deal with the terrible consequences of Cyclone Nargis, let's pray that this is the darkest moment and that the dawn will not be too far behind.

Lord David Alton of Liverpool is a member of the British House of Lords and a contritubor to The Cutting Edge News..


The views and opinions expressed herein are those of the author only, not of Spero News.


Flobo took a walk into the inner section of a camp whilst I kept the authoritive bodies deep in conversation, she obtained several brilliant photographs, this is one of them.






Every picture tells a story and some say more than a thousand words ever could.







We gave this lady a little cash, not just for the opportunity to take some photographs of her, but because her face was so informative to her conditions and plight.

I have a great deal more to enter on the Refugee Camps and some outstanding additional photographs.

There is also much more to relate regarding Thailand and South/East Asia in general especially a section I will be entering on Burma.

I rather consider there could be best part of an additional two months work to do on this thread at the present time.


It appears to be doing OK in the number of hits it's acquiring, so I don't think it is boring anybody.

I hope not, in fact I sincerely hope it is interesting and somewhat informative to you.


The shot below show a typical overnight stop accomodation Flobo and myself would normally find in areas as close as possible to the Refugee Camps.


They are quite cheap, normally about Baht 600 per night for the bungalow. Basic, but clean and quite secure. {Equates roughly to £8..00 per night or $16.}





In the very near future, I am commencing a new thread on The Thai - Burma Railway.

The Bridge Over The River Kwai at Kanchanaburi is quite an interesting topic.

The area also has some amazing value to the visitor.

I have done much research on the same over the years and have some outstanding photographs and information I would enjoy sharing with you.

It will be a little while yet before I commence the thread, but I hope you will look forward to the same and enjoy the reading accordingly.





The River Kwai is an extremely beautiful River. I have some nice photographs of different stretches of the same too.

The video below is well worth watching.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7U_NKUzW0dE

Like any other place on earth which is struggling and people feel at a disadvantage in comparison to others especially.

These 'ally-ways' can have their own fair share of trouble and crime, especially of an evening.
Of course the drug and alcohol situation does not help to improve a dangerous and very delicate situation at all.







One thing we couldn't help but notice amongst the camp inhabitants was the variation in religous bodies living side by side.
We spoke about this to several of the refugees and it appeared that they all got along well with each other in the camps.

How high's the water Mamma?




Petroleum spirit drivers have recently been in strike mode in the UK for more money.




What an amazing world we live in.


There are millions on the planet living like this as well.

Some a lot worse than this.

Here and there in the surrounding areas you come across small farms and homesteads etc.



I enjoy a bacon sandwich, a pork chop or a nice cut of frying ham, but I have never known so many people eat so much pig as they do in the Orient.



Away from the camps, there are some vast areas of crop production land.




Back in the camps, you cannot help but feel that one more heavy rain will wash so much land away that hundreds of houses will come sliding down the sides of the mountains, and nothing will save them, or the occupants.





Or a few miles away you can sit down and make use of a pavement cafe at Mae Sot and watch the eworld go by.




It is extremely diffixult to grasp that life can vary so much for so many in such short distances.





I simply think to myself;

"What a wonderful world, we live in"