“The dead are crying out for justice.” – Dith Pran, Survivor of the Khmer Rouge
When I was a senior in high school—wide-eyed and drooling at the ever-present thought of graduation—I was concerned only with maintaining my GPA and daydreaming about future plans. Stuck in classes that I saw only as time-fillers, I wasn’t incredibly intrigued by course content and, honestly, didn’t absorb most of the information I was being taught. However, one particular project I was given forced me to pay attention.
Just around exam time, my Holocaust and Genocide teacher assigned us a research project. We’d spent the majority of the year dissecting the Holocaust—it’s roots, the appalling nature of Hitler’s ideology, the victims—but now we were tasked with discovering another instance of genocide. At this point in the year, my World Race route had already been decided and I knew I was heading to Cambodia. In all honesty, I wasn’t even aware Cambodia had experienced a genocide, so when my teacher wrote it as an option for the project, I was surprised, and jumped for the chance to learn more about the history of this unfamiliar place I’d be travelling to.
What I found was haunting.
With backing from communist China and under the leadership of the radical Pol Pot, the communist regime known as the Khmer Rouge seized the capital city of Phnom Penh in April of 1975. In an effort to transition the country into a socialist agrarian society, Pol Pot ordered a “purification” of the population; anyone deemed intellectual by the regime was targeted. They murdered doctors, teachers, lawyers, monks, Christians—and forced their families into labor camps (known today as “killing fields”), where many of them were tortured, executed, or died of starvation. Because bullets were too expensive, most of the murders were carried out with hatchets or pickaxes or metal poles. Babies were beaten and smashed against “killing trees,” and the screams of those being massacred were drowned out by Khmer music playing at ear-splitting volume. These monstrosities continued for approximately four years, and by 1979, the Khmer Rouge had wiped out almost a quarter of Cambodia’s entire population.
The lake that bordered the Killing Field on one side.
This past week, my team and I had the opportunity to visit one of the memorial sites honoring the victims of the genocide. We walked on the same ground that was once a major killing field, listening to testimonies of survivors and coming face-to-face with the horror of this country’s past. I cried as I walked around a lake that holds the remains of lost fathers and mothers, brothers, sons, daughters, sisters, and friends. We saw the trees where innocent lives were stolen, the trenches that their bodies were discarded in.
A “killing tree” where executioners would brutally murder babies and children. Many have paid their respects to the victims by leaving Buddhist bracelets of protection on the tree.
A mass grave that held 450 victims.
It was just as terrible as I’d expected it to be, but also incredibly moving. After living in this country for three months, I’ve grown a great love for its people. And, after seeing all they’ve been through, I now also have great respect for them. They have such resilience—though it’s oftentimes hidden beneath their modesty—and their innate genorosity is impossible not to envy.
The memorial stupa that houses the skulls of genocide victims.
After our time at the memorial, our team was blessed to spend time at a restaraunt owned by a local Christian family. We had the opportunity to encourage and pray over them, hearing about the church they’d started and the mission they had to tell people about Jesus. Then, by pure misdirection, we ended up in a fair-trade community that also happened to have a church in its building. We talked with some of its members, and they told us they average about forty to fifty (50!) attendees each Sunday. Plus, they’re having a baptism service on Easter! Cambodians… baptizing other Cambodians! In a country so riddled by Buddhism and idol worship, it was so encouraging to to know Christ is being recognized and chosen in all parts of Cambodia.
My teammates and I with our Khmer brother and sisters at Goel community.
We got a chance to pray over the church with our Khmer brothers and sisters, and as we prayed together, I couldn’t help but think about Heaven with them. Our different languages and dialects becoming one voice with one purpose: worship. I thought about their past, how it lingers with pain and dissention and shame, and how it was wiped clean by a Savior who loves them. I thought about Jesus, how I so desperately want Cambodia (and the United States) to be known by His name. And this country is ready; it’s people are thirsty for Truth, and new generations of believers are rising up everywhere.
So,
1) I encourage you to do your own research on the Cambodian genocide. I didn’t know anything about it until my senior year, and most Americans don’t ever learn about it. Grow compassion and love for these people and all they’ve been through. Pray for recovery and healing, for the strength to move beyond their pain.
2) I ask that you would remember Khmer Christians in your prayers. Many of the teachers and students we’ve had the privilege of working with here are the only Christians in their family. Buddhism is still the main religion in Cambodia, and many Christians are shamed and harshly persecuted for their faith in Christ. Encourage them and fight for them through prayer.
As we prepare to leave this chaotic, beautiful place, I’m grateful to have gotten a chance to know a few of its faces, and for the opportunity to love them from afar. Because I know who’s close to them, and He’s a far better friend than I ever could be.
P.S. My squad and I leave for Swaziland tomorrow! Wifi will be a lot more limited there, so updates may not be as frequent (if at all) on social media. I’m sooooo excited for these last three months and for everything the Lord is going to do! Here’s to hoping Swazi will be the best one yet!
