Fri, 28 Jul 1995

Cambodian deminers bet their lives for high pay

By Imogen Rodgers and Tricia Fitzgerald

PHNOM PENH (UPI): In May, 25-year-old Soun Nary sold curbside pancakes for about 50 cents a day in the provincial town of Battambang in northwest Cambodia. Two months later, she earns one of the highest salaries paid to a Cambodian laborer.

Unable to read or even write her own name, Nary owes her entrepreneurial success to risk -- heart-stopping, limb- sacrificing risk. For US$160 a month, Nary is clearing the Cambodian countryside of unexploded mines, bombs and booby traps, 10 million buried leftovers from 25 years of warfare.

Vying for one of six demining jobs, Nary was chosen from a group of 150 women to be a member of the world's first female demining team, under a private British-run program called the Mines Advisory Group (MAG).

Eligibility for the work was hardly restrictive: Applicants had to prove that their husbands had been killed in action or by a land mine. As many as 10 Cambodians each day are killed or maimed by landmines, which have claimed some 35,000 casualties, including many women and children. Nary's husband was killed in action.

Although her work is dangerous, her wages go far. They support her 2-year-old daughter as well as eight family members, who rely on her earnings for food and schooling expenses.

"In Cambodian terms, these wages are high," said Russell Bedford, a team trainer for the Mines Advisory Group. "Those lucky enough to have a job in Cambodia normally earn between $15 to $20 per month."

Even front-line soldiers in the Cambodian military earn in a year what deminers take home in a month. In addition to the good pay, many deminers are looked upon as heroes as well.

The pilot program offers a much sought-after income for a small group of Cambodian women. According to a July report by the United Nations Population Fund, Women represent 54 percent of the Cambodian population and head 20 percent of the households, a legacy of the protracted battles waged by the Khmer Rouge guerrillas and the Royal Cambodian Armed Forces.

"Some people think demining is man's job, but I am as good as a man," said Nary, who favors a loose-fitting green jacket, trousers and army issued boots.

Armed only with a flak jacket and visor for protection, she sweeps an area with a metal detector inch by inch, gently poking the earth with a four-inch blade.

The work is slow and tedious and carried out in exhausting heat. Regular water breaks are vital as dizziness caused by dehydration could cause her to lose her footing, a potentially fatal move. A bomb needs only three kilograms of pressure to set off an explosion.

A typical mine contains a deadly cocktail of nails, glass shards and ball bearings, which penetrate deep inside the attached portion of a severed limb and must be painstakingly removed after amputation.

Like all of the deminers on her team, Nary denies losing any sleep over the dangers of her job.

"Now I have been trained. I am not worried -- as long as I follow the rules that I have been taught," said Nary, whose diminutive, 1.47m (4-feet-8 inches) frame may give her an advantage as one of the tiniest and lightest deminers anywhere.

Many of Nary's friends say they would jump at an opportunity to escape the poverty of daily life in Cambodia, even if it means risking death every day. Although she dismisses the dangers of her job, Nary admits she would gladly take a less stressful job if the money were comparable.

"But I cannot see it happening, because I have no other skills," she said.

Although landmines are a problem in many parts of the world, no country faces more difficulty than Cambodia, which has the world's highest rate of mine-related casualties.

The economic costs are also staggering, with the United Nations estimating that close to 5 million square meters of prime agricultural land is contaminated by unmarked mine fields.

Landless farmers, desperate to cultivate land for rice production, are moving into areas not yet swept for mines. And they are paying a price for their entrepreneurial grit: nearly 300 landmine injuries are recorded each month, according to Mag estimates.

No one knows how many landmines are sprinkled throughout the countryside, but many fear that the Khmer Rouge and the government army both plant new bombs everyday in a quest to stake out new territory.

While the human toll is high, the cost to build a landmine is dirt cheap -- as low as $1. It can cost up to $1,000 to unearth one, however, and the cash-strapped Cambodian government cannot afford to clear the mines without the aid of international relief organizations.

Not only do the mines keep farmers away from precious land, but the threat of explosions has slowed the country's efforts to rebuild its shattered infrastructure.

U.S. company Fiscbach International, contracted to build Cambodia's main southern highway, employs a full-time demining team to clear thousands of mines planted around bridges and roadways. Additional expenses to the American firm are about $277,000 annually.

While the official flag of Cambodia is white and blue, the flag of record in the countryside is a blood-red Jolly Roger, a skull and cross bones banner unfurled where mines are believed buried.

Nek Mon is familiar with the Jolly Roger. He began his career as a deminer three years ago during the United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia. Now, at 31, he supports a wife and three children with the $230 a month he earns supervising other deminers in the field. As a soldier, he earned a maximum of $17 a month.

Despite his fear of the landmines, his worries about the Khmer Rouge weigh more heavily. "I am scared they will capture us and force us to work for them," he said.

Security checks are made every day before the demining team visits an area, but deminers are unarmed and largely unprotected from guerrilla attacks.

Mon admits that when a close friend lost a leg after stepping on a mine, he thought twice about the hazards of his lucrative job.

"I almost felt like stopping after that," he said, adding that he thought he should be paid more for risking his life. Be Beth, one of 20 disabled deminers, lost his leg 12 years ago as a government soldier. Amputees who have lost only a portion of the leg below the knee are eligible for demining work.

They have all been fitted with "plastic only" legs specially designed for the deminers by the International Committee of the Red Cross, with no metal bolts or screws that would set off the metal detectors used in the field.

"Amputees in Cambodia are caught in a vicious circle of loss status, low self-esteem and lower-income generating prospects," says Mag administrator Ann Moran.

Be Beth recently earned less than $20 per month repairing radios, a salary that didn't go far in supporting his wife and four children.

"I tried to rent land to farm and build a shop," he said, "but this would have cost me over two-thirds of my wages".

With his new-found wealth he plans to build a house and pay for his children to go to school.