Cambodia's progress and its past victims

Kavi Chongkittavorn, The Nation, Asia News Network, Bangkok

When I first arrived in Phnom Penh in 1987, the city was not crowded. There were very few cars. Numerous office and apartment buildings were left unoccupied. Monivong Boulevard was the only thoroughfare which served as the center of the city's life. No advertising billboards except political slogans.

Samakhi and Manorom were the two top hotels for foreign visitors and journalists. A room with a Russian air-conditioner and a Vietnamese-made mosquito net cost US$35 (then 875 baht). During the daytime, the only loud sounds that foreigners heard were from the exhaust pipes of 1950s-style Honda mopeds, the most prized commodity. When night fell, the city was in the grip of darkness and intermittent gunfire -- sometimes from government security forces fighting with Khmer Rouge guerrillas. Either that or the gunshots came from drunken soldiers.

Thailand and Cambodia were not on good terms. It was illegal for Thai citizens to visit Cambodia. Special Branch police summoned and interrogated those who visited communist neighbor states. Direct flights or land routes between Thailand and Cambodia were not available. The most popular way was to travel to Ho Chi Minh City and then take a taxi to Moc Bai at the Vietnam-Cambodia border and proceeded along Highway No. 1 to Phnom Penh.

When The Nation decided to set up an office in Phnom Penh in 1988 in order to report on the other side of the story, I was given $200 to start with. I rented a ground floor apartment for $150 a month and had to steal electricity from the apartment next door. The Nation bureau was criticized by ASEAN countries. They said ASEAN was at war with the Heng Samrin regime. To have a Thai correspondent was tantamount to recognizing the enemy. But The Nation went ahead anyway.

Back then, the long-distance calls had to be re-routed through Moscow because there was no direct line. Before the United Nations-brokered peace process, only journalists from Cuba, Russia and Vietnam were stationed in Cambodia. When the UN peace- keeping force arrived to arrange the first democratic election, 200 journalists from all over the world came to Cambodia.

Today, Phnom Penh is a modern city like others in the region. Major regional airlines have direct flights here. Tourists can stay at major five-star hotels and another three dozen medium- sized and small ones.

Secretary of State for Information Khieu Kanharith said over the weekend that the biggest problem he and his team had encountered in organizing the ASEAN summit was to expand the three royal suites available in the city to eight to accommodate the foreign dignitaries. They did it just in time.

As the Asian leaders come in and out of the capital city this week for a series of summit meetings, Cambodia as a nation has been transformed. Hundreds of representatives from local and regional civil-society organizations are holding a series of parallel meetings on social and human-rights issues.

This is remarkable for a country that has been through civil wars and genocidal atrocities for almost three decades. For the ruling Cambodian People's Party, especially Prime Minister Hun Sen, it is an ultimate moment for him to get together with the leaders from the North and South to map out the region's future.

The city's residents for their part now enjoy squeaky-clean streets and a pleasant and safe environment albeit with a heavy security and police presence. A hotel-operator wished aloud that there was a summit every day in Cambodia. New traffic lights, installed by China, have become the talk of the town because of the huge time indicators. Now Cambodian pedestrians and drivers know how long they have to wait at traffic lights. They want to outdo each other.

The most startling development is the presence of a Chinese community and things Chinese in Phnom Penh. Fancy Chinese restaurants, including small eating places, are mushrooming. Kao Xinghe, a Chinese-Khmer shop owner, said that the Chinese language was very popular, replacing Thai, which was preferred three years ago.

Kao still owns the grocery shop he used to own when I first met him in 1987. But he has fewer varieties of food to sell. He noted the Russians were no longer here. Back in 1987, his shop was one of the three stores in Phnom Penh where expatriates could get cheese and wine. But Kao's place was a bit special because he had a large stock of Russian caviar.

He had a special connection with the Russian diplomats. Russia maintained the largest presence in Cambodia, second only to Vietnam back in the 1980s. These Russians residing in Phnom Penh would barter caviar for other items or cash. At Kao's shop, a 300-gram jar of caviar cost only $6.

The exhibition at Toul Sleng prison used to be a landmark that Cambodians or foreign visitors had to see to understand the heart of darkness. Now there are fewer items on show in rooms where the Khmer Rouge tortured their victims. Nobody seems to pay any attention to the remaining instruments of death lying on the floor, as if they were scrap iron of no significance.

The Cambodians have made much progress, and the country is now at peace with itself, although its democracy is still fragile. The government wants to put the atrocious history of Cambodia behind. But the frozen, frightened eyes of young victims from photographs taken by their Khmer Rouge captors at Toul Sleng are still there to remind visitors of what Cambodians have suffered.