A Facebook Post from the ‘Killing Fields’ – Cambodia

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Today, my tuc tuc driver is called Rong. He drove me to the Genocide Museum and the Killing Fields, filling me in on his own little part of this history. Sadly, his own father was killed by Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge when Rong was just thirteen. There were very few tourists and I found myself standing alone on one floor of what was a prison/torture block, one cramped cell after the other very few windows, no fresh air. It was eerie to be in a room surrounded by imaginary voices and cries of pain from the past.

Tangible. On route to the Killing Fields, it began to pour down with torrential rain, which added to the sombre atmosphere at the 17 floor memorial crammed with 5000 Skulls, only a fraction of those found are shown. I saw fields which were used as mass graves now covered over. Between 1975-1979, Pol Pot brutally tortured and slaughtered around 1.7 Million of his own people. This happened during my lifetime. There are no words to describe this brutality. I have learned that often, the best of all wisdoms lies in silence; therefore I simply will say RIP.

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