My Cambodia

After we completed our last ride, I remember washing off the red clay dust from my legs, arms and face and I watched it cascade down the drain, it is so red it looks like blood.  It is everywhere, on my shirt, shorts, legs, arms, on the bill of my hat, it is ground so deeply into my shoes, I know they will never be completely cleaned of it…But I’m fine with that.  I like having those little reminders of my time here, as Cambodia drops back into the realm of dreams, where it has lived most of my life.  But now the colors are vivid, the sounds are sharp, and the images are mine.  I am holding onto a unique set of images that is now my Cambodia, not the images from a TV show or magazine.  Just like any other place in this world, the reality of it is not there until you experience it. 

 

  

Now that I have returned home, and have had a week to process… I still don’t know what to think.  I do know now what my Cambodia is.  I would relate it first as my home…one of several…it is the place of my origin; it is my motherland and the place where I found a sense of peace I have never known and a belonging I’ve never felt.  Second, it is mine because no one else has experienced it like I just have.  I have seen shades of its beauty and its darkness.  I have hints of what it is but have miles to go. 

Any conversations about Cambodia should not start with the Angkor Temples or the Genocide, it must start and end with her people.  The temples and the horrors of war are important factors in their lives, but they do not define them.  The people I've met here are kind and warm, resourceful and welcoming.

I have felt the guilt of surviving as well as pride in others who are truly survivors.  At times my guilt became so strong, after seeing someone with physical scars or the sunken eyes of someone who had been broken but has fought for every day since.  It is always with me…I tried cycling fast and hard, maybe I could peddle away my guilt?  Maybe my physical pain could alleviate my other wounds.  My short legs would not let me peddle fast enough and the roads were never long enough.

  

One of my fears before coming was peoples’ reaction to me.  I worried that they could be negative, that people would feel that I did not belong.  That I left them behind and because of it I had a better, easier and privileged life…Which is true and is a source of guilt for me.  Most of the people who heard about my story did not show jealousy, or disdain for me or my life, they have pity for me.  For them, not knowing my family was terribly sad.  Not being connected to my culture was tragic.  And they wanted more than anything for me to make those connections with my family and become familiar with my culture. 

I have often wondered what my life would have been like, had I not left, had I survived and had I had a family to care for me...I would have had a good life, different but good.  Even though my sample size is small, people seem to be happy, in good health, loved and loving.  They’ve made it through life and have no shame in doing what had to be done.  In a lot of ways, I envy that…upon returning home, I have found that my life is complicated by the stuff I have, and the pursuit of more it. 

Going into this I did not know what I would get out of it.  One of the most common questions or comments people gave me, had to do with finding answers I was looking for.  The problem is I did not know enough to have questions.  So no, no answers…rather more questions.  When I return, I will be better prepared and may have questions.  I did make some discoveries that I can share.

First and maybe most significant, I know my father’s name is Sok…assuming Sok Heng is my actual name, and my given name Heng.  It’s not a lot, but it is something and a connection that I didn’t know about before.  According to this naming system my children’s names should be Heng Elsa, Heng Vincent, and Heng Liam.  My wife would keep her name, Marco Madeleine.  My kids aren’t too interested in changing their names. 

Secondly, I don’t know how else to put this…without sounding too heavy handed…WE OWE THEM.  The policies or lack of policies of the US and other larger countries are at the heart of the Khmer Rouge, at the difficulties this country is facing with landmines and the continued delays in development of economic and political structures.   The Secret War in Cambodia put a huge scar on this land, and her people…We’ve forgotten that it is our actions that drove people into the arms of the Khmer Rouge…We need to make it right. 

Third, I have made a friend and gained family, in Tree.  He is a generous, and curious, highly intelligent and extremely motivated person.  He strives to improve his situation and the situations of his country and people.  I cannot recommend enough the services of Tree as a tour guide ...Anyone visiting Cambodia must speak to him first.   I have no complaints or suggestions…I could not have asked for more.   If you do not work with Tree (not sure why you wouldn’t) please work with a local…put your money in the hands of people on the ground…Customs and traditions of generosity and reciprocity are maintained on the streets and in the lives of the people living them. 

Lastly, I now know what it feels like to be seen as a person first and as a color second.  I have never known this.  For most people I come across, my skin is not a problem, but it is what they see first.   When everyone has your skin color…it fades into the background.  First impressions are made up of other things.  I did not stand out.  I was not one of the darkest people in the room…I looked like everyone else.  It was exceptionally refreshing to not standout and to the point that when I returned home, I noticed the looks again.  One game I liked to play was to look around and pick out the white people…There weren’t many of them and but each one stood out to me.

It is fantastic to have been in Cambodia and it is also fantastic to have my kids with me again.  I can’t wait to take them with me sometime…probably sooner than later.  For me this journey was just an introduction to my motherland...I will be back to get to know her better.   What will I discover next time?  Will I see the culture from a different perspective? Will I have questions? Will I get answers?  Will I find my family?

To be posted to several websites helping people connect with their families.