Mari Haraldsson
Battambang Province, Cambodia
Member of the Parliament, Mu Sochua
In my previous post I spoke a bit about the issue of land-grabbing here in Cambodia—a serious issue that is further complicating the lives of many helpless farmers in the region. It was once again a topic on the agenda at a recent SRP leader’s meeting.
After the meeting, at which party leaders at all levels throughout the province were present, a man and a woman dressed in army attire showed up at the office. The man looked extremely familiar, but I couldn’t figure out where I had seen his face before.
He invited all of the leaders to lunch, and personally asked me to join as well. As we were waiting for our meal I started to ask him questions about his life. It turns out that man I was talking to was Aki Ra, one of CNN’s “Heroes.” In mid-May, when I first arrived in Cambodia, I visited several museums; Aki Ra’s landmine museum/orphanage was one of them.
Aki Ra grew up as an orphan whose parents were murdered by the Khmer Rouge. He became a conscripted child soldier for the Khmer Rouge at the age of ten. After a few years, his life was threatened and he became a soldier for the Vietnamese. During the war, he planted thousands of landmines. This horrific experience has equipped him with an understanding that allows him to be a leader in demining here in Cambodia. Aki Ra has a team of twenty-five men and women who work laboriously every day in minefields across the nation. He founded “Cambodian Self Help Demining (CSHD),” which is the most efficient and well-respected independent organization of its kind in this country.
After a short conversation Aki Ra asked me to join his team for a night to walk the minefield and get an understanding of the type of work that they do. I gladly accepted his offer.
On the way to the minefield in Pailin (about 2 hours away from Battambang), I spent time getting to know Mac, Mike, and Kieran. Mac is an Australian Vietnam War veteran who discovered the work of Aki Ra a few years ago. He saw that Aki Ra and his team were using sticks and knives to do the work—they didn’t even have metal detectors. So, he and his friend “Bomber” did extensive fundraising in Australia to supply the team with some basic tools. They currently serve as supervisors of Aki Ra’s operation, visiting on a bi-annual basis. When back home, Mac spends his time fundraising to help strengthen and expand Aki Ra’s team.
Mike is a publicist/journalist from Australia who owns The Ideas Channel. He is here writing a book about landmines and asked Aki Ra if he could join. He is currently volunteering for the government landmine organization called CMAC to gather research for his book. Throughout our trip he made comparisons about Aki Ra’s operation and that of CMAC. It was interesting to listen to his comments considering the fact that I have gained some knowledge about the CPP during my time here. A lot of what he said about how CMAC is run aligned with the values and general tactics of the CPP that I have come to understand.
For instance, when Aki Ra was first demining on his own, he gathered hundreds of landmines and UXOs. He opened his own museum to showcase his work, share his story, and to inform Cambodians about the nation’s history. When members of the CPP who work for CMAC discovered his endeavor, they threatened him, destroyed his museum, (forcing him to relocate 25 kilometers away from the tourist area in Siem Reap), and stole all of his “killed” landmines and UXOs. (When a landmine is discovered and safely removed the deminers say that it has been “killed.”)
Aki Ra’s stolen objects are now on display at the war museum in Siem Reap, which is run by the CPP.
Despite resistance from the government to give Aki Ra a demining license, which prolonged the short process by 2 years, he has made efforts to join CMAC to combine his Standard Operating Procedure (SOP) with theirs. Notwithstanding his solid reputation, efficiency, and hard work, CMAC has consistently denied his proposals, claiming their SOPs to be superior. According to Mike, CMAC workers are admiring, and a bit envious, of the work that Aki Ra is able to accomplish with his small team. Mike believes that a lot of it has to do with the lack of bureaucracy in Aki Ra’s operation. Whatever funding CSHD receives goes directly to pay the workers and to repair/obtain equipment, whereas Mike has a personal driver financed by CMAC.
Kieran, a commercial lawyer from London, also joined us. She met Mac in Siem Reap and decided to join him in his efforts to help Aki Ra’s team.
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We were all incredibly moved by Aki Ra’s work. When we arrived at the minefield, which is part of a high school, we washed up with the team by the water pump. We shared a meal and proceeded to spend the night on the ground outside, as there was no form of housing. The next morning at sunrise we woke up to put on the protective gear that the team wears when demining. We walked the paths, learned about the different signs they use to mark the territory, and even got to use the metal detectors—they’re a lot heavier than they look.
A lot of the minefields have been partially cleared by villagers who were former mine-planters during the war, or by explosions that occurred as farmers plowed their land. But because they are not able to use proper equipment, there is no guarantee that all the mines in the area have been removed.
Since most of the landmines that remain are planted under trees and bushes that have grown there over time, a lot of the work that the deminers do involves carefully removing thorny plants. The caution they take amounts to several hours spent on only a few meters of land before it can be properly examined and deemed safe.
The work they do is tedious, remarkably slow, and difficult. They wear thick clothing, boots, helmets with thick screens, and a heavy protective suit that covers their torsos. The temperature here in Cambodia is extremely hot—95-100 degrees Fahrenheit. All I was doing was walking, yet I was sweating profusely. To say that the work of a deminer is uncomfortable is certainly an understatement.
I spoke to a few of the women after they had worked, curious to understand what motivates them to do this strenuous work every day. “I want to help my country,” one woman said, “a people should not be afraid to walk on its land.”
This fear is one that I simply cannot understand. I come from a country that has experienced 200 consecutive years of peace (Sweden), and I live in the United States. To think that I would go to school and be scared to lose a limb is just so beyond my comprehension.
It was such an interesting experience to spend time with a man who is fighting for human rights in his country in such a hands-on way. The dedication and patience needed to demine daily are immense.
While we were there, the team found a Russian mortar and, later, a landmine. After only a few hours of being on the field, I witnessed its explosion. I find it difficult to explain what the experience was like, but I will say this:
Those mines were planted with the intention of permanently maiming, not killing, human beings. Those mines were unknowingly stepped on, only to explode ON a person—mutating their life forever. And there I was, knowing exactly when it would explode, awaiting and watching from a safe 20 meters away in my heavy helmet and protective suit.
The right to walk on land without fear of severe injury seems so inherent, so basic. Yet, here in Cambodia, it’s a right that is still not secure—particularly, for impoverished farmers.