saturday, we went to the genocide museum in phnom penh. its hard to even know where to begin in describing our experience there. the whole reason for the genocide was that pol pot wanted every one to be equal in his country, and through a distorted view of equality, he began torturing and killing all the educated, wealthy, and religious citizens of the country. the rest of the people were put to labor in the fields, and if they didnt die directly because of the regime, they probably died of starvation and exhaustion. the museum we visited was once one of the prisons, called S21, where the captives were held and tortured before being sent to the killing fields. when the vietnamese forces found the building in 1979, there were 14 bodies, recently killed, left in the room…the rest was vacant.
there were 4 building to the prison… the first one consisting of larger cells and holding rooms, as well as pictures of the 14 victims found in the room. pictures of how they were discovered… bodies beaten, bloodied, disfigured. the second building contained walls and walls covered with the mugshots taken of the victims as they entered the prison. men, women, children, teenagers, elderly, and infants. the third building held smaller cells. brick cells on the first floor, wooden cells on the second. the largest cells had to be no larger than 3 by 7 feet. many didnt have windows, and if they did, there was no shelter from the weather. the very last building housed the instruments of torture as well as paintings depicting the processes. ive never had to see anything like this.
pictures of the killing fields; mounds and mounds of skulls and bones that used to hold hearts and minds and souls, skeletons separated for burial. rows of iron shackles used to tie feet and hands to bed. cracked, blood stained walls. all of this happened only 30 years ago. how did we let it happen. how does it still happen in other parts of the world today. it is the most horrifying, sickening, cruel, appalling, disgusting, evil display of sin that i have ever seen or could imagine.
heres a poem that was displayed in the last building, written about the regime.
The New Regime, by Sarith Pou
No religious rituals.
No religious symbols.
No fortune teller.
No traditional healers.
No paying respect to elders.
No social status. No titles.
No education. No training.
No school. No learning.
No books. No library.
No science. No technology.
No pens. No paper.
No currency. No bartering.
No buying. No selling.
No begging. No giving.
No purses. No wallets.
No human rights. No liberty.
No courts. No judges.
No laws. No attorneys.
No communications.
No public transportations.
No private transportations.
No traveling. No mailing.
No inviting. No visiting.
No faxes. No telephones.
No social gatherings.
No chitchatting.
No jokes. No laughters.
No music. No dancing.
No romance. No flirting.
No formication. No dating.
No bathers.
No nakedness in showers.
No love songs. No love letters.
No affection.
No marrying. No divorcing.
No marital conflicts. No fighting.
No profanity. No cursing.
No shoes. No sandals.
No toothbrushes. No razors.
No combs. No mirrors.
No lotion. No make up.
No long hair. No braids.
No jewelry.
No soap. No detergent. No shampoo.
No knitting. No embroidering.
No colored clothes, except black.
No styles, except pajamas.
No wine. No palm sap hooch.
No lighters. No cigarettes.
No morning coffee. No afternoon tea.
No snacks. No desserts.
No breakfast [sometimes no dinner].
No mercy. No forgiveness.
No regret. No remorse.
No second chances. No excuses.
No complaints. No grievances.
No help. No favors.
No eyeglasses. No dental treatment.
No vaccines. No medicines.
No hospitals. No doctors.
No disabilities. No social diseases.
No tuberculosis. No leprosy.
No kites. No marbles. No rubber bands.
No cookies. No popsicle. No candy.
No playing. No toys.
No lullabies.
No rest. No vacations.
No holidays. No weekends.
No games. No sports.
No staying up late.
No newspapers.
No radio. No TV.
No drawing. No painting.
No pets. No pictures.
No electricity. No lamp oil.
No clocks. No watches.
No hope. No life.
A third of the people didn’t survive.
The regime died:
the cambodian people literally werent allowed to do anything. and it should show us just how much we take for granted every single day.
the whole time i was walking through the museum, it was like god kept whispering John 16 33
“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”
rescue is possible only through jesus. these things dont make sense. and we have no right, as those who claim to love and follow Him, to just sit back and allow them to happen. when we are idle and inactive, their blood is just as much on our hands as it is of the very men who put a knife to their throat. we can pray for rescue though. for salvation. for changed hearts. for the love of jesus to change lives. its the only resolution there is, and the only reason we can look at a situation like this and have any hope in the world.
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