Siem Reap, Cambodia
When Fred showed me his essay on Angkor, I was moved. He had caught something about Cambodia that eluded me by homing in on our guide, connecting his eventful past with ancient past. I had heard these same stories too, but they had not had the same impact on me. Looking at our guide’s thoughtful, intelligent face and composed demeanour, I could only see who he was today—our gentle instructor in Angkor history, our kindly protector keeping us safe as we navigated steep temple steps and uneven paths. When he spoke of all the travails he had experienced in his youth, it was with an easy laugh that suggested he had long moved on from them. How bad could things have been if he could joke about jungle life and war? I was not sensitive enough to sense that there were more difficult memories still lurking. Perhaps I wanted to be fooled by his wiry frame that radiated health and resilience and by his calm smile. Perhaps I was eager not to dwell on the horrors of Cambodia’s more recent past. Let’s forget about the bullet holes in the temple walls. Let me just look upon the glories of Angkor.
