Samithy Chhom was growing up a ward of the Royal Household when Phnom Penh fell to the armed forces of the Khmer Rouge. The year was 1975, and the capture of the capital saw the culmination of Pol Pot’s seven year nationwide insurgency against Cambodia’s cold war government.
King Norodom Sihanouk was kept by Cambodia’s new rulers as a figurehead to legitimize their rule. But Samithy, like every other resident of every other city in the new republic, was evacuated to the countryside. He was destined to join his compatriots in an agrarian utopia. This new society would reject modern technology, schools, currency, manufactured goods, private property and intellectualism. It would also reject Samithy.
In the melee of the palace’s evacuation Samithy became involved in an altercation with Khmer Rouge fighters. The soldiers resented him especially, because of his privileged position at court. In the heat of that revolutionary day, they threatened to kill him. What happened next was extraordinary. Somewhere he claims, there is newsreel footage of the gunmen who almost claimed his life backing away after seeing a BBC TV crew filming outside of the palace. 36 years later, when I first interviewed him, Samithy’s gratitude was still palpable in his voice. “If not for BBC, they would kill me.”
Despite this, Samithy was sent to the countryside. But he, like so many others, would not be part of the bright future of pastoral self-sufficiency imagined by Pol Pot. He was worked hard on farm collectives but claims he was starved. The Khmer Rouge promise of solving hunger by bringing people to farms was not realized. He was separated from his parents and whilst he has no idea what happened to them, he has assumed himself an orphan for a long time.
Facing this bleak future, Samithy chose to escape. But hiding in the forest became his only alternative. “[I] lived with nothing in the forest, sleeped [sic] in the water and at the top af [sic] tree.” Life was as grim as it had been on the farms, but at least he had escaped the clutches of his oppressors.
Following the Khmer Rouge’s fall, Samithy wanted to make sure that his country would never experience this collective, protracted trauma again. He signed up to work for the United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia and travelled across the country working as a translator and administrator with their civil administration efforts. He wanted to “stop humanright [sic] criminal,” and “help my people of Cambodia against Communist power”, or those who still harboured hope of a return to the Khmer Rouge regime.
When the UN’s mandate finished, Samithy became a tour guide at Angkor Wat. He decided the best way to help Cambodia become peaceful and prosperous was to educate foreigners about his country’s rich heritage and potential through its most iconic buildings. To this end he insisted on correcting me when I referred to his new workplace. “Angkor Wat is only a part. You should say ‘The Temples at Angkor.’
This is where I first met Samithy and it was here that I began to speak to him about his life. He would repeat to my companions and myself the importance of learning about Angkor, saying that investment was needed to save it from disrepair.
Once we passed a group of US tourists with a Cambodian-American tour guide, who was speaking about US money donated to the temples. Samithy became angry at this and was shouting even before we were out of earshot that the guide had “lied”. He told us we must not forget that many countries had given money to save Cambodia’s history and to contribute to reconstruction, not just America. Cambodia could not survive without this help Samithy said, and he asked us to go home and tell everyone about his country. Samithy’s belief in the potential of human kindness and curiosity to help rebuild his country was unshakeable, despite what he had lived through.
After I had left, I began to realize that if I was to do his incredible story justice, I needed to know more. Unfortunately, I had missed the chance. Emailing him with a long list of questions, I received a brief reply. He tried to answer some of my questions before explaining why he had so little to say.
“I would like to let you know that humanright [sic] in my country is not good. I would like to help you very much but it is deficult [sic] because I am living in the country…Gareth it is many stories to tell you but defficult [sic] for me. I hope you are a good student to help the world change to good especaily [sic] my country.”
Despite his dedication to cultural outreach, Samithy still faces everyday problems for himself and his family. His efforts to build a new life for himself and his family is the most striking and significant aspect of a life lived in fear. “Please support my tourist business as you can. My work with tourist was not enough for my four children to eat and studies. May Buddha bless you.”
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