July 27, 2015
Some things in life bore me to distraction. Talking about taxes, for instance, is like nails on a chalkboard. It’s bad enough having to pay them: to devote any more time than that to them seems crazed. Which might explain why my finances could best be described as chaotic.
Another thing that bores me is the weather. Weather happens; there’s nothing you can do about it, so you just deal with it. Listening to weather forecasts makes my eyes glaze over with tedium. I’m with Proust’s narrator’s friend M. Bloch, who famously said: “Sir, I am absolutely incapable of telling you whether it has rained. I live so resolutely apart from physical contingencies that my senses no longer trouble to inform me of them.”
I live in a country where it rains a lot, and yet I don’t own an umbrella or a raincoat. Or at least, I live in a country where it usually rains a lot. But not, so far, this year. This year, the rains have been noticeable only by their sporadic and infrequent nature. And that’s beginning to worry me.
A technical adviser with the Mekong River Commission says the entire country has been suffering from “really bad drought” since the end of last year. “It’s as bad as it’s ever been,” he told a local newspaper. “The whole country is in drought, so is Vietnam, so is Thailand.” Wells and rivers have already dried up; people are having to spend their scarce cash on bottled water. People who have been out in the provinces report browning and desiccated rice crops in the paddies.
A lecturer in environmental studies told another paper: “Farmers who depend on rain-fed farming to grow their crops are going to face more disasters.” Rice production is expected to decline, leading to the migration of farmers to look for work in urban areas. Increased pressure will be put on urban infrastructure; food prices will escalate; malnutrition will be common.
The Ministry of Water Resources issued a notice in May, saying that heavy rain was not expected to begin until July. Well, July is pretty much over, and the Mekong and the Tonle Sap rivers are well below their usual levels for this time of year. Usually, in July and August, you curse the skies as they fill the streets ankle-deep with foul and fœtid water: not this year.
The rains could still come. And Cambodia has lived through droughts before, often contiguous with the occurrence of the El Niño warm water system in the eastern Pacific. But it is worth noting that the Angkor temple complex, the world’s largest pre-industrial city, the glory of Cambodia, is thought to have been abandoned due to drought in the early 15th century. So I hope people are taking this seriously. Because it’ll be dull if they’re not.
July 19, 2015
A couple of weeks ago, local Cambodian property tycoon Sok Bun was having a quiet dinner in a Japanese restaurant with two local women and his bodyguard. Towards the end of the evening, he began to become frustrated that his not necessarily inconsiderable charms weren’t having the desired effect upon the ladies, and he began to become more insistent in his demands for some form of intimacy.
In an effort to rein in Sok Bun’s overenthusiasm, one of the ladies threw a mobile phone at him. He rather took offence at this, and responded by attacking the woman, slamming her head against the floor, kicking and pounding her skull and punching her, for some time. A terrified waiter tried to intervene, but was stopped by Sok’s bodyguard, who was waving a pistol at the head of the victim. Eventually, Sok was pulled off, and out of the restaurant.
Now, normally in Cambodia, this wouldn’t be an event of much note. Sok Bun is hugely wealthy, is an okhna (an honorific awarded to anyone who has given the government more than $100,000) and was chairman of the Cambodia Valuers and Estate Agents Association. He is precisely the sort of person who can get away with beating like a gong whomsoever he wishes.
Of all the terrible people in this lovely little country, property developers are probably the worst. The astronomical amounts of money to be made in the country’s overheating property market seem to attract a special type of scumbag, with thousands of families violently evicted from their makeshift homes for pointless building projects, shootings and stabbings, and even the throwing of venomous snakes into people’s houses to encourage them to move. All of this is widely accepted here.
But Sok Bun’s victim, in this case, was a bit savvier than usual. She managed, when she got out of hospital, to get CCTV footage of the attack, and she posted it on Facebook, where it quickly went viral. The victim is a well-known Cambodian TV personality known as Ms Sasa, and she wasn’t going to take this lying down. Already she has turned down two offers from Sok, of $40,000 and then $100,000, to drop the case, saying she wants justice, not money.
Sok Bun had, by this time, fled to Singapore, which probably isn’t the best place in the region to go if you want to escape the rule of law. He claimed to be suffering from some unspecified illness. But even Cambodian Prime Minister Hun Sen weighed in, saying: “Don’t think that because you have money you can escape,” and Sok flew back to Phnom Penh on Saturday, where he was arrested at the airport, and is now languishing in Prey Sar jail, awaiting trial. If Hun Sen has taken against him, then it’s not looking good.
Sok’s slightly unlikely arrest follows the April capture of another okhna, Thong Sarath, in Vietnam, for the murder of yet another okhna. While one shouldn’t take any pleasure from the sight of these fine, upstanding entrepreneurs starting to fight each other like rats in a sack, one has to wonder whether, with the resurgence of the opposition CNRP, they can see a day when impunity might not be automatic. One certainly hopes so.
July 1, 2015
I’ve just got back to Phnom Penh after spending a couple of days in Bangkok with my absurdly generous and lovely brother. Although I’m less a fan of ‘Bangers’ since it became a proper world city, and not a collection of tin shacks on a bend in the river, as I used to know it, it is a surprisingly lovely place. People say that Phnom Penh is like Bangkok 20 years ago; I can’t really see that to be true. Phnom Penh will have to come a long way in the next two decades if it’s going to have a McDonalds’ or a 7-11 on every street corner – not that they’re particular signs of civilisation, of course.
We were staying at the Westin, which was extremely civilised. I had a suite big enough to park my Lear Jet in, if I hadn’t had to sell it to pay the taxi driver to take me into town. My brother had brought a number of gifts from the US, including a little stuffed pig for Harley the Wonder Dog, which he had been assured in the pet shop was indestructible. (It turns out to be highly destructible if you’re Harley.) I put the pig on one of any number of dressers; when I came back to the room later, housekeeping, thinking it might be lonely, had made a bunny rabbit out of a small towel and some orchid petals, and put them together. I thought that was a nice touch.
On the first night we ate at a restaurant called Gaggan, which has just been voted as the 10th best restaurant in the world. It was quite an experience. We had the 24-course tasting menu, which is basically Indian food via molecular gastronomy, or molecular masala as someone called it, with lots of dry ice and intense half-remembered flavours, newly imagined. It was sensational, although I was flagging a bit by the time we got to course 20 or so.
The second night, we went to Nahm (number 22 on the world’s best restaurant list) and had god knows how many courses: probably a dozen or so. It was also stunning, although the chilli became a bit overwhelming towards the end, and (whisper it) Asian restaurants don’t do good desserts.
After that, it was back to reality: a budget flight back to Phnom Penh, a tuk-tuk through the rutted muddy streets and a cheese sandwich at home with Blossom and the dog. Bangkok is astonishing, but there’s really no place like home.
June 9, 2015
The police in Cambodia are, to be honest, a dismal organisation. Badly paid, trained and equipped, they’re usually to be found lying in the shade at the side of major roads, occasionally getting up to extort bribes from random innocent motorists. Otherwise, they’re an irrelevance.
Unless, that is, you like smoking shisha pipes, in which case they can be an unmitigated menace. Last weekend, Phnom Penh police arrested 80 people for smoking shisha in two nightclubs, held them for 24 hours, ‘educated’ them and then told their parents. All of those arrested were over the age of 18, so were adults. But they had to be released into the care of their parents. I know that shame is an important part of the societal glue that holds Asian cultures together, but this seems ridiculous.
While it is certainly true that smoking a hookah is illegal in Cambodia since last year, bringing the parents of adults into the situation is insane, and deeply troubling. A chap called Brigadier General San Sothy told a local newspaper: “We educated them and made an agreement with their parents to guarantee they would not use shisha again,” he said. “The majority of the parents did not know that their children used shisha.”
Last year, Prime Minister Hun Sen, an unrepentant tobacco smoker, said young Cambodians were skipping school to smoke sisha, and the tobacco could be laced with other drugs such as opium. “Parents are concerned by this,” the prime minister said. Well, it might be a thought, perhaps, to crack down on the import of opium. But that’s never going to happen in the Medellin on the Mekong, is it?
Meanwhile, the National Military Police are a somewhat different matter. They mean business. They made the news earlier this year when the head of the NMP was caught on tape urging his troops to follow his lead and learn from Adolf Hitler. These are the same troops that shot and killed five unarmed garment workers the previous year.
The head of the Military Police, one Sao Sokha, who is also the head of the Football Federation of Cambodia, was recently approached by a journalist, who wanted to ask him about the FFC’s support for FIFAs appalling Sepp Blatter.
After refusing to confirm whether the FFC voted for Blatter in the recent presidential ballot, the general said: “We are not thieves with them, and we are not involved with them.” He then went on to add: “My point of view is that I hate The Cambodia Daily.”
Cambodia is ranked 178th out of 209 FIFA member states.
According to FIFA website, it has paid for five projects in Cambodia since 2000, including the construction of the FFC’s headquarters, which cost $440,000, three projects at the country’s football training facility in Takeo province, for just under $1.5 million, and the resurfacing of the Olympic Stadium, which cost $500,000. Cambodia also receives $250,000 a year from FIFA for ‘development.’
June 3, 2015
Last night, I was going for a sunset drink with an old friend, and I decided to take Harley the Wonder Dog with me. I took a tuk-tuk to the north-west corner of the Royal Palace, so he could have a bit of a walk, down to the riverside; as I got out of the tuk-tuk it began to rain, hard.
We walked slowly along the wall of the palace, sheltering as best we could from the monsoon rain, coming in from the south, in the lee of the wall. By the time we got to the end of the wall, we were both soaked, but still had a couple of hundred yards of open ground to cover, so I decided to lean up against the wall and watch for a bit.
As we stood there, casually watching the world go by, I heard a crack above me and looked up. And saw a vast tree branch falling directly at us. With my well-known ninja skills coming to the fore, I kicked the dog away from me, and about a billionth of a second later this humungous branch sailed past our heads and smacked into the pavement.
I thought the dog was dead. Luckily he was not. But another two inches, and it would have broken his back like a breadstick. Another two inches the other way, and it would have pulverised my skull. I don’t want to exaggerate, but this branch was six or seven inches across at its thickest, must have been fifteen feet long and weighed a couple of hundred pounds, and fell about 40 feet. We were incredibly lucky (also, ninja).
It was, incidentally, at almost precisely the same spot where Harley spotted a snake a few weeks ago, oiling its way across the pavement. We went over to take a closer look, and the snake, which was green and about three feet long, rather took against this, and got all attack-y, which I thought was a bit much. Luckily Harley was on the leash, so I pulled him away, or the morning would have become something of a veterinary nightmare.
I had just been reflecting about accidental death that morning when reading about the ferry sinking in China; one moment you’re cheerfully asleep: the next and you’re trying to breathe the Yangtze in the dark. Luckily, I thought, that’s unlikely to happen to me, as I live a very sober and quiet life. When I was younger, however, like most young men, I did any number of colossally dangerous stuff, often involving shotguns, motorbikes, feral bulls, rock faces, agricultural machinery, chemicals and alcohol. But I grew up, and stopped practically all the bad shit. Now, apart from taking tuk-tuks on the streets of Cambodia, I do nothing dangerous at all: I am old and wise and careful.
And yet, in the last three years, I’ve been hospitalised for a week and spent six months on crutches after simply walking down the street. And was hit by a rogue motorbike. And now was almost turned into human pâté like something from out of The Omen. I’m not sure that Cambodia is any more dangerous than anywhere else, but sometimes it feels that way.
And still on the subject of stuff I don’t know: I’d always thought I knew quite a lot about British rock music of the 1970s. But a few days ago I discovered that a host of British music luminaries held a series of concerts to benefit Cambodia in 1979, and I’d never heard of it.
Organised by the unlikely duo of Paul McCartney and former-Nazi UN Secretary General Kurt Waldheim, the Concerts for the People of Kampuchea were held between Christmas and the New Year at the Hammersmith Odeon in London. They featured, amongst others, The Who, The Clash, Elvis Costello and the Attractions, Queen, Ian Dury and the Blockheads, The Specials, The Pretenders, Wings, and a band of all-stars organised by McCartney, which included John Paul Jones and Robert Plant, and saw John Bonham’s last-ever British appearance.
The concert was released on vinyl only, in 1980, and has never been re-released. Allmusic says of the vinyl recording: “The audio quality is shabby; nothing leaps out as being more sonically interesting than a live radio broadcast, and the performances are okay but not staggering.”
Like everything else in life, it is available on Youtube, but I haven’t watched it yet, because it starts with Queen, and I’d really rather stab myself in the face with a radioactive knife than watch Queen. Or perhaps take the dog out for a walk.
May 25, 2015
The suffocating heat continues to enfold Phnom Penh in its brutal embrace: apart from waiting for the rainy season to start and give us all something else to moan about, nothing is happening here. A friend of mine asked me to take over his stringing position for one of the most prestigious news magazines in the world while he took a couple of months off. I was excited at first, but have come to realise that I won’t be getting my feet underneath the desk, because nothing is going to happen here at all.
Casting my mind back over the past few weeks, apart from the Russian gangster Sergei Polonsky finally getting booted out of the country (for overstaying his visa), very little of any import has happened here for weeks.
Indeed, the only story that stands out is one that involves a 13-year-old girl who was told that she was to be reunited with her mother on live television. The girl, Autumn Allen, who despite being Caucasian, sings in Khmer, appeared on a variety show called Penh Chet Ort (Like It or Not), and was told she would meet her mother, whom she hadn’t seen or heard from since she was six years old. However, after plenty of build up, a cross-dressing comedian appeared instead, to much hilarity in Cambodia, and much disgust across the Twittersphere. It does seem a bit heartless to target motherless 13-year-olds for a cheap laugh, but the media here can be a bit clueless.
The Autumn Allen debacle follows an equally stupid piece of media promotion by a local cinema chain for the mindless car-porn film Fast & Furious 7, that encouraged contestants to break the speed limit, and to take pictures of their speedometers as they drove as fast as possible. This is in a country where some six people die every day on the roads. Before the cinema pulled the competition, the fastest entry was 145kmh, or about 90 miles an hour, which might not seem that fast, but, trust me, if you think that, you haven’t seen the roads here. And the urban speed limit is 80kmh.
Again, it was the Twittersphere that caused a backlash and apologies all round. Much as it pains me to say it, but it seems as if Facebook and Twitter might have a use after all, as a kind of corrective conscience.
So it’s something of a worry to see that the government has threatened criminal proceedings against Facebook users who insult or defame government leaders.
Council of Ministers spokesman Phay Siphan, in a post to his own Facebook page titled “A Letter Regarding Prejudiced and Unethical People,” claimed that some Facebook users have recently been abusing the freedom of expression they get online.
“In recent times, I have noticed that there have been some people who have used social media to use words that are rude, insulting, scornful, exaggerating and defaming toward civil servants,” Siphan said. “We will take any action, technical or legal, in order to maintain freedom and dignity in online use.”
Rude, insulting, scornful, exaggerating and defaming? Nope, can’t be having that…
May 5, 2015
While anyone watching the news on Southeast Asia at the moment will be sated with anniversary retrospectives of the fall of Phnom Penh, followed swiftly by Saigon, forty years ago, there is another anniversary that is worth mentioning: last Sunday marked the 45th anniversary of the Kent State shootings in Ohio, where National Guardsmen fired over 60 times into a crowd of unarmed college students peacefully protesting the illegal war in Cambodia, wounding nine and killing four. No one was ever found responsible for the killings.
And despite decades of efforts by a Kent State Truth Tribunal, the US government will not accept responsibility, and, in 2012, the Justice Department refused to reopen the case, citing “insurmountable legal and evidentiary barriers.”
Clearly, I don’t remember Kent State, but I can remember the sense of outrage I felt when I found out about it (helped by Neil Young’s magnificently potent Ohio). And the anger I felt towards President Richard Nixon and national security advisor Henry Kissinger.
I was thinking about Nixon recently, as I often do when I’m in a bad mood. But specifically about the release last year of extended versions of Nixon’s papers that now confirm the long-standing belief that Nixon was a traitor to the US.
Nixon’s newly released records show that in 1968, as a presidential candidate, he ordered Anna Chennault, his liaison to the South Vietnam government, to persuade them to refuse a cease-fire being brokered by President Lyndon Johnson.
Nixon’s interference with these negotiations violated the Logan Act, banning private citizens from intruding into government negotiations with a foreign nation.
Nixon’s sabotage of the Vietnam peace talks has been confirmed by transcripts of FBI wiretaps. On November 2, 1968, LBJ received an FBI report saying Chennault told the South Vietnamese ambassador that “she had received a message from her boss: saying the Vietnamese should “hold on, we’re gonna win.”
In the four years between the sabotage and what Kissinger termed “peace at hand”, just prior to the 1972 election, more than 20,000 US troops died in Vietnam. More than 100,000 were wounded. More than a million Vietnamese were killed.
And as Wikipedia has it, “with limited data, the range of Cambodian deaths caused by US bombing may be between 40,000 and 600,000.”
But in 1973, Kissinger was given the Nobel Peace Prize for negotiating the same settlement he helped sabotage in 1968.
Nixon won re-election in 1972, then swiftly became the first American president to resign in disgrace, in 1974. Hunter S. Thompson’s obituary of Nixon is probably a good place to end this, for the good of my blood pressure.
“He was a swine of a man and a jabbering dupe of a president. Nixon was so crooked that he needed servants to help him screw his pants on every morning. Even his funeral was illegal. He was queer in the deepest way. His body should have been burned in a trash bin.”
April 30, 2015
I’ve been banging on for a while now about a looming property bubble in Phnom Penh, but clearly prophets are without honour even far away from home. Here, in Cambodia in 2015, it’s all about profits.
A recent report from global estate agents CBRE says the supply of condominiums in Phnom Penh will increase by 533 per cent by the end of 2018, with some 9,500 additional units available for rent in the central and outer areas of the capital. A lunatic friend of mine even managed to sell a piece to the New York Times saying that Chinese investors would be lapping up Cambodian condos: I’m not so sure.
However, there’s no doubt that lots of people are rushing in to Cambodian property at the moment, and there are plenty of knock-on effects. One of these was brought home to me quite forcefully a couple of weeks ago, when one of my favourite bars, Cantina, was forced to close its doors because of unsustainable rent increases.
Run by a gentle American with the slightly improbable name of Hurley Scroggins III, Cantina was the unofficial gathering place of the foreign media in Phnom Penh. Ostensibly a Mexican restaurant, I’m not sure I ever ate there, but it was a wonderful place for a drink and a gossip. It was unassuming, and not the smartest place in town, but the Beer Lao was cold and the welcome cheerful. Everyone drifted past up and down the riverside, and, sitting gazing out over the waters of the Tonle Sap and the Mekong, you could catch up with old friends and meet new ones, arrange jobs, listen to fantasists and lunatics, laugh at stoned tourists stumbling out of the happy pizza place next door and get your shoes shined. But, after 10 years, the landlord kicked Hurley out, and Phnom Penh is a poorer place for it.
It’s also poorer after a slew of closures of live music venues, the most recent being a bar called Equinox, on Street 278 in the trendy BKK1 area. Unable to afford a non-negotiable 300 percent rent increase, the bar, which had hosted almost every band that’s ever played in Cambodia, was forced to close up just a week or so ago.
The former owner said that he was gloomy about prospects for the area. “It’s East Asians coming in with all this money,” he said, referring to the increased competition produced by mainly Chinese investors. “It’s infected the Khmer landlords.” Asian businessmen have been seen touring the premises, but nothing is known about the future of the space.
I liked Equinox. They had some great music; the pool table was a bit eccentric, but the huge floor-mounted fans tended to compensate for that. When it opened, nine years ago, the roads in the area had only just been paved. And look at it now.
The news of Equinox’s closure came on the heels of a long list of other closures around the city. Slur Bar, The Groove and Oscars 51 shut up shop just before the Khmer New Year. Memphis Bar shut down, and The Village closed for refurbishments and never reopened. These names may not mean much if you don’t live here, but, if you liked music and lived in Phnom Penh, they were crucial. Nothing is replacing them.
Meanwhile, an American popstrel called Demi Lovato (I had to go and look her name up; I could only recall her being called something like Devil’s Tomato) has announced a gig in Phnom Penh in a couple of weeks, and 35,000 people are expected. Her fans here mounted a sustained campaign on Facebook to bring her here: the Demi Lovato Cambodia Fan Club has over 23,000 followers. She’ll join an exalted list of musicians who have made it to Cambodia in recent years, including the distinguished Danish band Michael Learns to Rock and not offensively bland Ronan Keating.
I’m sorry, I can’t help sneering. I guess if 35,000 people turn out for a gig in Cambodia, that’s got to be a good thing. Except…
April 24, 2015
The relentless commodification of Cambodia continues apace, with the news this week that US donut chain Krispy Kreme is to open 10 stores across the country. Joining Burger King, Dairy Queen, KFC, Swensens, Costa Coffee and Dominos, amongst others (no Starbucks or McDonalds yet, though!), a little part of me dies every time I read about a new roll-out of some clean, well-managed, job-providing soulless corporate entity here. Especially when they say things like “This agreement … will enable us to bring our mission of touching and enhancing lives through the joy that is Krispy Kreme to the people of Cambodia.” But that’s just me.
And, to be fair, I can’t think of many places to buy donuts in Phnom Penh, should such an urge take you. Personally, I wouldn’t cross the road to eat a free donut. I seem to recall my brother having a pile of Krispy Kreme donuts as a wedding cake: a fact upon which I shall not comment further.
But it is kind of sad that it takes a vast US company to bring donuts to Cambodia, when Cambodians have a fascinating history with donuts, in America. Because the little sugary rings have acted as a lifebelt for thousands of Cambodian immigrants to the US for many years now.
Fleeing the Khmer Rouge, tens of thousands of poor and often illiterate Cambodians made it to the States from 1975 onwards, and a staggering amount went into the donut business. In Los Angeles, it is estimated that 80 percent of the 5,000 donut businesses are Cambodian-owned, and the figure is 90 percent in Texas. (In north-east Texas, there is even something called the Donut Trail, and every business is Cambodian owned. Glazing a trail, perhaps?)
The reasons for the rush to donuts is quite simple: the business is cheap to operate, needing not much more than flour, sugar and shortening, frying is easy to master, and the space required for sales is minimal. It is labour intensive though, and Cambodian families could manage that.
But there is another, more interesting reason for the Cambodian Donut Hegemony, and his name is Ted Ngoy.
Arriving in the US in 1975, Ngoy worked as a janitor in Long Beach. He managed to get hired by Winchell’s, a donut chain in southern California, and two years later, he had saved enough to buy the first of many dozens of donut stores. Within a few years, he had gone on to sell millions of doughnuts, made a fortune, bought luxurious homes, drove fast cars, holidayed in Europe, and had shaken the hands of three presidents.
Philanthropically, Ngoy would employ other Cambodians, and sell them stores to allow them to work their way up into entrepreneurial American society. Ngoy sponsored thousands of refugees, promising them work in his shops. At his peak, he owned 70 shops. In turn, those pioneers got their friends and relatives started.
By 1990, however, Ngoy’s gambling habit had taken over his life, and the Donut King’s fortunes plummeted. He eventually returned to Cambodia, penniless, and formed a useless political party, and then went back to the States. In 2005 he was discovered by the Los Angeles Times sleeping rough on the porch of a friend’s mobile home. “I don’t know who I am right now,” he told them.
In between, he had managed to secure Most-Favoured-Nation trade status for Cambodia after lobbying the US, making use of friends in the Republican Party.
Recently he has apparently been back in Cambodia again, most recently running a small real estate company on the coast.
Ngoy is pragmatic about the donut business in the US: “In America, many people do other things now. They have some more money, they go to other fields. But everybody starts from the base of doughnut shops and I think that’s a good start.”
April 19, 2015
Sometimes this blog could just write itself. Honestly.
The International Organization for Migration said it is expecting the first refugees to arrive in Phnom Penh within days from the Pacific island of Nauru, as part of a controversial resettlement deal cooked up between Australia and Cambodia last year.
News of the first arrivals follows the leaking of a letter that the refugees are being given that makes … interesting … claims about the state of Cambodia’s democracy, health care system and respect for free speech.
Under the agreement, Cambodia has agreed to take an unlimited number of the hundreds of refugees that Australia is currently holding on Nauru, in return for $35 million in aid.
Rights groups and lawmakers in both countries have attacked the deal, “accusing Australia of shirking its international obligations for the refugees by shunting them off to one of the poorest and most corrupt countries in the region,” according to the Cambodia Daily.
Two separate delegations from Cambodia that visited Nauru have so far failed to convince a single refugee to take up the offer. Cambodia said the visiting officials gave the refugees “an honest take” on what they could expect life to be like in their country.
A leaked letter, however, shows that the refugees are being lied to. The five-page letter, which is being handed out by Australian immigration officials on Nauru, is titled “Settlement in Cambodia” and offers guidance to what help refugees can expect upon arriving here.
“Moving to Cambodia provides an opportunity for you and your family to start a new life in a safe country, free from persecution and violence, and build your future,” it says.
Cambodians “enjoy all the freedoms of a democratic society, including freedom of religion and freedom of speech.”
On the subject of safety, the letter tells the refugees that they have nothing to worry about. “Cambodia is a safe country, where police maintain law and order,” it says. “It does not have problems with violent crime or stray dogs.”
“Cambodia has a high standard of health care,” the letter goes on to say, “with multiple hospitals and general practitioners.”
Where to start?
Last year, researchers at Harvard and the University of Sydney ranked Cambodia’s 2013 national election the fifth most “flawed or failed” out of the 73 national polls held around the world in the previous 18 months. It beat Belarus, the Republic of the Congo, Djibouti, and Equatorial Guinea, though. Which is, I suppose, something.
In 2013, the US-based Freedom House ranked Cambodia “not free” for the 40th year running, placing it among the countries “where basic political rights are absent, and basic civil liberties are widely and systematically denied.”
Just last month, the World Justice Project ranked Cambodia 98th out of 102 countries in its index of government openness. Cambodia also consistently ranks near the bottom of global measures of corruption and press freedom.
The government regularly deploys police and soldiers to break up peaceful protests by force. The UN’s last human rights envoy to Cambodia said the judiciary was “riddled” with corruption.
The US Bureau of Diplomatic Security last year released a report for embassy staff that gave Cambodia a “critical” crime rating. “The frequency of armed robberies involving weapons continues at high levels.”
The Australian Foreign Affairs Department says visitors to Cambodia should take out medical evacuation insurance.
“Health and medical services in Cambodia are generally of a very poor quality and very limited in the services they can provide,” the department says. “Outside Phnom Penh, there are almost no medical facilities equipped to deal with medical emergencies.”
But on the bright side, Cambodia has just won a Guinness World Record, for making the biggest rice cake in the world. Weighing in at four tons, the cake was paraded through the streets of Siem Reap, to general joy and delight.
Hun Many, a CPP lawmaker and son of Prime Minister Hun Sen, said the accomplishment would earn Cambodia international respect. “I am proud to be a child of Cambodia, and today we have achieved a giant sticky rice cake, and the world will acknowledge that from now on.” Hun told an audience in Siem Reap.
“Our hard work comes from having a singular spirit and a single target to make a giant sticky rice cake to make the people and the international stage know what Cambodia is today and what can come from our unity,” he added.