Killing Fields by Danielle Cesar

Killing Fields

I started writing this as we drove away from the Killing Fields, just one of 20,000 mass grave sites in Cambodia. I choose to write this now because I wanted to accurately share the emotions of turmoil and immense sadness that coursed through me. I admit to being ignorant of Cambodia's genocidal history before adding it to my list of countries to visit. However upon arriving in Phnom Penh and a quick Google search of the sites I realized that this bloody history occurred less than 40 years ago. From the large population of orphans and high percentage of post traumatic symptoms in the population, the gruesome effects of the genocide carried out by the Khmer Rouge, led by Pol Pot are still felt today.

The first hand audio accounts of survivors tugged at my heart. Imagining the tortures and hearing the pain in the survivors’ voices as they recounted what occurred the filled me with sympathy and anger. “Hundreds of thousands were executed through drastic measures: pregnant women were cut open; plastic bags were tied over heads suffocating victims to death; and men, women and children were shot or buried alive. Others died of starvation and disease during forced urban evacuation and in brutal labor camps, where husbands, wives, and children were separated,” (Chung 2000). The “educated class” (doctors, lawyers, teacher, etc) anyone with an education that could read and write was housed and tortured in labor camps.

Security Prison 21

The torture primarily took place in a school that was renamed Security Prison 21, the classrooms were transformed into prison cells and torture chambers. Forms of torture included (but not limited to) drinking other inmates urine, electric shock, water boarding, rape, genital mutilation. Even on the brink of death prisoners were kept alive to be tortured more. Inhumane, vile and terrifying, I cannot begin to fathom how a person could perform such sadistic acts on another.

Skulls of victims found in mass graves

The killing fields brought me to tears. Hearing a survivor's account whilst walking through the mass graves I was no longer able to contain my emotions and sobbed with grief for the thousands that died.

Mass Grave Site

The killing fields are now described as a peaceful place to mourn the deaths of ancestors and the violent genocide but unfortunately I felt nothing but sorrow. It felt alive with all of the spirits of those murdered there. The babies who were held by their legs and heads smashed into trees, the women raped and bludgeoned to death, and the men beat over the head and throats slit.

The audio guide left you with a somber message. He said, “Never forget Cambia, Germany, Rwanda and even the genocide of the native Americans in America.” He urged us all learn from the mistakes of people who came before us and not to repeat their mistakes. In the wake of today's society I can only pray that the message reaches the masses and tolerance and acceptance is taught rather than revered.

Mass Grave Site

 When visiting Cambodia, stopping in Phnom Penh to visit Security Prison 21 and the Killing Fields is a necessity. Hire a “tuk tuk” driver for the morning and go to the prison first, the driver will wait for you and then take you to the Killing Fields (about 40min from the city) and finally bring you back to your hostel. This is the cheapest route and it costs about $11 USD, which can be split it amongst friends. Although depressing you begin to understand the turmoils that plague the nation today. Hopefully by learning about the history we can come together to continue the healing and rebuilding efforts in Cambodia.


To read more about the Cambodian Genocide:  http://www.ppu.org.uk/genocide g_cambodia1.html


Works Cited

Chung, Margaret. Intergenerational Effects of Genocidal Disaster among Cambodian Youth. National Association of Social Workers, Dec 2000. http://www.naswnyc.org/?339

An Amateur Traveler's Guide to Jakarta by Chris Lee

First off, incredibly excited to have this piece shared and to be supporting a great project from an even better friend!

Coming into Jakarta, I had no idea what to expect – a lot of friends had told me to try and avoid it because megacities never tend to have anything to do. So with a forty dollar flight ticket in hand and a close friend who was up for anything, we were practically looking for trouble in whatever corridor it may appear. With little plans and nothing to see in Jakarta, we made our way to Bogor, a city just a short ways away. It was there, at Hostel Bogor that the owner (who we affectionately called Mom) gave us an ultimatum; we could choose to see the regular museums around the area, or she could send us on a three day quest that she described as, “Impossibly confusing but really fun.” To us, this was taken directly as a challenge to our frail masculinity and was no longer a choice. Three days it is.

She drew out the instructions on the back of a crumpled piece of recycled paper – take three busses, hire a motorcycle to take you to the base, stay at the base camp, ascent the mountain and then do it in reverse. “An easy 6 hours” she laughed. That was a lie. Bags in hand and with little expectations, my friend and I walked out of the hostel feeling like Frodo and Sam in the Fellowship of the Ring.

Our first challenge was the busses. Out in rural Indonesia the concept of a bus is far different than in the West, anything can be a bus. If you slap a number on the back of your broken horse cart, you can officially operate as a bus driver and make some cash on the side. The only way we could identify which busses we needed to get to was via the three route numbers she had written – 3, 9, 6. Catching the first two busses was simple. We were able to deduce through Google Translate assisted conversations with locals where we should be getting on and off. But by the time we had reached our third bus, the language barrier and time was against us. We had overshot our bus stop riding the 9, the sun was setting and we had no way of getting back. Frantically, we came up with options – sleep in the local KFC, walk three or four hours back the opposite direction or ask the locals. Choosing the last option, we started asking around. After an hour of what felt like panhandling, someone finally responded to us – “stay at my house” he said. We knew for sure we were going to get kidnapped.

So there we were, riding on the back of a motorcycle of a man we had never met with complete trust that he wasn’t in the market for selling small immigrant boys. We arrived at his home and met his (incredibly lovely) family. We spoke few words past the initial “hellos” and soon he showed us to a room, a concrete floor with two single beds on it. Still better than a KFC washroom. Gratefully but cautiously, we fell asleep. To our surprise, we hadn’t gotten kidnapped at all, this man was just being incredibly nice to two foreigners he had never met before. In the morning, his wife was waiting with breakfast already cooked and we proceeded to ascend the mountain, hiring a guide to take us there. After seeing the incredible views, we made our way back through the rain to our salvation at Hostel Bogor. There, with bated breath we laid our bags down and went for some shut eye.

Reflecting back, what shocked me most about this trip wasn’t how crazy the circumstances were (and heaven knows how crazy they were). What shocked me the most is that we fully put our lives into the hands of five or six strangers and at the drop of a dime, any one of those people could have completely ruined us. For the most part, we were lost and had nobody understood what we were saying; we would have been in major trouble for sure. So apart from the memories, what I got from this was a lesson in humility and human kindness. The people with so little and so much more motivation to do us harm did quite the opposite and left an impression on me that I’ll never forget.

Being Black in Asia by Danielle Cesar

This is the fifth time I've started this post. Mainly because my feelings about the experience changes daily. Some days the attention is unwanted, creepy and makes me angry. Other days it's a mixture of childlike innocence and curiosity which touches my heart. And the rest of the time I don't want anyone to touch my hair, skin or take photos.

Being black in Asia you're on display ALL THE TIME! One would assume that due to the influx of tourism in recent years black people wouldn't be treated as a spectacle but unfortunately I've only seen a handful of black travelers since I started my journey so I understand why people are in such awe when they see us… I even catch myself staring sometimes.

Or asking for selfies - International Student, Omar in Malaysia 

My experiences as a black woman in Asia have been enlightening… It all started in India, men would constantly approach, asking for a photo or attempt to take one in a not so sneaky manner. This happened at all the monuments and on the beaches, while we were in swimsuits. The men in the photo below took photos of my classmates and I the entire time we were on the beach in Goa, India.

In the mountains of Chiang Mai, a group of men and women sitting around a fire were intrigued by my hair. As one of the men held up a twist and looked at it our tour guide translated their questions. How long did this take? Is it real? How often do you wash your hair?

After crossing the northern border between Thailand and Laos many people blatantly stared in awe. Although this area has an influx of tourist passing through I don't think many of them are black. My cousin and I were two out of 100 tourists that morning. A little girl, around the age of nine (working collecting money for the bathrooms) was extremely curious about my hair and asked if she could touch it. She was fascinated by my twists and wondered if I could do the same with her hair. Of course I obliged and twisted a section of her hair!

In Laos, as climbed out of the waterfall I looked up and there's an old Asian man with his phone trained on me, I yelled "No!" at him and he immediately lowered the phone in embarrassment. That however didn't stop his wife from coming over and asking for a selfie.

In the beach cities of Vietnam I had entire families run up to me and and ask for photos. In one instance, I was with a family of seven for five minutes taking pictures. Other days I just shake my head and keep walking.

Other than the constant staring, photos and the creeps who want to touch you or your hair, Blacks in Asia are treated just as fairly and equally as other tourists are. That's stating it nicely because everyone is trying to hustle you!

However more and more I feel like I'm on display like a zoo animal. There's nothing I can do to blend in or stop it so I try to just take it in strides and walk away if a situation is creepy….

When I got off the bus in Cambodia I was surprised by the variety of skin tones I saw. The people were extremely beautiful. Their skin colors ranged from Snow White to midnight and I fell absolutely in love with the Cambodian people. The further south you travel in Asia the more Asians you meet with darker skin tones. Although it is still a rarity to find cream, moisturizer or deodorant without whitening properties.

In Asia white skin is regarded as beautiful. Darker skin is associated with working outdoors and of a lower economic standing. In 95 degree weather the women are completely covered up without an inch of skin exposed in an attempt to protect their skin from darkening. Futhermore, I have not seen one dark skinned person featured in one advertisement, billboard or television program. The beauty stereotype that white is right and beautiful is deeply rooted in Asian culture and history.

I've realized that I'm an introverted extrovert. Sometimes I want to shine and be the center of attention, other times I want to hang back silently and observe. Being Black in Asia doesn't give me the luxury of blending in. Everywhere I go, I'm an anomaly. People stare, try to touch me, take photos, laugh, and point. I don't understand the language so I don't know if what they whisper to each other when they walk up to me and touch my hair or giggle in groups as I pass is good or bad. I do know that it makes me uncomfortable. It's taken me months to even understand how I felt and be able to write it down. I've had a range of emotions run through me, from anger to passivity to my current state of acceptance. I've resigned that I'll not let people see that their reactions to being in the presence of a black woman bother me. I will check them very quickly if they are disrepectful though.

Mainly I straighten my spine, square my shoulders, add an extra dose of swagger to my walk and hold my head up high. That way when they say they've seen a black woman, they'll say she radiated confidence and self love and when she walked through town she made it her own.

Falling for a Country by Danielle Cesar

You feel as if you've just grazed the surface, lusting to see and learn more, you were just beginning to peel back the layers of the country. A beautiful flaming fire has been ignited and nothing but experience can quench the thirst. A thirst for adventure, shared knowledge and true understanding. It aches to leave because I don't know if I'll ever see Vietnam again. The glorious mixture of this red and gold country will forever be etched into my mind as an experience to last a lifetime. Hopefully one day we meet again.

--

I spent two weeks in Vietnam traveling from the North to the South. Along the way I climbed mountains, explored secluded beaches, camped on the beach, hitch hiked scooter rides, practiced my bmx atv riding skills on sand dunes, ate jerk chicken at a beach bar called Little Kingston, went to the emergency room, learned how to ride a scooter, visited war museums and celebrated Tete and met some amazing people that have become lifelong friends. Vietnam was an incomplete experience, it's the one country that I need to go back to and see more of because there are so many layers to the people and culture.

  

Emergency Room Abroad by Danielle Cesar

Turns of I have pneumonia. A quick trip to the emergency room in De Nang, Vietnam and the doctor diagnosed me. I guess those freezing cold days and nights in Chiang Mai, Lau Prabang and Hanoi finally caught up to me. A cold I had for about a week turned into a cough and after speaking to my mother on the phone she insisted I go to the hospital. I dreaded going because I had no idea what to expect and thought i'd have the worst experience. My hotel front desk, Gold Hotel 2, recommended two hospitals. One rule that I live by is checking the review of a place before going, Google is your best friend. The first hospital had horrible reviews, the second one had immaculate reviews. Took a 15 minute taxi there, strolled into the ER, a nurse approached me right away and told me to lay down. They took my pressure, and the doctor came over and  started asking questions about my health history, checked my throat, listened to my lungs and diagnosed me with pneumonia. Needless to say I was in shock,  the doctor wrote me three prescriptions and filled them right there in the hospital, I paid 693,000 Vietnamese Dong for an examination and three antibiotics. That converts to just about $30 USD.

The only form that I was asked to fill out was writing my name, date of birth and country of origin on a blank piece of paper. I was in and out of the hospital in less than and hour. For a country that's considered developing, the health care was more affordable and accessible in comparison to America. Our healthcare system is expensive and elusive to those with low income. I was going through the tedious, confusing process of trying to get free health coverage before leaving for Asia. I didn't realize how fortunate I was to be covered by my parents plans or to receive health insurance through my job until I had to get malaria pills and typhoid shot. It took my doctor 5 minutes to administer the injection and write a prescription, it cost me around $350 USD for the drugs and another added expense to see the doctor. In contrast, Amoxicillin (a penicillin antibiotic that fights bacteria) and a variety of other medications can be purchased over the counter from any pharmacy in Asia for $15-$20 usd without a prescription. Travelers from other parts of the world have described the American healthcare system as a joke. “About 44 million people in America have no health insurance, and another 38 million have inadequate health insurance. This means that nearly one-third of Americans face each day without the security of knowing that, if and when they need it, medical care is available to them and their families,” (Glied 2015). Just maybe we can learn something from developing countries like Vietnam. I'm forever grateful because if left untreated pneumonia can kill you.


Citations

Glied, Sherry. The Uninsured. PBS, 2015. http://www.pbs.org/healthcarecrisis/uninsured.html

30 Day Affair by Danielle Cesar

       As I strolled along a secluded beach I realized that today marks one month that I've been traveling through Asia. It's ironic how quickly a month passes by and how much it changes you. It seems like a lifetime ago I said goodbye to my loved ones and hopped on a plane to India. A plane ride that marked the start of a grand life changing adventure. Four countries in one month: India, Thailand, Laos and now Vietnam. Already a lifetime of stories and experiences that I'll never forget. There's been a lot of great experiences; from seeing the Taj Mahal,  to bonding with my host family in Goa and attending a wedding between Dubai business people that's estimated cost was 10 million usd and that I was so underdressed for! Trekking to the top of the tallest mountain in Thailand, eating the most amazing dumplings from a street vender, visiting the spectacular waterfalls of Luang Prabang, Laos, and now finding myself on this empty beach in Danang, Vietnam with mountains looming in the distance and the sun starting to set.

        Of course the bad experiences always make for the most entertaining stories though! Let's start with diarrhea for 5 days in India, to a 12 hour infested roach train from Bangkok to Chiang Mai, then enduring such freezing weather that I'm still trying to recover from a cold two weeks later and a 24 hour bus ride from hell (Chiang Mai to Lau Prabang). I don't know what I'll encounter each day, it's always something new and that's what I love about traveling. Every day I wake up and feel like I'm dreaming. I have to keep reminding myself that this is my reality. Each experience is molding me into the woman I'm supposed to be and I can't wait to see what's in store for me throughout the next few months.

Taj Mahal

Taj Mahal

India Wedding

Sunset in Goa

Bus ride from hell hotel room

Bangkok

Out of Shape and Trekking by Danielle Cesar

When trekking through a rainforest and jungle you have a lot of time to reflect about your life. Throughout the trek in the Doi inthanon national park to the tallest mountain in Thailand, I realized how out of shape I am! Dripping with sweat in the freezing cold, thighs aching from the climb, breathing heavy and feeling slightly dizzy from the lack of oxygen, but my body hasn't felt more alive than it has in years! Even before I packed up my bags and left for Asia I knew sitting at a desk for 8 hours a day staring at a computer screen was not for me. Making it to the top of the tallest mountain in Thailand - 25,653,341 meters above sea level - even though there were times that I didn't think my body could take anymore but my mind persevered and I kept reminding myself that it would be amazing when I reached the top reminds me of my career. I know the road I'm traveling is grueling, but once I get to the place I want to be in life it will all be worth it.
                                   

On this day I feel as if I took back control of my body, my mind, my career. It's my life, I want to feel as alive in my workplace as I did when I reached the summit point on top of the mountain.