The Cambodian landmine museum

Viking Eric and Anna recommended a visit to the Landmine Museum, as a place to see an underground, yet vicious aspect of life's daily struggle for today's rural Cambodians. It is a far more memorable and worthwhile place to see than Angkor.

Lying somewhere behind the Angkor Wat ticket office, it was quite difficult to find the Landmine Museum without signposts; the authorities remove them as they regard the anti-landmine information being displayed there as dangerous. As Andy and I mooched through a poor village on our electric bikes (now there's transport genius! - cycling with a big battery that charges up through the day and gives you a moped ride home) we saw lots of shacks, families with very little possessions and a couple of signs like this:

And then at the end of a dusty track near fields we came across the place. We were greeted by a welcome sign portraying a skull and cross-bones and a mine-maimed child. It wasn't any prettier inside.
Welcome sign

Probably better titled 'Landmine Awareness Museum', we were greeted at the entrance by a teenager on crutches to compensate for one missing leg, and a gaggle of scruffy, pot-bellied toddlers who were fascinated by, and snotting all over, the bells and headlights on our electric bikes. Behind and around the main wooden shelter were piles of diffused personnel mines, anti-tank mines and rocket shells now being utilised as plant pots. One 500lb (250kg) bomb was stood up near the courtyard area, and proudly displayed its

U

S

A

tattoo.

Garden

The wooden shack walls are plastered with newspaper cuttings, and internet printouts and factsheets containing statistics, facts and horrors of the world's landmines, manufacturing countries and biggest purchasers. In the garden, a chicken pottered and pecked the rusty teeth of a giant human snare trap, and another conquored a mound of anti-tank devices.

Krypton Factor assault course for chickens

The toddlers had finished glooping their snot stalactites all over my bike handlebars and were now and were chasing each other around a billboard with write-ups and accompanying photos of a dozen or so children. These children are the maimed ones running this museum, living and receiving education here as a better life than if they'd remained with their poor families. Srey Born is one example:

Srei's accident took place when he was 8 yrs old. He was alone collecting firewood for his family to cook with. He stepped on a mine. It took 1 day before he was able to reach a hospital by ox-cart. He lost his leg. He arrived at the landmine museum in 2002. His mother begged for Aki Ra and his wife to take him and treat him as their son, because she was going to Thailand to earn some money. She didn't know if she'd ever come back. Srei was malnourished and had had little schooling.

etc

These children have all been adopted by the founder of this landmine museum, Aki Ra, who was out today diffusing landmines. Aki Ra was a former Khmer Rouge soldier and current mine-remover, who has always been thrown into prison several times by the authorities for keeping this landmine awareness place/orphanage open. Amongst the landmine information sheets is a hand-written notice on an A4 sheet of paper addressed specifically to Lonely Planet readers, informing that the government in fact had no problem with this landmine museum or Aki Ra. I wonder whether he has been forced to display this. On an exterior wall are some of his paintings reflecting memories of the Khmer Rouge days:

Khmer Rouge soldiers feeding their pets

Intellectuals being shown how to farm by the Khmer Rouge

A small area is being used as a shop, from where I bought landmine awareness T-shirts and sew-on badges supporting MAG, the Mines Advisory Group (that the band Elbow do a great job of supporting, see: http://www.mag.org.uk/page.php?s=4&p=399
http://www.elbow.co.uk/biography.asp ). Although a little steeply priced compared to local market merchandise, I was reassured by the idea the profits would be going towards the housing and education of the group of teenage and young twenties girls, with odd numbers of limbs, giggling on a bench to my left. But dollar from T-shirts isn't much compensation for them never being able to be wives or mothers, due to the landmine injuries they were so cruelly dealt when once innocently playing or looking for fire wood!

We said our "Okun tom tom"s - 'Thank you big big' to the crowd of urchins that came to wave us away, and had to try and enjoy the rest of our day at Angkor.

Guilty parties: the King of clubs is a particular nasty piece built and exported to Cambodia by the U.S.A, the 2 of clubs a stylish Italian number.