Heritage at the heart of Cambodia Heritage at the heart of Cambodia

Born in the time of the Khmer Rouge and later badly maimed when he stepped on a landmine, Bouth Rithy has come to symbolise the resilience of Cambodians who are moving forward and rebuilding their lives. Based at the remote temples of Koh Ker in northern Cambodia, the project manager for Heritage Watch is managing the impact of tourism on the local community, many of whom are still waking from the nightmare of the Khmer Rouge

Monday February 23rd 2009

Lead article photo

Rithy in the doorway of one of the Koh Ker temples. Photograph: Anthony Anderton

My father was in the Cambodian army; then one day when I was very young the Khmer Rouge came and took him away. He said he was only going to study, but he never returned. I don't know what happened, I only know that if he was alive he would have come back for us.

I remember a little of that time under the Khmer Rouge. Us children had to bring water to the workers and at one point I was chosen to be a guard at the watermelon farm – but I just sat there. I don't remember the Khmer Rouge itself very clearly. My younger brother fell ill and died during that time and my mother was sent to a farm near the Thai border.

When I was eight I went to school in Phnom Penh. A few years later I enrolled in a police training programme. I was underage, but in Cambodia it's easy to get around that. A year and a half later, as a police officer, I was moved to a patrol near the Thai border. That's where I stood on a landmine.

The mine took my leg off and destroyed my life. I had to start again from zero. It seemed that my family and friends didn't want to communicate with me. In those days it was very hard for disabled people; charities and the government have since done a lot to improve awareness. I moved back to Phnom Penh and received treatment in the police hospital. I was given a prosthetic limb and gradually I began to find a new life.

Before long I got a job as a security guard with a Catholic organisation called Maryknoll. I was bought a bicycle and sent to English classes. That's when my life started again. Now I can ride a motorbike, too, and even drive a car.

That was more than 10 years ago. Now I work for a preservation organisation called Heritage Watch. I'm based in northern Cambodia, among the temple ruins of Koh Ker. My job is to help raise money from tourism to help the local people.

The villagers here in Koh Ker are very poor – they suffer from a lack of education and bad living conditions. They were once firmly under the control of the Khmer Rouge, so they don’t talk very much. They're closed up and it's as if they don't understand communication very well; if you ask them a question they answer with only one or two words. If you don't ask, they don't talk.

However, in the time that I've been here the people seem to have become friendlier and more open. I try to work with them to give them emotional support and to make them less scared of talking to people.

Not long ago Heritage Watch decided to provide them with some training. We taught them about Khmer culture and literature, how to read and write and how to run a business. People here don't know about business. If they sell a chicken, for example, they don’t care how big the chicken is, it will be the same price. We also gave them English lessons to help them communicate with the tourists. We did well, but ran out of funding.

When visitors come to Koh Ker they tend to be on organised tours, and they don't have enough time to see all of the temple complex. We would like to see tourism agencies scheduling in visits to the village so that tourists can see the daily activities of the community. That way the locals might gain some benefit from the visits – even if it's only one dollar.

When I first arrived here the villagers didn't seem interested in the temples, and they certainly didn't understand that they could make money from them like in Angkor Wat. We explained to them why they should be more active in protecting their local heritage, and that when they went into the fields and saw looting or illegal logging they should tell the police or the relevant protection authorities.

We bought them bicycles and set up a "community heritage patrol", encouraging them to go out every day and report any illegal activities. We don't ask them to interfere with the looters or loggers, however, as they might have guns and it would be too dangerous.

My biggest success so far has been getting the local people to understand and work together with the protection and management authority for Angkor and Siem Reap, known as Apsara. Before, if the locals witnessed looting, they wouldn't know who to tell. Now, between 50 and 70 villagers are employed by the authority. The money helps to buy clothes for the children or pay for hospital visits.

There are still some landmines around, but not as many as before. The Cambodian Mine Action Centre, or CMAC, has been busy removing unexploded ordinance from the war. It's a dangerous job for them and their children, who live with them all the time as they move from place to place. Mines are the main cause of disability in Cambodia, although traffic accidents are becoming another big cause.

I got married seven years ago and have two children – one daughter, six, and one boy, four. They have the same birthday. They don't live here with me, but I call my wife every day on the mobile phone and see them when I visit Phnom Penh. Three months ago they came to visit me. They thought the temple was impressive, but couldn't understand how I live here. It's very quiet, there is no market and no healthcare; I have to do everything for myself. Before I came here I couldn't cook or prepare food, but now I can. I've learned a lot. Read more!