Gecko Tales

The Proud Palm Tree

On a peninsula in Southeast Asia lies a country once called “Kampuchea,” meaning “The Land of Gold.” During the colonial period the French called it “Cambodge,” a name that later evolved into “Cambodia.” There are a lot of palm trees in most farming fields in Cambodia. One day our Training of Timothys team was returning from a seminar on unity in Kompong Thom. On the way back to Phnom Penh my team asked me, “Let’s stop for a while to shoot a rabbit (i.e., find a rest room).” So I stopped the car and we went to “shoot a rabbit” or “see a man about a dog,” and I noticed a palm tree with another kind of tree growing on it. That was interesting! The tree was called Chrey in Cambodian.

As I mentioned in my last article,[1] some Cambodian farmers consider the bamboo and palm tree to be husband and wife. The palm tree is very useful. It can be used for building houses, barns, boats, and farming tools. Its leaves can be used to thatch roofs, make hats, mats, containers for rice crops, etc. Its juice can produce sugar, its fruit can be cooked as food, and when it ripens the palm can be used to make Akor and other kinds of cake.

So the palm tree is very useful from root to leaves, just as is the bamboo. Its trunk is strong and hard. It has sturdy roots. Storms only rarely can cause a palm tree to fall. Its leaves look dark green all year round, similar to a pine tree or Christmas tree. It does not change color as the seasons pass. That is why owners of some five-star hotels and other buildings in Phnom Penh plant palm trees in their yards as decorations. They not only add beauty to the hotel, but also invite people caught up in a rat-race society to think about the peaceful countryside lives of Cambodian farmers. In the 1998 election one political party chose the palm tree as its emblem. Perhaps they thought they could focus the attention of the Khmer people on the strength of the tree and the unchanging evergreen color of its leaves, and so win people’s hearts and votes.

I also agreed with that idea! Most Cambodians artist express similar feelings by including palm trees in their paintings of countryside scenery. The palm tree is a strong and useful plant in Cambodia. It can stand firm whether in flood or in storm or in dry season, and it also stands symbolically as a national tree.

But the palm tree will die if there is some dirt on it, even though it is so proud with its beauty and its strength. If the farmer does not come to cut the leaves and they stay attached, some dirt may accumulate where they attach to the trunk. Birds will drop into this dirt on the palm tree their stools carrying seeds of fruits they have eaten. When the rainy season comes, these small seeds will germinate and grow. At first they look too small to bother the tall palm tree. Maybe the palm even looks proud of having two kinds of tree growing together.

But as the years fly by the other tree grows bigger and bigger. Eventually the palm can’t get enough of the nutrients that its roots absorb from the ground because the other tree sucks them all away. The palm tree then becomes malnourished, and before long dies.

When we had World Vision staff retreat in Siem Reap two years ago we visited a ruined temple. I noticed that some of the temple walls had been destroyed by the same kind of tree I saw growing on the palm tree. Its root had split the stones from sticking close together. As long as the stones stayed close together the wall looked good, and the beauty of each relief it bore vividly reflected the civilization of the Khmer Empire. In order to save the temple from falling apart the Ministry of Tourism had workers cut the root of the tree away. Most of the ruin was destroyed by a root that grew between the stones of the temple. These trees had flourished during the long years of the civil war when no visitors came to see the temple. Cambodia was cut off from the world for nearly two decades. Neither local nor overseas visitors came to the temples during the time of the killing fields. So not only were people killed during that time, even the stones were badly damaged.

It reminded me of the relationship that God and his people once enjoyed. In the beginning man and God were close companions, but after the fall of Adam and Eve, sin entered this world and separated man from his creator. For the wages of sin is death. In order to fix the broken relationship sin must be dealt with first. It is like the stone wall at Angkor Wat. To save it from destruction they need to send some agent from the Ministry of Tourism to cut the root. When it first started growing the root looked very small, but as time went by it grew bigger and bigger. The longer it stayed the worse the damage it caused to the relief.

Sin at first starts very small, but as time passes its results grow worse and worse. Unrepented sin will ruin a relationship. As Christians please remember the lesson from the palm tree. Don’t be proud that we are strong, that we the palm tree are the symbol of the country—the chosen race or kin, and that they use us to decorate five-star hotels. Don’t be thrilled with the beauty and honor that we are given. If we forget to allow garden keeper to take away our old leaves we will become dirty, or birds will drop something on us. As an English saying reminds us, “We cannot stop birds from flying over our heads, but we can stop them from building their nests on our heads.”

We have to confess our sins to God. But if we confess our sins to God, he will keep his promise and do what is right: he will forgive us our sins and purify us from all our wrongdoing.[2] If we allow sin grow bigger and bigger we can never come the presence of the Lord and we will perish like a palm tree.

The same can happen in the relationships between friends and churches if we allow sins to grow between us. Like the stone wall at Angkor Wat, our relationship will fall apart. Beware of roots that start to grow between the stones that the builder originally placed close together. When the stones remain close together, they become the image of the four faces at Bayon or Apsara, and they look beautiful. But when tree roots grow in between, the original shape with its beauty and meaning is lost. Not only does it look ugly, but the whole temple may fall as well. Make sure you cut away the roots.

My friends, Jesus wants to fix the broken relationship with all humankind. God and man used to have a very close relationship. But sin separated us from God, and caused that relationship to break down. Because the sacred relationship between God and man broke, all other types of relationships have turned sour as well. Relationships between husband and wife, children and parents, brothers and sisters, nation and nation, race and race, etc., became spoiled and turned into in a mess. Why? It caused by SIN. But people, races, and societies can live in harmony if they allow Jesus cut off the root of sin. He is the only name that can save mankind.[3] He is the farmer who can clean the palm tree to keep it from being destroying by an invading plant. He is the agent from the Ministry of Tourism who can dig out the roots growing between stones of the ruin

Conclusion:

· Palm trees can live long and stay strong if they have no other tree growing in their stem.

· Christians can stand strong in their faith if they don’t allow sin to grow bigger and bigger in their lives.

· Stones in old ruins can still look beautiful if they stay close to the original place where they were put.

· All kinds of relationships can be in harmony if sin is dealt with first.

My name is Seila Uon and I was born on January 1, 1960. I was raised in a Buddhist farming family in Tong Neak Village, Baphnom District and Prey Veng Province in the Kingdom of Cambodia. I am the oldest in my family and I have five siblings. My village was very primitive and there was no pre-school therefore I was enrolled to the primary school when I was 8 years old.

In March 18, 1970 Cambodia was thrown into a state of civil turmoil because our King, Norodom Sihanouk, was overthrown by his defense minister, Lon Nol, while he was out of the country. This coup de tat was organized and encouraged by the United States in order to ensure an official invitation for an American presence in Cambodia during the Vietnam War era. It was a short lived presence as the American Congress pulled all troops out of Cambodia by the end of 1971, with exception of a handful of military advisors. My school was closed during this time for a while because most of the teachers went to Phnom Penh for a mass demonstration in favor of the return of the King. Some teachers went into the forest to join with the movement of the Sihanoukists. Cambodia was at war and school became irregular at best. In other word it was off and on. In Cambodia during the early seventies, factions and armies fighting in Cambodia were, FANK (Lon Nol Republic), Khmer Rouge, Khmer Vietminh, US Armed Forces, North Vietnamese, Viet Cong and the South Vietnamese

In January 31, 1971 around 2:00 PM two American Aircrafts roared over my village, dropping 24 bombs. My house was blown up into the air. Hundreds of chickens, dozens of pigs and other livestock were killed. My family’s rice paddy became smoking craters and then ponds.

I wondered why the Americans did such a thing to my village? From that moment on I became a refugee, though I was only eleven years old. Moving from the province to the city was hard for refugee families like ours, especially for my father who had to support my schooling. So my father sent me to stay and learn with the Buddhist monks at the Botum Waddei pagoda. I felt hatred toward the Americans because I was separated from my parents, brothers and sisters, and especially my home village where it used to be peaceful and pleasant. As a village boy I used to tend the cattle and sit on the backs of cows and sing happily. Now I found myself as a city boy—a Khmeng Wat, (pagoda boy)—who had to wake up a 4:00 a.m. to sell bread along the streets in Phnom Penh. These streets were sometimes deserted and quiet because of sporadic Khmer Rouge shelling. I was fearful, but my business went well because people feared the shelling and so stayed home. They did not venture out to eat Koy Teo (noodle soup) in storefront restaurants, so they bought my bread instead as I walked the streets yelling, “Nompang, Nompang, Pang-Pang, Sreuy Lahawe, Kadow!”

Life grew harder and harder. I woke at 4:00 a.m. to sell bread and had to return by 7:30 a.m. to attend school. Sometimes my business did not go well. I was late for school and got punished by my teacher. The more I suffered in the city, the more I missed my country life—and the more I hated the war and the Americans. I was looking forward to Khmer Rouge coming and liberating this city that was rife with the corruption of the American-backed Lon Nol regime. My family became refugees in my own country. Even though I had a father and mother, I lived my life as an orphan refugee-street urchin.

At last, on April 17, 1975, around 9 o' clock in the morning after intensive shelling and fighting from the two previous days, the Khmer Rouge invaded Phnom Penh. I heard the news in the radio in which Khmer Rouge broadcast saying that war is over but about the announcement did not seem quite right. They said the war was over and that they won not by negotiating but by the flowing of blood. It was both sweet and bitter. I was overjoyed that I could return to my home village and study in the school I used to attend, and I contemplated the hope of seeing all of my schoolmates there.

Before the Khmer Rouge invaded the city, they pounded it with artillery. At first, I was happy and looking forward to returning home. However, I lost my father in the artillery barrage. Hearing that he had been injured and suspecting that he had died, my mother turned back to look for him, leaving me in charge of my five siblings. At age 15, I was the oldest of six in our family, and so became I became the head of my family during the forced evacuation from Phnom Penh. I led my two sisters and three brothers on a trek from Phnom Penh to Kompong Trabek, Prey Veng Province. I heard nothing from my mother. One sibling cried for rice, another for water, and the smallest for breast milk, because when my mother left us she thought that it would only be for a short time. That is why she left my youngest brother with me. The evacuation from Phnom Penh was hard. I hated the Americans.

Finally we arrived at my childhood village. What I had looked forward to did not happen. The villagers labeled me a pro-American imperialistic betrayer of the village. Now it was like jumping from the frying pan into the fire. Life was excruciatingly hard under Khmer Rouge. We endured continual intimidation and verbal persecution. What I expect to be better living situation in my home village was even worse. In three years, eight months and twenty days under the Communist Khmer Rouge was brutal. The Khmer Rouge authorities that charged my family of escaping from my village to support the puppet government of American imperialists accused me. I was sent to the mobile camp where I was forced to work hard. There was no school for me to pursue my studies.

I slowly began to realize that the Americans had tried their best to save my country from the communists. I began to feel deep love for the USA. Every moment I thought about America. Deep down in my soul and my spirit, a kinship for Americans became rooted in my whole being. I longed to go there (Here our friend Seila is very deluded-Ed).

On January 7, 1979, the Vietnamese soldiers liberated Cambodia from the Communist Khmer Rouge. I hoped my country would be at peace but the war continued to rage along the border in the western part of the country. I was under yet another communist regime and I was asked to join the military, which was the last thing I wanted to do so I decided to escape to the Thai/Cambodia border camps hoping to be repatriated to the USA.

In 1981, I traveled to the Thai/Cambodian border to try to get to America. In the refugee camp people asked me if I would be willing to go to Australia, France, Canada, or some other country. I said, “No, the only one country I want to go to is America.” I ended up stuck in the camps in Thailand for 12 years, where I committed my life to following Christ as my Lord and Savior through YWAM’s (Youth With A Mission) ministry, and never got that chance to go to the United States.

In 1989 I decided to work with Campus Crusade for Christ as an evangelist team leader in Site 2, the biggest Camp in Thailand, where I was chosen to be a pastor of a church.

At last on March 10, 1993, I was repatriated to Cambodia and decided to stay in Phnom Penh ever since. I started working with YWAM again. I attended one of the churches in the city. I help the church as a translator for seminars, which are led by missionaries from Malaysia or Singapore. I served in the church as leader of the elder committee. I chose not return to my home village because I did not want to face the intimidation of 1975 all over again.

In October 1995, I was invited by Scripture Union to attend SU institutes and SU Camp. After returning from SU camp in Malaysia I start working as a council member for SU and was instrumental in calling together nationals and missionaries to organize Cambodia’s first National Youth camp under Cambodia Christian Service’s Youth Commission. I also pioneered the movement of teaching sexual awareness from a Biblical perspective to Christian Youth, encouraging them remain pure in the midst of a sexual revolution where many young people are dying of HIV/AIDS. Each year I led a workshop during youth camp about Boy and Girl Relationships. Using some of the material Scripture Union had given me, I wrote book on Sexual Awareness in the Khmer language and taught from this book in all the forums the EFC Youth Commission had such as Youth Camps, Sexual Awareness Seminars, Regional Youth Seminars and Provincial Youth Seminars.

In February 14, 1999, I was moved from YWAM to work as an Assistant to the Leadership Development Coordinator in Training of Timothies project in World Vision. I presently serve as the Director of the EFC Youth Commission of (Evangelical Fellowship of Cambodia). I am also a contributing member of the Committee of Children at Risk commission of EFC.

By Mr. Uon Seila, edited by Brian Maher

Greetings Folks,

The last time we met, I think we left off at the Andong Relocation Village with the Eastside Churches from Seattle wrestling with “in yer face” issues of poverty, disease and human suffering. Originally, the ESC (Eastside Consortium) of Seattle was a pioneering experiment conceived by Brian Sellers-Petersen (BS-P) of World Vision as he brought together churches in the same local arena into partnership with each to do Vision trips through World Vision-US and World Vision-Cambodia. “BS-P” left and my long-time friend and coach, Jim Schmick became the US facilitator and I was asked to be the Cambodian facilitator. Originally, First Presbyterian of Bellevue, Westminster Chapel, and Overlake were the heavy weights but over time, the ESC morphed into a tight tag team of First Pres and Calvin Pres. The partnership no longer includes much engagement with World Vision, as WV is just not set up for mission trips.

The New and Improved ESC group later visited Unicas Orphanage where they found another one of our Youth Commission Diamond Program grads. They did some skits and played with the children, and had too much fun for Presbyterians. Then they hit the dusty and bumpy Route 1 toward the ‘Nam border where they did skits, puppet shows, taught English, and did some sports in Seila’s home village. Both Pres churches have been developing the infrastructure of this village for a while now, and the improvements are having a positive impact and people credit this to the God called Jesus. Back to Phnom Penh, and then onto Kompong Cham to visit the Youth Commission’s Satellite office in the provincial city. They were able to take part in the launch our first Provincial Diamond Program. From Kompong Cham, they left to visit WV sponsor children in Kompong Thom, visited Angkor Wat, and returned to PP where I met up with them again. On their last day, Dr. Kek Galabru of Licadho led five of the group of 11 to Pray Sar Prison on the Kandal Province along with myself and Lok Kru Seila (my partner in crime). We were first briefed by the warden then give a tour of the prison starting with the woman’s ward, of whom many had their children up to 8 years old with them living in the prison. There was no one on the outside that was able to take care of their children. Imagine having spent your formative years growing up inside a prison. Beriberi, Tuberculosis, and HIV/AIDS were prevalent. Not one person in the entire prison had been given a blood test for HIV/AIDS. I visited the infirmary which was full of women with HIV/AIDs symptoms and their babies. Again I couldn’t resist and I held their babies. And, by the way, most of these women contracted AIDS from their unfaithful husbands. We visited the juvenile ward where young men from 14 to 18 were housed. The van driver and I went into some cells to visit with the inmates. Many of the prisoners in the medium security areas were doing long sentences for petty crimes while most of the rich elite live off their billions (yes billions, don’t doubt it) of corruption, drug, and foreign aid money with immunity. We were shown some workshops done for prisoners in one section of the prison and lo and behold, there was one of our first year DP students teaching literacy to prisoners. We chatted with him briefly and we had known that before he became a follower of Jesus, that he, too, had been a prisoner in jail. In the next classroom over, Prison Fellowship was teaching a Bible Study from the book of John. We were not allowed in the maximum security area but that didn’t matter much, from talking to many prisoners, I understood that many of these prisoners were unjustly or wrongly convicted and even those convicted of stealing a mango because they were hungry, are serving sentences unbefitting of the crime.

Our van driver was a Jesus Follower and he quoted me this verse which to me is the most clearest articulation of the gospel in the Bible.

Luke 4:18-19: "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."

A Western Reductionist/Individualist Gospels says that because of Jesus we can have our individual sins forgiven and enjoy eternity in heaven with God (Its all about me). A Biblical gospel begins with the proclamation that the Kingdom of God has arrived in the person of Jesus in the flesh and has been inaugurated by Jesus among the rule of humans and this Kingdom is especially good news for the poor, oppressed and the outcasts who all other forms of human rule or government have historically oppressed through power, corruption and violence. This Kingdom is a Kingdom with totally opposite values of human institutions, and also some of own “Christian” churches as well. God’s rule is here, but not yet fully realized.

Because of our exposure and partnership with a secular human rights group called Licadho which God seems to working through, we have been exposed to the heart of God at both Andong and Prey Sar Prison. Both Seila and I are convinced that our youth work must incorporate some of these Kingdom focuses on those outcasts who have suffered gross injustices at the hand of the rich and powerful. The ESC will be exploring ways in how they can have their hearts further broken by the things that breaks the heart of God as well.

They Admitted They Were Aliens

The short-term team of nine arrived intact from Seattle, and the next day we found ourselves being led by Dr. Kek Galabru of Licadho (A Human Rights Organization) out to a relocation camp called “Andong Village” which was a few kilometers beyond the airport. A year and half before, almost 8000 homeless people from all over Cambodia were living in simple structures on a few acres along the riverside in Phnom Penh until one day the government swept them all up, bulldozed their thatch and plastic homes, and shipped them to the outskirts of Phnom Penh (beautification of the riverside for tourism purposes). Relief Organizations provided plastic tarps, wood, and basic staples. UNICEF provided some clean water. Today, the clean water is gone and the people are drinking pond water. The Relief organizations have come and gone. Finding work 15 kilometers away in the city is prohibitive. We walked circumspectly down the trail into the tree-less village, avoiding cow paddies, human waste, and half burned garbage. As the heat cranked up, so did the various smells that accompanied so many people living on about three acres of land. IDPs, they call them: Internally Displaced People. Refugees and aliens in their own country, not knowing if this make-shift camp will be their permanent home or if there will be a better place in the future. They are looking for a better place. The government keeps making promises of a better place.

Chapter eleven of Hebrews is often said to contain the “Heroes of the Faith.” If you take a close look at them, they were all quite messed up in one sense or another, and one might wonder in what way should we make them role models? Gideon’s cowardice, Abraham’s lying, Noah’s drunkenness, Samson’s appetite for forbidden women, Jephthah’s illegitimacy, Moses’ lack of God confidence, Rahab’s career, David’s lust, lies, and murder, etc— these were some raw characters. But heroes they were, in that according to Hebrews 11:13; “All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. They admitted they were aliens and strangers on the earth, longing for a better country—a heavenly one.”

What was it about these swarthy characters’ faith that caused the writer of Hebrew to overlook their sin and character faults in order that they might be classified as heroes?

Might it be that they took extreme risks with their own lives for their faith? That they under went some serious suffering for their faith? Or was it that their identity wasn’t shaped by a culture gone awry. They knew who they were; resident aliens on a life-long journey with a mind-set that kept them unsettled, restless, and looking not to settle down into this life, but looking beyond it to something better. They had no idea where they were going but they were trusting God to get them there. Their journey was full of pitfalls and setbacks, and was also marked by sacrifice, risk, and looking past their intrinsic need for comfort and security.

Like foreigners looking quite out of place, male, female, old, young, short, tall, thin, stout, and some balding, we walked down the first alley of the shanty town basted in sun screen and bug repellant, wearing caps or bush hats. We were met by young mothers with babies. Some of the mothers had that thousand-yard stare look to them, and most could no longer provide breast milk for their nursing children. One young mother’s feet were crippled by polio, and another young mother had a heart defect and had trouble breathing. Their small babies were suffering from malnutrition, dehydration, and diarrhea. Many were widows or women are had been divorced. The mothers begged for milk and medicine. Dr. Galabru, a Cambodian woman in her sixties was on her cell phone constantly trying to get clean water and some milk delivered. The Cambodian doctor she brought along was busy the whole time. That day I held my share of tiny babies, but I couldn’t help wondering, what will I catch, Lice, Tuberculosis? None of these babies wore diapers, either. I was taking a risk but was ashamed for thinking about myself in the midst of their suffering. What is real faith without risk? I think of again of Hebrews 11, then John the Baptist, Jesus, the Apostles, the Disciples and the early church up until the time of Constantine.

Some may wonder why the church in the Northern Hemisphere is declining while great growth is being experienced in South America, Africa, and parts of Asia. Could one of the reasons for this decline be that risk is no longer associated with our faith, and that personal piety has replaced mission?

Still being a product of western culture my self, I find it is quite frustrating at times, to wait and contemplate the promises of God from afar because contemporary marketing promises to deliver whatever I want right now. Global capitalism promises to deliver me comfort, security, and instant respectability through their products. It’s hard to hold out for the best, especially when risk is called for.

Cambodian Pastor, Sambo, was preaching on the verse, “Seek Ye First the Kingdom of God…” as many Cambodia Christians are jumping ship to churches that are backed by money, or getting jobs in Christian organizations that are pretty cushy. The pastor was encouraging his flock not to become a domesticated group of Christians, but to seek God’s will first, rather than spending time and effort to make sure their lives are properly cushioned. He related a conversation with a policeman about why the police weren’t doing their jobs; “It’s like this Pastor; one time there was a King in a palace that had a big problem with mice. He was planning a big anniversary celebration and he did not want any dignitaries, diplomats, other royalty, or any guests to see that he had a problem with vermin. The King’s Palace managers went out and hired a veteran cat who served in many animal wars. It was his job to clean up the palace. Before the celebration the veteran cat went to every mouse hole and gave the leading mouse three days of food and told him to stay tucked away for a few days until after the celebration. This went on for years, and the King never saw any mice during a party, or celebration. The cat advanced in rank until he was a full colonel. He then he retired but still lived on the premises. The King hired a new cat with only a tour of duty or so under his belt. The new recruit wanted to impress the retired cat so during his first day on the job he eradicated the entire palace of mice. The lucky few mice that managed to escape were so terrified that they were wont to ever return again. After a few months the new cat was given a pink slip because he wasn’t needed anymore; the palace was clean of mice. The old Colonel cat slept soundly on his mat.” The policeman said to the pastor, “So which kind of cat do you think we should be?”

Pastor Sambo was using the illustration to ask his congregation, “What kind of Christian do you want to be, a resident alien, or settler? The Biblical Metaphor, ‘resident alien’ is first found when Sarah dies and Abraham asks the Hittites for a burial site.

No too many of us have literally been resident aliens so it might difficult to relate well to this metaphor, but it part of the Christian identity is rooted in having resident alien status.

What would it look like for the church in the Northern Hemisphere to take the mantel of being a resident alien? Being a resident alien is not all that comfortable because all of us have the need to belong or to feel at home in our culture or the culture that hosts us. We all intrinsically need to know where we belong, and how we fit in. Since the Cambodian culture is not our own culture, Debbi and I are constantly forced to engage our host culture, and this is difficult because all our normal cultural support is not there to tell us what to do, or how to be. How do I discern what it means to be me in this culture when all my cultural support which I have taken for granted is no longer available to me? Whether it is me in Cambodia or you in your country, both of us should strive to understand our culture and the cultural expectations. Being aware of how our culture shapes us as a person will teach us much about ourselves. It will challenge and stretch us. This has been our journey and we have been shaped greatly by it.

There is good news for the church in the Northern Hemisphere and that is that it is no longer counted as a pillar of society as it had been since the days of the Puritans. I guess that could mean bad news to some but it is back on the edge, back on the margins of society, back where it was in the first century, back where faith meant risk, and risk was blessed abundantly. The church in the Northern Hemisphere has been tagged irrelevant in the new millennium and has been marginalized. The good news is that the church in the Northern Hemisphere doesn’t have to cross oceans to be missional because there is a whole new generation of post-moderns under 35 who know little or nothing about Jesus or his offer of Kingdom citizenship. Granted, these young people will not accept an institutional form of church, but they might want to follow Jesus with their own cultural expression. It might be time for us to look around on the margins where we have been placed to see who our new neighbors are. Rather than try to restore the respectability we enjoyed during days gone by, we might reach out to our new unrespectable marginalized neighbors who are probably looking for a better place.

There was a bigger risk in holding those babies than lice or disease. I can’t stop thinking about them and I don’t know where that is going to lead! And I didn’t you tell that when we first entered the village that we were greeted by one of our former Diamond Project Students who had set up a church on the edge (the margin) of the settlement with the help of Dr. Frank Cho of InnerChange (a part of CRM) where they run a clinic certain hours during the week. Pastor Abraham has made many friends and inroads into the shanty-town. Something about being out on the margin, the edge, with the marginalized that seems to work.

I met my Hebrew Chapter 11 Heroes at the resettlement village of Andong last Saturday, both believing (Abraham) and yet to believe (Licadho President and staff).

At dawn the eastern sky glows bright red from the sunrise. Birds sing, and trees sway in the gentle summer breeze from the south. A long, dusty trail winds through the countryside about eight kilometers off National Route One from Phnom Penh to Vietnam. It is 1967; a little peaceful village, Tong Neak, stretches along the trail.

As a farmer, I enjoyed country life very much. Every morning my favorite job was feeding the poultry. I took a bowl, scooped up grains of rice, and spread it in the yard in front of my house. Here come roosters, hens, ducks, drakes, and geese! How happily they cluck, crow, and quack as they eat their food! I liked to do this kind of job very much, and did not wait until my parents told me to do it. I especially loved the chicks.

As time passed my chicks matured into cocks or roosters. One day I wanted to see my roosters fight each other, but they would not do so because they were siblings. They knew one another very well because they had grown up as a family. Then an old man living next door gave me an idea.

“Do you want to see your roosters fight each other?” he asked.

“I do; please help me,” I pleaded. As a boy living in the countryside with nothing to play with I wanted to play with something. So I decided to get excited by watching my roosters fighting one another. “What can I do to get my roosters to fight each other?” I keep asking him.

He inquired, “Does your mother have a frying pan in your kitchen?”

“Yes, she does. I see it hanging up on the wall.”

“Go get a knife, scratch the black stuff from the frying pan, and apply it to the cheeks of the roosters you want to fight,” he instructed me.

Because I fed them every day, my roosters were so tame that I could catch them any time I wanted. So I began to make the sound I usually did when feeding them—Kru-u-u-u-u-uh! They recognized my sound and came closer to me as their friend. I took a bowl of rice grains, put some in my hand, and started to call my roosters. They came out of the bananas trees around the house. They came with a happy sound. They believed I was going to feed them again. I am sure some of them wondered why their master was calling them again? But others might not doubt at all, because they knew I was someone who fed them.

Finally I spotted two roosters that were similar in weight and height, so I took them in my hand. I start to rub the black stuff from my mother’s frying pan onto their cheeks. I rubbed one, then the other, and finally let them go. Before long they started to fight their own sibling with whom they had grown up in the same nest. They did not realize that the other was a sibling. They could not recognize the other any more because of the black stuff I put on their faces. They fought and fought an hour or so. Each was soon severely bleeding on its face.

The other animals stood in astonishment to see roosters from the same nest fighting one another. Pigs, dogs, ducks, and cats might wonder why their master did not help separate them. They did not know that I wanted to see them fight one another.

Soon the other boys from my neighborhood came to watch and shout with joy. They praised me for being so clever and providing them some exciting entertainment. Some of the boys helped wash one rooster from its bleeding. The fight kept on and on until neither bird could stand. Finally I decided to stop my game, because I was afraid that if my father came home and saw what I had done he might not be happy.

The next morning one of them was in a serious condition. It could not eat its food because of a cut on its beak. It stood under a banana tree like a man with malaria covered with blanket. When my father found out about the incident he was angry. He scolded me—not because we lacked chickens, but because he said we were Buddhist. He told me it is a sin to harm somebody’s life, even an animal’s life. We believe there will be life after death, and if we do something wrong in this life we will suffer its consequences in the next. He said that in the next life I will be fool, fight my brother, and suffer like the two cocks of mine.

To end their suffering my father had them killed and cooked as our food. He did that both to end the roosters’ suffering and to shorten my punishment in the next life (because the longer the roosters suffered, the longer I would have to suffer). I was frightened when I heard my father speak about hell. But if I behaved well, I would receive good in my next life.

Thinking about how my roosters fought one another reminded me of Cambodia’s situation after more than two decades of war. We Cambodians have been like roosters raised in one nest, yet fighting our compatriots because we were painted either red (Khmer Rouge) or blue (Khmer Serei). The superpower from the free world painted us blue (calling us “Freedom Fighters”), while the superpower from the communist bloc painted us red (calling us “Khmer Rouge”).

Whether Khmer Rouge or Khmer Blue we are still Khmer—but we fought one another nearly two decades. In the end we all suffered and lost a great many of our own people. I remember that in my village of Tong Neak, all my relatives on my father’s side were Khmer Rouge, whereas all my relatives on my mother’s side were Khmer Blue—Lon Nol’s soldiers. They fought one another for five years. After the war both sides had perished. Not a single one of them was left.

In 1975 the Khmer Rouge exterminated the Khmer Blue by forcing them to work hard for little food. In a Khmer Rouge purge in 1978 all the eastern region (including Tong Neak) was butchered. But who gained and who lost? Cambodia lost.

Israel consisted of twelve tribes. They were brothers. But Israel was invaded by a powerful foreign country. Most of its people were taken away from their beloved homeland, while the remnants became another hatred group, the Samaritans, who were labeled as not pure Israelites.

In the Christian world we have been dyed red or blue, or smeared with soot from the frying pan, by various denominations. The black stuff from denominations and groups has blinded us so that we do not recognize our own brothers and friends. Some groups warn their people, “Do not associate with that other group because they are not as holy as we are. Do not go with them—they speak in tongues, or they are very conservative, and we are not. Don’t participate in their seminar because they might entice you to join their group. Our group is better than theirs.” The list just goes on and on.

Who gains? Only the owner who feeds the roosters. He gains the pleasure being able to sit back and watch an exciting fight. But the losers are the cocks themselves, both of which end up as food for the owner.

Cambodians have lost in the recent past because they fought their own people. They hated their compatriots who shared the same land and the same country. I don’t want to see the history repeat itself. I want to break the cycle of crisis in Cambodia.

I don’t want to bite a hand that feeds our own people. But I want to plead with some of the missions from outside. Let me repeat that I am talking about “some”—not “all”—of the missions from outside. I neither wish to equate all missions nor single out any one of them, but just express my concern to those who forget that they are only pioneers in this land, not permanent residents. One day they will leave and start another field of mission in other part of the world. So I hope that they will not get upset as they read this article.

As a Cambodian I very much appreciate all missions from other parts of the globe that have come to start some kind of work in my country. What legacy will you leave behind when you depart? The spirit of unity or of disunity? Let the Cambodians themselves discern the differences between one group and another. Do not dye them so they do not recognize their own folk, as some world superpowers did to us in the past. I want to see my country delivered from the spirit of division after you, the spiritual giants, have left us.

Please play your role as best men and bridesmaids; don’t try to be bride. The Cambodian church is a bride who will meet Jesus when he comes back, and will receive all the blessings and glory from him. The groom never comes to kiss the bridesmaid, but he will kiss the bride (the church), not missionary (bridesmaid). In the wedding the bride cannot do anything by her own; she really needs the bridesmaid to help her by holding umbrellas, or fanning her and massaging her leg while she sits in the ceremony for a long time. She really needs someone to help to ease her task. She knows her groom very well and how he feels, because they got to know one another during their dating. But the bridesmaids were simply asked to come to help in the wedding ceremony; they never knew the groom. Who knows the need and the feeling of the Cambodian Church? I would say a Cambodian knows better than anybody else.

I remember one day I met with a Cambodian pastor. I am sorry I cannot mention his name. He said to me, “Only a Cambodian can understand the needs of the Cambodian. Even though some missionary can speak our language fluently, or has lived in Asia for years and presumes he knows our culture very well, he still does not fully know what we need. A Cambodian would never voice some of his needs, but we Cambodians would know what they are without him having to say anything.” I would say he was right. In our culture people do not speak straightforward. We often do a little bit of beating around the bush. Therefore let the Cambodian reveal something to you over a period of time. Don’t quickly jump to a conclusion and say, “I know Cambodians very well.”

Again I want to apologize if I have written too strongly. My primary purpose was to try to reveal some of the feelings of our people with whom I have talked, and who have murmured their complaints.

Conclusion

• It is time to break the cycle of the spirit of division.
• Don’t try to do something to get excitement by blackening the face of the nationals.
• We need partners, not colonizers, in the Christian community.
• Israel hated one another, rooster fought one another, and Cambodians kill their countrymen, because of ideology from the outside.
• We Christians do not try to follow the pattern of the fallen world.[1]
• History will portray what you have done in this period of time.
• The earth is not our permanent place, and we never know our time of leaving the planet earth, so we don’t invest too much in building our own kingdom instead of God’s kingdom.
• God’s purpose is to take very different peoples and make them one in Christ Jesus—not have them fight one another or remain strangers.[2]

History of Tong Neak (2000) – Part One

My long time friend and colleague, Mr. Uon Seila had been pestering me to go with him to visit the village of his birth. I don't have a whole lot of free time so the idea of spending an entire day driving over roads full of pot holes did not appeal to me so much. But I agreed to go anyway. After all what are friends for?

So last Saturday we drove not all that far from the Vietnam border. We left Phnom Penh driving south to the city of Neak Luong which is in
Prey Veng province. At Neak Luong we drove onto the ferry with about 40 other vehicles
and crossed the Mekong River. We continued on another 20 kilometers along route one, where pot holes multiplied exponentially. At the town of Kompong Trebaek we left the paved road and followed a well maintained ox cart path deep into the country side, entering the bowels of some of Cambodia's poorest areas. After leaving the ox cart path we drove on rice paddy dikes, crossed small streams, and cut through dry rice fields (don't tell Harry I did this with his beloved truck). We kicked up some serious clouds of dust the whole way. We traveled off the improved road, perhaps 16 kilometers, finally arriving at the village of his birth, Tong Neak, which means "Flagpole of the Novite monk". There is quite a story behind the story behind this name but that will have to wait. This place was really in the middle of nowhere and it took us all of five hours to get there. It was as if nothing had changed here for over two thousand years. No relief and development agencies at all were working in the immediate area.

After introducing me to his mother and aunties, Seila walked me around me his part of the village. He explained to me how when he was about 11 years old his section of the village was hit by two different air strikes in January of 1971, and later in that year. The village was then completely destroyed. His house was burned down to the ground. That day we counted 24 bomb craters. He said he remembered that day very clearly as some VC were passing through his village when a US Army spotter plane came in and fired a smoke round to mark the position of the VC which were only meters away from his house. He said two minutes later they heard the thundering of engines as airplanes came in from the east with their pay loads. Then all hell broke loose around them as bombs blew apart trees, rice paddies, and structures, setting everything a flame. All the houses in his section of the village were burned to the ground. The bomb that fell on his house made such a deep crater that it drew water which they used for a couple of years until the water table dropped. Since there are no relief & development agencies working in the immediate area, he wanted me to see his land and the craters, hoping that somehow I could help-all the infrastructure had been destroyed. The place had never recovered from the bombing in early 1971. A second raid on VC cutting through that area later that year killed two fellow villagers and injured a woman holding her child who was decapitated in the bombing.

After the two bombings of his village, Seila and his four younger siblings and hitched a ride to Phnom Penh to seek refuge. When the Khmer Krahom (means red) took over in 1975, they were forced back to their birth place, Tong Neak. It took them what they were years to walk back, sleeping under trees on the side of road, but in reality, it was just over a month. Seila’s 2 year old brother died as soon as they arrived home. Mines were planted just a meter off the road.

Today his sixty year mother still lives there. Most of her children are grown and gone and she depends on some of the grand children and other relatives to get by. They have to walk about a kilometer to get water. They carry two buckets of water on opposite ends of a pole, balanced on their shoulders.

Seila is very much pro- American but he is kind of still waiting for some Americans to take responsibility and come to fix his village. He wants to write to the American Embassy or to Senator Dana Rohrbacher to ask for help. After all, he does have a point. What right did we have to blow up his village, burn down his house and destroy the infrastructure of his village? And the results of that bombing raid live on to this day. If you're still with me thus far, then you might consider helping this village. The village of Tong Neak needs two wells drilled. This would alleviate much of the hardship as they would have clean drinking water and water to grow vegetables during the dry season.

The wells cost about $200 apiece. Wouldn't that be a good project for a church, a Sunday school, or youth group to raise money for a couple wells? Well, you might say, 'this is not really missionary activity.' And I would say, ' it doesn't much matter what we call it, the Bible commands us to minister to the poor and oppressed, and not just as a platform for evangelism. We are to minister to the poor regardless!

I did ask Seila if there was a Christian presence anywhere nearby. Seila said no. He said he had told his mother and aunts about Jesus on a couple of his visits but they were unable to comprehend the message. He explained me that it would be difficult for some one from the outside to come in have much success, as they would tend not to trust outsiders. This is why drilling a couple of wells would be a great project. First, it would meet their physical needs. Second, it would give us Christians an opportunity to respond biblically to people in need. Third, by doing what we should be doing with the poor, those being helped will wonder who wants to help and why? Then there would be a natural context for sharing the reason for the hope that is within us - Jesus Christ. By helping dig wells in this village, the people can experience the gospel rather than just hear the words. Jesus announced that with his arrival into this world, he brought the Kingdom with Him. And people who had contact with Him experienced some of what the Kingdom of God was like. This is our mission, too. Christians are to be agents of transformation, working alongside Jesus (Col 1:19) as He reconciles all things to Himself, whether it be souls, systems or infrastructures.

And speaking of stories of redemption and reconciliation….not to far from his village was where the Northern Zone, KR from Kompong Thom and North Central areas massacred the Khmer Rouge in the Eastern Zone (Khmer Krahom Bophaeh). In 1978, the cadre of the KR the Eastern Zone, who had some association with Vietnam (including Hun Sen, Chea Sim, Heng Samrin, Pen Sovan, etc.) wanted to stop the killing of their fellow countrymen. During this time, Seila in his mid teens, was forced to crush stone in a quarry from early morning to late evening, seven days a week. One day he was searching for a tree trunk heavy laden with dew so he could soak it up with his Krama and quench his thirst. Walking back he stumbled on a semi-covered mass grave of the Eastern zone cadre who were killed by the Northern Zone KR. He fled not wanting to be discovered as one knowing about this carefully covered up massacre. He noticed trucks, each day, dumping more bodies into the graves. One of the Eastern Zone KR Commanders who himself had killed fellow countrymen was sick of it and was ready to flee to Vietnam when the purges began. Thousands of Eastern zone KR soldiers were killed.

To be continued…..

Labels: US Bombing Destroys Cambodian Village 1971