Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Phnom Penh 8 Detained by Cambodian Police
A Funny Thing Happened to Me on the Way to Wat Phnom
Justice Issues Continued…
Three years ago, influential Union Leader, Chea Vichea was assassinated across the street from one of our old residences. He was very vocal concerning the working conditions and the low pay of garment workers, and often publicly criticized the Roy al Cambodian Government urging them to ameliorate the working conditions of many of the young women in the garment factories. Young female garment workers worked long hours, had no day off, been stripped searched in and out of the rest rooms, and before they left for home. Two innocent young men were immediately snapped up and accused of the assassination. They have been in jail for three years and lost their appeal trial a few months ago. Their sentences of 20 years a piece were upheld. The UN and Amnesty International investigations showed that the two were beaten and coerced into signing bogus confessions.
The trial and appeal were both mockeries of justice as the judge and court had no interest in listening to the case. Many friends from my Int’l church attended the trial and were disgusted at the behavior of the court officials. The court’s decision was already determined from top level government leaders. The key material witness fled the country and local vendors who saw the killing, have all changed their statements.
Living with injustice in your for face for almost 14 years makes it impossible to live a daily life without justice passages leaping up from the Bible (Isaiah, Revelation, Beatitudes, Amos, etc), and a God concerned with justice won’t leave one sitting in the office wringing one’s hands about the problem (unless we insist). This is a problem in and of itself.
The plan was that a small group of expatriates concerned with unjust jailing of the two innocent Cambodia men as government scapegoats, would be to simply drive two large trucks with banners hung over the sides asking for justice for the two young men in front of the Consultative Group (International Donor Countries) Meeting on June 19th. The purpose was to get the attention of international donors in that they might intercede with the Cambodian government.
So, I arrived at the meeting location at 6:45 am and looked over the truck I would be driving. Should be no problem, I thought. We had a brief meeting, and all planned to be back in the same place by 9 a.m. to debrief. Maybe 15 expatriates showed up and climbed onto the bed of the trucks and we made our way up to Wat Phnom where Consultative meeting would soon be taking place. Wat Phnom is a small man made hill in Phnom Penh ringed by a traffic circle. My friend Steve (former WV colleague from Stockton, CA.) and I were to drive our trucks around the circle, stop in front of the CG meeting, and then drive around again and again until enough international donors saw the message.
Although we were expecting we’d be back by 9 a.m., I had mentally counted the cost for the worst to happen. What if I were jailed? What if I was beaten? What if I were deported? I decided that I was willing to take those risks. How could I preach and teach about justice if I wasn’t willing to take risks for victims of injustice? But on the way to CG[1] meeting, there were no any raw emotions churning in my gut, it was more a sense of getting on with the practical parts of the plan. I was worried more about side-swiping a motorcycle with the big truck on the narrow streets of Phnom Penh . Young Elijah Penner (from Fresno ), a Mennonite and Youth Commission advisor was riding shot-gun, taking calls on my cell phone from observers and the other truck.
Arriving at the Wat Phnom Circle , we drove around twice and the small squad of police was puzzled and didn’t know what to make of us. The third time around, I stopped on the inside of the traffic circle, and was soon asked to move by the police guarding the meeting. After stalling some, and grinding some gears, we moved on. After each circle of the Wat, I would stop in front of the meeting place and would be urged on by soldiers and police. About the sixth time around the horn the police were getting smarter and they told me it was illegal to stop on the inside of the circle so I drove around the circle again, and parked right in front of the meeting. I was urged to move on for I was blocking the entrance to the meeting. I went around again and parked in the same spot. They moved me forward again. At no time was I ever asked to stop the activity or take the signs down. Our anonymous fearless leader said, “One more time around, and then let’s go home- we already got the message across.” I drove around the circle one last time, drove past the meeting, and pulled over on the west side of the circle to take the signs down. That was when we were suddenly surrounded by a swarm of uniformed police and soldiers.
We had the driver of the truck in the back because he insisted on coming along for the ride to see that his truck was not abused by a foreign driver (little did he know I had a CDL). The policeman in charge was fit to be tied when he spotted the Cambodian in the back of my truck. Veins were bulging on his forehead and his face was contorted with rage. I knew that if they got their hands on him, he would be beaten and then jailed for a long time. While I talked to the police, two Canadian women in the back of the truck were quickly taking down the signs. I was told to follow a police escort to the station. Elijah, who had been out of the truck hopped back in because he thought we were going home. He could have just walked away. The two Canadians in the back also thought we were going home. I followed the policeman on the motorcycle through the dense Phnom Penh Traffic and when we got caught in a traffic snarl, we lost our escort. We saw a member of our group waiting on a motorcycle to rescue the Cambodian driver. He jumped off and our man whisked him away. After making our way through the snarl we arrived at the Police station. It was then that Elijah and the Canadians knew we had a different kind of day ahead of us.
Steve, the other driver, was kicked out of his truck, and was replaced by an armed soldier, and was made to ride in the passenger seat. The stone-faced soldier wouldn’t reply to any of Steve’s questions. Both trucks were impounded, as well as the signs.
It was now 8:30 am and the Wat Phnom 8 were led (5 were Christians from the ICF) into the Police station and escorted up to the second floor for interrogation and re-education. The building was filthy- it looked like the floors had never been swept and black cobwebs hung in every corner collecting soot and dust. It reminded me of my first visit to Cambodia in 1990. We were split up for questioning which for me was rather dull. I had to sign and thumbprint my statement. Then we were asked to produce passports (I had a photocopy of my passport and driver’s license) and by that time the Australian Embassy had sent a man over to check on our Kiwi friend, and he advised that we had better produce original passports, so we called people on our cell phones to get our passports. Debbi came by and hung out with us for a while, and a female expat and a male Cambodian human rights worker came from the UN to monitor our situation.
Meanwhile, representatives from the British Embassy came to assist the one Brit among us. The two Canadian ladies were in contact with their embassy by phone. Around 11 am, Brian from the American Embassy showed up with his intern from Kent State . The intern had not heard Neil Young’s song about the Kent State massacre so I wrote down the info for them. They were good people and it was good to have them there with us. I think it made their day.
Debbi left and Dee, another human rights worker, brought us some sandwiches and some junk food. After lunch we began to negotiate with police about the content of the statement they wanted us to sign. The room was hot and crowded with all of us in it, but at least there was a ceiling fan, spinning around lazily above our heads. Sparrows had built a nest in hub where the fan was attached to the ceiling, and we were wondering if the birds knew what was about to hit the fan before we did. We were able to use our telephones so we had people bring phone cards and chargers for cell phones. We thought of ordering Pizza but the UN people had already brought us too much junk food and candy. Elijah, the youngest of the Wat Phnom 8, wrote our statements out in excellent Khmer. All five of us Christians were able to speak pretty fluent Khmer while our non-believing friends were pretty new in town. My friend Steve, ‘free-lance child rights worker’ did the negotiating with the police concerning the demands of our release.
I sat down next to a European fellow who I had first met with the 2 Canadian ladies on International Children’s Day at Prey Saw Prison when we brought food and soy milk to the children there. He said to me; “You know, I have a lot of prejudices against Christians going way back, but you guys have really changed my attitude toward Christian people.” We talked for a while, talking about what Jesus was all about verses an institutional expression of the Christian religion with all its baggage Our other yet-to-believe friends were also expressing similar sentiments about changed attitudes toward Jesus followers.
It was getting late, around 5 pm and the police were getting grumpy, hungry, and tired of negotiations (as were we). There big boss came in once and gave a speech. They lost a lot of face and I reminded our group that in this culture, this deal had to be win-win or a win-lose situation with us losing something significant because the police were losing face and they wouldn’t stop until we gave up something up. They were now mad and wanted to go after the Cambodia owner of the trucks. We were hot, tired and worn out, too, and on our 4th revision of the statement, a call came in from the Canadian Embassy saying that the ambassador had talked with the Phnom Penh’s Chief of Police and that if we didn’t sign up, we’d be transferred to jail proper and then be deported the following day. We put our heads together for the umpteenth time and decided that if they agreed to bring the owner of the truck in here to check his papers, release him, and let human rights workers escort him home, we would “sign zee papers.” Frowns immediately turned to smiles, and now the police were warm and friendly again. Of course they would release the owner and not go after the driver if we signed the papers. No problem. They could go home and have dinner. So, we agreed to sign that we would:
Obey the law of the land.
Not create a public disturbance
Secure proper permission for similar activities.
Photos of signing took place among the smiling immigration police. The heat was now off them.
We signed the documents, and left the police station ten long hours later at 6:40 pm. I got home and had the best shower I can remember, and wolfed down some chicken and rice. Debbi and I talked for a long while and then I went to bed.
The next day I was so exhausted I could do nothing but do a few emails in the morning. I slept for the whole afternoon, and attended a debriefing with Debbi until 12 midnight. I am still very tired today.
The solidarity with our not-yet-believing friends was an incredible experience. Being detained with two other Americans, two Canadians, 1 Briton, 1 Dane, and 1 Kiwi, all of diverse backgrounds, perspectives and opinions was a lot of hard work in putting together a unified response. My friend Steve was the ‘facilitator/negotiator par excellence’ and young Elijah was quite the expert in Khmer language.
What did we accomplish through risking our careers and lives? We became a voice to the Cambodian Government and International Donors that justice for Mr. Bon Samnang and Mr. Sok Sam Ouern is still on the agenda of many people, including Christian people.
It was one of the most worthwhile days I ever lived.
Justice Issues Continued…
Three years ago, influential Union Leader, Chea Vichea was assassinated across the street from one of our old residences. He was very vocal concerning the working conditions and the low pay of garment workers, and often publicly criticized the Roy al Cambodian Government urging them to ameliorate the working conditions of many of the young women in the garment factories. Young female garment workers worked long hours, had no day off, been stripped searched in and out of the rest rooms, and before they left for home. Two innocent young men were immediately snapped up and accused of the assassination. They have been in jail for three years and lost their appeal trial a few months ago. Their sentences of 20 years a piece were upheld. The UN and Amnesty International investigations showed that the two were beaten and coerced into signing bogus confessions.
The trial and appeal were both mockeries of justice as the judge and court had no interest in listening to the case. Many friends from my Int’l church attended the trial and were disgusted at the behavior of the court officials. The court’s decision was already determined from top level government leaders. The key material witness fled the country and local vendors who saw the killing, have all changed their statements.
Living with injustice in your for face for almost 14 years makes it impossible to live a daily life without justice passages leaping up from the Bible (Isaiah, Revelation, Beatitudes, Amos, etc), and a God concerned with justice won’t leave one sitting in the office wringing one’s hands about the problem (unless we insist). This is a problem in and of itself.
The plan was that a small group of expatriates concerned with unjust jailing of the two innocent Cambodia men as government scapegoats, would be to simply drive two large trucks with banners hung over the sides asking for justice for the two young men in front of the Consultative Group (International Donor Countries) Meeting on June 19th. The purpose was to get the attention of international donors in that they might intercede with the Cambodian government.
So, I arrived at the meeting location at 6:45 am and looked over the truck I would be driving. Should be no problem, I thought. We had a brief meeting, and all planned to be back in the same place by 9 a.m. to debrief. Maybe 15 expatriates showed up and climbed onto the bed of the trucks and we made our way up to Wat Phnom where Consultative meeting would soon be taking place. Wat Phnom is a small man made hill in Phnom Penh ringed by a traffic circle. My friend Steve (former WV colleague from Stockton, CA.) and I were to drive our trucks around the circle, stop in front of the CG meeting, and then drive around again and again until enough international donors saw the message.
Although we were expecting we’d be back by 9 a.m., I had mentally counted the cost for the worst to happen. What if I were jailed? What if I was beaten? What if I were deported? I decided that I was willing to take those risks. How could I preach and teach about justice if I wasn’t willing to take risks for victims of injustice? But on the way to CG[1] meeting, there were no any raw emotions churning in my gut, it was more a sense of getting on with the practical parts of the plan. I was worried more about side-swiping a motorcycle with the big truck on the narrow streets of Phnom Penh . Young Elijah Penner (from Fresno ), a Mennonite and Youth Commission advisor was riding shot-gun, taking calls on my cell phone from observers and the other truck.
Arriving at the Wat Phnom Circle , we drove around twice and the small squad of police was puzzled and didn’t know what to make of us. The third time around, I stopped on the inside of the traffic circle, and was soon asked to move by the police guarding the meeting. After stalling some, and grinding some gears, we moved on. After each circle of the Wat, I would stop in front of the meeting place and would be urged on by soldiers and police. About the sixth time around the horn the police were getting smarter and they told me it was illegal to stop on the inside of the circle so I drove around the circle again, and parked right in front of the meeting. I was urged to move on for I was blocking the entrance to the meeting. I went around again and parked in the same spot. They moved me forward again. At no time was I ever asked to stop the activity or take the signs down. Our anonymous fearless leader said, “One more time around, and then let’s go home- we already got the message across.” I drove around the circle one last time, drove past the meeting, and pulled over on the west side of the circle to take the signs down. That was when we were suddenly surrounded by a swarm of uniformed police and soldiers.
We had the driver of the truck in the back because he insisted on coming along for the ride to see that his truck was not abused by a foreign driver (little did he know I had a CDL). The policeman in charge was fit to be tied when he spotted the Cambodian in the back of my truck. Veins were bulging on his forehead and his face was contorted with rage. I knew that if they got their hands on him, he would be beaten and then jailed for a long time. While I talked to the police, two Canadian women in the back of the truck were quickly taking down the signs. I was told to follow a police escort to the station. Elijah, who had been out of the truck hopped back in because he thought we were going home. He could have just walked away. The two Canadians in the back also thought we were going home. I followed the policeman on the motorcycle through the dense Phnom Penh Traffic and when we got caught in a traffic snarl, we lost our escort. We saw a member of our group waiting on a motorcycle to rescue the Cambodian driver. He jumped off and our man whisked him away. After making our way through the snarl we arrived at the Police station. It was then that Elijah and the Canadians knew we had a different kind of day ahead of us.
Steve, the other driver, was kicked out of his truck, and was replaced by an armed soldier, and was made to ride in the passenger seat. The stone-faced soldier wouldn’t reply to any of Steve’s questions. Both trucks were impounded, as well as the signs.
It was now 8:30 am and the Wat Phnom 8 were led (5 were Christians from the ICF) into the Police station and escorted up to the second floor for interrogation and re-education. The building was filthy- it looked like the floors had never been swept and black cobwebs hung in every corner collecting soot and dust. It reminded me of my first visit to Cambodia in 1990. We were split up for questioning which for me was rather dull. I had to sign and thumbprint my statement. Then we were asked to produce passports (I had a photocopy of my passport and driver’s license) and by that time the Australian Embassy had sent a man over to check on our Kiwi friend, and he advised that we had better produce original passports, so we called people on our cell phones to get our passports. Debbi came by and hung out with us for a while, and a female expat and a male Cambodian human rights worker came from the UN to monitor our situation.
Meanwhile, representatives from the British Embassy came to assist the one Brit among us. The two Canadian ladies were in contact with their embassy by phone. Around 11 am, Brian from the American Embassy showed up with his intern from Kent State . The intern had not heard Neil Young’s song about the Kent State massacre so I wrote down the info for them. They were good people and it was good to have them there with us. I think it made their day.
Debbi left and Dee, another human rights worker, brought us some sandwiches and some junk food. After lunch we began to negotiate with police about the content of the statement they wanted us to sign. The room was hot and crowded with all of us in it, but at least there was a ceiling fan, spinning around lazily above our heads. Sparrows had built a nest in hub where the fan was attached to the ceiling, and we were wondering if the birds knew what was about to hit the fan before we did. We were able to use our telephones so we had people bring phone cards and chargers for cell phones. We thought of ordering Pizza but the UN people had already brought us too much junk food and candy. Elijah, the youngest of the Wat Phnom 8, wrote our statements out in excellent Khmer. All five of us Christians were able to speak pretty fluent Khmer while our non-believing friends were pretty new in town. My friend Steve, ‘free-lance child rights worker’ did the negotiating with the police concerning the demands of our release.
I sat down next to a European fellow who I had first met with the 2 Canadian ladies on International Children’s Day at Prey Saw Prison when we brought food and soy milk to the children there. He said to me; “You know, I have a lot of prejudices against Christians going way back, but you guys have really changed my attitude toward Christian people.” We talked for a while, talking about what Jesus was all about verses an institutional expression of the Christian religion with all its baggage Our other yet-to-believe friends were also expressing similar sentiments about changed attitudes toward Jesus followers.
It was getting late, around 5 pm and the police were getting grumpy, hungry, and tired of negotiations (as were we). There big boss came in once and gave a speech. They lost a lot of face and I reminded our group that in this culture, this deal had to be win-win or a win-lose situation with us losing something significant because the police were losing face and they wouldn’t stop until we gave up something up. They were now mad and wanted to go after the Cambodia owner of the trucks. We were hot, tired and worn out, too, and on our 4th revision of the statement, a call came in from the Canadian Embassy saying that the ambassador had talked with the Phnom Penh’s Chief of Police and that if we didn’t sign up, we’d be transferred to jail proper and then be deported the following day. We put our heads together for the umpteenth time and decided that if they agreed to bring the owner of the truck in here to check his papers, release him, and let human rights workers escort him home, we would “sign zee papers.” Frowns immediately turned to smiles, and now the police were warm and friendly again. Of course they would release the owner and not go after the driver if we signed the papers. No problem. They could go home and have dinner. So, we agreed to sign that we would:
Obey the law of the land.
Not create a public disturbance
Secure proper permission for similar activities.
Photos of signing took place among the smiling immigration police. The heat was now off them.
We signed the documents, and left the police station ten long hours later at 6:40 pm. I got home and had the best shower I can remember, and wolfed down some chicken and rice. Debbi and I talked for a long while and then I went to bed.
The next day I was so exhausted I could do nothing but do a few emails in the morning. I slept for the whole afternoon, and attended a debriefing with Debbi until 12 midnight. I am still very tired today.
The solidarity with our not-yet-believing friends was an incredible experience. Being detained with two other Americans, two Canadians, 1 Briton, 1 Dane, and 1 Kiwi, all of diverse backgrounds, perspectives and opinions was a lot of hard work in putting together a unified response. My friend Steve was the ‘facilitator/negotiator par excellence’ and young Elijah was quite the expert in Khmer language.
What did we accomplish through risking our careers and lives? We became a voice to the Cambodian Government and International Donors that justice for Mr. Bon Samnang and Mr. Sok Sam Ouern is still on the agenda of many people, including Christian people.
It was one of the most worthwhile days I ever lived.
BMM
