An anniversary

70 years ago today, my mother and I arrived in Cambodia to join my father who was working there for UNESCO. I know precisely because it was his 44th birthday.

(I am writing this on June 4th)

Mum and I had flown from London, Heathrow to Paris, Orly where we transferred to an Air France Super Constellation that conveyed us to Bangkok, making stops in Rome, Istanbul, Beirut, Tehran, Karachi and Calcutta, a journey of many, many hours.

UNESCO paid for us to travel in First Class which gave us more room and better service but offered none of today’s modern luxuries. For me, at the age of 8, it was spacious and the experience was merely boring. My mother hated flying and for her it must have been quite tedious, though she did not complain.

Disembarking in Bangkok, we went for a few hours to a hotel near Don Muang Airport and tried to rest in a room overly cooled by a noisy air-conditioner.

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Next morning, we boarded a DC3 of Royal Air Cambodge for the last leg of our long journey, a 3-hour flight via Siem Reap to Phnom Penh. There was no first class on this flight. It was cramped and noisy and by then I was quite fed-up with air travel. Our meal service consisted of a boxed lunch – a sandwich and a piece of pomelo. At the time, I didn’t know about pomelo and feeling queasy, I rejected the meal. Over the next months, I became well acquainted with the fruit and enjoyed it very much.

Some 36 hours after leaving London, we were reunited with my father after an absence of 6 months. The sun-tanned man who met us wore shorts and a smile. I barely recognised him.

We piled our considerable baggage into Dad’s Citroen Avant Traction and were conveyed to the flat he had secured for us. Accommodation was somewhat sparse, but he had managed to rent a pair of adjoining apartments on Quay Sisowath.

A veranda along the front of the building provided easy access and for privacy, Dad had been allowed to erect a fence, since our flat/s were at the far end.

This gave us a large bedroom , a living room and two bathrooms. Technically, I believe there was no kitchen but, fencing off the rear balcony, Dad had improvised one, obtaining a fridge and a rudimentary cooker. It was not what Mum was accustomed to, but she had survived WW2 and was quite capable of coping.

My sleeping arrangement was curtained off in a corner of the bedroom. Dad had commissioned a bed for me from inmates of the local prison. It was well made of bamboo, but my pater had under-estimated my height and it was a little short. Sleeping with my legs curled up was not a problem but the mosquito net took getting used to because in the tropical heat, it made nights quite stuffy.

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Eventually, we moved to a house that had screened windows and we were able to dispense with mosquito nets that had not, in any case, protected me. As I recall, my parents were not greatly affected by mosquitoes, apart from the annoyance they were, but I was soon covered in itchy bites that became infected.

To protect the sores, Mum began wrapping my legs up at night, making me even hotter. It was very uncomfortable, yet I was totally free of the asthma which had made life miserable for me in England. To be able to breathe easily was the greatest relief.

Salt water was the eventual cure for the sores, when we spent a few days at the sea shore.

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Mum had no need of help, but foreigners were expected to have servants and my father had employed a Chinese-Cambodian lady called Sai See. She and my mother had no common language, but they got on like a house on fire.

Sai See made an immediate impression on me. When we arrived, she carried our baggage upstairs on her head. Before long, I became accustomed to seeing people transporting weighty items this way, but those suitcases were seriously heavy!

Self-sufficient though Mum was, Sai See was helpful in introducing her to local fruits and vegetables and often did our market shopping. Sometimes, she cooked us Cambodian food.

Later on, when we moved to the house, Sai See had access to a room and spent more time with us. She had always been kind to me but then, she began taking me out. She liked going to the cinema where we often saw Indian films. Although I had no idea what it was all about, it was always fun and we got tasty snacks.

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Sai See brought her cat Kliang to the house and one day she arrived with what I later learned was a palm civet. It was a very pretty animal.

When you reach old age, you look back at life, remembering the people who affected you. Sai See is one of those. I knew her only for two years and it was very long ago, but I have never forgotten her. I would love her to have known that I appreciated and cared for her.

Sai See had escaped from an abusive relationship. Afterwards, a very kind man became devoted to her and she seemed happy, but my mother told me that she was in poor health, so it is likely that she did not live to endure the Khmer Rouge regime.

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Although today’s anniversary prompted the memory, I often think of Cambodia. Every day, in fact, since I have several of my father’s photographs displayed on my walls.

Though I would not call them nightmares, for a long time, I had bad dreams of going back to Cambodia and confronting the ghosts. By the time it became possible to go, life had changed, making it difficult for me to travel such a distance, but I often ask myself whether that was just an excuse for cowardice.

Really, I want to remember the Cambodia I knew in those two happy years of my childhood.

And it is gone for good.

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