Cambodia Diaries - 9 April 2010

Guns and Roses

As I always say to anyone contemplating Cambodia, do some research before you come here. After that nugget of advice, I asked the latest visitor to Chez JH, Kirsten whom I used to work with in Liverpool “Anything you’d like to do?”

I naturally expected Angkor Wat and the genocide stuff which we have in abundance, but “Quadbiking and some elephant trekking up in Mondulkiri” was the somewhat refreshing response and so as I had a few days annual leave to book before the ‘use them or lose them’ day, I got into action.

Enquiries with the French chaps running the quadbiking revealed that they were booked and so I was left wondering what to do with a young scouser in PP.

The '7.62mm avtomat Kalashnikova AK' (7.62mm automatic carbine Kalashnikov) or as it is more commonly known, the AK47 whilst not being the most accurate automatic rifle on the market, is good for around 400 meters and as options go, it’s regarded as being durable, reliable and is not known for jamming at key moments. It works anywhere and everywhere and is certainly my preferred automatic rifle of choice.  And so to the question of what to do, I suggested that we head off to fire a few rounds from one!

Out past the airport is a shooting range and amongst the NGO community it’s considered a no-no. Certainly it would have been a no-no a few years back when for a few extra dollars; you could order anything up to a cow to shoot at with anything up to a rocket launcher. The King intervened and based on my own eyes, no fauna beyond a mosquito was in the line of fire. Never one to pander to woolly liberal lefties, I convinced Kirsten that it would be fun and an experience to remember. It has to be said her agreement was a tad reluctant, but having decided to do it we got the rapier speed of Mr Seenar to drive us out there – after his mid-morning nap.

As you have probably worked out, the ‘A’ is from the word automatic and the ‘K’ is in honour of the inventor of the gun, a Russian tank sergeant by the name of Mikhail Kalashnikov or ‘Micky’ to his mates.  Having got to Germany in 1945, the Ruskies like the Yanks, Brits and French were desperate to get as much of the advanced technology the Nazis had and as many of the inventors as possible.  The Nazis were years ahead in anything to do with ‘propulsion’ and the space race was as much a race between former Nazi rocket scientists as it was between the Yanks and the Ruskies for whom they avoided war trials and went to work for.

Micky and the Russians however, had got hold of the far more superior carbine rifles of the advancing Nazis in 1942 and a year later, they were also assessing their own with what the Yanks firing and decided that their automatic rifles were crap by comparison. The first Ruskie out the blocks was a chap called Sudaev, but he died in 1945 and as Micky had been penning ideas in an army hospital after taking one for the team, someone decided to get behind Micky’s plans and by 1947, his rifle was born and hence the ‘47’ and not the AS45!

Several developments and many copies later, Kirsten and I rocked up to survey the range of options open to us on the rifle stakes. The menu had your standard fare for these occasions, Uzis, M16s and such like but it was only ever going to be the AK47.

And on the menu today….

Thankfully amongst my cohort of friends, I have only three who during the course of their employment have had the firing of a gun as part of their job description. Only one ever spoke about what it’s really like to see what one of these weapons of death can actually do to the enemy and it’s nothing like you see in Hollywood.

I think it ranks as one of the most disconcerting experiences I have ever had. The first thing that hits you, quite literally, is the recoil as the bullet exits the muzzle at a speed of around 700 meters per second, thrusting the butt of the rifle back into you. If this is what it does the start of the process, then what is it like at the other end for the recipient? The answer as we know; is often fatal. The next thing your senses observe is the sheer noise of the thing and just how the ears of those actually in combat cope, I do not know.  Even with earphones on, the thunderous sound of death speeding off into the distance is something. And then the thick heavy smell of cordite hangs in the air like a dense fog. 

Having fired off a few, I had gotten the hang of it to such an extent that the instructor was no longer holding my shoulder as I shot away for myself.

Next up, Kirsten to loosen off a few rounds and despite telling her to lean into it, she spent the next couple of days bemoaning her sore shoulder. Typical girl - I just don’t know what they teach these kids at school anymore.

Marksman at work!

Seenar, resting after his 20 kilometer journey declined a shot before I resumed action for what was the second most disconcerting thing to happen.  The instructor turned the rifle to automatic mode and the sheer fury of bullets seemingly exiting at their own will, left you in no doubt as to what the horror of infantry war and the terror occasioned by rampaging gunmen must be like. To be honest, having done it, I am not sure that I would be inclined to do it again.

Wise advice for all gun men, especially rule 3!!

The scourge of many elephants over the years was the blunderbuss carrying safari hunter looking to bag one whilst on a shoot. The elephant is such a big lumbering oaf of an animal but in reality, it’s actually just a beautiful thing that you cannot help but love. Modern day poaching for ivory, destruction of natural habitats and being forced to do un-elephant like things such as giving tourist rides and pulling logs are the new blights on the very existence of these wonderful creatures.

Kirsten’s research led us to MondulkirI, the biggest and most under-populated region of Cambodia and to what was effectively, a sanctuary for elephants to see out there last days, many after years of abuse and do what elephants are supposed to do; cover themselves in dust, role around in rivers, eat with impunity and push a few trees over for the giggle factor, possibly making a few trumpet calls to see what else is out there.

Where once there were hundreds if not thousands roaming the jungle around Mondulkiri, now there are 57.  The Elephant Valley is what it is, a place for seven female elephants to roam freely and in safety, with plans for more of their brethren to join them. However, they have yet to put a male in amongst the gals for a range of reasons all to do with ructions!

In a wonderful setting it was a simple delight to walk through the forests with the elephants and seeing them in their natural habitat being elephants after a morning of feeding them bananas for their breakfasts.

Elephant v. Honney in the Cambodian banana wars!

But for how much longer will they be safe? The road to what is in effect, a one horse town, albeit with seven elephants of course, was always a long arduous affair. New money has come in to cut travel times down to a mere 8 hours currently and with plans to make it quicker. Why I wonder for a town with around 20 mobile phone shops down just one street of about 200 meters interspersed with shacks selling beer? (One can only imagine what goes on the morning after a few beers and so much texting opportunities) Well the ‘conspiracy’ view is that better roads will allow rubber and timber quick and easy access out of Cambodia. The money for the roads is purportedly Chinese in origin and there were certainly a few Han faces along the road organizing construction.

As there were when I had to leave Kirsten and head down to a quaint town called Kampot aside the river of the same name for some work.  I had been here before but did not have time to do a trek up to the old casino hotel known as the Bokor Hill station some 3,450 meters above sea level and built during French rule as a relaxing retreat for the decadent colonials. 

There is a lot of work going on from sea to top as a new tourist complex is being built. The road up was always a mare, but at times it closes and the only way up is to hike. Of course, the ‘builders’ had closed the road from the bottom up to around the 1000 meter mark when I arrived and so if I wanted to see the area before it turned into something totally different, then I had to schlep up through the jungle during the rising heat and humidity of the day before ironically, being picked up by a bus for the ride to the top.

It was a slog, but the coming down was always going to be the problem for my knees. A Kiwi girl had a blister the size of a lemon on the ball of her foot and so as with most things in this country and applying my golden rule of traveling, we negotiated!  Having put our sherpa in the picture with the ‘serious injuries’ sustained by the Kiwi and pointing to the fact that somewhere up the trek I had lost a limb as I put on a bit of a wince for effect, our man said that he would see what he could do. He was nonetheless surprised to see the hands of nine others go up in the affirmative when asked who else would prefer to drive down!

There is also a dam going up in the region, courtesy of Chinese investment and there were a noticeable presence of people from the middle kingdom around town on the Saturday night. But to avoid an unnecessary confusion, our sherpa suggested that maybe we would walk the last bit and bypass the Chinese security guards on the drive down from the top of Bokor!

Having returned to PP, I was regaled with tales from my neighbour, Chelsea John that some intruders had tried to gain unlawful entry into one of the adjoining properties.  Only for the neighbour to my right, a member of the local constabulary, to get out his state issued revolver from which he loosened off a few shots over the would-be criminal’s head to send him scampering from whence he came.  As he ran up the street, apparently several others came out to give him a whack for good measure. Hence, we avoided unnecessarily burdening the national purse with legal, police and penitentiary costs and at the same time, leaving no one in any doubt just how hands on the Street 6Z Neighbourhood Watch scheme, brought to you in association with Colt 45, really is.

Cheers

JH