Children of Khmer Rouge loyalists attend the burial of former Khmer Rouge military chief Ta Mok in the northern Cambodian city Anlong Veng July 24, 2006. To most Cambodians, the 82-year-old Ta Mok was one of Pol Pot's most ruthless henchmen and a man who's hands were stained perhaps more than any other with the blood of the Khmer Rouge's 1.7 million victims. REUTERS/Adrees Latif
A Khmer Rouge loyalist walks past an offering during the burial of Khmer Rouge military chief Ta Mok in the northern Cambodian city Anlong Veng July 24, 2006. To most Cambodians, the 82-year-old Ta Mok was one of Pol Pot's most ruthless henchmen and a man who's hands were stained perhaps more than any other with the blood of the Khmer Rouge's 1.7 million victims. REUTERS/Adrees LatifMonday, July 24, 2006
By Phann Ana and Adam Piore
THE CAMBODIA DAILY
ANLONG VENG DISTRICT, Oddar Meanchey province - Ta Mok, the feared former Khmer Rouge military chief, finally came home this weekend.
His captors delivered his frail, withered corpse to this remote village on the Thai border Friday, seven years after luring him out of the jungle with false promises of amnesty and locking him away in a Phnom Penh prison until just before his death.
About 60 villagers were already here waiting for their former leader when he arrived by military ambulance from Phnom Penh around 8 pm on Friday, said the driver In Soda.
They watched grimly, some openly weeping, as his family lifted him out on a gurney and gingerly laid his body on a wooden bed outside the modest one-story home of his daughter in Sreah Chhouk village, about 10 km outside Anlong Veng district town.
"He was my loyal commander," Pheng Phen, 37, explained later.
"He went away and never returned...I feel so shocked and have so much regret for his death," Pheng Phen said.
The body on display this weekend bore little resemblance to the larger than life commander alleged to have engineered some of the worst atrocities committed in the 20th century.
During his seven years in captivity, Ta Mok's wiry frame had shrunk to childlike proportions, his face had a deathly faded pallor and he wore a wispy white beard. His fierce eyes were closed to the world, his nostrils plugged to keep in the embalming fluid.
But Ta Mok's legend lived on in the words of his former people, who continued to arrive in the hundreds throughout the weekend to pay their last respects.
As monks chanted nearby, mourners dropped what little riel they had on to Ta Mok's chest, placed flowers at his head and feet lit incense sticks, offered prayers and remembered him for the lives he protected-rafher than the hundreds of thousands he is alleged by many to have had a hand in ending.
"People in this area love him," said Um Sameth, 51, a local villager and former Ta Mok soldier.
"His words were bad but his heart is good. Every time he had food he gave it to the people," Um Sameth said.
Thai business associates, military officers and politicians also paid their respects to Ta Mok, some depositing sacks of food at the foot of his bed as offerings.
This was an altogether different scene than that in Phnom Penh where the most common reaction was disappointment that Ta Mok had in death evaded trial for his deeds. Ta Mok was expected to be a key defendant—and witnesses—in the upcoming Khmer Rouge tribunal. Most agree that his death was a significant blow to the efforts to find justice for the 1.7 million people who died during the 1975-1979 Pol Pot regime.
This weekend, Ta Mok's loved ones did little to dampen speculation about the timing of his demise, which came just days after prosecutors and judges were sworn in to the tribunal and began their investigations.
"I wonder why he was not sick when the court had not started, but he fell sharply sick after it started," his niece Ven Ra said.
"The hospital wanted him dead. Every time relatives and family visited him, they would ask for money to buy medicine. The hospital had nothing to take care of him," she said.
"I want to hear some words from other leaders who are still alive. I want them to take responsibility with him," she said, "and tell the truth to the public."
As a final indignity in death, relatives said, the government charged Ta Mok's family $600 for the ambulance to take him home and embalming. And they refused to allow his burial near his old house—now a museum—in the center of Anlong Veng town.
Instead, villagers began work on Sunday on a brick-and-mortar stu-pa behind a Buddhist pagoda a few meters from his daughter’s house. Still, most chose to dwell on Ta Mok's past achievements rather than speculate on events and decisions made hundreds of kilometers away in the capital.
Ta Mok's memorial will be a modest one, but then, the former Maoist rebel chief would probably have wanted it that way, his followers said.
"He was different from other commanders who put their interests before the public," said Meas Muth, Ta Mok's 68-year-old son-in-law.
"You can check to see the house of his relatives. He wanted everyone to have better living standards and happiness. The people respected his good advice. He directed us to live independently and to protect the land so it will last," he added.
Villagers in Anlong Veng credit Ta Mok with many improvements in the area. He built the road through the town, a bridge, a small hospital, a school. He also created a lake in the center of town and stocked it with small fish he brought from Thailand.
"In 1993, I received four little trees from Ta Mok: cocoa, orange, mango and jack fruit. I planted them and they grew up big in 1999," said Theng Then, 37, who arrived at the mourning ceremony on Sunday carrying an entire chicken for Ta Mok's family.
Tarn Tun, 77, built houses for soldiers and villagers from material created at Ta Mok's sawmill. He remembers the Ta Mok era as a productive time. But he saw flashes of the volcanic temper. Ta Mok was feared for during the Pol Pot regime.
"If he ordered me to do something and I didn't do it right, he would get really, really angry," Tarn Tun recounted.
"One time he didn't like the way I built a house, and he yelled at me and I was so frightened. I tried very hard not to do it again. There was a mixture of love and dislike."
Ta Mok continued to stay in touch with events back home while in prison and drew solace from the news of recent development.
"He would usually ask about the house and his road," his daughter Preak Chrich said.
"I told him 'your road is still good and the government has put concrete on it.' He smiled and it was a nice moment," she said.
Guards let Ta Mok feed the chickens roaming around the prison yard in Phnom Penh. And during each visit, his family brought him fruit trees, Preak Chrich said.
Ta Mok tended to the tiny saplings of mango and jack fruit during his free time. On one of her last visits, Ta Mok asked Preak Chrich to collect the fruit trees and chickens and bring them back home to Anlong Veng.
"I said 'when you feel better I will pick up your trees.' I never did," she added.
Ven Ra recalls her uncle opining on politics.
"In prison, he complained that the yuon had sent 10 million people into Cambodia. And he praised the Sam Rainsy Party and wanted to know why more people did not join it," said Ven Ra, who is head of the SRP in Pailin municipality. Yuon is a derogatory term for the Vietnamese.
Still, as time went on, Ta Mok's spirits dimmed.
Leng Mom, 51, Ta Mok's cousin, remembers visiting him during the early years of his imprisonment. Back then, he told her that the government had promised to release him after a mere two years in jail.
"He counted the days and believed he would be released as promised," she said.
"But he had waited too long. He felt he had been cheated and he became depressed and disappointed."
Preak Chrich said that even in recent months, officials had promised Ta Mok a hearing at the Military Court on July 10. But he had long since stopped believing the promises and complained bitterly when July 10 approached and passed, like the dates before, without the promised court appearance.
On his death bed, Leang Mom said, Ta Mok urged her to "keep doing the good things, to love each other, among relatives and children."
"He said 'I am sick for three months already and I have not been able to eat food for more than one week before they brought me to the hospital,"' she said.
"He hoped to live until the day of the tribunal, but he told me at the time that he had lost all hope because he felt so sick and so weak," Leang Mom said.
Leang Mom recalled the last time she visited Ta Mok. He was in a coma but regained consciousness. He opened his eyes, moved his legs and hands, and tears slowly rolled down his cheeks.
His relatives shed many of their own this weekend.
"He spent most of his life for the masses, he never took care much of his own children," Ven Ra said.
"I regret that what he struggled for has become useless at this time."
His captors delivered his frail, withered corpse to this remote village on the Thai border Friday, seven years after luring him out of the jungle with false promises of amnesty and locking him away in a Phnom Penh prison until just before his death.
About 60 villagers were already here waiting for their former leader when he arrived by military ambulance from Phnom Penh around 8 pm on Friday, said the driver In Soda.
They watched grimly, some openly weeping, as his family lifted him out on a gurney and gingerly laid his body on a wooden bed outside the modest one-story home of his daughter in Sreah Chhouk village, about 10 km outside Anlong Veng district town.
"He was my loyal commander," Pheng Phen, 37, explained later.
"He went away and never returned...I feel so shocked and have so much regret for his death," Pheng Phen said.
The body on display this weekend bore little resemblance to the larger than life commander alleged to have engineered some of the worst atrocities committed in the 20th century.
During his seven years in captivity, Ta Mok's wiry frame had shrunk to childlike proportions, his face had a deathly faded pallor and he wore a wispy white beard. His fierce eyes were closed to the world, his nostrils plugged to keep in the embalming fluid.
But Ta Mok's legend lived on in the words of his former people, who continued to arrive in the hundreds throughout the weekend to pay their last respects.
As monks chanted nearby, mourners dropped what little riel they had on to Ta Mok's chest, placed flowers at his head and feet lit incense sticks, offered prayers and remembered him for the lives he protected-rafher than the hundreds of thousands he is alleged by many to have had a hand in ending.
"People in this area love him," said Um Sameth, 51, a local villager and former Ta Mok soldier.
"His words were bad but his heart is good. Every time he had food he gave it to the people," Um Sameth said.
Thai business associates, military officers and politicians also paid their respects to Ta Mok, some depositing sacks of food at the foot of his bed as offerings.
This was an altogether different scene than that in Phnom Penh where the most common reaction was disappointment that Ta Mok had in death evaded trial for his deeds. Ta Mok was expected to be a key defendant—and witnesses—in the upcoming Khmer Rouge tribunal. Most agree that his death was a significant blow to the efforts to find justice for the 1.7 million people who died during the 1975-1979 Pol Pot regime.
This weekend, Ta Mok's loved ones did little to dampen speculation about the timing of his demise, which came just days after prosecutors and judges were sworn in to the tribunal and began their investigations.
"I wonder why he was not sick when the court had not started, but he fell sharply sick after it started," his niece Ven Ra said.
"The hospital wanted him dead. Every time relatives and family visited him, they would ask for money to buy medicine. The hospital had nothing to take care of him," she said.
"I want to hear some words from other leaders who are still alive. I want them to take responsibility with him," she said, "and tell the truth to the public."
As a final indignity in death, relatives said, the government charged Ta Mok's family $600 for the ambulance to take him home and embalming. And they refused to allow his burial near his old house—now a museum—in the center of Anlong Veng town.
Instead, villagers began work on Sunday on a brick-and-mortar stu-pa behind a Buddhist pagoda a few meters from his daughter’s house. Still, most chose to dwell on Ta Mok's past achievements rather than speculate on events and decisions made hundreds of kilometers away in the capital.
Ta Mok's memorial will be a modest one, but then, the former Maoist rebel chief would probably have wanted it that way, his followers said.
"He was different from other commanders who put their interests before the public," said Meas Muth, Ta Mok's 68-year-old son-in-law.
"You can check to see the house of his relatives. He wanted everyone to have better living standards and happiness. The people respected his good advice. He directed us to live independently and to protect the land so it will last," he added.
Villagers in Anlong Veng credit Ta Mok with many improvements in the area. He built the road through the town, a bridge, a small hospital, a school. He also created a lake in the center of town and stocked it with small fish he brought from Thailand.
"In 1993, I received four little trees from Ta Mok: cocoa, orange, mango and jack fruit. I planted them and they grew up big in 1999," said Theng Then, 37, who arrived at the mourning ceremony on Sunday carrying an entire chicken for Ta Mok's family.
Tarn Tun, 77, built houses for soldiers and villagers from material created at Ta Mok's sawmill. He remembers the Ta Mok era as a productive time. But he saw flashes of the volcanic temper. Ta Mok was feared for during the Pol Pot regime.
"If he ordered me to do something and I didn't do it right, he would get really, really angry," Tarn Tun recounted.
"One time he didn't like the way I built a house, and he yelled at me and I was so frightened. I tried very hard not to do it again. There was a mixture of love and dislike."
Ta Mok continued to stay in touch with events back home while in prison and drew solace from the news of recent development.
"He would usually ask about the house and his road," his daughter Preak Chrich said.
"I told him 'your road is still good and the government has put concrete on it.' He smiled and it was a nice moment," she said.
Guards let Ta Mok feed the chickens roaming around the prison yard in Phnom Penh. And during each visit, his family brought him fruit trees, Preak Chrich said.
Ta Mok tended to the tiny saplings of mango and jack fruit during his free time. On one of her last visits, Ta Mok asked Preak Chrich to collect the fruit trees and chickens and bring them back home to Anlong Veng.
"I said 'when you feel better I will pick up your trees.' I never did," she added.
Ven Ra recalls her uncle opining on politics.
"In prison, he complained that the yuon had sent 10 million people into Cambodia. And he praised the Sam Rainsy Party and wanted to know why more people did not join it," said Ven Ra, who is head of the SRP in Pailin municipality. Yuon is a derogatory term for the Vietnamese.
Still, as time went on, Ta Mok's spirits dimmed.
Leng Mom, 51, Ta Mok's cousin, remembers visiting him during the early years of his imprisonment. Back then, he told her that the government had promised to release him after a mere two years in jail.
"He counted the days and believed he would be released as promised," she said.
"But he had waited too long. He felt he had been cheated and he became depressed and disappointed."
Preak Chrich said that even in recent months, officials had promised Ta Mok a hearing at the Military Court on July 10. But he had long since stopped believing the promises and complained bitterly when July 10 approached and passed, like the dates before, without the promised court appearance.
On his death bed, Leang Mom said, Ta Mok urged her to "keep doing the good things, to love each other, among relatives and children."
"He said 'I am sick for three months already and I have not been able to eat food for more than one week before they brought me to the hospital,"' she said.
"He hoped to live until the day of the tribunal, but he told me at the time that he had lost all hope because he felt so sick and so weak," Leang Mom said.
Leang Mom recalled the last time she visited Ta Mok. He was in a coma but regained consciousness. He opened his eyes, moved his legs and hands, and tears slowly rolled down his cheeks.
His relatives shed many of their own this weekend.
"He spent most of his life for the masses, he never took care much of his own children," Ven Ra said.
"I regret that what he struggled for has become useless at this time."
2 comments:
This is what ignorance does to people. Money, meterial gifts, and food will get support. Ok you love Ta Mok because he helped you but you still need to comdemn him for killings millions other families. Otherwise you are a hypocrite. He can't be your hero when he commit this serious crime against humanity. Farmers please think harder. If not, your children will be the next victim of genocide... Let give To Mok a proper bury. When it is done, burn his site to the ground so stupid lotery numbers won't be given to the hopless villagers again....
Un Choeun, I found some information that he made a Lucrative with the thai bussinessmen, logging in Cambodia, and rubby mining. worst war criminal. Khmer rouge have been fed by Ta mok.
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