Barks, bytes, and 15 minutes of fear

With the discovery of Rochom P'nhieng, the sleepy jungle hamlet of Un has become the centre of a media maelstrom

By CHARLES MCDERMID AND CAT BARTON
Posted by the Bangkok Post

Just hours after the story broke about the capture of long-lost Rochom P'nhieng - the sad-eyed lady of the highlands - media in Phnom Penh came under furious assault from battalions of the Western press corps sent to jostle for a piece of the action. Clashes of opportunism were frequent. The management of the Phnom Penh Post and local media professionals were bombarded by inquiries and demands from dozens of news agencies on the night of Jan 19. The next several days were a blitzkrieg of foreign reporters and film crews eager for access and animism. A competitive frenzy set in.

"It's a race against time. We need to get there first," Monica Kosicka, assistant producer for Fox Television Studios UK, told the Post from Lamb House, London on Jan 19. "Exclusivity is very important to us. Can I fax you an exclusivity contract for you to get the girl to sign?"

Ms Kosicka said it was best to "move fast, lock down the family and work together". She said her boss was "keen" to feature Ms Rochom in a coming episode of the documentary TV series My Shocking Story. Previous episodes in the series include "I Gave Birth to a Mummy," "Face Eating Tumor," and "Living Without Skin".

Efforts like Fox's exclusivity contract - which bore a place for Ms Rochom to write her signature - were common. The invading press impressed with its determination to overcome linguistic and logistic pitfalls in the pursuit of journalism. When told that Ms Rochom's communication skills had diminished somewhat after 18 years in the jungle, Ms Kosicka was undeterred: "Does she grunt?" she asked.

The journalistic bark was hardly worse than the bytes. Almost immediately, Ms Rochom began appearing around the world in images splashed across newspapers, TV and the Internet. She appeared woeful and scared: peering sorrowfully, with pleading, furtive eyes, through clouds of incredulity.

Most of all, Ms Rochom hardly looked as if she was enjoying her 15 minutes of fear.

With all the subtlety of a fast-clicking camera thrust into the face, tiny Un village has been transformed. The sleepy jungle hamlet has endured an avalanche of onlookers and media attention.

According to a Post reporter, the situation on the ground was giddy. The Associated Press film crew and CNN were jockeying for footage, and representatives from all the major wire services were elbowing for angles. The Times of London had arrived, and The Daily Telegraph was on its way. Cambodian magazine writers were surveying the scene alongside Radio Free Asia and the British Broadcasting Corporation.

Through the efforts of the Fourth Estate, the story of Ms Rochom was brought to the world.

"Since she arrived back home many people have come to see her. It's getting worse each day," said Mao Sann, O'Yadao district police chief. "O'Yadao is a remote district of a remote province. No one ever came here. Now, it looks like a tourist resort because there are
so many foreign journalists."

But Phann Ana, a veteran Phnom Penh newspaperman and jounalism trainer, yawns. He said the feeding frenzy is unsurprising as this is exactly the sensationalist fodder sought by eager, overseas reporters bent on the biggest and most bizarre.

Over the course of the story, Mr Phann fielded innumerable requests for him to take reporters into the field and translate. He was asked to arrange one trip for a reporting team from Switzerland.

"People like this story because it's odd; everyone can relate to missing children," Mr Phann told the Post. "What people kept asking was about the details: what does she look like, why is her hair so short? They were trying to make sure it was real."

The fervour is remarkable, but not unprecedented. Mr Phann says the last time the foreign press descended so quickly on Cambodian was in November 2004, when he and senior Phnom Penh journalist Kevin Doyle broke the story of 34 hilltribe members who emerged after 25 years of
total isolation from the jungle where they had fled after the collapse of the Khmer Rouge.

What's odd to Mr Phann is that the Khmer press largely ignored the story.

"Khmer papers write a lot about superstition: dogs with ten legs and magic cows, cats and pigs. But the only mention I saw in Khmer papers was a translation from Reuters," he said. "I think [the attention from foreign press] is good. Everyone has a chance to get famous."

Reportedly found "naked", "crawling on all fours" and, in an initial local report "with a wild, tattooed man with a long sword", the tale does fit the tabloid story list. Media who contacted the Post were understandably more interested in the story's curious elements than its truth, or the consequences for Ms Rochom.

Reports suggest socialisation has been rare in similar cases. Ivan Mishukov, a four-year-old Russian child who in 1996 became the leader of a pack of wild dogs for two years, had difficulty re-adapting to normal life.

And social analysts are groaning about Cambodia's portrayal in the international media for a country that has had its share of bad headlines.

Some say the international media's fascination with lurid accounts - in this case of some crazy-eyed bogeyman with a jungle bride - only furthers stereotypical notions connecting the kingdom's image with mystery, darkness and danger.

Charles McDermid is managing editor of the "Phnom Penh Post", where Cat Barton is a reporter.