The Russian Market in Phnom Penh (2000)
The author and his wife at Ta Pomh,
Cambodia, 2000
In the summer of 2000 as I and
my wife entered the Russian Market in Phnom Penh, I noticed several men hanging
out and about the front entrance, holding themselves up on crutches. My silent
consciousness told me they were perhaps old warriors from Pol Pot’s time, for
all of them, had legs, fingers and arms missing, perhaps blown off from mines
still alive in many of Cambodia’s open fields, or in combat. A one legged middle-aged
man, approached me as we entered the elephant tent like market place, wanting
money—holding his hand out as if he was my banker! I tried to shoo him away,
knowing if I gave him anything right away, all the rest would haunt me for
money.
Well this guy became like my shadow following
me about, he was insistent, I told him, ‘…back off, I’ll give you something when I
leave.’ He
lit a cigarette, and the smoke curled quietly up and through his fingers as he
was thinking, closing his eyes in thought, and I motioned to my wife to go, and
he stood back some, then I bought two lighters, leftovers from the Vietnam War;
many of American soldiers carried them during the war, and of course when they
were killed their bodies were robbed; the lighters often had their names on
them or an Army insignia. The lighters worked too. Matter of fact, when I’d get
back home from this trip, I’d even gave one to an employee at the VOA where I
worked, in Minneapolis as a gift.
In any case, as we rested at an open cubicle,
or stand, I had coffee, and my wife had some tea, then abruptly, here comes my
shadow, he could hop on those crutches faster than I could run. I knew he lived
and did not live, and lived from day to day when he did live, and who knows
were, perchance under some bushes, or some shack on sticks for there was much poverty
throughout Cambodia, and especially in the Capital City, but our tour guide was
great, and the food was great, and they watched us like we were spies, or
perhaps they watched us so nothing would happen to us. One or the other (but Cambodia
was still Communist then).
Nonetheless,
there he stood, the Shadow, a few feet from us, as if it was payday. I kind of
spoke sharply to him, and I’ve really lost most of the details on this account
but I know I felt this whole show was ridiculous that he pester me as he did,
but he didn’t want to lose his catch. It was almost like a struggle to get away
from him. He was constantly protesting, I should give him something now, not
later. And I just wasn’t ready to obey. We stayed in the market place less than an
hour I suppose, would have stayed longer but the tree toad, was everywhere I
went, and God bless his soul, but enough is enough, and I gave him a
dollar. I think my wife even was digging
for more in her purse but I told her just leave well enough alone. So I suppose
for him his pestering was fruitful, and for me, I had enough of the market, and
on our way out, sure enough, the word had gotten out, “The American
was ripe for the pickings…” and by the time we got to the entrance, it was per near
blocked, and I took out all my change I had, and handed it out, to the bodies.
You can’t judge them for wanting money,
and they couldn’t even sweep the sidewalk if they wanted to, or if they could,
it would be difficult, and I didn’t want to bring to Cambodia unnecessary
unhappiness, and so I shared as I often did to the down and out, to whatever
country I went to, it’s the price you pay for prosperity, plus you are in their
country.
#1190/19-21-2016
